The sun hovered high above the Butterfly Mansion, casting rays of warmth through the garden trees. Inside the peaceful estate, Nezuko giggled as she played with the butterflies fluttering around, while Kanao remained quietly attentive nearby, tending to a row of blooming lilacs.
Suddenly, an eerie gust swept through the air—cold, foul, unnatural.
The trees quivered. Shadows twisted unnaturally at the gate.
A grotesque, thin-limbed demon emerged with a deranged grin stretching across its face. Lower Moon Four—Tazuna. His presence was suffocating, like rotting laughter wrapped in fog.
"Well well… such sweet flowers waiting to be plucked," he hissed.
Kanao stepped forward immediately, unsheathing her sword in a swift flash. "Nezuko, behind me," she whispered.
Nezuko's eyes sharpened, her fangs flashing, ready to pounce if needed.
Tazuna lunged—his claws elongated, slicing the air like scythes.
Kanao moved with grace, countering his strikes in a deadly dance. Nezuko joined in, unleashing her Blood Demon Art—crimson flames bursting into the wind. But Tazuna was relentless, his regeneration abnormally fast for a Lower Rank. He bled mist and hate.
Just as Kanao was knocked back and Nezuko was barely on her feet—
A windstorm erupted in the middle of the garden.
"Don't touch them."
In an instant, Sanemi Shinazugawa stood between the demon and the girls, the Wind Hashira's eyes burning with fury. His haori fluttered like a storm banner.
Tazuna hissed and swiped—
Only to find his arm torn off before he even realized Sanemi had moved.
The Wind Hashira showed no mercy. He carved through Tazuna like he was butchering a wild animal. His blade danced with rage, slicing through bone and demonic tissue until there was nothing left but dissolving ash.
Silence fell.
Sanemi turned toward Nezuko, who blinked in shock, her fangs still bared defensively. For a moment, memories of their first violent meeting hung in the air—of him stabbing her, testing her resolve.
He knelt slowly.
And with a rough, weathered hand… he patted her head.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "Back then… I was wrong."
Nezuko's eyes widened. The apology wasn't grand, nor poetic—but from Sanemi, it was a hurricane's whisper.
She smiled.
And Kanao, silent as always, gently smiled too.