Drip ~ Ting
A drop of water fell from above, landing on the calm, mirror-like surface below—ripples slowly expanding from the point of impact.
Takeo lay motionless atop the still water, his entire body consumed by fatigue.
Breathing Techniques weren't something one could master easily. Even though he had inherited Logan's combat instincts and experience—even though the techniques honed over two hundred years had helped him skip countless steps ,had allowed him to instantly understand the meaning behind Breathing—that didn't eliminate the toll.
The strain from forcing his body to perform the technique remained.
That final moment, when he brought his blade down on the water demon, even as countless water blades flew toward him—it wasn't that he didn't want to dodge.
Takeo's body wasn't yet accustomed to the demands of a Breathing Technique. The moment he tried to change his stance or shift to another form, his muscles locked up.
Had he chosen to dodge at that moment, the backlash of forcing his body to obey the unfamiliar rhythm would have frozen him mid-movement.
And if that had happened—he'd have been helpless.
A perfect target for the demon's killing blow.
So Takeo didn't dodge. He couldn't dodge.
Relying on his superhuman regenerative ability—passed down from Old Man Logan—he chose to trade injury for victory,and succeeded in killing a demon wielding a Blood Demon Art.
But—
One of those blades might have pierced his heart.
Even here, within his consciousness, his body felt unbearably heavy.
He couldn't even lift a finger.
So tired.
He just wanted to keep sleeping.
"Wake up… Takeo…"
A gentle woman's voice whispered by his ear.
There was sorrow in that voice. A quiet, aching grief.
Drawn by it, Takeo forced himself to stir—clinging to consciousness, refusing to let himself drift away.
"You still haven't found Tanjiro and Nezuko… You can't sleep yet… Takeo… Please… live…"
Who was that?
The voice sounded familiar… and warm. So warm—like a mother's voice.
Floating between sleep and wakefulness, Takeo slowly opened his eyes.
In the endless dark void surrounding him, he could faintly make out a woman in a flowing white kimono, her face blurred by shadow, her expression unreadable...
—But he could feel her tears as she gently cupped his cheek.
Even if he couldn't see her clearly…
She felt so familiar.
"…M-Mom…?"
Takeo didn't know why, but he instinctively called out to the woman—and then, his consciousness could no longer hold on.
He sank back into darkness.
Only this time, unlike before, it wasn't a heavy sleep born from exhaustion or despair—it felt like simple, peaceful rest.
His regeneration… seemed to be working overtime.
…
Takeo had no idea how long he had been unconscious when he finally opened his eyes again.
But this time, it wasn't the dark, dreamlike space of his mind that greeted him—it was a warm, sunlit room.
He was lying on a tatami mat. Sunlight poured in through the open shoji doors, washing over him in golden light. The warmth made him want to stay still forever.
Just… rest here a little longer.
But it seemed someone had been waiting for him to wake.
Not long after he stirred, he heard footsteps approaching—and then, a gentle woman's voice beside him:
"You're awake? Thank goodness. Please have some breakfast first. I'll call the doctor in afterward."
"…?"
Takeo slowly turned his head toward the voice.
Sitting just inside the doorway was a kind-faced older woman in a soft lavender kimono, smiling warmly at him.
Beside her was a small tray—a neatly arranged breakfast of rice, clear soup, and a few side dishes.
Prepared… just for him.
Takeo stared blankly at the woman for a moment before he finally reacted:
"Uh… th-thanks?"
"You're very welcome. Please enjoy your breakfast."
"Okay… Wait, no—!"
Instinctively sitting upright and taking the tray in his hands, Takeo suddenly remembered everything. He looked at the woman in a rush, blurting out all at once:
"Where is this? Why am I here? What happened to the demon?! Is it dead? What about the kid—no, Miura Ichiro—is he okay?!"
"Don't start squawking questions the moment you wake up. You're being noisy."
The one who answered him wasn't the older woman. It was a voice from further down the corridor.
It belonged to the demon slayer.
Takeo looked toward the voice, and sure enough, there he was—emerging into the sunlight. Short black hair, dressed in the Demon Slayer Corps uniform, a Nichirin sword at his side.
As he walked closer, he gave Takeo a slight smile.
"Yo. Morning. How was your rest?"
"It's you… the demon slayer…"
"The name's Yoshizuru Asato," he said. "That's my actual name."
The young man introduced himself.
Only now did Takeo finally learn his name — Yoshizuru Asato.
It sounded elegant, the kind of name you'd expect from a refined nobleman. Though judging by his face and demeanor… that didn't quite match.
"I'm Kamado Takeo..." Takeo responded politely.It was only proper to return the introduction with his own name.
Then, without wasting a second, he asked, "So, what's the situation now? If you're still here and okay, then that demon must be dead, right?"
"Yeah, dead. You killed it."
Yoshizuru exhaled, half-laughing. "I nearly had a heart attack watching you. You'd just learned the Breathing Technique, and you were already pulling that off? Where the hell did you come from, kid? And at your age?"
He sat down beside Takeo. At some point, the older woman who had brought breakfast had quietly slipped away ,leaving just the two of them in the room.
Once settled, Yoshizuru spoke again:
"But let's not get into all that right now. Eat first. We'll talk business afterward."
Takeo was about to object, but that's when he noticed—he was starving.
His stomach rumbled loudly in response.
Yoshizuru grinned and chuckled.
"Hah! Hungry, huh? Makes sense. You were out for two days. If the doctor hadn't said you'd be fine,I was about ready to carry you to the Butterfly Mansion myself and have Shinobu-sama patch you up."
"…Sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about. What's the Butterfly Mansion? And who's Shinobu-sama?"
"It's fine. You just focus on eating—I'll explain everything."
Asato sat cross-legged, arms folded, calmly watching Takeo.
Seeing he was serious, Takeo didn't hold back any longer. He picked up his chopsticks and began eating with vigor.
While Takeo devoured the meal, Asato started to explain what had happened during the two days he'd been unconscious.
First of all, the demon from that night—was truly dead. It had been completely destroyed by Takeo's Wind Breathing. No chance of coming back.
Then, there was Miura Ichiro, the kid who had been bitten.
Though he'd suffered a nasty wound on his shoulder, they had managed to save him in time. In fact, the little rascal had woken up before Takeo and immediately started yelling that Takeo had to teach him swordsmanship—because Takeo had promised.
As for Ichiro's father, the wealthy merchant—once he learned what had happened, he immediately brought the ship to shore and hired a doctor to treat both Asato and Takeo. He even left behind a generous amount of money as thanks.
After Asato had recovered a bit, he brought Takeo here.
The Wisteria House.
"The Wisteria House?" Takeo mumbled, cheeks puffed out with rice, as he looked over at Asato in confusion.
"It's a family that was once saved by the Demon Slayer Corps," Asato explained." They grow wisteria flowers around their property, and their family crest is modeled after the wisteria pattern, too. Out of gratitude for what the Corps did for them, they provide food, shelter, and care to any demon slayers who come to their home—completely free of charge."
"There are Wisteria Houses located all across the country. If you're ever injured or need rest, just look for the nearest one—they'll take care of you."
Takeo nodded while chewing—then suddenly paused. He pointed to himself, confused: "Wait… take care of me? I'm not in the Demon Slayer Corps…"
At that, Asato shifted his posture into a formal kneel. His expression turned serious as he looked Takeo straight in the eye.
"That's exactly what I need to talk to you about, Kamado Takeo."
"Do you want to join the Demon Slayer Corps?"
Yoshizuru Asato was officially extending an invitation.