9 Vol. II Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

It was so dark.

Haruto's consciousness drifted in and out, his ears faintly catching the hurried shuffle of footsteps.

Am I… not dead?

No, that can't be right. Lying there, on the floor, was unmistakably his body—lifeless for some time now. The blood that had poured from his chest had already congealed.

Not far away, Kanae's chest rose and fell weakly. She was struggling to hold on, clinging to some thread of hope, waiting for someone to arrive.

The sun had risen, its rays piercing through the shattered remnants of the wooden cabin. The structure, torn apart by blades and icy lotus blossoms during the fight, offered no resistance to the morning light. Perhaps it was this sunlight that had saved Kanae from being devoured by Dōma.

The footsteps drew closer. In the doorway, framed by the blinding sunlight, stood Shinobu. Her eyes widened at the sight of her dying sister, and she let out a sharp cry of anguish. Then her gaze fell upon Haruto amidst the chaos. The sound of her grief caught in her throat, replaced by a stunned silence.

"Kanae… Haruto?"

Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes.

The white-haired swordsman lay on his back, his face serene, as though merely asleep. His blood, no longer driven by the pump of his heart, had pooled beneath him in a dark crimson stain. Shinobu, despite her time spent in the Butterfly Estate, had never seen so much blood spilled in one place.

She dared not approach.

Just yesterday, he had been at the dinner table, teasing her by setting his bowl on her head, insisting she fetch him more rice. Just yesterday, he had been chiding Giyu and Sabito for not accompanying him back to Sagiri Mountain. Just yesterday…

He had been so alive.

And now, here he was, lifeless, his chest no longer rising and falling.

Shinobu clung to Kanae, sobbing into her sister's neck. "Kanae… I'll take you home. Let's get you patched up first, okay? We'll fix this. I promise…"

Her tears soaked into Kanae's collar, the warmth offering the faintest comfort to her fading sister.

"Shinobu…" Kanae's voice was a brittle whisper. Her lips curled into a ghost of a smile, tinged with unbearable sorrow as her gaze flitted to Haruto's body.

Even Haruto couldn't escape death at the hands of an Upper Moon…

What about Shinobu?

If Kanae were to die, leaving her little sister alone in this cruel world… what then?

She knew her end was near. Her abdomen was flooded with blood, and only the sheer will to see Shinobu one last time had kept her alive this long. Gathering the last vestiges of her strength, Kanae lifted a trembling hand to touch Shinobu's tear-streaked face.

"Shinobu… promise me… leave the Demon Slayer Corps. Please…"

The light in her pink eyes dimmed, fading into an eternal stillness.

Shinobu froze, collapsing to the ground in shock. Surrounded by cold, lifeless bodies, it felt as if her own blood was turning to ice.

...

The morning light bathed Sagiri Mountain. Haruto stirred, his eyelids fluttering as he roused from a state of utter exhaustion. He reached up to touch his neck, where a faint sensation of the iron fan's edge lingered.

A thin scar, not yet fully healed, marked the spot. Beneath his fingertips, the wound slowly knit itself back together.

Cold. Sharp. Agonizing.

Compared to the first time Dōma tore his heart from his chest, being beheaded the second time… seemed like an even grislier death.

He had never faced an opponent who had killed him twice. And with each revival, the scars left behind reminded him of the toll his body was taking.

If he were to lose his head again and be sent back to Sagiri Mountain… how much of him would remain intact? Would his head simply roll off his shoulders onto the bed? Could his regeneration even fix something like that?

The absurd image flitted through his mind, and he found himself laughing grimly.

During the last fight with Dōma, he had arrived in time to prevent Kanae from sustaining fatal injuries. But even with the two of them working together, they hadn't been able to kill the Upper Moon. Dōma's Blood Demon Art was maddeningly powerful. After a prolonged battle, both he and Kanae had fallen, their heads severed with unnerving ease.

If this continued, even if he gathered every Hashira he knew to fight alongside him, the result would likely be the same: more deaths.

Was there any hope at all?

Haruto rose unsteadily to his feet, his eyes falling on a hidden compartment in the wall. He hesitated for a moment before opening it, retrieving a small vial wrapped carefully in cloth.

The liquid inside was a deep crimson, swirling ominously under the light. Just holding it made his skin crawl.

This was Tamayo's creation—a concoction laced with a trace amount of Genya's blood. It was the safest formula she had developed to alter the human body, though its effects were minimal compared to the stronger variants.

"To adapt to the damage this will do to your body, you'll have to start small," he recalled Tamayo's warning.

Haruto sighed and tucked the vial into his pocket.