28 Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

No matter how thick the fur-lined cloak wrapped around him, no matter how tightly the snowstorm shielded his frame, Kagaya couldn't keep from coughing after stepping back into the house.

Amane handed him a bowl of medicinal soup. He frowned but downed it in one gulp.

"One year from now, regardless of your rank, come to headquarters. You'll be promoted to Hashira."

Kagaya placed a hand on Haruto's shoulder. "Stay for dinner, won't you?"

Haruto was about to agree when a crow circled above the snowy sky outside.

"Seems like that's not an option," he said, stepping outside to shake the water droplets off his straw raincoat.

"This snow is relentless," Kagaya muttered, gesturing to Amane to bring a waterproof jacket. "The times are changing, Haruto. Stop living like an old man stuck in the past."

Haruto, a young man of the 21st century, raised a brow. Being called old-fashioned by someone from the early 20th century? Now that was a first.

He accepted the military-style raincoat, unable to resist defending himself.

"It's not about being old-fashioned... I just can't tell the difference between eras anymore."

To Haruto, after all, the 20th century wasn't so different from the 15th.

Ordinary folks still wore handmade geta sandals and hemp clothes, used flint and matches to light fires. Yet, among the wealthy elite, electricity had already made its way into their homes.

In this tangled web of old and new eras, Haruto could only let history's tide carry him forward.

Once Haruto had recovered, headquarters seemed determined to make up for the time he spent resting. Mission after mission was assigned to him without pause, as if they were racing to fill every gap in his schedule.

Barely would he finish one task before his parrot, Sora, swooped down, wings spread wide, to direct him to the next.

"Do demons have to meet year-end quotas too?" Haruto wondered aloud during one exhausting stretch. "What, do they get barred from Muzan's company New Year party if they don't hit their targets?"

This New Year was the first in 16 years that Haruto hadn't spent with Master Gotokawa or visited the Urokodaki family.

But that was fine. In this hectic season, he'd slain countless demons, reuniting many families torn apart by grief.

At the Wisteria Houses, where meals were provided for the Demon Slayers, he even ran into Murata.

Murata's slicked-back hair still shone as usual, and Haruto eyed the glossy strands, considering asking for tips on behalf of Makomo.

Murata laughed heartily, scratching his head. "Oh, it's camellia oil! Apply it daily and wash it out—it makes your hair super smooth!"

"Ever since Murata's girlfriend complimented him on it, he spends ages every day fussing over his hair," another Slayer teased.

"Hey, hey! No shame in looking your best!" Murata replied with his signature grin.

A girlfriend…

Haruto's eyebrow twitched at the thought. For a moment, he could almost hear Master Gotokawa's booming reprimands ringing in his ears.

March came, and Tokyo's temperature rose sharply.

Almost overnight, everyone shed their heavy winter garments, replacing them with light haori and kimono.

After dealing with a demon near Kyobashi District, Haruto wandered the streets as twilight fell, searching for dinner.

"Genya, Dad's been stabbed to death."

Haruto paused mid-step, glancing toward two brothers pulling a wooden cart ahead of him.

Though they were siblings, they couldn't have looked more different.

The elder brother, taller and silver-haired, wore a tattered striped haori over his broad shoulders. Despite the weight of the cart, his steps were steady.

The younger one had a rooster-like hairstyle and a goofy expression, his deep-colored hair framing his face awkwardly. He turned to his brother, looking confused.

Haruto half-expected to hear cries of revenge. Instead, the silver-haired boy was silent for a moment before saying calmly, "From now on... it's up to us brothers to protect everyone."

"Scum like that… it's better they're dead anyway."

The younger boy faltered, his pack slipping from his shoulders.

"Hey, keep that on properly," his brother chided.

"Oh, right," the boy muttered, scratching his head and adjusting the bag.

"But without Dad, everyone's going to feel uneasy," the older brother continued. "The kids already asked me today why he hasn't come back. Sumi and Teiko—"

He sighed, his gaze softening. "They're so little. Someone must've said something while they were playing outside. That's why…"

The older boy turned to look his brother squarely in the eye. "From now on, it's up to us to take care of Mom and the others. You with me?"

The younger one hesitated, his childish defiance slipping away as he grumbled under his breath. "What do you mean, 'from now on'? It's not 'just' now—it's always been us. He…"

Stopping himself, he let out a frustrated snort and fell silent, clearly uncomfortable discussing their late father.

The elder brother blinked, then smiled, a rare brightness lighting up his face.

Haruto couldn't help but smile too. For a father to be thought of only as a symbol of stability… how much must he have failed?

Still, with brothers like these, their family would surely find harmony again.

Haruto's thoughts drifted as he caught the scent of sizzling sukiyaki wafting from a nearby shop.

The rich aroma of beef mingled with sweet soy sauce and fresh vegetables made his stomach rumble.

By the time he stepped out of the shop, full and content, the sky had turned pitch-black.

Patting his stomach, Haruto decided to find a place to stay for the night and return to Mount Sagiri the next morning.

But then, the faint stir of his star-sense caught his attention.

His hand moved instinctively to his blade, his presence shifting from relaxed to razor-sharp.

A demon's aura.

And the source was… the residential area to the east.

Haruto darted between wooden buildings, his form a blur in the moonlit streets.

Ahead, the clash of figures pierced the night. Someone had crashed through a wooden railing, landing in the open.

It was the silver-haired boy from earlier!

Sanemi Shinazugawa gripped a hatchet, locked in a frenzied battle with a creature that seemed neither human nor beast.

"How could this happen?!"

His bloodshot eyes brimmed with despair as he fought, haunted by the image of what had unfolded inside.

His mother had been gone too long. He'd only meant to check on her. How had his home turned into this nightmare?

Shuya, Sumi, Teiko, even Hiroshi…

Everyone except Genya—his siblings, all of them, slaughtered by this monster.

Sanemi's anguish erupted in a guttural roar. The creature gnawed savagely at his arm, drinking the blood that flowed freely.

Kill it. Kill it!

Suddenly, the faint scent of sukiyaki carried on the wind, followed by the flash of a blade gleaming in the starlight.

A young man with striking white hair appeared, his expression calm but commanding.

"Hold on, boy. I'll handle this," he said, his voice like a whisper carried on the night breeze.