54 Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

Outside the village, in an abandoned house, Sanemi held the faintly breathing Masachika Kumeno in his trembling arms, silence stretching between them.

Tears welled in his eyes—a sensation he hadn't felt since the day his mother passed. No matter how deep his wounds or how severe his pain, Sanemi had always bitten back the tears, refusing to show even a hint of weakness.

He took a shaky breath, his arms around Masachika quivering.

"San… emi…" Masachika's broken voice cracked through the stillness. "Don't… look so sad. Say something… anything. I don't… want my path down the Sanzu River… to be this quiet."

Sanemi forced himself to speak, grasping at whatever came to mind. His voice faltered as he clumsily tried to keep the conversation alive.

"You… you asked me once, what my relationship was with Haruto Takanashi…"

"Ah… yes…" Masachika struggled to keep his eyes open, though the blood seeping from his abdomen sapped his strength with every passing moment.

"Takanashi… he saved both me and Genya. He's the one who led me onto the path of a Demon Slayer. When I first met him… he wasn't a Hashira yet. Masachika… are you listening?"

"…Of course." Masachika controlled his breathing, knowing no one was coming to save him but still hoping to hold death at bay. Sanemi rarely spoke so softly—he wanted to hear more. "Next time… when we meet again… you'll be a Hashira too…"

Sanemi froze, then clenched his eyes shut tightly.

The stories of Sabito, and Giyū were well-known among the Demon Slayer Corps, and Sanemi had learned many details from Masachika himself.

The two brothers-in-arms had slain a Lower Moon demon together, but at great cost—Sabito had been gravely injured and had yet to wake from his coma in the Butterfly Mansion.

Meanwhile, Giyū, who had delivered the finishing blow to the demon, rejected the Corps' accolades and refused the title of Water Hashira. Instead, he had taken to wandering, chasing down demons with a face still marked by battle scars.

Sanemi had once scoffed at his actions. "What an idiot," he had said.

Given his usual temperament, it was already merciful that he hadn't outright called Giyū a complete moron.

But now that he was the one in this situation, Sanemi found himself thinking differently. Giyū's actions suddenly seemed like the only proper choice.

How could anyone accept a promotion—let alone celebrate it—when a comrade lay gravely injured or dead? How could they take a reward from the Ubuyashiki-sama, a man seated high above them, issuing orders but never stepping into the battlefield himself?

"Hey… didn't we make a promise once?" Masachika's voice, faint but persistent, drew Sanemi back. "Whoever… becomes a Hashira first… has to treat the other..."

"Even now, you're thinking about food? You're such an idiot, Masachika!" Sanemi growled, turning his face away so his tears wouldn't be seen as they soaked into his collar.

A faint, smug smile tugged at Masachika's lips.

"You… you still remember… What did you say back then…?"

Sanemi's voice was hoarse. "I said I wasn't interested."

"Ah, right… you said that…" Masachika chuckled weakly. "Well… you can't blame me, then…"

Sanemi lifted his head, his scarred face contorted in anguish.

Was the world so cruel that gentle people were never allowed a happy ending? His mother, Masachika—they both deserved so much more.

Gods, he pleaded silently, save him. Save him… and save me.

As the words left his mind, his eyes snapped open. The memory of that fateful night came rushing back.

The young man in a blue haori, his blade cutting through the darkness, appeared vividly in his mind's eye. The shattered wooden window frames, the glint of blue-purple steel.

And now, through the broken door of the abandoned house, came the figure of Haruto, pale-faced and barely standing, collapsing the moment he arrived.

Behind him, a small, nimble figure darted into the room, sliding to Masachika's side. Touching his neck to check his pulse, she quickly rummaged through a medical kit, pulling out an assortment of supplies.

"The blood loss is severe, and there's extensive internal damage," Shinobu said with calm precision as she assessed Masachika's condition. "I'll start emergency treatment now. Haruto… do you still have enough strength to notify the Kakushi outside?"

Haruto, trembling and pale, forced his legs to move, staggering out the door.

Sanemi snapped out of his stupor. "Masachika… can he be saved? Let me—"

"Hold him properly and stop moving!" Shinobu's brow furrowed in uncharacteristic frustration. "I don't know if Mr. Masachika will survive, but waiting here guarantees his death. He must be taken to the Butterfly Mansion immediately. Trust the doctors—that's your only option!"

Sanemi froze, stunned into silence. It was the first time he'd seen Shinobu lose her temper.

Outside, Haruto's legs gave out as he tried to return, collapsing unceremoniously onto the ground.

"Damn… so embarrassing…" he muttered, staring up at the sky in defeat. Overusing his breathing technique had left him paralyzed, his body completely unresponsive.

He prayed no one else would come to witness this humiliating scene.

But of course, someone did.

"Star Hashira, sir! Are you all right?" A flustered Kakushi ran over, his panic evident at the sight of a Hashira sprawled on the ground.

Haruto could only blink weakly, trying to convey: I'm fine. Go check on them.

Unfortunately, not everyone understood his silent pleas. The Kakushi shouted for backup.

"Gotō! Get over here! The Star Hashira's having a seizure!"

A seizure? Haruto thought bitterly. What kind of nonsense is that? I'm just—wait, what are you doing?

The Kakushi ignored his weak protests, fumbling to lift him onto their backs and hauling him off toward the Butterfly Mansion.

"Hold on, Star Hashira, sir! We'll get you there soon!"

Let me go… Please, let me go… Haruto's mind screamed, but no one heard him.

All he could do was silently lament his fate, praying he wouldn't disgrace himself further when they reached the Mansion.