Shinobu Kocho had already been prepared. If Cold Cry hadn't held back at the last moment, she would have intervened to save Aoi Kanzaki. Fortunately, it seemed unnecessary now.
Cold Cry also sensed the shift in Aoi's mental state. The moment her will to fight collapsed, there was no reason to continue.
The cold air swirling around him gradually dissipated. His wooden sword tilted away from Aoi's blade and struck the ground with a dull thud.
Without another glance, Cold Cry turned and walked toward the porch.
Behind him, Aoi stood frozen.
Her eyes stung.
She let her wooden sword fall and suddenly ran off, unable to make sense of the emotions surging within her—grievance, frustration… or something deeper.
She had lost.
Not to the boy before her—but to herself.
She had never truly won. Not before, and not now.
---
The girls watching from the porch—attendants of the Butterfly Mansion—were completely confused.
The duel had been intense just moments ago, so why did it suddenly stop?
Who won?
And why had Aoi run off alone?
"Aoi-san…"
They hurriedly set aside their snacks and moved to chase after her, only to be stopped by Shinobu.
"That's enough. Don't follow her," Shinobu said gently. "Let her be alone for now."
The girls exchanged glances, silently arriving at the same conclusion.
The boy had won.
They couldn't help but steal a few more looks at Cold Cry. Any trace of their earlier disdain had completely vanished.
Cold Cry approached and handed his wooden sword to Shinobu.
She accepted it, then passed it to a nearby attendant.
"You three, clean up the yard. Once you're done, go and rest."
"Yes, Shinobu-sama."
One of them ran to retrieve Aoi's dropped sword, while the others began tidying the porch.
Shinobu then gently stroked the head of Kanao Tsuyuri.
"Kanao, help them clean up, then go rest as well."
Kanao nodded silently, picked up the fruit plate, and carried it inside.
"Cold Cry, come with me."
Shinobu led him to the infirmary at the back of the mansion and slipped on her medical haori.
"Take off your top."
"…What?" Cold Cry blinked, thinking he had misheard.
Shinobu turned, smiling faintly at his guarded expression.
"What are you imagining? Several of your wounds have reopened. I need to treat them."
…So that was it.
Looking down, Cold Cry noticed blood seeping through the bandages on his right arm, staining them crimson.
He exhaled and began unfastening his patient robe.
Suddenly, Shinobu leaned closer.
Too close.
Startled, Cold Cry instinctively stepped back—only to bump into the bed behind him, which creaked loudly.
He froze as he met her gaze.
Those violet eyes…
They seemed to draw him in completely, like a quiet abyss.
"What's there to be shy about?" Shinobu teased lightly. "When you first arrived, your entire body was covered in wounds. I treated you myself. Are you embarrassed now?"
She flicked his chin with a slender finger before turning away to prepare medicine.
"Sit down. Do you need anesthesia?"
The spell broke.
Cold Cry felt his breathing return, his face faintly flushed.
"No… I'm fine."
"How brave."
He removed his robe and sat obediently on the bed.
His body was a patchwork of injuries—bandages wrapped tightly across his torso, many now stained with fresh blood. During the fight, he hadn't noticed the pain, but now it surged through him all at once.
Shinobu stepped closer and began unwrapping the old bandages.
Layer by layer.
Her expression gradually changed.
His body looked like something barely held together—old wounds stitched, new ones torn open. The worst was his sword arm, where several stitches had burst completely.
"…This is worse than I thought."
A trace of guilt flickered across her face.
"This is my fault. I was too eager to observe your Breathing Technique and ignored your condition. With injuries like this, how were you even able to fight? It was only a spar—why push yourself so far?"
As she spoke, she carefully cleaned each wound.
They stood close—so close he could feel her breath.
The faint scent of wisteria lingered around her.
It reminded him of his sister.
She used to treat his wounds the same way—half-scolding, half-worried.
"I wasn't pushing myself," Cold Cry said quietly. "If I had gone all out… she wouldn't have had a chance."
Shinobu paused, then flicked his forehead.
She said nothing—but her meaning was clear.
Cold Cry didn't dwell on it.
"Will you take me to see the Stone Hashira tomorrow?" he asked.
"Why the rush?" Shinobu leaned closer again, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Are you that eager to leave? Or have we made you uncomfortable?"
Cold Cry quickly looked away.
"No… it's not that. You said that if I proved my strength, you'd introduce me."
Shinobu chuckled softly and picked up fresh bandages.
"Lift your arm."
He obeyed.
She began wrapping the bandages carefully, her movements precise—almost gentle enough to feel like an embrace.
"With your current condition," she said, "even if Gyomei Himejima agrees to take you in, you won't be able to train immediately."
She continued calmly:
"Before becoming his disciple, you must first join the Demon Slayer Corps. And to do that, you'll need to undergo training under a cultivator and pass the Final Selection on Mount Fujikasane."
Cold Cry frowned.
"That will take too long…"
"I understand you want to save your sister," Shinobu said softly. "But rushing blindly won't help you. You're not strong enough yet—not alone."
She tied off the bandage neatly.
"Stay here and recover for now. I'll arrange proper training for you."
After a brief pause, she added:
"I've already sent your sister's description through the Kasugai Crows. If any Corps member finds her, we'll be notified immediately."
---
Cold Cry fell silent.
She was right.
Running around alone would achieve nothing.
At the very least… here, he had direction.
By the time the treatment was finished, night had fully fallen.
After thanking Shinobu, Cold Cry returned alone to his room.
For the next three days, he remained at the Butterfly Mansion, focusing on recovery.
Shinobu lent him several books detailing demons, the Demon Slayer Corps, and Breathing Techniques.
Through them, he began to understand the path ahead.
A dangerous one.
On the night of the third day, Shinobu sent word.
"Be ready tomorrow morning," the message said.
"I'll be taking you to a cultivator."