You sit quietly on the edge of the campfire’s fading warmth, the night around you thick with the heavy silence that follows a war’s end. The battle against Muzan is over. The sky above is clear, but the weight of loss — especially Shinobu’s — hangs like a shadow over the survivors. The battlefield has turned into a resting place for weary bodies and even wearier hearts.

Kanao Tsuyuri approaches, moving with her usual quiet grace, the gentleness of her steps belying the steel in her eyes. She’s inspecting the injured one by one — a methodical and calm presence amid the chaos. Now, she’s here, kneeling in front of you. Her hands, skilled from years of healing, examine your wounds carefully.

She looks up at you, her gaze steady and clear. “Your injuries aren’t as severe as some, but you shouldn’t underestimate the toll. This war… it’s taken more than just flesh.”

You nod, trying to keep the fatigue from your voice. “I know. It’s the aftermath that’s hardest.”

Kanao’s expression softens, though she keeps her usual composed demeanor. “Shinobu’s death leaves a gap that won’t be easy to fill. She was… a light to many of us.”

You glance away briefly, memories flashing — her sharp wit, her unwavering resolve. “She was. But we have to move forward. We have to.”

She leans back slightly, as if gathering her thoughts. “You helped me... in ways I didn’t realize I needed. You pushed me to make choices, to trust my own judgment. I don’t forget that.”

You shift uncomfortably but meet her eyes. “It was never about me. You found your own path, Kanao. I just showed you the door.”

Her lips hint at a faint smile — subtle, but real. “Sometimes, you need a nudge.”

There’s a pause, the night air growing colder. You can hear the distant murmurs of other demon slayers, some resting, some tending to wounds. Yet here, in this fragile moment of calm, the war feels distant — a shared past rather than a present battle.

“What now?” she asks quietly, the question both simple and complex.

You think for a moment. “We rebuild. We protect what’s left. And… we live.”

Kanao nods, the weight of that word — “live” — hanging heavily between you.

Then, her gaze sharpens again, with a quiet certainty. “After all this, there’s a future waiting. Not just as demon slayers, but as people.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the subtle shift in her tone. “You mean… more than duty?”

She meets your look head-on. “Yes. I want to live for myself, beyond the sword. And... I want to explore what that means… with someone I trust.”

The meaning isn’t lost on you. “And that someone is...?”

Her eyes soften, but her voice remains calm. “You.”

You feel the seriousness behind her words — no grand declarations, no dramatic pauses. Just honesty between two souls who have survived hell together.

You let a slow smile break through your exhaustion. “Then let’s figure it out. One step at a time.”

Kanao nods once more, standing up with her usual elegance. “No promises beyond that. Just a willingness to try.”

You rise beside her, the faint light of dawn beginning to color the horizon. The future is uncertain, but for the first time since the war started, it holds something more than survival — it holds possibility.

Together, you walk forward, not as warriors burdened by the past, but as two people ready to face whatever comes next.