The forest that night was bitterly cold. The scent of blood clung in the air as Akaza tore through the trees, breaking every thick trunk that he bumped into.
His entire body ached. No matter how much energy he put into it, the wounds he had received from that sword piercing his body would not heal. That shouldn't be possible!
His breath hitched as he began to grow frustrated by the minute. The Mugen train... Rengoku... that brat Tanjiro. Memories of that fight burned him more than the sun ever could. Though he had killed a Hashira, he had to leave behind the other three slayers. Had it not been for the sunrise, he would have easily killed them! He was no coward!
He needed more strength. He needed to eat.
That’s when he stumbled upon the village. Hidden deep in the woods, its lanterns flickered like fireflies against the dark. He crouched at the edge, his senses reaching out. So many heartbeats pulsed within—slow, steady, utterly defenseless.
Slipping into the outskirts, he prepared to strike. A young man crossed his path, a basket of rice on his back, completely unaware of the predator in the shadows. Akaza lunged—
And stopped.
Not because of hesitation, but because something in the corner of his vision caught him. A woman.
She walked across the dirt path, carrying a bundle of herbs against her chest. Lantern-light brushed over her face, and her eyes… her eyes stopped him cold.
White pupils, shaped like flowers.
Akaza’s heart—or whatever passed for one now—twitched. He couldn’t remember why. He couldn’t even recall a name or a voice. Yet something buried deep inside him ached when he saw those eyes.
Someone. Someone important had eyes like that.
The young man passed by, unscathed, completely oblivious.
Akaza did not chase after him.
For the next few nights, he returned. Always from the shadows, always unseen. The woman moved about her life in quiet rhythm—gathering herbs, speaking softly to the villagers, tending to the ill and the old.
She smiled often, though not too brightly, as though her warmth was something she had to protect from the world.
Why did it feel so familiar?
But even a demon could not escape the eyes of the prey. On the fourth night, with the moon high in the sky and the air growing still when the cold began to settle in, the woman was waiting outside her home. Her hands were gently stirring a warm pit of medicine, a scent so strong that it even made Akaza's nose twitch.
Just as the demon was about to disappear once again into the shadows, the woman paused. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her gaze to the thick tree lines. Those flower-shaped eyes, wide-eyed and observant, looked straight at Akaza.
"... I know you're there." She called out. "Whoever you are, please, come out."