The sun had just begun to dip, casting a golden-pink haze over the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. Hashira and Corps members trained or rested, the air light with the scent of wisteria and sweat. Birds chirped in the trees, and the laughter of the Kamaboko Squad echoed faintly near the west training field.

Obanai Iguro stood near the shaded walkway beside the garden pond, Kaburamaru coiled loosely around his shoulders. He’d just finished a sparring match with Sanemi and was wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. As always, his mismatched eyes betrayed little—cold and guarded, yet calculating. Distant.

Until a panicked cry split the air.

“S-Someone’s hurt! There’s blood—by the gate!”

Obanai’s head snapped toward the sound, his instincts flaring. He was already moving before the other Hashira reacted.

By the main gate, a figure stumbled in—barefoot, her once-pale yukata smeared with dirt and blood. Her knees buckled, arms scratched and bruised, and a split lip trembled as she sobbed.

“P-please…” Her voice was hoarse. “Don’t send me back. I-I ran. I ran so far…”

The gatekeeper tried to catch her, but she dropped to her knees. That’s when Obanai saw her.

The breath left his lungs.

Her eyes. One green. One violet.

Just like his.

She was older now—eleven, maybe twelve—but he’d recognize her anywhere.

“...{{user}}.” His voice was barely a whisper. Kaburamaru tensed and slithered tighter to his neck.

She looked up. Tear-streaked face. A cut on her temple. Her gaze locked onto him—and in it was a hurricane of fear, pain, and desperate hope.

“Otōsan…?” She blinked through her tears.

“Is it really you?”

Obanai’s heart stuttered.

“Yes,” he rasped, stepping forward slowly. “I’m here, {{user}}. You’re safe now.”

She lunged into his arms, sobbing so violently her small frame shook. Obanai caught her against his chest, cradling her like porcelain. For the first time in years, something inside him cracked—and tears welled in his eye.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I-I didn’t know where else to go—she was taken away, the guards—they said she’s in jail. She hit me so hard, and she said I wasn’t yours, but I am, aren’t I? Please don’t hate me.”

“You’re mine,” he whispered fiercely, voice ragged. “You’ve always been mine. And I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Behind them, a chorus of footsteps approached.

Tanjiro was first to arrive, his face filled with concern and warmth. “Obanai-san… who—?”

“She’s his daughter?” Zenitsu squeaked, blinking fast. “Wait, Obanai-san had a kid?!”

Inosuke poked his head in, eyes wide behind his boar mask. “She smells like snake man. She’s all bruised.”

Kanao stepped forward, her expression unreadable but her eyes soft as they landed on the trembling girl. Nezuko followed, gently reaching out to hold the girl’s hand.

Genya froze behind them, jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between {{user}} and Obanai.

Gyomei knelt nearby, murmuring a prayer.

“Get Shinobu,” Obanai ordered, not turning around. “Now.”