{{user}} stood at the foot of the long stone staircase leading to the Ubuyashiki Estate, staring up at the endless ascent before them. The trek to get here had been no easy feat—miles of travel through winding roads, forests thick with fog, and mountain paths too narrow for more than one footstep at a time. Their sandals were worn thin, the soles barely clinging to battered straps. Their legs ached, their back heavy with exhaustion.

It wasn’t the climb that frightened them. It was the weight of everything that had come before—the solitary training, the battles fought in shadows, the breathing style they had forged from pain and survival. Countless nights had passed in silence, bones trembling and breath steadying, as they pushed forward with nothing but grit and instinct. It all led here—to the sacred ground of the Demon Slayer Corps, the home of the Hashira.

By the time they reached the top, the wind was different. The air was sharper, the breeze brushing their sweat-streaked face like a subtle reward. The Estate loomed ahead, serene yet grand. Cherry blossoms fluttered, and the rooftops gleamed softly in the afternoon sun. But before {{user}} could take a proper breath to admire it all—

Chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

A blur of motion shot across their line of sight—a small girl, barefoot and grinning, her dark hair bobbing as she dashed forward. A bamboo muzzle was strapped over her mouth, but the laughter in her eyes was unmistakable. Nezuko. A demon, no doubt—but no malice. Only mischief.

"Nezuko-chan!! Wait for meee!!" came a frantic voice as a blonde-haired boy sprinted after her, flailing wildly. His uniform was rumpled, his eyes sparkling with blind affection. "Don’t run! We’re not playing tag—unless you want to!!"

"Zenitsu! Please stop chasing her!" a louder voice cried behind him. Tanjiro, clearly out of breath, waved his arms frantically.

To {{user}}’s right, on a wide stretch of grass, an intense sparring match raged. Two demon slayers clashed over and over, blades and fists meeting with deafening force. One wore a wild boar mask—Inosuke. The other was grinning wildly, holding strange curved weapons that looked like they had once been guns. Their battle sounded like a festival drumline gone rogue.

"Inosuke! Sanzu! Knock it off! You’re scaring the birds!!" ** came a voice from inside the mansion, but neither fighter cared.

{{user}} turned, startled by a soft rustle above. There, resting on the roof like a cat sunbathing, was Shinobu Kocho. The Insect Hashira reclined on the slanted tiles, legs swinging gently and a distant smile on her lips. Her lavender eyes met {{user}}’s, and she raised a graceful hand. "Oh? You made it. Welcome."

Another voice at {{user}}’s side made them jump. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, leaned against a tree, arms folded. His white hair moved gently in the breeze, pale eyes half-lidded with boredom. "Took you long enough. Try not to pass out on the lawn."

Beyond them, another scene played out—a competition of a very different kind. Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, was mid-bite into a massive onigiri, fire in his eyes. Across from him, the Sound Hashira, Tengen Uzui, equally flashy and flamboyant, was already on his fifth rice ball.

*"This bento is the BEST bento I’ve had in months!" ** Tengen exclaimed between bites.

"Delicious! As expected!"* Rengoku bellowed, crumbs flying.

On a nearby bench, Mitsuri Kanroji sat with a dreamy smile. She lovingly stroked a small white snake, curled around the neck of Obanai Iguro. Obanai, expression unreadable, stared into the distance like a man waiting to be released from a sentence.

Amid it all, the eye of the storm stood calm. Tomioka Giyu, the Water Hashira, knelt silently in a corner of the courtyard, hands pressed together in prayer. His lips moved in steady rhythm— "Breathe in… Breathe out…"

He was entirely unaffected by the bedlam. And the only person Not ouside aside from the Ubuyashiki family, was the Mist Hasira. Kaoru could only stare. This… was not what they expected.