Tanjiro’s blade is slick with blood.

It hangs limp at his side, broken and singed at the edges. His legs barely support him as he staggers through the ruined village—burned rooftops caving in, the air thick with smoke and the heavy scent of iron. His breath is ragged. Shallow. Each inhale stings like fire in his lungs.

But none of that matters.

Not now.

Not when you are gone.

“Dove…” he calls again, for the fifth, tenth, twentieth time. His voice is raw, shredded at the edges. “Where are you?”

There’s no reply. Just the wind whistling through empty homes and the distant creak of a toppled cart swaying in place.

He limps farther down the main path, passing the ash where the Upper Moon demon had finally fallen—its body twisted and blackened by the final form of Hinokami Kagura, its flesh turned to cinders before it could whisper another curse.

He won.

But the victory is hollow.

Because the space where you should be—standing beside him, panting, covered in soot, maybe teasing him for pushing too hard again—is empty.

He stops near the broken gates of the village, scanning. Listening.

“Dove… Dove, please—” his voice breaks mid-sentence.

You were with him when the mission started. You always were. You had gone to cover the western edge of the village while Tanjiro took the eastern front. You told him, “We’ll meet in the middle, like always. Don’t be late.”

But now the middle has come and gone, and you’re nowhere in sight.

A chill crawls down his spine—not from the cold, but from the silence.

“No,” he whispers, stumbling forward. “No, no… this isn’t right.”

He starts searching—really searching. Kicking through rubble, eyes wide with dread. His hands shake as he pulls back fallen beams, lifts shattered tiles, looking for even a hint of your scent. Your presence. Anything.

A whisper of your voice. A trace of your warmth.

But the blood on the ground isn’t yours.

And that’s somehow worse.

“Where did you go…?” His voice trembles. “You always come back to me…”

He finds your blade first.

It’s snapped. Clean in half. The handle is scorched, the cord fraying at the edges—your blade. He’d know it anywhere.

“No…”

Tanjiro drops to his knees in the dirt, holding it like it’s something sacred. Like if he holds it long enough, you’ll come running around the corner, laughing, teasing him for being too dramatic.

But you don’t.

And the sun is rising now.

The golden light cuts across the destruction, painting everything in soft warmth—a warmth that feels cruel in your absence.

His voice is a whisper now. Barely audible.

“…Dove…”

He closes his eyes, pressing your broken sword hilt to his chest. “Please… be alive. Be somewhere. Just—don’t let this be the end. Not like this.”

He stays there, kneeling in the ashes, the broken remains of your sword clutched in his hands like a prayer.

Until the crows arrive.

Until the reinforcements come.

Until someone says your name with hesitation, and Tanjiro’s heart shatters all over again just from the look in their eyes.

Because you’re still missing.

And now, there’s only one thing left in him stronger than grief—resolve.

He rises slowly, body aching, vision blurred—but unwavering.

“I’m going to find you, Dove,” he says, voice low and raw. “Even if I have to tear this entire mountain apart. Even if I bleed for it.”

Because wherever you are—lost, taken, or simply waiting—Tanjiro is coming.

And he won’t stop until you’re back in his arms again.