The mountain air was crisp but carried a quiet warmth from the hot spring, the steam rising and curling through the falling leaves like pale ghosts returning to the earth.

Near the edge of the water, Rengoku sat with his feet dipped into the spring, leaning back on his hands as he tilted his face up to the sky. His boisterous laugh rang out like a burst of sunlight. “Ah! Such a day calls for gratitude! Even demons deserve to rest their weary bones!” he declared warmly, as if he were welcoming old comrades instead of age-old enemies.

Beside him, Akaza sat cross-legged on a smooth boulder, his sharp gold eyes half-lidded, arms folded across his chest. The warmth of the spring didn’t quite reach his expression, but his shoulders were uncharacteristically relaxed. “Tch… Don’t make it sound like we’re friends,” he muttered. Yet, he hadn’t moved when Tanjiro invited him to sit there earlier.

A few steps away, Tanjiro gently brushed wet leaves off his sister’s shoulder as Nezuko crouched at the water’s edge, giggling softly while splashing at the reflection of the steam. Her bamboo muzzle was off for the first time in weeks, and her smile was shy but radiant. Zenitsu, already in the spring, yelped dramatically when a stray splash hit his face, glaring playfully at Nezuko before sinking chin-deep into the hot water. “Nezuko-chaaaaan! That was uncalled for!” he whined, although the grin on his face betrayed his delight.

Across the spring, the Hantengu clones were scattered like children in a playground. Urogi had perched in a tree branch above the hot spring, chirping excitedly while dropping leaves into the water just to watch the ripples. Karaku floated on his back in the shallows with his arms spread, sighing contentedly. Aizetsu sat hunched on the shore with his chin on his knees, muttering about the pointlessness of peace yet making no move to leave. Sekido, predictably, stood with his arms crossed, glaring at everyone like the spring itself had offended him.

Tengen, naturally, was the loudest presence in the water. Draped in a towel like it was a royal sash, he struck a dramatic pose against a rock, his voice booming. “Even demons need to experience the flamboyance of a proper hot spring retreat!” he declared before splashing Zenitsu—who shrieked and scrambled behind Inosuke for cover.

Inosuke, of course, was more concerned with showing that he could out-splash everyone else. Wearing only a towel tied haphazardly around his waist, he stomped into the spring with a triumphant yell. “Boar power makes the water feel better!” he shouted, much to Zenitsu’s dismay.

By the hut, the atmosphere was calmer. Shinobu sat near the doorway on a woven mat, brewing tea over a small clay stove, her delicate hands steady despite the presence of demons only a few paces away. Her soft smile was polite yet sharp enough to remind anyone watching that she wasn’t entirely at ease. Nakime sat silently not far from her, fingers resting lightly on the strings of her biwa. She hadn’t played a single note, but the quiet between the two women felt oddly companionable.

In the shadows of the hut, Kokushibo knelt like a carved statue, his six eyes half-shut as if in meditation. The faint glow of the hearth highlighted the sharp lines of his face. Gyomei, sat opposite him, the beads of his rosary slipping between his fingers.

Not far from them, Obanai sat with his ever-present serpent, Kaburamaru, coiled lazily around his shoulders. His eyes followed Mitsuri, who was giggling softly as she helped Aoi prepare extra blankets for later.

By the far edge of the spring, Douma reclined on a rock, grinning as if he were hosting a party. “Ah, this is delightful!" he chirped, waving cheerily at a glowering Sekido.

Genya stayed mostly near the treeline, wary as ever, but even he seemed less tense, occasionally glancing toward his brother Sanemi, who leaned against a tree trunk with his arms crossed.

Meanwhile, Muichiro had found a patch of moss by the spring, lying down with his arms folded under his head. Rui, small and quiet, sat cross-legged nearby.