As dusk approached, the wind and snow outside intensified, reducing visibility to nearly zero.
At that moment, Tanjiro had yet to return.
On the mountain path, Tanjiro, having sold the charcoal, was hurrying home but found himself battling the thickening snowfall. He picked up his pace as best he could.
"Tanjiro, it's you! The night is coming, and the snowstorm is worsening. Stay at my place tonight and set out once the storm subsides tomorrow," called out an old man, a familiar face to Tanjiro. Tanjiro often delivered charcoal to him and his family, so they were well-acquainted.
"Grandpa Saburo, my family is waiting for me at home. I can't stay here," Tanjiro replied.
The elderly Saburo frowned. "Don't be hasty; safety is paramount. What if something happens? Your family would only be more heartbroken. And remember, there are man-eating demons roaming at night. Better to stay until morning."
Tanjiro hesitated. Saburo's words were reasonable, and the growing storm certainly posed a risk.
After a moment's thought, Tanjiro decided to stay. He'd been in this situation before, and he was sure his family would understand.
"Thank you, Grandpa Saburo. But are demons... real? I've never seen one," Tanjiro murmured.
Saburo's expression shifted, a deep sorrow clouding his face. "Yes, and pray that you never encounter them, Tanjiro. Think of it as just a story, alright?"
Tanjiro nodded, thinking, Such deep sadness... Could demons really exist?
In the mountain cabin, the soft crackling of a small fire barely broke the oppressive silence. Nagare and his mother, Kie, sat cross-legged, both watching the dimming night. Meanwhile, Nezuko and the others slept peacefully.
Kie spoke in a low voice, not wanting to wake the children. "Tanjiro hasn't returned yet. Do you think he's alright?"
Nagare had a growing feeling of unease. Was something going to happen to Tanjiro?
He forced a smile to reassure her. "Don't worry. The snow's heavy tonight; he might have found shelter somewhere. I've been in that situation before. He'll be alright."
Yet his words were as much for himself as they were for his mother. Nagare was perhaps even more anxious than she was.
Kie still looked concerned, her worry etched deeply in her gaze. Her motherly instinct told her something was wrong.
Nagare's heart raced, and a nauseating sense of dread began to settle in his chest. "Mother, maybe I should go down the mountain and look for him. The snow is heavy, but it's still passable."
Kie shook her head, unwilling to risk him in the storm. "Nagare, you're a good big brother to care so much. But Tanjiro is smart and capable. If he's delayed, it's for his own safety."
Nagare offered a soft smile. "Of course, because…you're all my family."
He paused, glancing at her. "But still, I'd feel better if I went to find him."
Kie looked at her eldest son, who had been so reliable over the years. After a brief hesitation, she nodded, trusting in his judgment. "If you think it's necessary…"
Nagare stood, preparing to leave, but froze as a sudden, hair-raising sensation washed over him—a presence that set every instinct on edge.
"Who's there?" he demanded, whirling around.
He saw no one, but the feeling persisted, prickling at the back of his mind.
Then it hit him—Behind me? Mother!
"Kie… run… don't look back…" his mother's voice came, a strained whisper, thick with pain.
Nagare felt something wet seeping through his shoes. Blood.
His mind reeled as he turned, and the sight that met his eyes would haunt him forever.
Kie, Nezuko, Hanako, Takeo, Shigeru, and Rokuta—all lay motionless, caught in pools of blood. His siblings still wore the serene smiles of sleep, unaware of their fate.
Kie struggled, attempting to fend off a looming shadow, a tall, monstrous figure gripping her frail body.
Nagare's heart raced with terror as he took in the horror before him. This creature was no human but a demon—a figure from childhood tales come to life, with wild, tangled black hair, bloodshot eyes filled with bloodlust, and razor-sharp fangs glinting in the dim light.
A story, no longer just a story.
The demon's hand closed tighter around Kie's neck, lifting her effortlessly.
"Let her go!" Nagare screamed, his voice choked with fury and despair. He lunged, gripping the familiar weight of his ax, and brought it down toward the demon's arm in a strike honed from years of woodcutting.
Yet the demon didn't flinch. He merely cocked his head, smirking as if amused.
"Pathetic," he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Is this the strength of a child? Humans are so weak, so fragile… unlike us demons, blessed with true power."
With a single, effortless stomp, the demon cracked the wooden floor beneath them, spidering fractures outward.
Nagare's ax was swatted away, and before he could react, the demon's iron grip was on his head, lifting him as easily as a doll. Pain blazed through Nagare's skull as the demon's sharp nails dug into his skin, breaking through his flesh as easily as paper.
And in his fading consciousness, he saw his mother's body, tossed aside like a broken doll, her neck bent at an impossible angle.
"Mother…" he managed, his voice barely a whisper as darkness began to consume him.