"Hey, did you hear?"
"Hear what?"
Two Kakushi, their faces hidden beneath thick uniforms, were idly chatting in a quiet corner—work was slow, after all.
"We've got a new recruit in the Demon Slayer Corps."
"So what? We're always short-handed. Every selection brings in new faces, but not everyone passes, fewer stick it out to the end, and almost none become as amazing as the Hashira... Most of us are just regular folks with no particular talent."
"Hey, I'm not talking about just any new recruit. This one was brought in by the Flower Hashira and the Stone Hashira. Oyakata-sama even called a Hashira Meeting for her."
"No way, that's got to be an exaggeration... Oh, wait—are you talking about that new woman doctor?"
"So you do know! Her skills are incredible. Just yesterday, she came by and healed the Flame Hashira's ear."
"Seriously? Wasn't that injury from a demon fight years ago? I heard he saw all sorts of doctors and none of them could fix it."
"That's why I said she's practically a miracle worker! Like a goddess of medicine!"
Unlike Kibutsuji Muzan's rule, which depended on fear and ruthless control, the Demon Slayer Corps relied on mutual respect—subordinates looked up to their superiors out of admiration, not terror. Ubuyashiki Kagaya never considered himself above others, but even the proudest Hashira bowed their heads before him.
He didn't have Muzan's power to hear the thoughts of his underlings or crush them with a whim. But with his unique charisma, Kagaya inspired swordsmen to lay down their lives for him.
That's why discipline here was lax—the Corps was united by shared ideals, not strict rules.
Just as the two were chatting, the door slammed open with a violence that made them jump.
They were about to complain about the rude intruder—until they saw who it was, and their scalps went numb.
"W-Wind Hashira?!"
Shinazugawa Sanemi strode in, scanning the room with a scowl fierce enough to keep anyone at bay.
Almost immediately, he seemed to spot his quarry and fixed both Kakushi with a glare as sharp as a drawn blade. They didn't dare meet his eyes, terrified their eyeballs might shatter under that stare.
"Wind Hashira! We're not slacking off!"
"Yeah, we're definitely not just hanging around gossiping, no way!"
Sanemi had a reputation as the most difficult of the Hashira, and both Kakushi started babbling in fear.
If their first reaction was terror, what came next was pure dread.
Sanemi was coming right at them, his pace quickening, his scowl growing. His face loomed larger and larger—a storm about to break. Their knees went weak.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, why is he coming here?! He looks like he's going to kill us!
But just when they thought their lives were over, Sanemi swept right past them, vaulted through a half-open window, and vanished—without so much as a glance their way. A gust of wind scattered papers and dust in his wake.
The two Kakushi stared at each other in bewilderment.
What in the world was that about?
BANG!
Suddenly, the same door Sanemi had just kicked closed exploded into pieces.
This time, the intruder was an unfamiliar woman—at least, unfamiliar compared to the notorious Wind Hashira. The two Kakushi didn't really know Nightingale.
But the moment she turned her gaze on them, they both felt their heads spin, as if struck by a heavy mallet. Their legs nearly gave out.
Then, in the next instant, Nightingale's eyes softened, and the pressure faded, leaving them almost relieved.
"No obvious injuries or illnesses—low priority for treatment. Where are the patients?"
Patients? Who's she talking about?
Does she mean the Wind Hashira?
Before they could figure it out, Nightingale—just like Sanemi—leapt out the window. Only, unlike Sanemi, who slipped out like a cat, Nightingale shattered the glass and shot off like an arrow, the wind roaring in her wake as she pursued Sanemi's trail.
The two Kakushi were left in silence, gazing at the shards of window scattered outside.
Sanemi was fast—so fast that other Kakushi on patrol only felt a sudden blast of wind, never even glimpsing him.
Among the Hashira, the fastest was Uzui Tengen, whose Sound Breathing evolved from Thunder Breathing—the fastest, most explosive style. Tengen once dazzled Tanjiro's group with his near-teleportation speed.
But right behind him was Sanemi, the Wind Hashira, whose battles were like a violent storm—his swordplay whipping up blades of wind sharp enough to carve demons apart.
Yet today, Sanemi wasn't pursuing demons. He was the one being chased.
"Stop right there!"
Nightingale's voice rang out behind him, cutting through the wind. Sanemi felt the pressure and sped up.
"Injured patients aren't supposed to run around avoiding treatment! Hold still—this is for your own health!"
"Dammit! How many times do I have to say it—I'm not some injured patient!"
"It's not up to you whether there's a problem or not! If you're really fine, let me check you over. If you're so healthy, why run away?"
Nightingale had already treated Himejima Gyomei's old injuries, and recently, she'd healed Rengoku Kyojuro's ear—and tuned up his body, for good measure. Now she figured it was time to treat the rest of the Hashira.
Her first target: Shinazugawa Sanemi.
"I've had enough of those scars on your body! Why can't you take better care of yourself? If you keep this up, I'll have to kill you and fix your body after—just for your health!"
"I'll be dead, you crazy hag! What good is health then?!"
Sanemi's Wind Breathing made him fast, but Nightingale's Agility was ranked B+, even faster. If not for Sanemi's familiarity with the area, she'd have caught him already.
Of course, the outcome wasn't going to change.
"Get down!"
THUD!
Nightingale's fist connected with Sanemi's head. He dropped like a stone, instantly falling into a baby-like sleep—a perfect opportunity for treatment.
Nightingale could guess at the cause of Sanemi's countless scars.
There was a rare trait in this world called "rare blood." A demon who ate a person with this blood would gain nourishment equal to consuming a hundred humans.
Sanemi was a rare blood, the rarest of the rare—his blood's scent could intoxicate demons.
The first demon he killed was his own mother. To protect his younger siblings from her, Sanemi fought and discovered his strange constitution.
He killed his mother with his own hands, was misunderstood by his siblings, and wandered aimlessly—unaware even of the Corps or Nichirin Blades—hunting demons by using his own blood as bait and dragging them into sunlight. Every fight was a bloodletting.
Even after joining the Corps, Sanemi's methods didn't change. His growing collection of scars were proof of the wounds and blood he'd shed.
In the manga, Sanemi even used this trick against Kokushibo, helping secure victory. After Kokushibo wounded him, Sanemi could instantly clot his own blood and tighten his muscles to keep his organs from spilling out—an inhuman feat, according to Kokushibo.
So it wasn't until Nightingale got him on the operating table that she realized just how bad his condition really was—something no one could see from the outside.
"This patient... might take more than a day."
Nightingale pondered, then pulled out a syringe from her bag.
"Forget it. I'll just use anesthetic first. Last thing I need is for him to wake up halfway through surgery."
Since Nightingale was closest to Shinobu and Kanae, she'd moved in at the Butterfly Estate with Afune and Tasuke. Kagaya had even arranged for a special treatment room for her.
With Kagaya's support, Nightingale now had far better medical supplies than before—much better than when she lived at Afune's house. In this regard, she was quite satisfied.
When Sanemi finally staggered out, every scar on his body had vanished. He was like a new man, so light he almost felt uncomfortable.
But he didn't look happy—if anything, he was more sullen than ever.
He was frustrated—he'd been taken down, again, without any way to fight back. Not that he'd really tried; he saw Nightingale as a comrade now, so he didn't draw his blade. Still, he could tell: even if he went all out, he couldn't beat her.
That stung.
Dammit... Just wait. I'll get stronger than you yet! I'll be the one to lop off Muzan's head!
He made the vow to himself, then caught sight of a pebble by his foot.
Without thinking, he kicked it away. The pebble bounced and rolled, finally coming to rest at someone else's feet.
"Good morning, Sanemi. How's your body? Isn't the weather lovely today?"
Kanae greeted him with a gentle smile, as if she'd been waiting at the door for him.
"What are you doing here?"
Even without his scars, Sanemi's face was as fierce as ever.
Kanae's smile didn't waver.
"Nightingale said the treatment would take a while, so I stood guard to make sure no one disturbed you."
Her eyes were beautiful, sparkling like stars on a lake, or purple gems in a dream. The slight curve of her lips made Sanemi feel dazed, almost drunk.
"So this is what you look like without all those scars?"
Hands clasped behind her back, Kanae approached, light as a butterfly, and studied him up close. "First time I've seen it. Honestly, you look a bit more handsome this way. I never understood why you had so many scars... They didn't look like wounds from fighting demons."
"...Tch. None of your business!"
He turned away brusquely, storming toward the estate's gate.
But after just a few steps, Sanemi stopped.
"Hey. Flower Hashira."
"Hmm?"
Kanae tilted her head curiously.
A moment later, Sanemi spoke—so quietly Kanae almost didn't catch it.
"Sorry."
"Eh?"
Kanae blinked, staring after his retreating figure in confusion.
"Sorry for what?"
"You know..."
From where she stood, Kanae couldn't see his face, but his voice was laced with frustration and embarrassment.
"That time... when you brought that crazy woman into the Corps, I almost tried to stop you."
He scratched his neck, annoyed. "Anyway... I admit it. I was wrong. I apologize. Ugh, whatever!"
With that, Sanemi stomped off without waiting for a reply, leaving Kanae standing there, dumbstruck.
It wasn't until some time later that clear, bell-like laughter rang through the Butterfly Estate garden.