Twenty minutes later, Nezuko appeared in the dining hall doorway like someone entering enemy territory. Her pink kimono hung loose around shoulders that seemed smaller overnight. Fresh scratches marked her knuckles.
Tanjiro slid beside her. Untouched breakfast tray. She flinched when he moved too quickly.
"You haven't eaten."
"Not hungry." She lifted chopsticks with trembling fingers. Simple motion requiring visible concentration. "My stomach feels strange."
"Strange how?"
"Empty, but not for food." The admission slipped out before she could stop it. Her face went pale. "I mean, just unsettled. Stress."
He studied her profile. She avoided his gaze while pretending to examine rice. "What happened to your hands?"
"Gardening work yesterday. Rose bushes have thorns."
"We don't grow roses here."
She flinched. "Different flowers then. I don't know their names."
"The gardening areas don't have anything with thorns that size." He kept his voice careful. "Those look like claw marks."
"Claw marks?" Laugh too high, too brittle. "What would make claw marks? No animals in my room."
"I didn't say they were made by animals."
Silence hung between them like an accusation. Nezuko's breathing quickened, scent shifting to pure panic mixed with something else—something that made every demon-hunting instinct flare.
"Your scent is different today. Are you sick?"
"My scent? What do you mean? I bathed last night."
"Not unclean. Changed. Like when you're stressed, but deeper." He paused. "Like something fundamental shifted."
Nezuko stood abruptly. Chair scraped against floor with harsh finality. "I need fresh air. This conversation is making me dizzy."
"Nezuko, wait—"
But she was walking away, moving with that same uneven rhythm he'd heard through her door. Like her body was remembering motion patterns that weren't entirely human.
---
Akira approached across the courtyard with fluid grace. Auburn hair caught sunlight like polished copper. Amber eyes fixed on him with practiced warmth that felt calculated.
"Good morning, Tanjiro!" Cheerful tone, genuine enthusiasm. "Ready for another successful mission?"
"Good morning, Akira." He returned her smile while his senses catalogued details—scent too clean, too controlled. Someone masking their true nature. "Looking forward to it."
"You look troubled. Problems sleeping?" Assessment of his posture was swift, professional, predatory. "Family concerns?"
Direct observation made him tense. "Nothing serious. Worried about my sister."
"Ah, family worries." Perfectly calibrated sympathy. "I noticed her leaving the dining hall quickly when I arrived. Is she unwell?"
"She claims it's nothing major, but—" He caught himself. Some instinct warned against sharing details about Nezuko's condition. "She's been having difficult nights."
"How unfortunate." Concern seemed genuine, but her eyes tracked toward the building where Nezuko had disappeared. Calculating interest. "Sleep problems can be challenging for someone with her unique background."
"Her background?"
"Her demon transformation experience. Surely that leaves lasting effects, even after successful reversal."
Casual reference to Nezuko's trauma felt like probing. Testing his willingness to discuss private family matters. "She's recovered completely."
"Has she? I've read about similar cases—psychological echoes that persist long after physical transformation ends." She stepped closer with apparent scholarly interest. "Perhaps I could speak with her? Sometimes an outside perspective helps."
Every protective instinct screamed warnings. "That's kind, but she's very private."
"Of course. I wouldn't intrude." But her gaze lingered on the headquarters building with hungry fascination. "Though from a professional standpoint, her successful transformation represents something unprecedented. The research possibilities—"
"Nezuko isn't a research subject."
"No, of course not. I simply meant understanding her experience could help other families facing similar situations." Perfectly reasonable tone, but something predatory lurked behind her words. "Knowledge that could prevent future tragedies."
"She doesn't discuss that period. At all."
"Such trauma often requires time to process. Perhaps someday, when she's ready—"
"She's not interested in helping with research."
Firmness in his voice made Akira pause. Expression cycling through surprise, calculation, renewed interest. "You're very protective of her."
"She's my sister."
"Of course. Though I wonder what specific threats you're protecting her from. Surely there's no danger here at headquarters."
The question felt like bait. Designed to make him reveal information about his concerns. "I'm naturally cautious."
"About what, specifically?"
Before he could deflect, footsteps across the courtyard made both Hashira turn.
---
Nezuko emerged from the dining hall and froze when she spotted Akira. Face drained of color. Recognition flashed across her features—not polite recognition of meeting someone new, but visceral recognition of encountering something from nightmares made real.
"Oh!" Rapid, shallow breathing. Panic written in every line of her posture. "You're the new Hashira."
"Shiranui Akira." Friendly wave, but sharp assessment in her gaze as she studied Nezuko's distressed state. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."
"Nezuko." Barely a whisper. "Kamado Nezuko."
"The famous sister who overcame her demon nature." Genuine fascination that made Tanjiro's skin crawl. "How remarkable. I'd love to hear about your experiences sometime."
"I don't remember much. It's better forgotten."
"Is it? Sometimes our past experiences contain wisdom we didn't recognize." Akira stepped closer with apparent scholarly interest. "The process of transformation, the return to humanity—such events must leave unique insights about consciousness itself."
"Nezuko doesn't discuss that period," Tanjiro interrupted, moving between them. "Ever."
"Of course not. I apologize if I seemed insensitive." Perfectly contrite expression, but something predatory lurked when she looked at Nezuko. "I only meant to express admiration for her extraordinary strength."
"Thank you for understanding." Polite dismissal while his body language screamed territorial warning. "Perhaps we should focus on today's mission preparations."
"Certainly. Though I can't help noticing she seems distressed." Sympathetic, concerned, manipulative. "Are you sure she's all right?"
"She's fine," Nezuko said quickly, voice still carrying that disturbing rasp. "Just tired from poor sleep. I should rest."
"If you're certain..." Perfectly understanding tone, but hungry interest when she looked at Nezuko. "Sometimes talking to someone outside the family helps process difficult emotions. Fresh perspective can be therapeutic."
"She has everything she needs," Tanjiro said with finality.
But Nezuko made a small sound—half whimper, half growl—that made both Hashira turn toward her with sharp attention. The sound was distinctly inhuman, carrying harmonics that belonged to something with different vocal structure.
"I'm sorry," Nezuko whispered, backing toward the building entrance. "I need to go inside."
"Of course. Rest well." Warm, understanding smile that was absolutely terrifying in its patience. "Perhaps we'll chat when you're feeling better."
Nezuko fled toward the headquarters building without another word, moving with that uneven rhythm that suggested her body was remembering motion patterns that weren't entirely human.
---
"Perhaps we should postpone today's mission," Akira suggested with false solicitude as they watched Nezuko disappear. "You should stay with your sister if she's unwell."
"That's not necessary." Every instinct screamed warnings about leaving Nezuko alone while Akira knew about her distressed state. "Our duties come first."
"But family is more important than any mission. The demons we're tracking have been consistent—one more day won't make a difference." Apparent reasonableness felt like manipulation wrapped in concern. "I could handle today's assignment alone if you need to—"
"No." Refusal came out sharper than intended. "We work as partners. That's what Master Ubuyashiki ordered."
"You seem very protective of her." Calculating undertones. "Almost like you're afraid something specific might happen."
"I'm cautious. There's a difference."
"Of course. Though I wonder what you're being cautious about?" Head tilted with interest. "What specific threats concern you enough to refuse assistance with family care?"
"General threats. The world is dangerous."
"But surely there's no immediate danger here at headquarters. We're surrounded by fellow demon slayers, protected by every security measure the Corps can provide." Logical reasonableness that felt like a trap. "What could possibly threaten her in such a secure environment?"
The question demanded an answer he couldn't give without revealing his growing suspicions. "Experience has taught me that safety is always temporary."
"Experience with what, specifically?"
"Loss. Betrayal. Threats that came from unexpected directions."
"Ah." Understanding that felt genuine for the first time. "The trauma of losing family to demons creates hypervigilance. Understandable, but potentially limiting if it prevents accepting help from allies."
"I don't need help protecting my sister."
"I'm sure you don't. But isolation can be its own vulnerability." Patient, therapeutic, manipulative. "Sometimes the very caution that keeps us safe also prevents us from recognizing genuine assistance."
"And sometimes caution prevents us from walking into obvious traps."
Words hung between them like an accusation. Akira's expression cycled through surprise, amusement, calculating reassessment.
"Traps? From fellow Corps members?" Genuinely delighted laugh. "Tanjiro, you sound almost paranoid. What possible reason would I have to threaten your sister?"
"I didn't say you specifically posed a threat."
"Didn't you? Your body language suggests otherwise." Professional interest. "Defensive posture, hand near weapon, positioning between me and the building where she went. Classic protective behavior against perceived predators."
"Maybe I'm naturally protective."
"Or maybe your instincts are trying to tell you something your conscious mind hasn't processed yet." Philosophical undertones that made him deeply uncomfortable. "The question is whether you're protecting her from real threats or imaginary ones."