50 Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

Kanae smiled as she carefully picked up a haori, heading off to find her sewing kit for repairs. Shinobu sheathed her blade with a soft click and sat down on the veranda, gazing at the flowerbeds. She sighed softly.

"Haruto..."

She hesitated, her young face clouded with worry.

"Using poison... does it make me seem... underhanded?"

"That's what's bothering you?" Haruto raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Underhanded? Against demons? Why would you care about that? Their bodies regenerate endlessly—isn't that the real deceit?"

"I mean..." Shinobu glanced away. "Compared to the techniques of other swordsmen, I only win with poison... and speed."

Haruto sat beside her, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You know about my past, don't you?"

Shinobu tilted her head, shaking it slightly.

"I started out trying to master Flame Breathing," Haruto began, his voice calm. "I trained for two and a half years with nothing but the guidebooks, barely scraping by during the Fujikasane Mountain trial..."

He recounted his journey, all the way to discovering Star Breathing. "The Stone Hashira, Himejima-san, once told me this: 'Even the strongest swordsman is a dull gem without a technique that suits them. The most powerful style is the one that fits you best. There's no hierarchy in the art of slaying demons.'"

Shinobu propped her chin on her hand, her brow furrowed.

"Haruto... what if you hadn't discovered Star Breathing? Would you still have stayed a Demon Slayer?"

Haruto chuckled and gestured at his broad shoulders. "Maybe I'd have joined the Kakushi. You've no idea how hard it was for them to carry me down from the mountain—either scrawny girls or wiry guys, huffing and puffing like they'd collapse any second. They were always terrified I'd fall off mid-trip!" He gave her a mock flex. "With me, though? I could carry anyone like it's nothing."

Shinobu's frown melted into a faint smile at his antics. She knew Haruto was deliberately trying to cheer her up.

Before she could respond, two figures streaked across the sky, landing lightly on the new cherry blossom tree nearby.

One was vivid red and steady; the other stark white and swift.

The red crow glanced at the white one, which stayed silent. So it took the initiative, announcing,

"Yun..."

"Mukago Lower Moon Four, has been slain!" The white crow's piercing voice cut through. "Demon Slayer Corps, Swordsman Giyu Tomioka!"

"Giyu?" Haruto's expression brightened, but his grin faltered at the mention of "Mukago."

Wasn't Lower Moon Four supposed to be a plant manipulator, the one who spat blood sprigs everywhere?

"Assisting in the kill was Swordsman Sabito!" the white crow continued. "Sabito is critically injured and en route to the Butterfly Mansion! Prepare immediate medical aid!"

The message wiped the smile off Haruto's face. His expression darkened as he glanced at Shinobu. Without a word, she sprang to her feet, dashing to help Kanae prepare the necessary medicines.

Heavy breaths filled the air. Giyu Tomioka's chest heaved as his lungs worked overtime, forcing oxygen into his blood. Every muscle, every bone felt electrified, trembling yet utterly focused.

His vision was blurry, the gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes. Everything in front of him was painted in crimson.

The demon before him, its hunched silhouette resembling a massive black cat, seemed almost... human once.

Had Muzan caught some unfortunate cat yokai and fed it blood until it became this?

"Giyu! Focus!"

Sabito's voice snapped Giyu out of his daze just in time. He rolled to his right, narrowly avoiding the lashing tail that slashed through the air, grazing his cheek with a searing pain.

Focus, Giyu Tomioka.

This wasn't some minor demon but a genuine member of the Twelve Kizuki.

He shot a quick glance at Sabito. His mentor wasn't faring much better, his fox mask long gone. Blood streaked down his face from the tail's earlier attack, mixing with sweat.

What was supposed to be a routine patrol had turned into a nightmare.

Gripping his Nichirin blade tighter, Giyu parried another strike. Something was off about this Lower Moon Four.

It wasn't fighting to kill.

No, this demon was distracted. Anxious. It didn't want to fight them—it wanted to escape, as if it had something to report.

Giyu and Sabito exchanged a glance. Without speaking, they understood each other perfectly.

They couldn't let it leave.

Sabito's eyes sharpened as he gave a subtle signal with his left hand. He lunged forward, blade aimed directly at the demon's throat.

Giyu vanished like a drop of water into the ocean, slipping into the shadows.

One feint, one strike. The technique Haruto had once used to take down the Hand Demon—only this time, the partners were master and student.

Sabito's blade gleamed, blue ripples dancing as he moved.

"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust!"

The sharp, precise strike aimed for the demon's neck, fast as a ripple on water.

A guttural growl escaped its throat as it twisted its body to dodge the fatal blow. Its claws lashed out in retaliation, raking deep across Sabito's chest, tearing through his orange-and-yellow haori.

"Thud!"

A heavy tail slammed into Sabito's chest, the force sending him crashing to the ground with a sickening crack.

"Water Breathing..."

Giyu's voice was calm, blade poised. The demon's neck was wide open.

Time slowed.

He glanced at Sabito's crumpled form, blood pooling beneath him.

A memory surfaced—

"Haruto became a Hashira," Sabito had said, gazing up at the crows overhead.

"Yeah," Giyu had replied.

"You're aiming for fifty demons?"

Giyu had hesitated before nodding firmly. "Yeah."

Sabito had smiled, warm and encouraging. "You'll make it."

"Only you can take it from me," Giyu had said, meeting his mentor's silver eyes.

Sabito had only laughed softly. "The position of Water Hashira—if I take it, it's yours no longer, huh?"

"It's not about the title," Giyu had murmured, fingers brushing his blade's guard. "I just don't want it to feel like I picked it up off the ground."

"Then... work hard, Giyu." Sabito had grinned. "I'm almost there, you know."

Back in the present, Giyu's blade hovered, his hand trembling.

Did he deserve this?

The final blow, the glory—it wasn't his. It was Sabito's.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his hesitation aside. His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux."

The twisting dragon of water surged forward, severing the demon's head cleanly.

Giyu landed softly beside Sabito's broken form, staring at his mentor's pale face.

He let out a quiet sigh.