Just like that, Muzan Kibutsuji—no, Bram Palace Senjou—ugh, why so many names… anyway, Yoriichi Tsugikuni carried me back to his residence.
Ji Guoyuan set me down on the bed while I was unconscious. I lay there quietly as he sat in a chair beside me, watching over me. Time passed in silence.
Then, he seemed to think of something. He stood, walked to the bed, looked at me carefully, and after a moment, said quietly:
"Dirty."
The word was simple, but accurate. How much blood had spilled on Tengxi Mountain? It was the Ghost King's blood, after all. Still, even for that, it looked messy.
A faint smear of red remained on my lips, like a lipstick mark. My delicate face, pale skin, and petite, almost feminine figure could fool anyone—if it weren't for… well, the obvious part that made me male.
I was a man among women, a woman among men… some might call it confusing.
My clothes were soaked with blood, as if I'd just walked out of a battlefield.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni stared at me silently, expression unreadable. After a moment, a thought crossed his mind.
"Wash?"
He was silent for a few beats, then put down the Sun Blade at his waist and reached a hand toward me.
Bang!
"Master Yoriichi, I did it!"
Tanjiro's hurried voice rang out, stopping Yoriichi mid-motion. Their eyes met, and a long, quiet tension filled the room.
"Cough… cough…"
Yoriichi withdrew his hand and sat back, hiding a faint blush of embarrassment. He glanced at Tanjiro and thought of the near disaster on Fujiki Mountain—if I hadn't been there, Tanjiro might have died.
"Well… go wash up first."
For the first time, his voice was gentle. Tanjiro blinked, surprised. It was unusual for his master to speak so softly. After a moment, he nodded and hurried toward the bathroom.
With Tanjiro gone, Yoriichi abandoned his earlier thought and decided to wait until I woke to help me clean up.
The seven-day trial on Fujiki Mountain had three survivors: Tanjiro Kamado, Kanao Tsuyuri, and Zenitsu Agatsuma. Each had already chosen their new sword, which was being forged in the Swordsmith Village—ready in ten to fifteen days.
As dusk fell, Ji Guoyuan went out to buy food. He glanced at me lying on the bed, covered me with a folded quilt, and walked out. Even though ghosts weren't cold, he still made sure I was covered.
While Tanjiro showered and Yoriichi went out, a small figure quietly appeared beside my bed.
Long hair, pink kimono with a black haori, a bamboo tube in her mouth… Nezuko Kamado. She looked barely three or four years old.
Nezuko had caught a faint, pleasant scent and followed it here. At this moment, she hadn't yet learned to control her ghost powers and was in her child form.
With all her strength, she climbed onto the bed. For an adult, she was tiny—but for Nezuko, anything taller than her was enormous.
She looked at me lying there, sniffed the air carefully, and, satisfied with the scent, happily crawled onto the bed.
I happened to roll over. By habit, I hugged anything near me when I slept. Once, I'd even hugged Kokushibo's hand by accident while he visited—he had to wait until I woke.
Now, I slowly wrapped my arms around Nezuko.
She didn't resist at all. Instead, she seemed happy and opened her little arms to hug me back.
I fell asleep again, comforted by the warmth of her soft, tiny body.
The quilt that had been covering me was pushed aside. Ghosts didn't feel cold anyway, and with Nezuko hugging me, I slept soundly.
The first person to notice me was Tanjiro. He walked out of the bathroom and paused at the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the sight of me lying on the bed.
He stepped forward cautiously, confused. My appearance, my scent, even my proportions were nothing like the Brahma Thousand City he remembered. Yet the scent—there was something familiar about it, something he felt he had smelled before.
"Is it… really… Mr. Fan?"
He closed his eyes, trying to remember, but nothing came. When he opened them again, he noticed someone else by my side.
Though her small frame was different from what he remembered, her kimono and overall appearance were exactly as he had imagined.
"You…"
Tanjiro opened his mouth to shout, but stopped himself. Seeing Nezuko and me sleeping peacefully, he didn't want to disturb us. Instead, he quietly walked to the bed and began combing his wet hair.
At that moment, Yoriichi Tsugikuni returned from buying food. He glanced at the scene and smiled faintly, though it faded almost immediately.
Tanjiro, seeing him enter, said quickly, "Master Yoriichi, let me help!"
Yoriichi gave him a long, silent look. After a pause, he said, "No need. Go rest first."
"Ah? Master Yoriichi, wait…"
Before Tanjiro could finish, Yoriichi walked into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. Tanjiro froze, a rare panic crossing his face.
Yoriichi was practically perfect in every way—strength, skill, composure—but he had one flaw: a cursed sense of cooking. In Tanjiro's memory, meals made by Yoriichi had twice left him regretting life itself. Half a bag of salt in a single dish? That was just the tip of the iceberg.
Just then, I woke up. For a ghost like me, who often survived on blood, sleeping was just a way to pass the time.
As soon as I opened my eyes, I felt something warm pressing against my chest. I looked down—Nezuko's small head rested there.
"What the—?!"
I jumped up in surprise. Nezuko woke with me, blinking up at me with those intelligent, curious eyes.
"Nezuko!"
Tanjiro rushed forward, gently hugging her. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, and I just stood there, dumbfounded by the strange scene.
After a few minutes, Tanjiro and I calmed down and sat together, chatting. Nezuko curled up on my lap, hugging me. Seeing her so peaceful, I relaxed.
"This little one is really cute," I thought. "Who wouldn't like her?"
Just then, the kitchen door opened, and Yoriichi came out carrying two plates.
"Huh? Wake up?"
I froze. For a moment, I thought I'd wandered into some haunted house.
"Uh… yeah, yeah…"
Yoriichi set the plates on the table. One was dark and mysterious; the other clearly sashimi.
"Eat."
I sat up straight, as did Tanjiro—Nezuko stayed on my lap. I eyed the black plate warily. Dangerous things often turned out safe, right?
Just as I was about to put a piece in my mouth, I glanced at Tanjiro. He had already done it, sweat beading on his forehead, face tight with despair. Seeing him like that, I hesitated.
[Is this some kind of Breathing Technique poison test? Am I going to self-immolate?]
Under the weight of Yoriichi's gaze, I forced myself to taste it. Time seemed to stretch. Memories of arriving in this world flashed before me.
Boom!
I flinched, knocked over my stool, and fell to the ground—Nezuko landing on me.
"Mr. Fan! Are you okay?!" Tanjiro cried.
With his help, I crawled back to the table, my heart racing. Yoriichi looked calm as ever.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine. It's so salty it burns. If you wanted to kill me, just say so."
"…the recipe said one scoop."
My taste buds, recently returned to human sensation, screamed in protest. One spoon of this, and it could ruin your entire meal.
I stared at Yoriichi, incredulous. "You… call this cooking?"
He just shrugged calmly.
I picked up my chopsticks, choosing to try the safer plate—the sashimi. Tanjiro hesitated, and I warned him just in time.
"Wait! That's pufferfish!"
"…What's a pufferfish?"
I sighed. I had to do this carefully. Eating it myself, I neutralized the toxin in seconds. Watching Yoriichi eat it earlier, I could only imagine his suffering.
"It's a miracle you survived that," I muttered.
Dinner ended quickly. I ate one bite, Tanjiro half a bowl, Yoriichi finished his entirely. Nezuko, of course, wasn't fed—Tanjiro didn't know if ghosts could eat normally.
Later, I tried to leave the house, but Yoriichi blocked me, calm as ever.
"Where are you going?"
"I didn't say I was leaving."
He pressed a knife lightly to my neck. Not out of malice, just to keep me in check.
I followed him outside, not daring to resist. Ghosts may be strong, but side effects from my status removal left me vulnerable.
Outside, I noticed a small white figure—a wounded rabbit. I picked it up, smiling.
"What should I do with you, little one?" I murmured. Yoriichi just watched, bemused.
I gently twisted its head to the side—non-lethal, just enough to calm it—and carried it back. Soon, a dozen more rabbits were gathered, all to be cared for, some cooked, some roasted.
The once ambitious ghost from the 21st century had now become… a rabbit nanny.
Dinner was chaotic but edible. Tsugikuni Yoriichi's attempts were still biological hazards, mine more like imperial court fare.
Late at night, Tanjiro and Nezuko slept. Yoriichi and I remained awake.
"Sleep," Yoriichi said calmly, pointing to a bed.
"And you?" I asked.
"Same," he replied.
"Does that mean… we sleep together?" I asked incredulously.
"Ah," he said, calm as ever.
I sighed. Forget it. Sleeping with him? Worse than death. I'd rather stay with Tanjiro.
Before I could leave, Yoriichi grabbed me, pinned me on the bed, holding his Nichirin sword lightly to my neck.
"Sleep, or I'll nail you to the wall," he said.
I struggled, then gave up. Better safe than skewered.
Eventually, I fell asleep, my habit kicking in. I rolled sideways, holding him in a side hug, hands on his chest. Yoriichi murmured:
"…You… go to sleep…"
And finally, peace descended over the haunted house.