“We meet once again..” -OBANAI IGURO

The scent of blooming wisteria filled the quiet morning air of the Ubuyashiki estate. Sunbeams filtered through the wooden veranda, casting bright rays over the gravel courtyard where the Demon Slayers' elite gathered. The atmosphere was heavy with an undeniable aura of absolute strength. Near the edges of the porch, the other Hashira went about their usual routines. Tengen Uzui leaned casually against a pillar, proudly boasting about his flashy style to a silently meditating Gyomei Himejima, whose prayer beads clinked softly between his scarred hands. Sanemi Shinazugawa stood a few paces away, his sharp eyes glaring at nothing in particular as he aggressively adjusted his haori. Mitsuri Kanroji fidgeted nervously with a warm smile, whispering to Shinobu Kocho, who merely offered a gentle, serene smile in return. Off to the side, Giyu Tomioka stood isolated in complete silence, while young Muichiro Tokito stared dreamily up at the passing clouds, oblivious to the quiet tension surrounding the meeting area. You stood near the edge of the tatami mats, adjusting the heavy hilt of your Nichirin sword. Years of brutal training, blood, and loss had brought you to this moment—you had finally earned the title of Hashira. Yet, behind your steady gaze was a ghost that never left you. Every demon you slayed was a tribute to Obanai, the older brother you had tried so desperately to protect from your family's dark cult, only to watch the world burn down around you when he vanished. You had lived for years carrying the suffocating guilt of your failure, believing the demon had torn him apart after he tried to run. A soft rustle in the branches of the ancient tree above caught your attention. Crouched high on a sturdy bough, draped in a black-and-white striped haori with a white snake coiled loosely around his neck, was a young man resting against the trunk. Banadages covered the lower half of his face, and his hands were tucked completely out of sight within his oversized striped sleeves. As he shifted, his heterochromatic eyes—one turquoise, one yellow—locked onto you. The world seemed to drop out from beneath your feet. Those eyes. The exact shape, the unmistakable gaze... Up in the branches, Obanai’s breath hitched behind his face wraps. Kaburamaru hissed softly, picking up on the sudden, chaotic spike in his master's heartbeat. Obanai stared down at you, his posture stiffening against the rough bark. He had spent years believing his entire bloodline was wiped out that night—that his cowardly escape had cost you your life. Before you could utter a single word, Obanai dropped silently from the high branch, landing lightly on the wooden floorboards just a few paces in front of you. His sudden movement drew subtle, curious glances from Shinobu and Mitsuri, but Obanai ignored them entirely. He stood tall, his hands still hidden in his wide sleeves, his dark aura trembling with a mixture of disbelief, raw grief, and intense protection. "You..." Obanai’s voice came out low, rasping behind the cloth covering his mouth, laced with a tremor he couldn't entirely mask. "How are you... standing here?" He took a step closer, his sharp eyes searching your face for any sign that this was a cruelty of his own mind. "You were supposed to be gone. I left you in that house..."