Worse Than A Demon? (Sasori x Demon Slayer)

-5 years before Demon Slayer starts-

The gentle breeze of autumn whispered through the mountains, carrying with it the crisp scent of fallen leaves and the earthy undertones of pine. High on the mountain, the golden hues of fall painted the landscape, a scene both peaceful and eternal. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the forest as the season transitioned.

Beneath a towering tree, its leaves a vibrant blend of red and gold, two small figures sat with quiet concentration. Young Tanjiro and Nezuko, their hands covered in the remnants of pumpkin pulp, carefully carved out the inside of a plump pumpkin. The orange glow of the late afternoon light reflected off the smooth surface of the gourd, their laughter filling the air as they worked together.

"Make sure to get all the seeds out, Nezuko," Tanjiro said with a wide smile, offering guidance as he carved the pumpkin's face. "We can roast them later!"

Nezuko's giggles filled the air. "I'll get them all, I promise!" Her tiny hands dug into the pumpkin with determination, her fingers sticky with orange pulp.

As the siblings worked, their world seemed peaceful, untouched by the shadows lurking in the distance. However, high above, nestled in the safety of the large tree's branches, another life was stirring. In a crow's nest perched securely among the leaves, a mother crow, sleek and vigilant, watched over her clutch of eggs. Three small eggs lay beneath her, still and silent, but full of potential. Among them was Aki, not yet hatched, unaware of the world that awaited her.

Aki's mother, her glossy black feathers glinting in the afternoon light, tilted her head and cawed softly. Her sharp eyes moved between her fragile eggs and the two children below as if sensing some connection between them and the future her chicks would face. She fluffed her feathers, settling back down over her brood, shielding them from the cool breeze that passed through the branches.

Her watchful presence was unremarkable to the children below, who continued their playful banter and carving. But the mother crow sensed something in the air—a faint pull, a quiet premonition. Her instincts told her to remain vigilant, for both her young and the world that surrounded them.

Beneath her, Aki and her siblings were still encased in their eggshells, unaware of the laughter drifting up from below or the dangers that would one day befall the peaceful mountain. The mother crow cawed again, this time more softly as if speaking a quiet promise to her yet-unborn chicks. She would protect them, as any mother would until they were ready to face the world themselves.

And so, while the Kamado siblings carved their pumpkin and shared their joy, the mother crow continued to watch, unaware that one day, her chick would take to the skies and cross paths with these children—fated to be tied to their lives in ways neither they nor Aki could yet understand.

The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden light across the mountain as Tanjiro and Nezuko proudly placed the carved pumpkin near the base of the tree. It was meant to be a surprise for their family, a small gesture to bring a smile to their loved ones' faces after a long day of work. The siblings shared a quiet moment of satisfaction before dashing back toward their home, leaving the pumpkin under the tree's shade, its toothy grin illuminated by the soft rays of the setting sun.

High above, the mother crow watched them depart, her dark eyes filled with a cautious sense of peace. She spread her wings, taking to the sky in search of food for the evening, the wind carrying her swiftly over the treetops. The mountain was quiet, but she knew it wouldn't be long before dusk descended and she needed to return to her unhatched eggs, her small brood nestled safely in their nest.

But as the mother crow flew through the fading light, the sharp sound of rustling leaves filled the air. She suddenly found herself snared in a swift, unexpected ambush. Two figures, cloaked in dark attire with masks obscuring their faces—Kakushi—moved with precision and speed, catching the crow off guard.

Before she could react, a net was thrown over her sleek form, the strings tangling in her wings. The mother crow cawed in protest, her sharp cries echoing through the quiet forest. She struggled against the net, but the Kakushi were experienced and prepared. Within moments, they had captured her, placing her in a small cage that restricted her movements.

"That's a strong one," one of the Kakushi murmured as he secured the cage. "She'll make an excellent Kasugai crow for the Corps."

His companion nodded in agreement. "They say these crows bond quickly with their assigned slayers. She'll be a valuable asset."

Neither of them knew—nor cared—that the crow they had captured was a mother. They were unaware of the nest hidden in the tree, the three unhatched eggs left behind, vulnerable and defenseless.

The mother crow beat her wings frantically against the cage, her instincts driving her to return to her nest, to protect her unborn chicks. But the Kakushi paid no attention to her desperate cries as they began to walk away, carrying her further from the mountain, from her home, and from the eggs she had promised to protect.

The forest began to darken, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground. The tree where the nest rested stood tall and silent, oblivious to the cruel separation that had just occurred. The unhatched eggs remained untouched in the nest, their fragile shells hiding the tiny lives inside, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen their mother.

Among those eggs was Aki, waiting unknowingly in the quiet dark, her future altered forever by forces she could not yet comprehend.

And so, the mountain—once filled with laughter and light—was left in silence as night fell, the faint caw of a captured crow disappearing into the distance.

As darkness settled, a sudden gust of wind swept through the trees, shaking the nest where several delicate eggs lay nestled. The once-secure nest wobbled under the force, until one by one, the eggs tumbled from the tree, hurtling toward the ground below.

Most met the earth with a sickening crack, but one small egg found a gentler landing, cushioned by something soft. It came to rest on a hollowed-out pumpkin, left there earlier as a surprise. The impact created a thin crack in the shell, just enough for the crow within to begin breaking through.

The tiny hatchling emerged, weak and unsteady, its fragile body trembling as it took in the strange new world. Blind and helpless, it blinked against the night, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen its siblings. A faint, unsteady cry escaped its beak—its first sound, fragile and lonely in the quiet night.

Instinctively, the little crow wriggled its way inside the pumpkin's hollow, drawn to its warmth and faintly sweet scent. The remnants of pumpkin pulp surrounded her, and with every instinct urging her forward, she pecked softly at the soft, sweet pumpkin. This would be her first taste of life, nestled among the remnants of a carved pumpkin on a cool autumn night.

As dawn broke over the mountain, gentle rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow across the carved pumpkin that had, by chance, saved a fragile life. The tiny crow had spent the night pecking at the soft, sweet pumpkin flesh, instinctively filling her belly until exhausted, she drifted off to sleep within its hollow.

When morning fully arrived, Tanjiro and Nezuko, returning from their early chores, made their way back to the pumpkin they'd left as a surprise for their family. But as they neared, they noticed something unusual—a small, soft bundle nestled inside, breathing in slow, steady puffs.

Peering in, their eyes went wide with surprise and delight.

"A baby crow!" Nezuko whispered, eyes sparkling with curiosity and wonder.

"She must have fallen... and landed in the pumpkin," Tanjiro murmured, glancing up at the tree above. He reached out gently, mindful not to startle the tiny creature.

The little crow, undisturbed, continued to sleep soundly in the warm embrace of the pumpkin, oblivious to the events that had carried her here. For now, she was safe, and in the warmth of the morning sun, the mountain seemed to welcome her new, unexpected presence.

"Can we keep it?! Please, Tanjiro!" Nezuko begged, her eyes wide with excitement and tenderness as she peered down at the fragile hatchling.

Tanjiro glanced up at the tree, concern flickering in his expression. "What about its mother?" he murmured thoughtfully. "She'll be looking for her baby."

"But what if she doesn't come back right away?" Nezuko asked, her gaze softening as she looked at the tiny crow nestled inside the pumpkin. "It's so fragile... We can't just leave it here without anyone to care for it."

Tanjiro hesitated, glancing down at the sleeping bird. It looked so small, helpless, and vulnerable in the morning light, nestled in the orange remnants of the pumpkin. "Alright," he finally agreed, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "We'll take care of it until its mother returns. We'll keep it safe."

Nezuko beamed, gently brushing her fingers near the pumpkin's edge, careful not to disturb the hatchling.

Tanjiro and Nezuko spent the better part of the day sitting near the pumpkin, keeping close watch over the tiny crow. They took turns watching for the mother, glancing up at the trees and listening intently for any sign of a returning bird. Hours passed, stretching into the early afternoon, but there was no sign of the mother crow.

Nezuko's brows knitted with worry as she leaned in closer to the pumpkin, where the baby crow, still too young to open its eyes, lay quietly nestled. "Tanjiro... it's been so long. What if she's not coming back?"

Tanjiro nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "I was hoping she would come back by now, but..." He looked down at the hatchling, who was twitching slightly in its sleep. "Maybe we should keep taking care of it. Just until it's strong enough on its own."

Nezuko's face brightened a little, though the sadness lingered. "Then we'll take care of it, together. Make sure it's safe and grows strong."

They exchanged a silent promise, their hearts set on protecting the small life in their care. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they prepared to bring the crow closer to their home, knowing it would need warmth and nourishment through the night.

Tanjiro gently lifted the pumpkin, careful not to jostle the sleeping crow inside, and he and Nezuko began their careful walk back home. The sky was streaked with soft orange as the sun set, casting a warm glow over the landscape. After a short journey, they spotted their father on the porch, watching little Hanako and Shigeru as they played in the front yard.

Hanako and Shigeru were hard at work gathering leaves into a big pile, their laughter ringing out as they took turns jumping into the mound, sending leaves scattering in every direction.

"Tanjiro, Nezuko," their father called, noticing the carved pumpkin in Tanjiro's hands. "Ah, so this is what you two have been busy with today."

Hearing their father's voice, Hanako and Shigeru looked over, eyes lighting up when they spotted their older siblings.

"Big brother!" Shigeru called, running up to inspect the pumpkin. "What's that?"

"Big sister!" Hanako chimed in, her eyes widening with curiosity as she peeked into the pumpkin. Inside, the baby crow was stirring, blinking awake from all the noise.

Tanjiro offered a gentle smile. "This was a gift we carved for Rokuta's birthday. But..." he trailed off as he showed their father the tiny crow nestled inside.

Their father raised a brow. "A gift? And with a little... visitor?"

But before he could finish, he was interrupted by a brief cough, which quickly turned into a fit. Concern flickered in Tanjiro and Nezuko's eyes, and even the baby crow's head turned toward the sound. Their father steadied himself, clearing his throat before continuing.

"What's with the baby bird?" he asked, voice still a bit raspy.

"We found her in the pumpkin after a strong wind knocked her nest down," Nezuko explained, glancing at the crow. "We thought her mother might come back... but she hasn't."

Their father nodded slowly, understanding the situation. "So... you're hoping to take care of it for now?"

Nezuko's eyes were hopeful as she asked, "Can we, Dad? Just until it's strong enough to be on its own?"

"Please, Dad!" Hanako added with a pleading look.

Their father's expression softened. "Crows aren't meant to be pets, but... since its mother hasn't come back, it's fine if you help it grow strong."

Tanjiro and Nezuko exchanged a happy glance, and even the baby crow seemed to settle comfortably, nestling deeper into the pumpkin as if it sensed it had found a place to call home for now.

Tanjiro and Nezuko exchanged a delighted glance. Even the baby crow seemed to nestle deeper into the pumpkin as if it sensed it had found a safe place to call home.

"Where's Mom and Rokuta?" Tanjiro asked.

"They're inside," their father replied with a gentle smile. "Your mother's helping him with his steps."

Eager to share their carved pumpkin—and introduce their new, friend—the children hurried inside, their excited voices filling the house. Their mother looked up from her place beside little Rokuta, who wobbled with determination as she guided him through his tiny, cautious steps.

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!" All four children called, practically bouncing with excitement.

Their mother's face softened with warmth, her gaze filled with pride as she watched her older children approach, their enthusiasm contagious. Though little Rokuta's journey to steady walking was slow, each tentative step was celebrated by his family, who adored his careful progress as much as any cheerful surprise his siblings brought home.

Beaming, Tanjiro, and Nezuko presented the pumpkin to their mother and explained about the baby crow tucked inside. She chuckled, her eyes shining with love for each child. She reached out to gently stroke Rokuta's hair, who stared wide-eyed at the pumpkin.

"Pumpkin...with the face?" Rokuta asked in his tiny, high-pitched voice, looking puzzled as he examined the carved expression.

"And...?" Hanako chimed in eagerly, hoping Rokuta would notice the baby bird.

"Blobe," Rokuta guessed, his small face scrunched up in confusion as he looked at the hatchling, uncertain of what it was.

"No, silly! It's a baby crow!" Shigeru piped up proudly, excited to be teaching his little brother something new.

"Wow!" Rokuta looked back at the crow, fascinated. "It doesn't look like a crow... Where's its father?"

Shigeru paused, unsure of how to answer.

"They just hatch that way," Nezuko offered with a smile. "I don't know exactly why, but that's how they come into the world." Rokuta nodded, still not fully understanding but unwilling to disappoint his sister.

Creaaak.

The floorboards behind them groaned. They all turned to see Takeo, the third youngest, clutching an axe as he tried to tiptoe past. He froze as all eyes landed on him.

"Takeo... hand over the axe," Tanjiro said calmly, extending his hand.

Takeo held the axe tightly. "I just wanted to chop some logs!" he pleaded, hoping his older brother might let him.

Tanjiro chuckled, his expression softening. "I know you want to help, but it's not safe yet. Tomorrow, I'll show you how. Alright?"

Takeo hesitated, glancing between the axe and Tanjiro. Finally, he sighed, handing it over. "Fine... but you have to promise to teach me!"

"Deal," Tanjiro said, ruffling Takeo's hair.

Their mother watched the exchange with gentle amusement. "Why don't you come to help me with Rokuta for now, Takeo? He could use the company." Takeo's disappointment faded, and he joined her, supporting Rokuta's unsteady steps.

As the family settled into the warmth of their small home, the baby crow nestled in its pumpkin and fell back asleep, comforted by the gentle hum of their voices and the sense of belonging. The Kamado family's laughter filled the house as they told stories and shared their evening, finding happiness in each other's company and in the little surprises life brought their way.

"What should we name it?" Hanako asked, peering at the tiny, sleeping hatchling nestled comfortably in the pumpkin.

They thought it over, each one suggesting a name. Nezuko suggested "Feathers," Shigeru threw in "Pump," and Takeo muttered "Shadow," but none of them felt quite right.

Then, after a moment, Tanjiro smiled. "How about... Kabocha? It means pumpkin, and that's where we found it."

The others exchanged nods, delighted with the choice.

"Kabocha it is!" Hanako said with a grin, her excitement infectious. The baby crow stirred slightly as if sensing the warm welcome of its new name and family.

-1 months later-

The sun rose over the mountains, casting a warm glow across the Kamado home, where life had blossomed in unexpected ways. A month had passed since Tanjiro and Nezuko had found the tiny crow nestled in the pumpkin, and the family had embraced their feathered guest as part of their daily lives. The baby crow, now named Kabocha, had flourished under their care, her once fragile body growing strong, but she remained grounded, unable to fly.

Kabocha had glossy black feathers and big, curious eyes. She loved to explore the yard, hopping around and pecking playfully at the grass, but she never ventured far from her human family. Her playful antics brought joy to everyone, especially Nezuko, who had taken a special interest in teaching Kabocha something new: how to speak.

One bright morning, Nezuko gathered Kabocha in her hands, her voice gentle and encouraging. "Okay, Kabocha! Today, we're going to practice talking! You can do it!"

Kabocha tilted her head, her bright eyes reflecting curiosity. "Caw-caw?" she chirped, as if questioning what Nezuko meant.

"Exactly! You can say 'hello' just like this," Nezuko demonstrated, her voice sweet and melodic. "Heee-lo!"

Kabocha stared at Nezuko, flapping her wings in excitement. "Caw-caw!" she repeated, mimicking the sound but not quite capturing the tone.

Nezuko giggled, a wide smile on her face. "That's close! But try to say it like I did. Heee-lo!"

The little crow seemed to focus intently, her beak opening and closing as she attempted to form the words. "Caw-caw!" she repeated, her tone slightly different, filled with eagerness.

"That's great! You're getting it!" Nezuko encouraged, clapping her hands. "Let's try something else. How about saying 'Kabocha'? Can you say your name?"

With determination, Kabocha cocked her head, flapping her wings as if she were ready to take on the challenge. "Caw-caw!" she chirped again, sounding cheerful but still not quite saying her name.

"Almost! Just try to make the sounds longer. Kab-bo-cha!" Nezuko said slowly, emphasizing each syllable.

Kabocha listened intently, her little brow furrowing in concentration. "Caw-caw?" she replied, still not quite getting it but trying her best.

"Good job! Just keep practicing!" Nezuko said, her heart swelling with joy. "We'll do it together! Kab-bo-cha!"

The two continued their playful lessons, with Nezuko breaking down each word and encouraging Kabocha with every attempt. As the hours passed, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow across the yard. Kabocha chirped excitedly, and while she hadn't mastered any words yet, she showed her eagerness and spirit with each attempt.

As they sat together in the fading sunlight, Nezuko looked at Kabocha and smiled. "You're going to be the best talking crow ever. Just wait and see!"

Kabocha seemed to understand the warmth behind Nezuko's words, her little body vibrating with excitement. "Caw-caw!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with determination.

With that promise of future conversations hanging in the air, Nezuko held Kabocha gently, feeling grateful for the bond they were building. Although they hadn't succeeded in teaching her to speak yet, the laughter and joy of trying together filled their hearts with hope for the days to come.

Days turned into a blur of training sessions filled with laughter, persistence, and the sweet sound of Kabocha's chirps. Nezuko had been patient and dedicated, guiding Kabocha through the nuances of speech, and celebrating every tiny victory along the way.

One sunny afternoon, as they sat in the yard surrounded by blooming flowers, Nezuko once again held Kabocha gently in her hands, her voice calm and encouraging. "Okay, Kabocha. Let's try again! Remember, we're going to say 'hello.' Ready?"

Kabocha flapped her wings, a sense of excitement radiating from her. She looked into Nezuko's eyes, her little beak opening and closing as if she were rehearsing. "Caw-caw!" she exclaimed, her usual cheerful sound echoing through the air.

Nezuko smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "That's wonderful! But let's try it one more time, okay? Heee-lo!"

With newfound determination, Kabocha concentrated hard, tilting her head as she listened. Nezuko could see the wheels turning in her little crow's mind. After a moment of silence, Kabocha took a deep breath.

"Hellooo!" she squeaked, her voice surprisingly clear.

Nezuko's eyes widened in disbelief, and her heart raced with joy. "You did it! You spoke!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement.

Kabocha hopped around in Nezuko's hands, flapping her wings as if celebrating her own achievement. "Hellooo!" she repeated, her tone filled with pride.

Nezuko laughed, her joy infectious. "Yes! That's it! You're amazing, Kabocha!" She held her gently, her heart full of happiness. "You're going to be the best-talking crow in the world!"

"Hellooo!" Kabocha chirped again, her little voice ringing out in the afternoon sun.

The two shared a moment of pure joy, the bond between them growing stronger with each word. Nezuko knew this was just the beginning of their adventures together, and she couldn't wait to see what other words Kabocha would learn next.

"Let's practice more! How about saying your name? Kab-bo-cha!" Nezuko encouraged, eager to keep the momentum going.

With her newfound confidence, Kabocha focused again, her eyes bright and determined. "Kab-bo-cha!" she chirped, a bit shaky but undeniably trying her best.

Nezuko's heart soared. "You're incredible, Kabocha! We'll keep practicing, and soon you'll be chatting away!"

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the sounds of laughter and joy filled the air. Kabocha may have been a crow who couldn't fly, but in that moment, she soared with her newfound voice, filling Nezuko's heart with warmth and love.

-The night-

The silver light of the moon bathed the quiet Kamado yard, casting soft shadows over the family as they gathered outside. Nezuko perched on the edge of the porch with Kabocha nestled in her hands, her gentle fingers stroking the small crow's feathers. The night was calm, filled only with the soft murmur of the forest and the occasional chirp of a cricket.

As all of the Kamado Family, stepped into the center of the yard, Nezuko leaned closer to Kabocha. "This is the Hinokami Kagura," she whispered with a smile. "It's something very important to our family. Watch carefully."

Kabocha tilted her head, her bright eyes glued to the scene before her. The small crow chirped softly as if sensing the sacredness of the moment.

With slow, graceful movements, Tanjuro began the dance. His steps were light, his arms moving in fluid, gentle arcs. The firelight danced alongside him, casting an ethereal glow over his every movement. Each step was calm and measured, as though he were in communion with the night itself. His breathing was steady, in perfect rhythm with his movements, and even in his frailty, Tanjuro moved with a grace that seemed timeless.

Kabocha watched, completely enraptured. Her small wings twitched in Nezuko's hands as she followed each flick of Tanjuro's wrist, each turn and pivot. She felt warmth radiate from the fire and from the quiet strength of Tanjuro's form, a feeling she had never experienced before. She let out a soft "Caw," her gaze fixed, her usual playful spirit stilled in awe.

Nezuko smiled softly, feeling the reverence of the moment sink in. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured to Kabocha. "It's like he's connecting with something bigger than all of us."

The night seemed to hold its breath as Tanjuro's movements peaked, his form outlined against the night sky and the glow of the fire. Kabocha's eyes sparkled as she observed him, transfixed, her beak parted slightly. She understood, even without words, the solemn beauty and strength behind each motion.

As Tanjuro finished the dance, he took a steady breath, his posture still and dignified. He closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head in a gesture of reverence and completion. The air felt alive, charged with the essence of the Kagura.

Kabocha remained silent, resting her head against Nezuko's fingers. Then, in a soft, almost reverent tone, she whispered, "Hello..." It was the word Nezuko had been teaching her, and somehow it carried a new weight, an echo of the beauty she had just witnessed.

Nezuko smiled, a surge of pride filling her as she held Kabocha close. "That's right, Kabocha. Hello."

The quiet night wrapped around them, and as Tanjuro stood under the moonlight, Nezuko knew that Kabocha had truly become a part of their family, bound by the Hinokami Kagura's warmth and the Kamado spirit's legacy.

The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the Kamado family's yard, filling it with soft, golden light. Nezuko stepped outside, rubbing her eyes as she let out a small yawn. She had just woken up, but something unusual caught her attention.

In the middle of the yard, Tanjiro and their father, Tanjuro, were watching something intently. Their eyes were bright with surprise and admiration as they looked up toward the morning sky. Following their gaze, Nezuko's own eyes widened in amazement.

There, fluttering unsteadily but determinedly through the air, was Kabocha.

Kabocha was flying.

Her small black wings flapped hard, pushing her up and down in small swoops, but she held herself steady, circling the yard with newfound freedom. Her movements were still a bit clumsy, but her spirit was unmistakable. She was flying, and with every flap, her confidence grew.

Nezuko gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she watched her little crow friend soar through the air. "Kabocha! You're... you're flying!"

Kabocha heard Nezuko's voice and cawed happily, dipping down to circle above her, her wings flapping with pride. She looked thrilled, the tiny bird's eyes filled with the joy of discovery as she took in her surroundings from her new height.

Tanjuro chuckled softly, his eyes warm as he turned to Nezuko. "It looks like she learned by watching the Hinokami Kagura last night," he said gently. "There's a kind of freedom in the dance, isn't there? Maybe it was enough to inspire her."

As Tanjuro watched Kabocha's determined little flight, a thoughtful smile crossed his face. There was something oddly familiar in the way her wings moved, the rhythm with which she cut through the air. She seemed to glide and dip with a subtle grace, her movements mirroring a familiar cadence.

"Do you see that, Nezuko?" Tanjuro said softly, his gaze never leaving the crow. "It's hard to notice, but... she's flying in the same rhythm as the Hinokami Kagura."

Nezuko blinked, watching Kabocha's tiny, determined form flutter in mid-air. It was as though each beat of her wings followed the same timing as the sacred dance, dipping and rising in sync, even as she wobbled and found her footing in the air. The rhythm of the dance seemed to have left an impression on the little crow, weaving itself into her every movement.

Tanjiro noticed it too, his eyes lighting up with wonder. "It's like she's dancing," he murmured, smiling as he took in Kabocha's proud, rhythmic flight. "She must've picked up on it from watching you, Dad."

Tanjuro nodded, his expression a mix of quiet pride and admiration. "Sometimes, inspiration takes hold in ways we don't expect," he said, glancing at Nezuko. "She's carrying the spirit of the dance in her wings."

Nezuko felt a wave of warmth and pride swell within her. Kabocha wasn't just flying; she was soaring to a rhythm born of their family, of their bond. As they watched her swoop and circle with newfound confidence, it felt as though a small piece of the Kamado family's spirit had taken flight right along with her.

The Kamado family watched in awe as Kabocha soared through the air, her small wings flapping with determined vigor. Nezuko clapped her hands excitedly, Tanjiro cheered her on, and Tanjuro smiled softly, pride glinting in his eyes.

"Look at her go!" Tanjiro exclaimed, watching as Kabocha dipped and wobbled slightly but managed to right herself mid-air, each wingbeat a little stronger than the last.

But as Kabocha ascended, her excitement seemed to grow with her altitude. The crow's gaze was fixed on the vast sky above, her wings propelling her higher than she had ever dared before. She flapped harder, a joyful caw escaping her beak as she tilted forward, barely noticing the ground slipping farther and farther away.

"Uh, Kabocha?" Nezuko called out, laughing as she tried to get the little bird's attention. But Kabocha didn't respond—she was utterly absorbed in her newfound freedom, the sky stretching endlessly before her. She chirped happily, letting the wind carry her farther out, beyond the yard, beyond the familiar reach of her family's voices.

"Kabocha, wait!" Tanjiro shouted, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "You're going too far!"

But Kabocha only soared higher, her mind captivated by the vast world unfolding beneath her. She caught sight of a group of crows in the distance, their silhouettes gliding gracefully in the air, and without a second thought, she turned toward them, her small wings beating as quickly as her heart.

Nezuko's eyes widened, her smile fading as she watched Kabocha fly farther and farther away. "Kabocha!" she called, louder this time, trying to keep the worry from her voice. But the little crow didn't seem to hear.

"She's so distracted by flying," Tanjuro murmured, glancing at Nezuko and Tanjiro. "It's like she's forgotten how far she's gone."

Nezuko took a step forward, her voice a bit louder now, filled with both pride and concern. "Kabocha! Come back!" But the small crow was lost in her own world, her gaze fixed on the sky and the freedom it promised.

Tanjiro exchanged a look with Nezuko, determination flashing in his eyes. "Don't worry. I'll go after her!" he said, setting off at a jog across the yard. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, "Kabocha, it's time to come home! You're going too far!"

Tanjuro walked over quietly, a gentle smile on his face. He placed a reassuring hand on Tanjiro's shoulder, his touch warm and steady.

"Father?" Tanjiro asked, surprised and confused as he watched Kabocha fly higher, the small crow now a dot against the vast blue sky.

Tanjuro's gaze softened, and he gave Tanjiro's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "The time has come to let Kabocha go, Tanjiro," he said gently, his voice carrying both pride and understanding. "She's grown strong, and now she can fly on her own. She's ready for the world beyond this mountain."

Tanjiro frowned but nodded in understanding, though a flicker of concern lingered in his eyes. Nezuko stood nearby, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve. She felt a tightening in her chest as she watched Kabocha soar away, her heart aching for the little bird but also knowing it was right to let her be free.

The other children, however, did not share this acceptance.

"What!?" Both Hanako and Shigeru exclaimed, their voices rising in unison. They rushed over, grabbing onto Tanjuro as if he were a sturdy tree, their small hands clinging desperately to him.

"Now, now, it's what we agreed on," Tanjuro said, his eye gleaming with expected annoyance, but his smile didn't falter. He gently pried their fingers off his arms, though they persisted in clinging to him.

"Can't we keep her?" Shigeru asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and pleading. "She's so cute!" Hanako chimed in, burying her face against their father's side, her big eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Tanjuro chuckled softly, his heart warm despite the gentle tug of sorrow. "I know you love her, but she needs this chance. Just like you all will one day. It's important for her to explore and grow stronger on her own."

"But what if she gets lost?" Hanako insisted, her voice muffled. "What if she doesn't come back?"

Nezuko stepped forward, her expression somber but steady. "Kabocha needs to find her own way," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's hard to let go, but... she deserves to be free."

Tanjiro turned to Nezuko, his admiration for her wisdom shining through his concern. "You're right, Nezuko. It's just hard to see her go."

Nezuko nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'll miss her," she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "But we can't keep her from flying. She's strong now."

Tanjuro knelt down to the level of the children, meeting their eyes with sincerity. "I understand how you feel. But letting Kabocha fly means giving her the gift of freedom. It means we believe in her and trust that she will find her way. This doesn't mean she's lost to us forever; it means she's embarking on her own journey."

The children exchanged glances, uncertainty clouding their features. "Promise she'll come back?" Hanako whispered, her voice small.

Tanjuro smiled gently, his heart aching for them. "It's not about her coming back; it's about her being able to spread her wings. We will always cherish the time we had with her, and if she chooses to return, that will be a gift we welcome with open arms. But we have to trust her to find her own way, just like you will one day."

With a heavy sigh, Hanako and Shigeru finally relented, slowly letting go of their father as they turned their eyes skyward. Kabocha was still soaring, now a silhouette against the fading sun.

"Okay," Shigeru said softly, his voice tinged with resignation. "We'll let her go."

"Just promise to help us if she needs us," Hanako added, her eyes still filled with hope.

Nezuko wiped away a tear, a small smile breaking through her sadness. "We'll always be here for her, no matter what."

Tanjuro nodded, pulling them close for a moment. "Always," he said, his heart swelling with love for his children. "Now let's watch our little Kabocha and cheer her on. She's on her way to a great adventure."

As they stood together, the family gazed up at Kabocha, feeling a mix of pride and longing. Though she was flying far from them, they knew she was embracing her freedom, and that bond of love would always keep them connected, no matter the distance.

As Kabocha soared higher, the wind ruffled her feathers, filling her with a sense of joy and exhilaration. The familiar landscape below, a patchwork of vibrant greens and browns, with layers of slower, stretched out beneath her, inviting her to explore. She dipped and swerved, delighted by the freedom of flight and the warm sunlight that surrounded her.

However, her carefree joy soon shifted as she flew lower, glancing around with curiosity. Suddenly, two figures burst from behind a cluster of trees. Kabocha squawked, startled but still unaware of the impending danger. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, a net shot up from below, entangling her in its mesh.

"Quick! Grab it before it escapes!" one of the Kakushi shouted, rushing forward with a determined expression.

Kabocha flapped her wings in confusion, not understanding what was happening. She squawked again, struggling against the net, but the more she fought, the tighter it seemed to become. The two Kakushi worked quickly to secure her, their movements efficient and practiced.

"Don't let it get away!" the second Kakushi urged, bending down to help tighten the net around the squirming bird.

Back in the yard, Tanjiro, Nezuko, and the other children were still watching the sky, their hearts heavy with a mix of worry and sadness.

"Do you see her?" Hanako asked, squinting into the distance.

Tanjiro shook his head, concern etched on his face. "I think she's gone too far..."

"I can't believe she's really gone," Shigeru murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Will she leave us that easily?" Takeo asked.

Tanjiro's heart tightened at Takeo's question. "It's not about wanting to leave us," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Kabocha needs to explore. It's in her nature."

"But what if she doesn't want to come back?" Hanako asked, her voice trembling. "What if she finds a new family?"

Nezuko turned to her siblings, her gentle expression filled with empathy. "Kabocha loves us. She'll remember that, no matter where she goes."

Kabocha twisted and turned, her small body working tirelessly to free herself, but the more she struggled, the tighter the net became. Panic surged through her as she realized she was being taken away from the only home she had known.

"Nice! We got it!" one of the Kakushi exclaimed, grinning as he tightened the net around Kabocha. "This is the second one we've caught on this mountain. We should come here to get new crows more often!"

"Helloo!" Kabocha shouted again, her panic rising as the realization of her capture sank in. The Kakushi exchanged startled glances, their eyes wide in disbelief.

"It can talk?! We hit the jackpot!" the first Kakushi said, a grin spreading across his face as he hoisted the netted bird over his shoulder.

"Master will be very pleased by this," the second Kakushi added, their laughter ringing in Kabocha's ears as they began walking away, down the mountain path.

Kabocha continued to try and break free from the net but her struggle was futile "Are we sure this crow doesn't have an owner?" The second Kakushi asked, "I don't see anything on it to prove it has an owner." The first Kakushi said dismissing the second concern.

"Are we sure this crow doesn't have an owner?" the second Kakushi asked, glancing down at her with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"I don't see anything on it to prove it has an owner," the first Kakushi dismissed, shrugging as he adjusted the net on his shoulder.

"Anyways, you know what happened to the first crow we caught here? It put up one hell of a fight," he continued, his tone filled with amusement.

The second Kakushi nodded, a smirk appearing on his face. "I still have scars from that one. Why do you ask?" He jumped over a fallen tree that blocked their path, landing lightly on the other side.

The first Kakushi chuckled. "Heard it ran off," he said, expertly maneuvering to avoid the tree.

"Seriously?" the second Kakushi replied, surprise etched on his features. "No crow has done that before. Did someone find it again?" He hurried to catch up with the first Kakushi.

The first Kakushi nodded as they continued down the path. "Some other Kakushi found it dead in the snow."

"Is it the same one?" the second Kakushi asked, his curiosity piqued as he jumped down from the fallen tree and quickly caught up with the first.

"Yep, had the same bandana," the first Kakushi confirmed, his voice growing more serious as they reached the bottom of the mountain.

Kabocha's heart raced as fear washed over her. She didn't want to end up like that other crow. With a renewed sense of urgency, she squirmed harder in the net, trying to find a way out before it was too late. "Hello!" she called out once more, hoping someone would hear her.

The two Kakushi approached a carriage where another Kakushi, a young woman with a weary expression, sat at the reins, her gaze fixed on the setting sun.

"Oi! We're back," the first Kakushi called out, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned sharply, scowling at them.

"Finally! I've been sitting here doing nothing for hours!" she snapped as the others climbed aboard, her irritation clear.

"Stop whining and let's get moving," the first Kakushi muttered, shooting her an exasperated look. Huffing under her breath, she shook the reins, waking the sleepy horse and urging it forward.

In the back, Kabocha, a glossy black crow, fluttered her wings frantically, caught in a net the Kakushi had used to snatch her from the skies. She cawed loudly, twisting and flapping in protest, her sharp eyes flashing with defiance as she struggled to escape. But her movements only seemed to tighten the net around her.

"Hold still, you little pest," muttered the first Kakushi as he reached in, pinning Kabocha with a gloved hand. He carefully unwrapped part of the netting, then opened a small iron cage hanging on the side of the carriage, its bars dark and cramped.

Kabocha let out a furious, indignant screech, but the Kakushi paid her no mind. With a swift movement, he deposited her into the cage and latched the door shut with a final, metallic click.

The carriage jolted forward, rattling Kabocha in her cage as it rolled along the uneven path. She clung to the bars with her talons, her sharp gaze fixed on the darkening horizon, though every bump and jostle brought her a reminder of her confinement. 

After days of travel, the three Kakushi and their captive finally arrived at a secluded house hidden deep in the mountains. Wisteria trees covered the lower slopes, and tall, ancient trees encircled the upper reaches, creating a natural curtain of cover around the estate. Nestled amid this foliage stood a large, stately house, its grounds blanketed with more wisteria blossoms, the unmistakable mark of Demon Slayer property.

One Kakushi carefully carried Kabocha's cage as they approached the main entrance, where a poised woman awaited them.

She was of average height, with pale skin, large plum-purple eyes framed by delicate pink eyeshadow, and short, tidy eyebrows. Her white hair was swept to either side in front, with a short ponytail at the back and two loose strands on either side. She wore a salmon-colored kimono with an ombre to orange, decorated with floral patterns, and over it, a dark indigo haori adorned with blue butterfly patterns. A striped brown obi completed her attire, supporting the layers in place.

"Is Master here?" the first Kakushi asked, addressing the woman.

"Lord Kagaya has been expecting you," she replied, her voice calm and welcoming. "He's quite eager to see this new crow you've brought."

The Kakushi nodded and stepped inside, glancing back at her. The female Kakushi lingered for a moment, approaching the woman with a respectful bow.

"Lady Amane," she began, addressing her with a hint of hesitation. "May I ask... why we're capturing wild crows when there's a farm for Kasugai crows?"

Amane's gentle smile grew. "Please, just call me Amane," she replied. "And that's a good question. We need fresh bloodlines to keep the Kasugai crows strong. Without new genes, there's a risk of genetic issues in the future generations."

The Kakushi nodded in understanding, bowing again. "Thank you, Amane. That clears things up."

Catching up to her companions, she joined them in front of their master's chambers. The first Kakushi stepped forward, clearing his throat, then knocking on the door with a rare touch of formality. "Lord Kagaya, may we enter?" he asked.

"Yes, come in," a young, warm voice called from inside.

Sliding open the door, they entered to find a young man seated on a cushion. He wore a simple black kimono secured with a tan-colored braided obi over a white juban. Draped over him was a calf-length haori, its gradient flames shifting from purple to salmon pink, rising up the sleeves in an elegant design. His most striking feature, however, was the pale lavender mark covering one side of his face, resembling the patterns of rotting wood—a mark that seemed to spread faintly with each passing day, adding a mystical, otherworldly aura to his presence.

Kagaya's soft gaze fell upon Kabocha's cage, a glint of excitement flashing in his serene eyes.

"Master," the three Kakushi greeted in unison, bowing low. "We've brought the new crow," the second Kakushi added, holding up the cage containing Kabocha.

"Greetings," Lord Kagaya replied, a gentle smile spreading across his face as they placed the cage in front of him. He leaned forward, peering curiously at Kabocha. "Well, hello there," he murmured, reaching out to gently stroke the crow's feathers.

"Wait, Master—!" the first Kakushi warned, but it was too late. Kabocha pecked Kagaya's finger, drawing a small bead of blood.

"Oh?" Kagaya tilted his head, calmly observing the drop of blood that formed on his finger.

"AH!" All three Kakushi gasped, panic seizing their voices.

"We need a doctor!" the second Kakushi shouted, flustered, only for the first Kakushi to whack him over the head. "Idiot! We are the doctors!"

"Hey, I'm a vet!" the second Kakushi defended, rubbing his head. "I don't know what diseases crows carry!"

The first Kakushi rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You're a vet and don't know what diseases a crow might have?!"

"I work with dogs, cats, and turtles, not crows or any birds!" the second Kakushi replied, flailing his hands.

"Oh, for the love of—" The female Kakushi interrupted, her tone sharp with irritation. "Can you two stop arguing about who's more clueless and actually help?" She frantically searched for a clean cloth to stop the bleeding.

Meanwhile, Kagaya gazed thoughtfully at his bleeding finger before shifting his attention back to Kabocha. His expression was calm but curious, as if he were more intrigued by the crow's motives than by his own wound.

The door slid open, revealing Lady Amane carrying a box of medical supplies. The female Kakushi immediately stepped aside, allowing Amane to sit gracefully next to her husband and begin bandaging his finger with practiced care.

"How did she...?" the second Kakushi mumbled, perplexed.

"Well, who knows a person better than their spouse?" the female Kakushi said, nodding with a sage-like expression, as though imparting ancient wisdom.

"And what would you know about that?" the first Kakushi retorted, earning a sharp glare from her.

"As if you know anything about me," she shot back with a snarky tone, making the first Kakushi smirk beneath his face covering.

"I know enough to know that statement's probably true," he replied, fanning the flames of her irritation.

"If Lord Kagaya weren't here, I'd have several choice words for you," she muttered, clenching her fists.

Their voices became a mere background murmur to Kagaya, whose attention was solely on Kabocha. He watched with fascination as Amane finished wrapping his finger, her touch gentle and efficient.

"Goodbye!" Kabocha suddenly squawked, turning her back on him with a feisty attitude.

Kagaya raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Oh, this one can already talk?" He lifted the cage, turning it gently so that he could meet the crow's defiant gaze. "I like this one..."

The room stilled as Kagaya announced, "I'm going to keep her."

"If that's what you wish, my lord," the first Kakushi replied, ceasing his banter with a respectful nod.

Kagaya mused aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... what shall I name you? How about... Ken?" He nodded to himself as he began walking away with the cage in hand, Amane following closely at his side.

"Yes, Ken suits you," he said warmly as Amane closed the door behind them, leaving the three Kakushi alone in the room.

"Does this mean we have to go catch another crow?" the second Kakushi asked, his tone weary.

The other two Kakushi groaned in unison, their collective sigh filling the room with reluctant resignation.