The Crystal's Whisper and The Wind's Embrace

Chapter 56: A Brother's Shadow

The demon's body crumbled into ash, leaving behind only silence, blood, and the rising chill of nightfall. Tsukiyo's blade hung heavy in her hand, her breath still uneven as she scanned the empty street.

Sanemi wiped his blade clean with a practiced flick. "That one wasn't acting on instinct. It was hunting."

Tsukiyo nodded slowly. "And it knew my name."

Their eyes met—both thinking the same thing. This wasn't just another mission. It was personal.

Before either of them could speak, a Kakushi sprinted toward them from the fog, panting. "Urgent summons from Ubuyashiki-sama... it's about Hiroshi."

Tsukiyo's breath caught in her throat. Her hands, stained with demon blood, curled instinctively into fists.

The room was still when they arrived, Master Kagaya seated quietly with his wife beside him. Despite his gentle expression, the air felt unusually heavy.

"There have been developments," he began, his voice like the hush of wind through dead leaves. "We've confirmed the origin of the threatening letters sent to several Hashira. The handwriting, the phrasing... it all matches one person."

Tsukiyo's breath stopped.

"Hiroshi."

Her knees nearly buckled.

"No," she whispered. "He wouldn't—"

Kagaya raised a hand. "I do not say this lightly. But we've also received word from field scouts. A cloaked figure was spotted near the outer village borders during the past several demon attacks. Always observing. Never intervening. Always watching you, Tsukiyo."

Sanemi's jaw tensed. "So he's been behind it all?"

"We suspect Hiroshi has fallen under Muzan's influence," Kagaya said gravely. "Perhaps not fully transformed... but already past the point of return."

Tsukiyo couldn't speak. Her heart pounded in her ears. The letters. The looming shadow in her dreams. The inexplicable feeling of being watched on missions. She had dismissed them as paranoia—but it had been him. All this time.

Sanemi stepped forward. "Let me go with her."

Kagaya nodded. "You may already be the only one who can protect her from what's to come."

The forest was silent when they arrived—eerily so. The trees loomed tall like mourners, their branches skeletal against the moonlight.

Sanemi drew his blade. "Stay close."

But Tsukiyo was already walking forward, her eyes unfocused, as if drawn by something unseen.

Then she heard it.

A whisper on the wind.

"Still chasing ghosts, Tsukiyo?"

The voice froze her blood.

A figure stepped from the mist—tall, composed, yet unnatural. Hiroshi's face emerged beneath the hood. His eyes gleamed red, not with rage—but with emptiness.

"You've gotten stronger," he said softly. "Brighter. Just as I expected."

Tsukiyo stepped forward. "Hiroshi... was it really you? The letters. The attacks."

He tilted his head. "You always knew, didn't you? You just didn't want to believe it."

"I wanted to believe in you."

He smiled—slow and cold. "That was your mistake."

Sanemi moved beside her, tense. "He's fully turned."

"No," she whispered. "Not yet."

Hiroshi turned to him. "And you. The Wind Hashira. You were always by her side in the stories. Tell me—does she cry when you're not looking?"

Sanemi's grip tightened on his blade. "I'll end you right now if you take one more step."

But Hiroshi only laughed—a broken, hollow sound. "I've watched her bleed. Dream. Fear. Struggle. Do you know what it's like to be forgotten by the one person who was your whole world?"

"I never forgot you!" Tsukiyo shouted, her voice cracking.

His expression faltered—but only for a moment.

"Then why did I fall alone?"

And with that, he disappeared into the trees—his voice lingering like a curse.

"Next time, sister... don't hold back."

Back at the estate, the silence between Sanemi and Tsukiyo stretched like a blade between them.

"You were right," she said hollowly. "He's not Hiroshi anymore."

Sanemi looked at her, eyes shadowed. "You still want to save him?"

"I have to try."

"...Even if it kills you?"

She didn't answer.

Later that night, Tsukiyo sat alone under the veranda. The full moon hung above her, distant and cold.

From the shadows, Sanemi watched her—but he couldn't approach. Not yet.

He turned away, fists clenched.

Hiroshi's words had unsettled more than just Tsukiyo.