Once again, a very big thank you to euphoricimage who has betaed this chapter, as well as to LittleDoot who has proofread it.
.
.
.
In the past, years before his father's death, Kamado Tanjirou had once smelled a strong scent of blood and tracked it down to find a dying man on the mountain.
Apparently, the poor man had been attacked by a bear. Tanjirou was too small to drag the man back to their home, so he had fetched his father to try to save the man. His father had grimly inspected the wound, before cleaning it with melted snow and smearing the special ointment he had brought onto the wounds. Since his father had been a hunter, Tanjirou had trusted him to be able to treat the dying man.
Sure enough, as if by magic, the man survived the fatal wound. He woke up a few days later and was able to walk again after a month.
His father had passed away from his illness since then, but he had taught his eldest son enough about treating bear-inflicted wounds for Tanjirou to not overly panic at the sight in front of him.
It was a girl, lying on the snow with wounds similar to the ones the dying man had once had.
Tanjirou would have never imagined an incessantly cawing, blood-scented crow would lead him to this two kilometers away from his home at dawn.
.
.
.
The members of his family gasped when they saw the bloody girl on his back, but they quickly regained their composure and began preparations to treat her.
His mother helped lay the girl down on a futon, while Takeo boiled snow and Nezuko went to fetch various drugs as well as clean rags. Hanako brought their youngest siblings Shigeru and Rokuta out of the room, considering the gruesome sight might be too traumatising for the younger children.
It was a long day and an even longer week for the Kamado family.
.
.
.
The crow, apparently, could speak.
"Let, go! Let, go!" it...yelled. "Must, report! Let, go!"
Tanjirou had heard of bird species which could talk like humans, but he would've never thought a crow could too. It seemed like this crow was somewhat special, since it also had strange markings on its feathers and a butterfly-shaped hair clip at the back of its head. The girl also had a butterfly hair clip on her hair, so this crow might be hers.
Shigeru had found the crow passed out in the snow near their house not long after Tanjirou had brought the girl home. Tanjirou didn't realise it when the crow came calling for help, but it had apparently injured its wing. It woke up just a few moments ago, and were it not for Tanjirou's quick reflexes, it would've flown out of the house then and there. The crow was now struggling against Tanjirou's grip as his siblings peered at it in wonder.
"It's Mister Crow!" Rokuta exclaimed.
"I'm, girl!" the crow told Rokuta off. "Let, go!"
"No can do, Miss Crow," Nezuko replied to the crow. "You're still injured. It was amazing that you could still fly with such a wound. You have to be treated first."
Miss Crow cawed in protest and bit his finger. Tanjirou yelped but did not let go. She continued thrashing around until she suddenly went stiff.
"Owie!" she cried out. She must've jostled her wounds.
"See?" Nezuko sighed as Tanjirou and the rest of her siblings gasped in concern. Nezuko took out a roll of bandages before tending to the crow's wounded wings. "Don't move too much. You won't be able to fly sooner if you keep struggling."
"B-But, report…" Miss Crow cawed sullenly. "When, fly?"
"Give it two weeks and you'll be good enough to go," Nezuko hummed after a thought. "Though it's safer to let your wings recover for at least a month. Besides, it seems like a snowstorm will be coming soon. You won't make it anywhere if you fly in this condition."
"Pweeh…" Miss Crow cawed, defeated. She finally went limp in Tanjirou's hands. What a determined crow.
As he gently placed Miss Crow on a bundle of cloth to let her rest, Tanjirou wondered who the crow had to report to.
.
.
.
The girl's white cloak and black uniform were dyed in red and torn in some places, so his mother decided to change the girl's clothes to one of Nezuko's kimono. Nezuko was tasked to wash the girl's clothes, and now it was Tanjirou's turn to mend them.
The clothes were surprisingly durable despite the tears, Tanjirou had found out, because his small sewing needles could not puncture the cloth. He had to use a big needle and exert considerable force to sew through it. The bear's claw must've been horrifyingly strong and sharp to be able to tear apart a durable cloth like this.
Still, what a good material this uniform was. The design also resembled the cool, modern style he'd occasionally seen in the village. The skirt was a bit too short, though.
Then, Tanjirou felt a chill run down his spine when he lifted the black uniform up to inspect it.
On the back of the shirt was a large kanji character in white: '滅'.
Metsu. Extermination.
"...Okay."
Since his mother didn't say anything about it, Tanjirou decided not to think too much about what the kanji meant. Nor about the katana he had found along with the girl.
.
.
.
Two days after she was brought home, Tanjirou noticed the strange but oddly familiar way she was breathing. It was unlike the way the dying man had breathed roughly last time, nor was it like the way a normal, sleeping person breathed. She had been breathing very slowly when Tanjirou found her in the mountain, so he had thought her condition was worsening.
But now that she was no longer in a critical condition, she started breathing in a certain rhythm. Tanjirou instinctively realised that the rhythmic breathing was helping her recover from what was supposed to be a fatal wound.
Just like what his father did.
.
.
.
Tanjirou had a keen sense of smell.
He inherited it from his father. He could smell things that should not have a smell, such as the nature and emotions of a person. He was popular in the village because his sense of smell was helpful to find missing items, catch a thief, and even solve a love quarrel. He could even smell the then-blood-covered Miss Crow hundreds of meters away when she came calling for help.
But the girl's scent was a strange one.
Wisteria and rust.
Like a butterfly with its wings torn.
.
.
.
