Tanjiro's breath came out in a white puff as he stood before the Rengoku household, the air heavy with both silence and memory. The house, once vibrant with the energy of a Flame Hashira, now stood dim under the muted sky, its gates slightly open as if waiting for someone.
He stepped forward, clutching tightly the thoughts of Rengoku Kyojuro—his fire, his strength, his final words.
Inside, Tanjiro was greeted not by warmth, but by scorn.
The man who met him in the hallway—Shinjuro Rengoku, Kyojuro's father—was nothing like the noble Flame Hashira Tanjiro admired. His beard was unkempt, and his eyes bloodshot. His posture held the weight of exhaustion, bitterness… and loss.
"You… You're that boy with the earrings…" Shinjuro muttered, eyes narrowing.
Tanjiro bowed deeply. "I came to pay my respects to your son. Rengoku-san—he was—"
Before he could finish, Shinjuro scoffed.
"Bah! Kyojuro died because he was weak!"
Tanjiro's head snapped up.
"Don't talk about Rengoku-san like that!" he shouted, fists shaking. "He wasn't weak! He saved everyone! He stood until the end! You should be proud!"
Shinjuro glared. "Proud? Of what? Of a fool who died meaninglessly? All of us Hashira are the same—worthless. Just wielding swords until we fall like insects."
Tanjiro clenched his jaw, furious tears pricking his eyes. He launched himself forward, throwing a punch—only to be countered and struck back. Pain shot through his body as he hit the ground, but his spirit didn't waver.
"Even if you say that… Even if you think it's meaningless… Rengoku-san died protecting people! That's never meaningless!"
Suddenly, a softer voice called out.
"Father, that's enough…"
Senjuro Rengoku, Kyojuro's younger brother, stepped in from the hall, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. Shinjuro turned away wordlessly and disappeared into his room, leaving behind only the sound of quiet footsteps.
Senjuro knelt beside Tanjiro.
"I'm sorry," he said. "He's been like that ever since… ever since Kyojuro died."
Tanjiro sat up, wincing. "It's okay. I understand."
The two sat in silence for a long moment, the pain of loss shared in the stillness between them.
Before Tanjiro stood to leave, Senjuro stopped him and walked into a side room. When he returned, his hands were trembling slightly.
"This was… my brother's. He would have wanted you to have it."
He opened his palms to reveal the flame-patterned hilt of Kyojuro's sword. The same symbol of courage that once burned in the hands of the Flame Hashira.
Tanjiro took it with both hands, eyes shining. "I'll honor him. I swear."
As he turned to leave the house, he felt the weight of the hilt in his hands… not just a weapon, but a promise.
The flame of Kyojuro Rengoku hadn't gone out.
It had been passed on.