Epilogue

The forest was quiet now. Smoke curled lazily from scorched earth where the battle had raged. Akaza was gone—either fled into the night or burned away with the flames. Tanjiro didn’t care.

He knelt beside Inosuke’s body, the boar mask still in place, its once-feral eyes now staring blankly. The moonlight caught on the edges of his twin Nichirin blades, still clutched in stiff fingers.

Tanjiro’s hands shook as he reached down, gently lifting the mask away. Underneath was Inosuke’s face—calm for the first time Tanjiro had ever seen it. No wild grin. No sharp challenge. Just peace.

The tears came then, hot and blinding.
“I told you not to rush in,” Tanjiro whispered, his voice cracking. “But you never listened… and I’m glad you didn’t. You saved me.”

He wrapped Inosuke’s body in his haori, lifting him onto his back. The weight was heavy, but not as heavy as the silence.

The journey back to the Butterfly Estate was long. The dawn was breaking by the time the gates came into view.

Shinobu was the first to step forward, her usual serene smile faltering when she saw Tanjiro’s expression. Behind her, Zenitsu came running—until he froze, his eyes landing on the still figure on Tanjiro’s back.

“No…” Zenitsu’s voice was barely a whisper. “No, no, no—”

Tanjiro carefully lowered Inosuke to the ground, placing the boar mask on top of his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but they understood.

Zenitsu collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Shinobu closed her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if holding back her own grief.

Tanjiro stood there, fists clenched, staring at the mask. “I’ll keep fighting,” he said softly, almost to himself. “For him. For all of us.”

The wind picked up, carrying the faint echo of a familiar voice:
“Don’t you dare slack off, Kamaboko Head.”

Tanjiro looked toward the sunrise, his tears drying in the warmth of the light. He had lost a friend, a brother in arms—but the fire Inosuke left behind would never die.

And neither would his roar.