Yoriichi Tsugikuni, a Demon Slayer of unparalleled skill, approached the village of Gōsutobirejji, a place whispered about for its disappearances by travelers. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves. Despite the mild season, an intense coolness crept down Yoriichi's spine, an unsettling omen.
As he walked deeper into the village, the absence of human life was clear to him. The only signs of movement came from frogs leaping into shallow puddles and crows perched ominously on rooftops, watching him like silent sentinels. Despite the desolation, Yoriichi's senses were sharp as always.
He was not alone.
It wasn't long before he found it—a demon, the creature that once must have been human—grotesquely hunched over the lifeless body of a deer, its jaws gnashing through flesh. The creature was a predator who had likely destroyed the people's lives here and now resorted to feeding on animals. Before the demon could even register his presence, Yoriichi's obsidian blade sang through the air, severing its head cleanly from its body. The head rolled onto the ground with a hollow thud.
He offered a silent prayer for the soul of the fallen, but the moment the demon's blood evaporated into the night, the air around him grew heavier. It was as though something was watching him. A faint pressure seemed to push against his skin. It was an unsettling feeling that gnawed at his instincts.
Are there any more demons?
He didn't know. For now, Yoriichi returned to the place where he met someone. It was the old man who had informed him further of every empty establishment.
"Were you visiting someone?" a voice asked, cutting through the quiet. It belonged to an old fisherman, the first living soul Yoriichi had encountered since entering the abandoned village. His figure was frail, draped in worn clothing, yet his eyes were hidden by the hat as he asked driven by curiosity.
"No, elder," Yoriichi responded softly. "My family... they're elsewhere now. But I appreciate your guidance. Without your help, I may have wandered here for some time."
The old man smiled warmly, his wrinkled face softening in the dim light. "Such a shame. This village was once a peaceful place, full of life. Yet... one day..."
Silence filled the air once again.
"If I may," Yoriichi continued, bowing his head slightly, "it would be safer for you to leave this village as well. I could accompany you on your journey. It's not safe to stay here alone."
To leave someone in a sad settlement similar to this was unacceptable.
The old man let out a hearty chuckle, the sound carrying a strange echo. "You're a kind soul, young man. To care for another's well-being over your own is a mark of true nobility."
Yoriichi shook his head. "I am neither noble nor extraordinary. I am but a simple man, like any other."
"Is that so?" The old man's laugh lingered in the air, leaving behind an eerie trace of something indefinable, as though the very sound held a secret weight.
"Well, I won't tell you otherwise. But you needn't worry about me. My granddaughter will be here soon to take care of me, so there's no need for your concern. I've been resilient in this village for a long time. My home is always warm and my stomach stays well-fed."
Yoriichi blinked, surprised by the mention of the man's granddaughter. He had sensed no other presence in the area except for the demon. The village had been deathly quiet since his arrival.
"You have a granddaughter?" Yoriichi asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
"That's right! She visits me often, though I tell her there's no need to worry about this old man. Ha, how fortunate I am!"
"She sounds like a kind young girl."
"Yes, you know," the old man mused, "she reminds me of you. There's something in your presence that feels... familiar."
Yoriichi remained silent, contemplating the strange feeling that washed over him. There was an odd weight to the old man's words, a sense of foreboding that gnawed at his mind. After a respectful bow, Yoriichi bid the elder farewell, grateful for his guidance but eager to continue his journey.
Just as he turned to leave, the old man's voice echoed behind him. "By the way, young man... whatever you do, do not enter the forest."
Yoriichi paused in his step, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his blade for reasons unknown. He turned to look back, only to find a little girl with white hair standing beside the old man, her wide brown eyes peering into his for a moment that felt like an eternity to Yoriichi before looking at the fisherman.
"How many times have I told you not to speak with strangers, Grandpa?" she chided softly, her voice as delicate as falling snow.
"Haha, my little Tsuki, forgive me. It seems I've made the same mistake again. Will you forgive an old man?"
"I suppose I have no choice," the girl replied with a smile.
Suddenly, Yoriichi's attention was drawn upward by the sharp cries of crows—caw-caw! Their piercing calls echoed through the desolate village, wings fluttering wildly in the distance. They circled above the trees, black shapes against the gray sky, as though trying to warn him of something lurking within the forest.
The eerie chorus pulled Yoriichi's gaze toward the woods, where the towering trees stood like silent giants. The mist curled around their trunks, a baffling force urging him along.
Yoriichi turned to the old man, only to see the pair vanish without a sound, seemingly dissolving into a thick mist. It swirled and danced in the cold air, leaving no trace of their existence.
Taking a slow breath, Yoriichi stepped into the shadow of the trees.
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Yoriichi glanced around the forest, his senses heightened as he traversed the fog-laden ground. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the distant shadows. The mist clung to the forest floor, swirling like ghostly tendrils around his feet, rising slowly, swallowing everything below his knees.
The trees stretched endlessly, their dark trunks standing like ancient watchers, each one indistinguishable from the next, as though the forest itself was a labyrinth meant to entrap him.
The weight of the old man's warning echoed in Yoriichi's mind, but curiosity tugged at him. He needed to know the truth of this place. There was no mistake—the man and the girl he had met were not of this world. It was a selfish curiosity. Yet, something kept pulling him deeper into the woods. With each step, the forest felt more alive, but in a way that defied nature. There was a hollowness, an unsettling absence of life despite the towering trees and creeping fog.
Time became elusive as he marched onward. What felt like hours had passed, and still, there was no dawn. Yoriichi's sharp instincts told him the night should have long since given way to the morning light, yet the sky above remained cloaked in darkness. The presence of demons was always stronger under the cover of night, that's why Yoriichi entered that village at night.
He stopped for a moment, listening for the familiar calls of birds or any sign of the rising sun. But there was nothing. No sound, no light—only the oppressive, unnatural ambiance. His vision, usually so keen, could not penetrate the dense mist that continued to rise. It now clung to his waist, the cold pressing against his skin as if the forest itself sought to claim him.
Fatigue began to settle in. Yoriichi leaned against the rough bark of a nearby tree, the texture grounding him, though even that felt surreal. His body, honed through years of training and battle, was beginning to show signs of wear after more than a day of relentless activity. Though his spirit remained unbroken, exhaustion weighed heavy on his limbs.
The mist thickened, creeping higher, as if responding to his weariness. He fought to stay alert, but his eyes betrayed him, heavy and slow to blink. Perhaps it was the darkness, the silence, or the endless march that wore on him. With no sign of dawn, Yoriichi allowed his body to rest, lowering himself onto the cold ground.
Just a moment, he thought. Just until the sun rises...
The cold fog embraced him, and as he closed his eyes, darkness enveloped him.
...
"Mister?! Are you alive?!"
The frantic voice of a young boy pierced through the fog of Yoriichi's consciousness, accompanied by the sensation of hands urgently shaking him. The voice was filled with worry, almost trembling with distress.
Another voice, calm and soothing, followed like a gentle breeze cutting through the panic.
"Tanjiro, please lower your voice. There's no need to shout; it won't help him wake any faster."
The world around Yoriichi gradually brightened as his eyes fluttered open, revealing the two figures standing before him. The first was a boy—Tanjiro, judging by the voice—his face full of concern, as though the weight of the world rested on the thought of Yoriichi's state. He was a short boy. His hand was still on Yoriichi's arm, shaking it gently but persistently.
The second figure stood just behind the boy, a taller, older man with a calm, composed demeanor that contrasted sharply with Tanjiro's turmoil. His expression was one of measured patience and serene features, eyes reflecting the wisdom of someone who had experienced much in life yet bore none of the panics that Tanjiro displayed.
They bore a striking resemblance; was this man perhaps the boy's father? A protective presence, ready to protect his son from the dangers of roaming through the forest.
Yoriichi's vision was still adjusting, the fog of sleep slowly lifting. He blinked, trying to make sense of where he was. The mist was gone, and the oppressive darkness of the forest had lifted. Instead, sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the forest floor, making it seem as though the world had shifted while he slept.
"Thank goodness!" Tanjiro breathed in relief, his face brightening. "I thought... I thought something terrible had happened!"
Yoriichi, still feeling the remnants of exhaustion in his body, tried to rise but was met with a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder. The older man spoke softly.
"Take it slow. You've been out for a while."
Yoriichi glanced between them, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at him yet it was impossible as he had never met them. The boy's earnestness, his pure heart—it was apparent. The father's presence was steady but calm, like the unwavering flow of a river.
"Who…" Yoriichi started, his voice rose, finding its strength after waking up. "Who are you?"
"Ah, Otōsan! He is awake!" The boy smiled brightly, though his eyes were still wide with lingering concern.
The older man helped Yoriichi stand, "I'm Kamado Tanjuro, and this is my son—Tanjiro. We're both merely charcoal sellers."
Yoriichi's gaze shifted to the one called Tanjuro, who offered a respectful nod. "You've wandered deep into the woods. I would not have expected to find someone like you here. It is dangerous to be here alone, a bear could attack you while asleep."
Yoriichi's thoughts churned. How had he come here? And who were these two, whose presence felt oddly comforting?
Yoriichi bowed slightly, brushing off the dirt from his haori. "I apologize for worrying you over a stranger. My name is Tsugikuni Yoriichi."
As he straightened, his gaze caught the familiar earrings adorning Tanjuro's ears. His breath halted, it was the design he wore himself—the very same his mother made for him. A flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes before his expression settled back into its usual unreadable demeanor.
Tanjuro smiled softly, apparently sensing the unspoken connection. Something in his eyes had shifted as well the moment he found Yoriichi, "Why don't you come to our home? It's not far from here, and you could use a meal and some rest. My family would be glad to welcome you."
"I do not wish to intrude..." Yoriichi hesitated for a moment, the invitation tugging at his curiosity. He wished to know more about Tanjuro and his earrings, but he felt an uncharacteristic push towards the kind offer.
"Mister?" Young Tanjiro stared at him with teary eyes.
"Thank you. I would appreciate that." He said after careful consideration.
As they walked together, Yoriichi couldn't shake the feeling that he was not supposed to be here, that this encounter held a deeper significance.
Tanjiro chatted excitedly, sharing stories of the mountains and the challenges of his cutting trees days. The boy encircled the demon slayer with questions about his attire and the sword at his hip, all while Yoriichi listened intently, absorbing the casualness of the moment and the comfort of companionship. It was a phenomenon he had long been without.
Deciding to share some of his own travels, Yoriichi carefully omitted any details about his battles with demons. Tanjiro hung on his every word, occasionally letting out sounds of astonishment. The boy began to appreciate Yoriichi's deeds, voicing his admiration while his father listened calmly.
"That's very kind of you to say, Tanjiro. However, I'm just an ordinary swordsman who wishes to do good. I can only harm with a blade; there's nothing remarkable about it."
"That's not true, Yoriichi-san!" Tanjiro protested, his face flushed with disagreement. "What matters is that you protect the innocent! It doesn't matter whether you do it with a sword or as something else!"
Tanjiro's fervent protest caught Yoriichi off guard.
Soon, they arrived at the Kamado home, the warmth of the hearth beckoning them inside.
As Yoriichi stepped into the Kamado household, he was immediately enveloped by the lively energy of the family. Laughter echoed through the rooms, and the aroma of freshly cooked meals filled the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere that felt almost utopian to him.
Tanjuro Kamado, with his calm demeanor and reassuring presence, motioned Yoriichi to the family table. The man exuded an aura that made Yoriichi feel at ease as if he had found a kindred spirit.
"Tanjiro, don't bother Yoriichi-san too much. You will tire him out before dinner." Tanjuro told calmly.
Tanjuro's love for his family was evident, and Yoriichi couldn't help but admire the way he guided his children with both strength and gentleness.
As the family gathered, the interactions flowed naturally. Tanjiro and his siblings exchanged playful banter, their laughter mingling. Yoriichi observed them, feeling a mix of admiration and longing. It had been so long since he had experienced such an atmosphere.
Amid the warmth and joy, a twinge of sadness crept into his heart. He couldn't shake the loneliness lingering around him, a reminder of his childhood. But at that moment, surrounded by the Kamado family, Yoriichi felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that maybe he could find his place somewhere in the world, if only for a little while.
With a soft and solemn smile, Yoriichi watched the family as they shared struggles and a deep-seated desire to protect one another. He felt the nostalgic sensation of a precious item hidden in his clothes.
Tanjuro's wife entered the room with a warm smile. Her presence radiated a gentle strength, and Yoriichi felt immediately drawn to her presence.
"Welcome, Yoriichi-san!" Kie said cheerfully, her eyes sparkling. "I see you've come quite a long way. I hope you're hungry!"
The Kamado Family wasn't rich by any means however it doesn't mean they wouldn't provide a guest food. It goes against the ideals they share, it seems.
"Thank you." Yoriichi nodded, grateful for the warmth of their home. Just as he was about to express his appreciation, Kie glanced at his haori, noticing the remaining dust and dirt clinging to the fabric.
"Oh dear," she remarked, her brow furrowing slightly. "This looks rather worn. I could clean it for you if you'd like. It wouldn't be any trouble at all."
Yoriichi hesitated, a bit taken aback by her offer. He had always cared for his attire himself, viewing it as an extension of his identity as a Demon Slayer and a gift from his mother. However, the thought of someone touching it felt strange.
"That's very kind of you, Kie-san," he replied, his voice softening. "But I don't want to impose."
Kie waved her hand dismissively. "Not at all! It's the least I can do for a guest. Besides, you've traveled far, and you should be able to relax a bit."
But he was found in the forest...
Yoriichi glanced at Tanjuro.
...Right?
With a reluctant smile, Yoriichi removed his haori and handed it to her. As she took it, Yoriichi felt a sense of warmth that had been absent. Kie's genuine kindness reminded him of the importance of care, not just for oneself, but for others as well.
"Thank you," he bowed slightly, feeling a little lighter as he settled into the warmth of the Kamado household, appreciating the small acts of kindness that made him feel a little more at home.
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The warmth of the hearth surrounded Yoriichi as he sat across from Tanjuro, watching the lively play of Tanjiro and Nezuko in the background.
As Yoriichi settled into the warmth of the Kamado household, he often found himself enjoying quiet moments with Tanjuro, watching the children play. On this particular afternoon, they sat by the crackling fire, sipping tea as they admired the scene unfolding before them. Tanjiro and Nezuko were engaged in a lively game, laughter filling the air, while Kie tended to the younger siblings with gentle care. The image of their happy family stirred bittersweet emotions in Yoriichi's heart, reminding him of the bond he once had with his own brother.
"They're wonderful, aren't they?" Tanjuro's voice cut through his thoughts, both men observing the joyful chaos unfolding before them. Tanjuro's eyes were soft as ever as he watched his children, "These kids bring so much happiness, even if we often worry about their futures."
A faint smile tugged at Yoriichi's lips. "I haven't yet had the fortune of raising children," Yoriichi replied, a distant memory surfacing of a girl who had once smiled brightly at him.
Tanjuro nodded, his gaze softening. "Indeed, we're lucky to be here together, sharing this moment."
Yet, Yoriichi felt like he didn't fit into this picture.
Suddenly, Tanjuro coughed violently, pulling Yoriichi from his thoughts. Concerned, he instinctively moved to help, but Tanjuro raised a hand to stop him.
"Please, don't worry. It's nothing to be concerned about. Just… don't look at me like that."
Even though Yoriichi's expression rarely shifted, Tanjuro seemed to catch a glimpse of the unspoken worry etched in his eyes.
"How much time do you have left?" Yoriichi asked, unable to keep the question at bay any longer.
"I don't know," Tanjuro replied with a calmness that belied the weight of his words. "But there's no need to worry. Tanjiro is almost a young man now; I trust he'll manage without me. My family will continue to support each other, as they always have." His acceptance of fate hung in the air like an unshakable truth. "As long as I'm here, with them, I won't run away from it."
Yoriichi felt a weight settle on his chest. "I will look after them," he promised, knowing deep down that he couldn't deny Tanjuro's fate. His condition had worsened over time, and it was now impossible to change that course.
"That's kind, but you don't have to feel obligated," Tanjuro reassured him with a gentle smile.
Finally, gathering his courage, Yoriichi asked, "May I inquire about those earrings?"
Still, it took some time for Yoriichi to say that.
"Ah, so the time has finally come," Tanjuro said with a knowing smile, his gaze shifting to Yoriichi in a way that made the latter feel seen, "That's fine."
"These earrings have been passed down through my family for generations," he explained, looking fondly at the delicate gift. "From father to son, repeating the cycle until they reached me. It's a tradition that began long ago when we received them from a remarkable man."
"A man?" Yoriichi prompted, his mind racing about this connection.
"Indeed," Tanjuro continued. "He was a demon slayer, just like you."
"So you were aware."
The man before Yoriichi simply nodded, not giving anything to tell him how he felt.
Yoriichi fell silent as Tanjuro shared the tale of how the earrings came into his family's care. His mind whirled with confusion, struggling to piece together the fragments of his own chaotic thoughts. Tanjuro's story only deepened the disarray, leaving him feeling even more lost.
"You're not in your time, Hinokami," the echo of an unknown truth resonated within the world, a reminder of Yoriichi's journey that seemed to stretch far beyond the time itself.
...
As Yoriichi returned one afternoon, the shadows of his thoughts clung to him, heavy and unyielding. Tanjiro noticed the shift in his demeanor and stepped forward, concern etched across his face. "Are you sad, Yoriichi-san?" he asked, his voice gentle but strong, eager to bridge the gap Yoriichi had unknowingly created with his silence.
Yoriichi hesitated, searching for words that felt adequate to express the tumult within him. The revelation about Tanjuro's earrings awakened a cascade of memories and emotions that churned like a storm inside him. He had once been but a simple man, yet now he felt like a relic of a time long past. The thought that he might not belong in this world anymore plagued him, especially as he looked at the warmth and love surrounding Tanjiro's family.
"It's just… I have memories of my past." Yoriichi finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't shake the feeling that I've lost something vital. I wonder if history is repeating itself and I will lose again."
Were Yoriichi with a fresh mind, he would never let his anxiety show much less tell anybody.
But now everything seemed to break.
Tanjiro's brow furrowed as he tried to understand. "I think I understand a little of what you feel. Losing someone or something we care about is painful, and it can make us doubt our place in the world." He paused, gauging Yoriichi's reaction. "But you're here now, and you have the chance to create new memories with my family."
Yoriichi looked up, surprised at the boy's wisdom. "But what if my presence brings nothing but more loss? I fear I might fail to protect those I grow close to. That I will fail again."
"I think everyone has fears," Tanjiro replied, his tone reassuring. "But those fears don't define us. It's what we do despite them that matters. You've already shown us strength and kindness by being here and helping my family. You have a chance to be part of something wonderful. I respect you for that, Yoriichi-san."
Yoriichi's heart felt a flicker of comfort at Tanjiro's words, yet doubt still gnawed at him. "But can I truly change? Can I become someone worth being around? I don't think there is a way for me to come back. I have searched through the entire forest for days to the place I appeared. There is no way back."
"Of course," Tanjiro insisted, determination shining in his eyes. "We all carry parts of our past with us, but that doesn't mean our choices are planned fully by somebody. You've helped my family in ways you don't even realize. It's those small moments that create a brighter future. You're not alone, Yoriichi-san."
A sense of clarity began to form within Yoriichi as he listened to Tanjiro's earnest encouragement. Perhaps he could allow himself to step into the light, forge new connections, and learn to carry this burden without letting it define him.
"Thank you, Tanjiro," Yoriichi said, a soft smile breaking through his somber expression. "You've helped me see that there's still hope for me."
As they stood together, the weight of their shared burdens felt a little lighter, woven together by the threads of understanding and friendship.
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Tanjiro struggled through the forest, the weight of the axe in his hands pressing down on him. But what truly gripped his senses was the overwhelming stench of blood, sharp and pungent in the crisp air.
Panic surged within him, and he froze for a moment, thoughts racing. What had happened? His heart pounded as he imagined the worst. His mother, his younger siblings, his family, their laughter, their warmth, all potentially shattered by some unseen horror.
Each step closer to home heightened his anxiety, the odor intensifying with each breath. Was it a bear? Had it attacked? With every stride, his muscles tensed, fueled by adrenaline, while the peaceful winter sunlight failed to pierce the dread wrecking his mind.
Finally, he reached his home, and his heart sank. There, lying in the snow, was an unfamiliar man dressed in elegant clothes that were now messy, starkly contrasted by the crimson staining the ground around him. The horrific smell nearly made Tanjiro retch, but just as he felt despair settle in his chest, he spotted Yoriichi, standing protectively at the entrance.
Relief washed over him, but it was quickly overshadowed by confusion and fear as he locked eyes with the bloodied stranger. The man's crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light, yet what truly shocked Tanjiro was the palpable scent of fear emanating from him, far stronger than the blood that surrounded him. Tanjiro had never felt such an amount of fear from a person.
"Yoriichi-san!" Tanjiro called out, voice trembling with unease.
"Don't approach, Tanjiro. That's a demon." Yoriichi's serious tone cut through the tension, forcing Tanjiro to halt mid-step. The gravity of the situation hit him as he absorbed the sight of the stranger sprawled on the ground.
"A demon?" he echoed silently, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
Though instinctively drawn to the man, Tanjiro's resolve hardened. He had to protect his family, no matter the threat. Tightening his grip on the axe, he steeled himself, ready for whatever might come next. Despite the chill of the air and the horrific stench surrounding him, he felt a fierce determination welling up inside him. He could not let fear take hold; he had to act.
"Go inside, Tanjiro. I promise I'll take care of this." Yoriichi's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Tanjiro nodded, a sense of urgency pushing him forward as he moved past Yoriichi and stepped into the warmth of his home.
As the door closed behind him, relief washed over him at the sight of his family, all safe and unharmed. Nezuko was playing with the younger siblings, their voices calming the air, contrasting sharply with the danger looming just outside. The warmth of the room wrapped around him, a stark reminder of what he was fighting to protect.
But his heart was heavy with worry. He could hardly shake the image of Yoriichi-san facing that demon alone. The uncertainty gnawed at him. Would Yoriichi-san be okay?
"Tanjiro!" Kie's voice broke through his thoughts as she walked into the room, wiping her tears. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, Okasan," he replied, forcing a smile. "I just... I saw someone outside. H-he... he was scary."
His mother hugged him and said how Tanjuro tried to stop the stranger before Yoriichi-san interfered. Now his father is sleeping, wounded, but not dead.
"Yoriichi-san is out there." His voice shook and trembled.
Kie's expression softened with understanding. "Yoriichi-san seems capable. I trust him."
"Yeah, I know." Tanjiro nodded, though his unease lingered.
He moved to the window, peering out to catch a glimpse of Yoriichi, still there in front of the man who lay there frozen. The weight of guilt settled on his shoulders, knowing he had to trust in Yoriichi's strength. But the thought of his family friend facing danger alone made his heart ache with fear.
"Everything will be fine," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. "Yoriichi-san will come back safe."
...
Yoriichi moved swiftly, his blade flashing in the dim light as he unsheathed his Nichirin sword, cleanly severing the arm of the figure that had attacked Tanjuro at the door. His strike was so precise that it nearly took the demon's head, leaving the creature scrambling backward in shock, narrowly avoiding decapitation. Yoriichi's eyes narrowed in recognition, the aura was unmistakable. It was a demon, its attire disturbingly similar to that of a human, as though purposely mimicking them.
Or mocking.
The demon, stunned, reeled at the speed and accuracy of the attack. Its body shuddered, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and terror. Perhaps it hadn't anticipated meeting a demon slayer here.
When those demonic eyes met Yoriichi's steady, piercing gaze, the demon froze. His body instinctively recoiled, throwing himself back in desperation before collapsing into the snow, legs giving out as if the fear had drained him of all strength.
"Y-you..."
Terror overwhelmed the demon, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly, his mouth opening in a silent gasp, unable to form words. Yoriichi watched carefully, confused for a moment by the demon's unusual reaction. He had encountered many demons in his time, but this one... this fear was different. Yet Yoriichi did not waste time dwelling on it.
As Yoriichi faced the demon, a sense of purpose coursed through him like never before. The thought of eradicating every trace of demonic evil sharpened his focus, and facing this particular demon, that purpose felt almost overwhelming, like a long-buried instinct roaring to life.
For some reason, while facing this being it was stronger than ever. Yoriichi felt like a destined goal had awakened within him.
I must kill this demon.
"H-how...?"
Muzan.
Yoriichi didn't know that name yet it happened. He didn't know why, just like the reason for his appearance at this time.
Before Muzan could finish, his body twisted grotesquely, as if instinct itself demanded that he defend against the danger that Yoriichi posed. Flesh tendrils—thick, grotesque whips of sinew—sprouted from his torso and back, lashing toward Yoriichi with terrifying speed. The whips cracked the air, their lethal force capable of obliterating anyone in their path.
But Yoriichi was faster. He moved with a grace that defied belief itself, stepping into position even before Muzan's attack could fully manifest. His Sun Breathing technique is completed with the force of the sun itself.
Sun Breathing: First Form—Dance.
With one fluid motion, Yoriichi's sword blazed through the tendrils of flesh, cutting through them so swiftly and precisely that it appeared to happen in an instant. Each strike was deliberate, each motion a masterpiece of control. The demon's whips of flesh—so dangerous to any other demon slayer—fell to the ground in ribbons, each severed with merciless precision. Muzan recoiled in agony, a scream tearing from his throat as he realized something horrifying: he couldn't regenerate.
The cut parts of his flesh burned.
Yoriichi's blade had severed not only flesh but the very essence of Muzan's being. Old, raw, memories filled his brain with terrifying stimulants. Muzan's usually instantaneous healing faltered, leaving the wounds raw, exposed, and unhealing. His eyes widened with disbelief, the overwhelming terror in his gaze growing more intense as he tried, and failed, to make sense of the reality this monster was alive.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni is standing before him just like all these centuries ago, his sword ablaze with flames that burned his body and reopened many ancient wounds.
"Impossible... There is no way..." Muzan snarled, his voice shaking. He had been rendered powerless, his once invincible body now vulnerable. He had encountered countless Demon Slayers in his time, but none had ever come close to striking fear into him the way Yoriichi had.
But Yoriichi's focus remained unshaken. His expression was calm, determined, unyielding. Every strike he made, every movement, was calculated to destroy this demon.
Whatever Muzan planned, it was all rendered meaningless. The Monster stood before him, defying the very nature of death with his presence.
"You tremble in fear before me, yet you show no mercy to those who cower before you. What value do you place on life? Why do you forget?"
These words pierced Muzan like a blade of truth, echoing across centuries. The memory stirred deep within him, dragging him back to the moment when he had first heard these same questions. A time when he had stood on the brink of death, facing the one man who could end him— the Monster called Yoriichi Tsugikuni. It was a reminder of his mortality, something Muzan had long buried under his cruelty and search for eternity.
Yet now, confronted with that same overwhelming presence, the fear returned. The questions, and the accusations, haunted him like an old nightmare, forcing him to confront the reality he had spent a millennium avoiding.
Muzan's entire existence flashed before him—centuries of destruction, countless lives snuffed out at his whim. He didn't care one bit. And here, standing in front of Yoriichi again, it was as if the weight of those lost lives began to crush him, each soul he had taken adding to the heaviness in his chest.
But there was no room for regret, not for someone like him. Only survival.
Yet the words stung. Why had he forgotten? Because to Muzan, life had always been disposable. It was nothing but a stepping stone to his ultimate immortality.
Muzan's body shifted again, attempting to manipulate his form. The ground began to quake as flesh and blood reformed, shaping into new forms to escape Yoriichi's blade. Muzan, the demon king, had mastered shapeshifting, and this was his ultimate defense mechanism—survival above all else.
But Yoriichi wasn't deterred.
A flurry of blazing strikes erupted from Yoriichi's blade as he slashed through the multiplying forms with deadly accuracy. Each slash burned with the power of the sun itself, turning Muzan's attempts at division into nothing more than futile gestures. Yoriichi moved with the grace of a dancer, every step aligned with the rhythm of his breathing, each form of Muzan evaporating into ash as soon as it was touched by Yoriichi's blade.
Muzan, now reduced back to his original form, stumbled backward, panting heavily. His eyes, wide with horror, locked onto Yoriichi, knowing full well that he had never come so close to death.
This was not just any Demon Slayer.
Sun Breathing: Thirteenth Form.
The final form of Yoriichi's Sun Breathing surged to life, the flames around Muzan burning brighter as if the sun itself had descended to the battlefield. Muzan's bloodied eyes contorted into fear as he realized Yoriichi was ready to finish it.
"NAKIMEEEEE! NAKIMEEEEE!"
Muzan had no time to react as Yoriichi prepared the final, decisive strike. Time slowed as Yoriichi's blade shone, brighter than the sun at midday. Every breath he took fueled his resolve to end the terror Muzan had wrought on the world.
In Muzan's eyes, the fear solidified into an all-consuming dread as Yoriichi raised his sword for the final blow.
However, fate had other plans.
As Yoriichi prepared to land the final, decisive blow, a sharp, discordant sound echoed through the air—the unmistakable strum of a biwa. Time, which had slowed moments before, shattered like glass as the wooden entryway of the Infinity Castle suddenly manifested beneath Muzan.
In a heartbeat, Muzan vanished from sight, escaping his death by mere inches. But Yoriichi, too, was caught in the trap. The floor beneath him opened before he could react, and he fell into the yawning abyss of the Infinity Castle, its dark, twisted architecture stretching out in all directions.
To Be Continued.