Beneath the bright, shining moon,
a brilliant point of light was climbing higher and higher into the night sky.
The higher it rose,
the brighter it became.
Before it had even reached halfway, it was already as large as the moon itself.
In the black of midnight, it unleashed light and heat with wild abandon, creating an unprecedented sight—
two moons hanging in the sky at once.
"Anata… what is that?"
Tap… tap…
The night was torn open, revealing a corner of blue sky.
Inside the room, Kie—still grieving Roy's departure and unable to sleep—had simply lit a lamp and started using the cloth Roy had bought from the market to make a new set of clothes for each of the children.
Then she saw it.
Her hand trembled, the needle pricked her finger, and she winced, her brows drawing together slightly from the pain.
Throwing on an outer layer, she hurried over to Tanjuro in shock.
His flame-red hair hung loose behind him, the ends stirring softly in the wind. He stood there, head tilted up, watching Roy rise higher and higher until he became a moon of his own.
And in those bright eyes of his, as his gaze shifted, he seemed to vaguely see—
the same flame-red hair,
almost identical to his own…
He opened his mouth, wrapped an arm around Kie's shoulder,
and smiled.
"Kie… the child's grown up. Let him go."
"He…"
"is stronger than we ever imagined."
"And more dazzling."
The moment those words left him, Roy's Nen surged and roared upward, blasting away half the night sky. Brighter than the moon, hotter than the moon, more overwhelming than the moon, he shot upward with a whoosh and directly overtook it, becoming a blazing sun suspended above it!
At last, the darkness on the other half of the sky was completely driven away by the light Roy poured out without restraint.
At that moment, in the dead of midnight, blue sky and white clouds appeared before half-awake eyes.
People getting up in the night, vendors preparing breakfast, men and women, young and old, who were used to staying up late to work—all of them had originally meant to do as they always did, getting a head start before dawn.
But the moment they looked up—
they froze.
For an instant, they almost thought they had gotten out of bed too hard and somehow skipped straight to morning.
But…
the clocks hanging on their walls,
the water clocks and sundials used to track the time,
all reminded them clearly—
this wasn't morning.
It was midnight.
So then…
"W-why is the sun out?!"
"Wife / sweetheart / nii-san / otō-san… wake up, hurry up, wake up… a miracle… a divine miracle… the great Sun God has descended upon the world!"
Confusion, excitement, shouting, cries of alarm—
they swept through the entire Demon Slayer world like a hurricane.
Some people knelt in worship.
Some prostrated themselves in reverence.
Some lit incense, clasped their hands together, and prayed under their breath.
Others grabbed the newest novelty around—something called a "camera"—and started snapping photos like mad, recording this rare scene of sun and moon shining together from every possible angle…
The Demon Slayer Corps,
with Muzan dead,
had no more demons left to kill.
As the former Master, Kagaya Ubuyashiki had already proposed that everyone disperse for now and wait for Lord Eiichiro's next summons.
At that moment, in the land hidden behind fields of wisteria, Kagaya Ubuyashiki was sleeping soundly with Amane in his arms.
At that moment, Giyu Tomioka had returned to Mount Sagiri and was drinking through the night with Sabito, Makomo, and the others.
At that moment, Obanai Iguro was tossing and turning, unable to sleep, quietly trying to work up the courage to confess to Mitsuri Kanroji.
At that moment, Gyomei Himejima had quietly returned to the temple where he once lived, remembering bitter hardship and sweeter days.
At that moment, Tengen Uzui was enjoying the bliss of sleeping under one blanket with his wives.
And yet—
the instant Roy flew into the sky and rose beyond the clouds, it was as if they had all rehearsed it beforehand.
They all opened their eyes at once, threw on their outer robes, stepped out of their homes, and looked up at the sky, eyes narrowing with emotion.
Using [Gyo], they gazed into the heart of that "sun"—
and saw a familiar head of flame-red hair streaming upside down in the air…
Led by Kagaya Ubuyashiki and Kyojuro Rengoku, all the Hashira dropped to one knee as one, placed a hand over their chests, and devoutly whispered:
"Praise the Sun."
Then, one after another, streams of [Faith Power] burst from the tops of their heads and flowed upward toward Roy in the sky, becoming a flood of panel notifications ringing endlessly in Roy's ears…
[Notice: "Faith Power" +1 +1 +1…]
It was as if,
from this moment on,
the countless living beings represented by the people of Demon Slayer had found… faith.
Buzz—
The wind of Nen blew, scattering the clouds with stream after stream of light.
High above the heavens, beyond the moon, Roy stood at the very peak of the world, vaguely sensing something. As his expression shifted, he gained a deeper understanding of "Nen," of "faith," and of the core deep inside his heart that they both pointed toward—
the sun.
In a hazy blur, the [Gate of Cognition] flickered.
Then, as a great wave surged into Roy's "Sea of Cognition," it slammed open a towering gate engraved with a grim demon face.
The world of Bleach.
The Seireitei.
The world was still that same world, and beneath his feet lay the familiar Seireitei.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto sat cross-legged on the veranda of a small courtyard, basking in the sun.
Ever since parting with Roy last time, ever since seeing that single blade Roy had swung with "gratitude" in his heart, the greatest Shinigami in a thousand years had found himself drifting off more and more often.
Sometimes he would suddenly go blank in the middle of a meeting.
Sometimes he would stop listening halfway through a report and just stare off into space.
Even the tea gatherings he usually loved no longer held much appeal. The old Commander would often just sit there in silence, his long beard drooping, saying nothing at all.
It had gotten to the point where Kyoraku and Ukitake were secretly wondering whether the old man had gone senile, and had quietly tried sounding out Chōjirō Sasakibe—the man who knew Genryūsai Yamamoto best.
But all they got in return was a deeply unreadable look and a calm dismissal.
"The Commander is fine. There's no need to worry."
And so they had no choice but to leave.
Today, once again, was a mild and pleasant afternoon.
In that little courtyard behind the First Division barracks…
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto sat cross-legged on the wooden veranda as usual, his old walking stick—concealing Ryūjin Jakka—resting beside him as he basked in the sun with his eyes closed.
In front of him,
Chōjirō Sasakibe, dressed in his Shinigami robes over a high-collared shirt, white-haired and gold-eyed, carrying himself with a faintly Western elegance, was tending to two potted plants as always while chatting with the old man now and then.
When he brought up the concern the other Shinigami—including Kyoraku and Ukitake—had shown, he gently tried to persuade him.
"Jūjirō… you've been acting strangely lately. If this keeps up, Kyoraku and Ukitake may really end up dragging Captain Unohana over here…"
Captain of the Fourth Division, Retsu Unohana, was in charge of healing… and very good at diagnosis.
However—
"I'm not ill."
"I'm not saying you are." Sasakibe turned back and gave him a helpless look. "Everyone's worried about you. Even Zaraki, reckless as he is, could tell something was off. You've turned him down every time he asked for a spar. He's practically losing his mind."
"Losing his mind? Good. Let him."
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto slowly opened his old eyes and looked up at the sky.
The great sun hung bright. The sunlight was just right.
Just like the day he first met that boy.
Now that he thought back on it, it felt like a dream.
Or a madness.
Was it fake?
Clearly not.
But if it was real…
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, whose reach extended throughout the Seireitei, had still found no trace of the boy in the Human World. Let alone that garden—
or that dazzling blade burning with flames almost identical to his own.
Slowly… the old man drifted off into thought again.
At that point, Sasakibe finally couldn't take it anymore. For once, stepping beyond his place both as lieutenant and old friend, he asked:
"What exactly did you see through that gate that's left you this distracted?"
Yamamoto's sharp, imposing features shifted slightly, but he said nothing.
Instead, he reached out with one withered hand and pressed it to his chest, feeling the heart that had endured over two thousand years still beating steadily within him.
He almost seemed to be hoping it would suddenly fall into some unusual disturbance again.
And right then—
as if on cue—
a gate shining with flowing light slowly emerged from the sunlight once more.
The old man froze.
Then his tall frame shook violently.
The next instant, he shot to his feet and grabbed Ryūjin Jakka at his side in one swift motion!
"What is it, Jūjirō?" Sasakibe frowned. Understanding hit him at once, and he blurted out, "The gate—is it that gate?"
Yamamoto said nothing.
His gaze passed straight over Sasakibe's shoulder and locked onto the space behind him.
Sasakibe's golden eyes narrowed on instinct, and he turned sharply to follow the old man's line of sight—
but there was nothing there.
Only sunlight.
He saw nothing at all.
"You can't see it," Yamamoto said quietly. "It opened for me alone… and only for me…"
Sasakibe: "..."
With a silent sigh, he stepped aside, watering can still in hand.
"Then don't keep whoever's waiting."
The gate was right there, yet he could neither see it nor touch it. In all his years, Sasakibe had never encountered anything like this.
But he knew Yamamoto.
So he simply shifted aside cleanly and let the old man brush past his shoulder, walking straight toward the invisible gate.
When Yamamoto, dragging his long beard and gripping the cane that concealed Ryūjin Jakka firmly in one hand, had half his body swallowed by the gate and was about to vanish—
Sasakibe suddenly called out:
"Jūjirō. When you come back, I hope you'll give me an answer."
Yamamoto paused, but neither agreed nor refused.
Then he took another step, bathed in streaming light, and disappeared through the gate.
Whoosh—
A slow breeze rose, carrying spiritual particles dancing through the air…
Watching him go, Sasakibe bowed slightly.
Then he turned back and looked at the veranda.
As expected…
the old man's soul had gone,
but his body was still sitting there cross-legged on the veranda.
It was an indescribably eerie sight.
After all, Shinigami were pure beings formed from dense spiritual particles—their very essence was soul.
And yet that "invisible gate" had allowed Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's "soul to leave its body."
Once again, it had overturned Sasakibe's understanding and common sense as a Shinigami.
He lifted a hand, pinched a thread of spiritual energy between his fingers, and murmured:
"If Shinigami can truly die… then do they even need Konsō anymore?"
(Note: [Konsō]: When a soul's spiritual pressure is too dense to naturally decompose or return to Soul Society, a special funeral rite is required to send it to Hell. There, they become "Sinners," enduring endless torment and battle until their sins are purified.)
Then he loosened his fingers and let that thread of spiritual energy drift away…
After that, he finished watering the plants, and just like last time, quietly raised his guard and sat cross-legged beside Yamamoto's empty shell, remaining on full alert until he returned…
Flying, flying…
Creak—
The [Bleach Gate] standing in Roy's Sea of Cognition opened by a sliver, allowing a stream of consciousness to slip through…
The moment Yamamoto stepped through the gate, the next thing he knew he was half-dazed, falling.
When he regained his senses, just like last time, he opened his eyes—
and saw a familiar figure standing before him.
But this time,
the boy wasn't holding a sword.
Instead, compared to when they met in that garden before, he was even more…
radiant.
More blazing.
More impossible to look at directly.
More unbelievable.
Like the sun itself.
Even Yamamoto found himself narrowing his eyes, tightening his grip on Ryūjin Jakka.
"You do not wield a blade, and yet you've made your own body the blade. You are not the sun, and yet you've become a blazing sun…"
The old man's long beard drifted in the wind as he stepped forward to stand beside the boy at the height of the heavens, facing that light and heat head-on.
His thoughts drifted—
and for a moment it was as if he were back in that lush green garden again…
Only this time, the boy's black hair had turned red, as though it had been lit aflame.
He was no longer standing with his back to Yamamoto, drawing his sword toward the sky and absorbing sunlight.
Instead, he had become the sun himself, burning with his own body.
After only one parting, the change was so great it was like looking at a completely different person.
Buzz…
Nen wind and Nen light continued to blow.
As the [Sun Essence] and [World Power] from the Blue Spider Lily were slowly absorbed to the last trace,
Roy heard the panel notification ring out…
[Blue Spider Lily fully absorbed]
[Remaining blossoms: 1745]
Roy's expression shifted slightly.
Then he slowly opened his eyes, as if sensing something.
Following the flowing light, he turned his head—
Whoosh!
Two blazing suns leapt from the depths of his pupils, far more dazzling, piercing, scorching, and overbearing than before.
Then he broke into a grin at Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, showing two rows of white teeth.
"Good evening. We meet again."
"Evening?" Yamamoto's old, sharp eyes—filled with the weight of years and weather—faced the great sun directly, without dodging in the slightest.
Then he laughed.
The sound rolled out heavy and deep, as if it could leave a crater if it hit the ground. Casually sweeping a glance over the darkness that had been completely driven away, with blue sky and white clouds at his back, he said:
"Young man, this doesn't look like evening to me."
"Just call me Roy."
"Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto."
"I know."
"I don't know that you know." Resting both hands on Ryūjin Jakka, Yamamoto looked at him gravely. "Roy, can you tell me where this is?"
The Human World?
A dream?
Or perhaps… a world of cognition?
Roy's thoughts stirred, and he reined in the Nen he had been pouring out in all directions.
At once,
the sun vanished,
the divine radiance dimmed,
the night returned.
Standing with the bright moon at his back, the boy lifted his right hand and ran it back through his hair, sweeping all that flame-red hair behind him.
Then, with a playful blink at Yamamoto, he said:
"When false is taken for true, true becomes false.
Where nothing seems to be, something remains."
"So why get hung up on where this is?"
"Captain-Commander, you may take this place as truth hidden inside illusion…"
"or illusion hidden inside truth."
"Just like…"
"Kyōka Suigetsu."
~~~
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