Disclaimer: Demon Slayer is not mine. This fanfic is a translation.
Enjoy Reading!
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-Sengoku period, Kamado house-
The summer breeze blew through the forest. Leaves rustled and rubbed against each other, swaying and scattering the sunlight that fell beneath the eaves.
Two figures sat under the eaves, quietly gazing at the blue sky beyond.
The man in the deep red haori set down his teacup, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.
Sunlight reflected in his eyes.
Beside the two of them lay two wooden swords, broken in the middle, their surfaces covered with scratches from repeated clashes.
Since their last bout, Yoriichi had often accompanied Sumiyoshi in training. Each time, Sumiyoshi's improvement was visible to the naked eye.
But Yoriichi also vaguely sensed that this courtyard, where he now sat with Sumiyoshi, was a blurry boundary between reality and a dream.
"Tsugikuni-san."
Sumiyoshi spoke, rousing Yoriichi from his thoughts. He looked up at the sky, steadying his breathing.
"How do you feel now?"
Sumiyoshi smiled as he turned his head. His question was very vague and hard to understand.
But that sunny smile made it impossible to refuse.
'How do I feel?' Yoriichi glanced, puzzled, at Sumiyoshi, even though he knew this wasn't really Sumiyoshi.
He withdrew his gaze. His emotions, as still as a deep pool, showed no ripples.
After witnessing this "Sumiyoshi" fully execute Hinokami Kagura and all its forms, he felt an immense sense of reassurance.
It was hope for the future.
But along with that reassurance came an even sharper pang of self-reproach and pain.
Yoriichi did not ask who this "Sumiyoshi" was.
Nor did he ask how far into the future he had come from.
But since a stranger had inherited his breathing technique and continued to practice it, that meant he had indeed failed to kill Muzan.
Countless people would lose their lives in the future because of his failure.
But countless others would walk this same path until someone finally succeeded.
Thinking of this, Yoriichi looked up slightly, watching the birds soaring across the blue sky. He let his mind be content. "I am very happy."
Hearing this, "Sumiyoshi" was startled instead. He observed Yoriichi's face. Was this really what happiness looked like?
"Is that so..." He withdrew his gaze, took a deep breath, stood up, took two steps into the courtyard, and smiled back at Yoriichi.
"Tsugikuni-san, draw your sword!"
Startled by the call, Yoriichi instinctively reached for the wooden sword beside him, but Sumiyoshi stopped him again.
"Not a wooden sword."
Sumiyoshi pointed to the other side of Yoriichi's body. "A real sword."
Yoriichi followed Sumiyoshi's gaze; it was Yoriichi's own Nichirin blade.
'Why…?' Yoriichi was about to ask, but then he heard Sumiyoshi's voice, which sounded quite pleased.
"I want to give you a gift."
Though he didn't know the reason, Yoriichi still nodded and picked up his Nichirin blade beside him.
At Sumiyoshi's gesture, he stood up.
Whoosh—!
Sumiyoshi's figure blurred and vanished from the spot.
The surroundings flickered and transformed rapidly. Yoriichi, who had been calm, slowly widened his eyes. He murmured involuntarily.
"This is..."
With his innate transparent world, Yoriichi instantly grasped the environment that had replayed in his mind countless times.
The bright summer sunlight vanished.
Light and shadow shifted. The blue sky overhead became a quiet, pale moon. The surroundings dimmed abruptly.
The soft, earthy ground beneath his feet became hard, stony ground.
The scent of mud, mingled with the unique fragrance of bamboo leaves, filled his nostrils.
The Kamado courtyard faded away, replaced by a path of gravel.
On either side of the path, dense bamboo groves swayed gently, whispering in the wind. Moonlight cast swaying shadows of the bamboo.
This... was the bamboo grove where he had first encountered Muzan.
Yoriichi's mind wandered for a moment. Then, almost instinctively, he looked toward the spot where Muzan had stood in his memory.
His vision swayed. What came into view, standing at the other end of the path, was a panicked figure in black.
"Eh?" Muzan seemed to have just woken up. He froze, then looked around in utter shock, his eyes trembling, his breath suddenly quickening.
"Why am I here?!!"
This bamboo grove was the place he least wanted to remember.
And also the place he remembered most often.
The young Demon King's first defeat had happened here.
Tanjuro's words still echoed in his mind.
He instinctively stepped back twice, then looked up ahead, toward the front of the achingly familiar path.
The real Yoriichi, clad in a dark red haori, holding a Nichirin blade, stood silently across from him.
Their eyes met.
Yoriichi stared into Muzan's eyes, saying nothing.
This was a gaze spanning four hundred years.
"Hah!!" A suffocating feeling, as if his heart were being squeezed, surged through Muzan. His pupils contracted sharply. Sweat poured uncontrollably from his forehead.
That crystal-clear, familiar face appeared in his vision, instantly awakening memories that had lain dormant for over four hundred years.
The man across from him was the genuine Tsugikuni Yoriichi!
The sound of wooden clogs on the ground echoed.
Muzan looked fearfully toward Yoriichi and then breathed a sigh of relief because the man hadn't moved at all.
However, his ears twitched.
Muzan looked down sharply at his own legs in disbelief.
The source of the footsteps was himself!
His legs were moving on their own, heading straight toward Yoriichi.
"…Why… Don't move! Stop! My feet!"
Muzan, dressed in a short black kimono, stared in horror at his own advancing legs, his voice low and strained.
"Don't go any further!!" His face was deathly pale. He tried to use his hands to grab his legs, but it had no effect.
His legs continued to advance on their own, just as they had in his memory.
Muzan's gaze frantically darted between his own legs and Yoriichi, who stood motionless across from him.
"Don't get any closer!!"
A female figure in a purple kimono suddenly appeared behind and to the side of Muzan.
It was Tamayo.
"What is happening..."
Her expression was clearly startled. Then she instinctively looked around until she saw Muzan slowly advancing beside her and Yoriichi standing motionless across the pathway.
Only then did she calm down slightly.
"…I…" A hint of confusion showed in Tamayo's pale purple eyes. "Am I dreaming?"
Moments ago, she had been in her own room. Now, she was here.
In her memory, the first time Muzan and Yoriichi met went exactly like this.
Tamayo had been following Muzan, and Muzan had walked menacingly toward Yoriichi.
Tamayo glanced toward Muzan beside her but noticed something strange. His expression was one of utter terror, completely different from the arrogant demeanor he had shown when first meeting Yoriichi in her memory.
"Ah…"
In the grip of extreme panic, Muzan's advancing legs had already gone weak. He let out a feeble, wailing cry.
Yoriichi's figure in his vision was growing larger. Muzan was looking at the other man's feet. He no longer dared to meet eye-to-eye a second time.
Finally, his legs stopped. He stood still.
His short black kimono was soaked through with sweat. Muzan's face lit up with relief. He gasped for fresh air.
In his terror, he glanced at Yoriichi's feet. Seeing that the man still hadn't moved, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
The corner of Muzan's mouth twitched involuntarily.
!!
A cascade of familiar actions made Muzan finally understand what he was experiencing. Everything from his memory was replaying.
In his memory, the next thing he had done was…
...provoke Yoriichi with his words.
Muzan felt his head buzz. A chill climbed up his back. He instinctively covered his mouth, but it was too late.
His mouth moved on its own. An arrogant, cold, confident tone spilled out, and his lips even curled into a disdainful smirk.
"I've lost interest in swordsmen who use breathing techniques."
Muzan's eyes rolled back in terror. He nearly fainted.