Disclaimer: Demon Slayer is not mine. This fanfic is a translation.
Enjoy Reading!
---
In the bamboo grove.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the dense bamboo leaves.
It fell evenly on the gravel path.
It fell on the dark red haori.
Yoriichi stood in silence, his gaze fixed on Muzan across from him.
After a long moment, his lips parted slightly.
"Hiss…" High-temperature white vapor, as if breaking free from restraints, hissed out.
Shing!
He drew the Nichirin blade in his hand. Moonlight flowed across the crimson steel, outlining its sharp edge.
The keen blade gathered light, aiming at Muzan, who was now drenched in sweat.
"…Thank you, Sumiyoshi." Yoriichi murmured, then stepped forward, already assuming the starting stance of his sword form.
He lifted his gaze.
"This time, I won't miss."
"Wait!" Muzan froze. He realized with horror that Yoriichi's movements didn't seem bound by memory. A desperate will to live made him hysterical.
"No, please!! I was wrong!!"
Muzan raised his hands to shield himself. Tears of fear spilled from his eyes. His pupils trembled. His face was a mask of sorrow and terror.
"Please! Don't—"
Whoosh—
Yoriichi 's figure vanished from the spot.
"Guh-ck…" Muzan realized with horror that he could no longer speak. His face instantly turned a deep, mottled red. He instinctively reached for his neck.
Thin lines of blood began to appear on the surface of his skin.
Squelch! Squelch!
Yoriichi 's afterimage appeared behind Muzan. He let out a long, slow breath and sheathed his Nichirin blade.
Click.
The moment the tsuba of his blade met the scabbard, countless crisscrossing straight lines of blood suddenly appeared all over Muzan's body, covering every inch of him without leaving a single gap.
Crimson blood gushed from every line.
Muzan's eyes rolled back. His body went limp, and he fell backward.
Thud.
The instant his body touched the ground, Muzan's form shattered into thousands of small, shriveled pieces of flesh, spread neatly across the gravel path.
And they began to slowly turn to ash.
"Is he dead?"
Tamayo stared in surprise at the formless remains of Muzan on the ground, then glanced at Yoriichi beside her. Her face was full of confusion. "What just happened…?"
Yoriichi did not look back.
The first time he had encountered Muzan, the techniques he used had failed to kill him completely.
This second time, he made sure to slice Muzan into fine pieces.
"Hah…" Exhaling a breath of turbid air, Yoriichi's figure began to grow faint and transparent.
---
Tanjuro, who had been gripping Muzan's head, slowly opened his eyes. The feeling of holding something solid in his hand suddenly vanished.
Muzan's figure had disappeared.
All that remained in its place was a pile of dark ash, drifting upward into the air.
All the Hashira watched closely.
Tanjuro looked up, watching the ash gradually fade into the sky. An unprecedented sense of relief washed over him.
"Hah…" He let out a long, slow breath, as the massive weight on his heart had finally lifted.
The Demon King is finally dead.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.
Everything he had done since awakening had been for this day.
Thud.
Tanjuro sat down heavily on the ground. His tense expression relaxed. He felt immense relief.
Across from him, the Hashira were similarly lost in thought, as if unable to process what had just happened.
They exchanged glances. No one spoke first.
The moon that had hung high in the sky had vanished beyond the horizon. The eastern sky was beginning to turn pale with the approach of dawn.
Soon it would be daylight.
A purple serpent-patterned haori came into Tanjuro's view. He looked up.
It was Michikatsu, who seemed to be hesitating to speak.
"What is it?" Tanjuro felt somewhat tired. He wasn't surprised that Michikatsu was still alive. After all, the man had already broken free from Muzan's control.
"Earlier, you…" Michikatsu opened his mouth, his eyes filled with hesitation, but finally he spoke, his voice low.
"When you said to Muzan, 'the Yoriichi you want to see is right here'… what did you mean?"
Michikatsu vaguely sensed something, but he wasn't sure.
Hearing this, Tanjuro looked up and met Michikatsu's gaze.
He had been able to make Muzan enter [Battle Memory · Tsugikuni Yoriichi] because Muzan also possessed battle memories of Yoriichi.
And similarly,
Tanjuro's eyes reflected Michikatsu's appearance, which was almost identical to that of Yoriichi .
The former Upper Moon One before him also possessed memories of Yoriichi .
And he strained his ear to hear Michikatsu's low voice.
"…I want to talk to him."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Michikatsu saw Tanjuro's hand growing larger in his field of vision.
Then, the words same question that Muzan sees came into view.
He was momentarily stunned, then immediately and without hesitation chose "Yes."
Within a white space, Michikatsu opened his two eyes.
The surroundings solidified. A cool breeze brushed against his face.
He was in a field of reeds.
He looked up to see an elderly man with white hair, wearing a dark red haori, stood there in silence.
It was old man Yoriichi.
The man and the demon gazed at each other. Neither brother spoke a word.
Michikatsu's voice echoed across the reed field.
"I… finally understand."
---
Tanjuro slowly withdrew his hand.
He looked at the scene before him with slight surprise.
Whoosh—
Michikatsu's body began to slowly turn to ash, even though there wasn't a single wound on him.
The dark clouds on the horizon gradually parted. Golden sunlight, like a pair of enormous hands, pushed the clouds aside.
Light pierced the sky.
Dawn had broken.
Tanjuro instinctively looked toward the east. A warm ray of sunlight fell on his tired face.
At that moment, a low voice reached his ear.
"Take care of… the Tokito…"
Tanjuro whipped his head back around, but found that the spot where Michikatsu had been standing was now empty.
A few remaining specks of ash completely dissipated under the sunlight.
Off to the side.
"Tch." Hakuji clicked his tongue impatiently and turned away, about to run toward a place not yet touched by the sunlight.
"Hakuji-san."
A gentle voice called out, instantly halting Hakuji's movement.
He turned back in surprise, looking toward the source of the voice.
Koyuki, dressed in a pink kimono, stood with her hands clasped before her. She stood in the sunlight, facing due east.
The rising sun radiated light.
The light passed through Koyuki's translucent body.
She reached out her hand toward Hakuji, a smile on her lips. "We made a promise, didn't we?"
Hakuji stood frozen in place.
The next moment, his eyes trembled.
In his vision, a tear rolled down the corner of Koyuki's eye, catching the golden sunlight.
Hakuji blurred and appeared beside Koyuki, standing in the sunlight. He instinctively reached out to wipe away the tear at the corner of her eye.
The ethereal tear passed through Hakuji's hand and fell straight to the ground.
He looked down at his own hand, stunned.
Then—
Another translucent, glowing hand slowly rested on Hakuji's.
He looked up, following the hand to its owner.
It was Koyuki.
She said "Let's go."
Golden sunlight draped over Hakuji like a gilded frame.
Burn marks began to appear on his body.
Hakuji was dazed for a moment. Then, a smile broke across his face. He nodded firmly, gripping Koyuki's hands tightly in his own.
"Yeah."
Whoosh—
A gentle breeze passed by.
All that remained in his spot was a pile of ash.
...
(PS: The following content will be daily life episodes—such as the aftermath of the Demon Slayer Corps' battle, the Kamado family's return home, and a modern-day extra chapter.)