Disclaimer: Demon Slayer is not mine. This fanfic is a translation.
Enjoy Reading!
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The 21st century, nighttime.
Dazzling neon lights drowned the crowded high-rises. Electronic warning beacons hovered midway up countless skyscrapers.
Multicolored searchlights crisscrossed the sky, illuminating the night.
Beneath the brilliantly lit towers, a sea of people ebbed and flowed.
Gleaming leather shoes, polished to a mirror shine, trod across the red carpet before a towering building, reflecting the glossy neon glow.
The emcee, wearing dark sunglasses and a crisp black suit, had his flame-colored hair slicked back into a pompadour.
He tapped his microphone, then stepped forward in a single stride.
He straightened his back, puffed out his chest, and met the expectant gazes of the surrounding crowd. With a sweeping gesture of his arm, his voice rang out with fervor.
"The contemporary painter shrouded in mystery!"
The searchlights piercing the night sky pivoted to follow the direction of his outstretched arm.
"His entire life's work consists solely of paintings depicting a mysterious woman named 'Tamayo'!"
The emcee's tone was extravagantly dramatic, his movements broad and sweeping. He took a deep breath. His sunglasses slipped slightly down his nose from the motion, revealing a pair of eyes blazing with excitement.
"Welcome, everyone!!"
He thrust his hand emphatically toward the building behind him, emblazoned with the words "Third Anniversary Exhibition" and more.
Right on cue, the emcee's booming voice followed.
"The legendary painter! Yushiro Yamamoto's Third Anniversary Exhibition!!"
The searchlights rapidly converged, bathing the entire skyscraper in light and merging seamlessly with the brilliant neon glow.
"Whoa!!!" A cheer erupted from the crowd.
At the same time, the emcee stepped aside.
Behind him, the doors to the exhibition were slowly pulled open by two burly men in black suits.
Both bore minor facial scars; one had white hair, the other black. But they were brothers through and through, both bearing the surname "Shinazugawa."
Today, however, the pair had merely been temporarily assigned to handle security; their actual professions were police officers with the Metropolitan Police Department.
The surging crowd was organized into orderly queues by several other security teams stationed at the entrance. Anyone attempting to sneak in ahead of their turn was promptly tossed back out.
"Twenty people at a time! Each viewing session is twenty minutes! Please line up in an orderly fashion!"
"Hey! No cutting in line, you bastard!"
The brothers' shouts were nearly swallowed by the buzzing cacophony of the crowd.
…
On an observation deck extending from the building's facade.
"Idiot..."
Yushiro clicked his tongue in annoyance. One hand was pressed over his ear, his expression pained.
He set down the glass of red wine in his other hand. His eyes, concealed behind black cosmetic contact lenses, gazed downward.
The emcee, his hair blazing like a brilliant flame, was laughing heartily and waving up toward him.
"A descendant of the Rengoku family..." A bead of sweat rolled down Yushiro's forehead. The corner of his mouth twitched, and his tone carried a hint of exasperation.
"I told him not to make the opening so ostentatious..."
He turned away, unable to resist covering his eyes. "Utterly embarrassing."
On his shoulder, a calico cat flicked its ears as if in agreement.
"Meow."
Man and cat slowly turned and walked back inside the building.
…
Inside the Exhibition.
The white gallery space was partitioned by freestanding walls. Each pristine white surface held only a single painting.
But without exception, every one of those paintings depicted, from varying angles, the beauty of Tamayo.
"Hey, hey! Can you believe we got picked for the very first group admitted?!"
A boy with black hair, his school uniform bearing the characters for "Agatsuma," struggled to keep his voice low as he spoke to his younger sister beside him.
"Unbelievable!"
"You're such a dork." His sister simply turned away with an embarrassed sweatdrop, choosing to ignore her brother.
"Incredible."
A strikingly handsome young man in a white lab coat stood before one of the paintings, scrutinizing it with an intensely focused gaze.
"You can see every single brushstroke. I've never been this close to an original work before..."
The nameplate pinned to his lab coat read. "Aoba Hashibira."
As a botanist, Aoba had recently discovered a new plant species and named it the "Blue Spider Lily," causing quite a stir in academic circles.
But the acclaim had quickly soured. Improper preservation led to the wilting and death of all the blue spider lily specimens. Praise swiftly turned to disparagement and slander.
In a foul mood, he had received an invitation to Yushiro's exhibition.
He had come to clear his head.
...
Elsewhere in the gallery.
"Big sister, look!"
A girl wearing a butterfly hairpin placed one hand on her hip and pointed excitedly at a painting with the other, eagerly explaining to her older sister, whose long hair cascaded over her shoulders.
"This one is my absolute favorite!"
Her sister smiled gently and nodded, her gaze slowly shifting from her sibling to the painting on the wall.
"So it was this one," she said, her voice soft and warm.
"Exactly! Exactly!" The younger sister tilted her chin up with a proud expression.
This drew a soft, stifled laugh from her sister, who covered her mouth with her hand.
Not far away, a white-haired boy with several gold medals hanging around his neck was eagerly sharing stories with a spiky, black-haired boy he had just met.
A married couple stood before a painting, quietly discussing something in hushed tones.
Both wore uniforms that looked like they belonged to a restaurant. Small lettering across the chest read. "Kanroji Set Meal Restaurant."
Dark leather shoes trod across the floor, their solid footfalls echoing through the gallery.
Yushiro walked past one person after another. In some, he seemed to catch fleeting glimpses of the shadows of people he had once known.
Finally, he slowly came to a halt.
He lifted his head.
A woman with her hair pinned up stood there, her back to Yushiro, completely absorbed in viewing a painting.
The cat on Yushiro's shoulder leaped to the ground, shook its head, and made to dash forward.
"Meow!"
The demon cat, Chachamaru, bounded two steps and reached the woman's feet, rubbing affectionately against her calf with a rumbling purr.
"Oh, my." The woman half-turned, looking down. Her pale purple eyes settled on Chachamaru. She crouched down.
"How did a cat get into the gallery...?" she wondered aloud, even as her hand moved with practiced ease to scratch under Chachamaru's chin.
Yushiro stood a short distance away, silently watching the scene unfold.
Slowly, he raised his head to look at his own painting on the wall.
The woman's features were, unmistakably, the exact likeness of his own painting, Tamayo.
The woman, still petting the cat, seemed to sense she was being watched. She looked up, her gaze meeting Yushiro's.
"... Yamamoto-san?"
She studied him for a brief moment before asking in a pleasantly surprised whisper.
Yushiro bit down hard on the inside of his lip. He couldn't manage to make a sound. He simply nodded, firmly.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to force out a single sentence.
"...It's a pleasure to meet you."
...
In the deepest part of the exhibition, near the central wall.
"Father, do you know Yamamoto?"
A large family was strolling leisurely through the gallery. One of the younger children posed the question to his father.
The father, walking ahead, had hair of a deep crimson hue. He thought for a moment, seeming lost in contemplation, before slowly shaking his head and arriving at a conclusion.
"No. I don't know the painter."
"Then... why would he invite you to bring our whole family to see his exhibition?" The child's innocent voice echoed softly in the space.
Hearing this, the father turned around and crouched down. He smiled and gently patted the child's head.
"Perhaps... we were just plain lucky."
The child was clearly unsatisfied with this explanation. His little brow furrowed as he fell into deep thought.
The family finally came to a stop at the very center of the exhibition.
The eldest son, a bit older than the others, looked up at the wall. He blinked, then said without thinking.
"...This isn't a painting."
"Yeah. And it's not of that 'Lady Tamayo' either."
"A photograph?"
The children peered at the wall before them. "What does this mean?"
It was a large-format photograph, preserved with meticulous care within a glass frame, even though the photo itself had yellowed with age and its corners had begun to curl.
In the photo, a great many people stood together, their faces all alight with smiles.
"Look, there are names down there!"
A hand reached out, pointing toward the bottom of the massive photograph.
Everyone curiously followed the direction of the pointing finger.
There, written beneath it, was a notation in brackets.
— "END"
The group exchanged bewildered glances, looking from one to another.
Finally, they looked at each other and laughed.
"What kind of title is that?!"
(The End)