Chapter 165: In the Demon Slayer World, It's Reasonable to Have Ghosts, Right?
"It has only been three years, yet there are so many changes in town," Shinobu murmured, her gaze sweeping over the familiar yet altered streets.
Initially, Shinobu had only intended to take a casual stroll. Her mindset had been a simple 'since I am already here' sort of whim. Three years was not a terribly long time to be away from this quiet little town. When she had first glanced at the rustic buildings from the outskirts, the silhouette of the village had seemed perfectly preserved in her memory.
Yet, as she walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Akira, the subtle realities of time began to reveal themselves. The cobblestone paths and wooden storefronts remained untouched, but the faces bustling past them were different. The friendly baker she remembered was gone, replaced by a younger man. The elderly woman who used to sweep the corner shrine was nowhere to be seen. They had either moved on to other villages, or time had claimed them entirely.
"The houses are still the same houses," she continued, a soft sigh escaping her lips, "but the people inside are no longer the ones I remember."
In truth, the town had not been completely overturned. Most of the local merchants and passing villagers still matched the portraits in her mind. But it was exactly because the canvas was so familiar that the missing pieces stood out with such stark clarity.
"Three years is a strange measure of time. Not incredibly long, but not exactly short either." Akira's calm, steady voice drifted from beside her. "Some changes are perfectly normal. Take yourself, for instance. Compared to the girl you were three years ago, haven't you changed quite a bit?"
He had spent the better part of the afternoon carrying Shinobu on his back, letting her enjoy the sights without straining her legs. Now, with the sun dipping below the horizon and casting a warm, amber glow over the rooftops, the two of them were gathering the necessary incense and offerings. Their destination was the quiet hillside where Kanzaki Keizan was laid to rest.
It was at this point that Shinobu had voluntarily slipped down from Akira's broad back. They were going to pay their respects to his late grandfather. Naturally, she intended to present herself with the utmost grace and proper manners.
Carrying the neatly wrapped memorial items, they walked side by side toward the forested outskirts, the evening breeze rustling the leaves above.
"That is true," Shinobu agreed, tilting her head slightly to catch his gaze. "At the very least, three years ago, I never would have imagined that I would end up falling for such an insatiable playboy."
Her tone carried a distinct, teasing edge of complaint. A playful, almost wicked little smile curved her lips, yet the deep violet of her eyes swam with an unmistakable, deep tenderness.
"Yeah. Back then, I never thought I would be lucky enough to have so many wonderful women choose to stay by my side," Akira replied with absolute frankness. He met her gaze directly, the raw affection in his dark eyes matching the warmth in hers step for step.
"At a time like this, shouldn't you say something sweet to make a girl happy?" Shinobu chided, though the smile on her face only grew brighter, illuminating her delicate features. "Something along the lines of, 'Although there are many people around me, you are the one I care about the absolute most'?"
"If I actually said that, would you believe me?"
"Of course..." Shinobu deliberately drew out the final syllable. She forced her smile down, tapping her chin as if she were seriously contemplating the notion. All the while, her unblinking eyes tracked every microscopic shift in Akira's expression.
He did not flinch or offer a nervous chuckle. He simply watched her with that familiar, steady calm, having already deduced her true answer. Realizing her teasing had failed to ruffle his feathers, she let out a quiet huff and finished her sentence. "...Not."
"Doesn't that settle it, then?" Akira shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting easily under his haori. "Facing each of you with complete honesty, without using cheap sweet talk to cover up my own greed... that is the only genuine way I can respond to your feelings."
He paused, his gaze drifting toward the darkening path ahead. "If a relationship has to be maintained through deception, then no matter how sweet it appears on the surface, it will inevitably rot into a tragedy., the sweeter the illusion is at the beginning, the deeper the wound will be when those lies are finally exposed."
"Yes, yes, yes," Shinobu waved a hand dismissively, though her eyes softened. "I was clearly just making a spur-of-the-moment joke, but instead, I receive a grand philosophical lecture. Someone is really terrible at playing along sometimes."
"Because in my opinion, some things simply cannot be joked about."
"I suppose that is true." Shinobu pondered his words for a moment, the faint rustle of her butterfly ornament echoing in the quiet evening air as she nodded.
Akira's overly serious nature could occasionally be a bit dry, but it was precisely this unyielding sincerity that anchored her. It was his absolute refusal to play games with their hearts that made all the women around him feel so deeply secure and cherished.
Shaking off the lingering sentimental thoughts, Shinobu turned her focus inward, letting the peaceful silence of the graveyard approach wash over her.
It did not take long for the dirt path to give way to the quiet, stone-marked clearing where Keizan rested.
They moved with practiced respect, clearing away the fallen leaves, lighting the incense, and placing the fresh offerings before the weathered tombstone. After completing the silent memorial rites, Akira placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself up.
As he straightened his posture, his vision blurred for a fraction of a second. Standing just behind the stone marker, he vaguely registered a familiar, deeply lined face. It was an aged visage that usually wore a warm, grandfatherly smile. Right now, however, that spectral face looked distinctly surprised, carrying a wry, exasperated amusement.
'This... is the third one?'the faint, echoing voice of Keizan seemed to whisper in the wind.'Hey, this is just the beginning,'Akira fired back in his mind, a dry smirk tugging at his lips.'There will be more in the future.'
The spectral old man merely stared, a deep, speechless silence radiating from his translucent form.
A blink later, the apparition vanished. The face had appeared for such a fleeting instant that Akira immediately questioned his own sanity, wondering if the fading twilight had simply played a trick on his eyes.
Yet, a sudden memory surfaced. He recalled the time he had brought Makomo to this very spot. She had casually remarked, 'Your grandfather doesn't seem to support your playboy ways.' At the time, Akira had brushed it off as Makomo making a deadpan joke. Now, a chill prickled the back of his neck. Had she actually seen the old man's spirit glaring at him back then?
His mind raced back to his knowledge of this world's original fate. Mount Sagiri was practically famous for harboring the lingering souls of fallen students. The concept of spirits lingering to watch over the living was not just a myth here; it was a documented reality.
'In a world infested with flesh-eating demons, of course there are actual human ghosts,' he realized, a deep sense of certainty settling over him.
It had been a running joke among fans in his previous life, a lighthearted observation about the lore. But standing here in the cool evening air, that joke was manifesting into a tangible truth right before his eyes.
If it had been the spirit of a stranger, Akira would not have batted an eye. He had slaughtered his fair share of grotesque, man-eating demons; a harmless, lingering human soul was nothing to fear.
But this was Keizan. This was the stubborn, kind-hearted old man who had first given him the warmth of a true home in this unforgiving world. This was the man who, even as his lungs failed and his life slipped away, had spent his final breaths worrying about his adopted grandson's future.
If that brief image was not a hallucination born of grief and twilight... If Keizan's soul was truly lingering in the mortal realm, tethered by his lingering attachments, was there a way to actually speak with him?
In the past, whenever Akira visited the grave, he would lean his back against the cold stone and recount his recent battles and travels. He spoke as if they were sharing a cup of tea, but he had always assumed those one-sided conversations were merely for his own psychological comfort.
Now, the staggering possibility that Keizan had been listening all along—that he could actually communicate with the deceased—struck him like a physical blow. His usually unshakable heart wavered, a surge of complicated emotions tightening his chest.
Suddenly, the soft, grounding warmth of a small hand wrapped around his fingers. "What is wrong?"
Shinobu stepped closer, peering up at him. She had noticed how he had completely frozen after standing up. His usually stoic expression had shifted rapidly, flashing with shock, realization, and a rare vulnerability that immediately spiked her anxiety.
Blinking away the lingering shock, Akira gently squeezed her slender hand in return. He met her deeply worried violet gaze and offered a reassuring, subtle shake of his head. "I am fine."
"If you are feeling unwell, you must tell me. Do not try to tough it out alone, do you hear me?" As Shinobu spoke, her fingers deftly slid down from his palm to press expertly against his wrist, automatically checking his pulse. She felt the steady, powerful, and excessively healthy thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Only then did her tense shoulders drop as she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Still, her medical instincts were not entirely satisfied. A simple field pulse check was hardly a complete diagnostic. In her mind, she was already drafting a mandatory, full-body physical examination for him the second they returned to the Butterfly Mansion.
"I know. Do not worry," Akira said softly. He caught her hand as it retreated, lacing his fingers through hers and holding it securely against his side. "I am not the type to play the martyr and pretend to be stronger than I am."
"Heh..." Shinobu scoffed lightly, her gaze narrowing into a sharp, skeptical glare. "With your terrible habit of always wanting to shoulder every single problem by yourself, I would have to be a ghost to ever feel completely at ease." She stared him down, her delicate face radiating three very distinct words: 'I do not believe you.'
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