"He's still alive." Yoriichi's voice, calm as a stagnant pool, rose slowly.
At those words, the taut string of Tanjuro's heart snapped, and he collapsed to the floor, drained of all strength, murmuring, "Really? Thank goodness…"
Yet this joy was fleeting, wilting like a night-blooming cereus.
Yoriichi spoke again: "But he is no longer human. He has fallen completely, becoming a demon. He kills, devours, commits every evil… Now, his sins are so grave, so unforgivable, they cannot be absolved." His words pierced Tanjuro's heart like a razor-sharp dagger.
"How… how could this be…" Tanjuro's eyes widened, staring at Yoriichi in disbelief, his body trembling uncontrollably.
How he wished everything he'd just heard was a horrific nightmare, one he could wake from to find it all untrue.
But reality was cruel, mercilessly crushing his last shred of hope.
Yoriichi turned silently and left, leaving Tanjuro to drown in overwhelming grief.
In past visits, Tanjuro and Kie would see Yoriichi off together, but this time, neither moved.
Perhaps they knew that even farewells could change nothing, only deepening their sorrow.
As Yoriichi walked further away, Tanjuro could bear it no longer, collapsing onto the bed that had companioned him for years.
This man, nearly eighty, after a barrage of devastating blows, had a life's flame flickering like a candle in the wind.
In his final moments, tears brimmed in Tanjuro's eyes, their glisten reflecting the long years he had lived.
He struggled to shift his gaze, looking out the window, his eyes piercing through dappled tree shadows, as if seeking that distant summer fifty years ago. Back then, everything was so beautiful, but those cherished memories could only remain forever in the past, never to be relived.
Walking through the snow, Yoriichi heard no sound from Tanjuro behind him, yet he sensed his old friend's passing.
As he left, his eyes had already scanned Tanjuro's frail form.
Yoriichi knew that had he not revealed the truth, had he woven a beautiful lie as he did fifty years ago, Tanjuro might not have ended this way.
But that held no meaning now.
To live in this world, each person bears their own mission and worth. Heaven bestowed upon Yoriichi terrifying gifts, placing him at the world's pinnacle from birth—born with the Demon Slayer Mark, seeing the Transparent World… All seemed to proclaim he existed to erase the world's evils, to slay Muzan!
Yet he failed to kill Muzan and instead mentored a fearsome demon.
He called Ren's sins grave, but were his own any lighter?
Tanjuro would die, as would he.
In his finite life, he could not slay the immortal Muzan, but before his death, he vowed to erase the stain he left on this world!
When Yoriichi reached the town where Ren and Chitoshi once lived, he found the scene Tanjuro described.
At night, the streets were deserted, swept by cold winds, the town steeped in an eerie chill.
Yoriichi entered the town. In these fifty years, he had come before, but each time, hesitation gripped him. Now, with his life nearing its end, he knew he must decide.
He walked on, then paused, turning to look aside.
There stood a tavern.
His gaze seemed to pierce through time, seeing a sushi shop before him, bustling with people, two boys working busily within.
He lingered before the shop for a long time. As he moved to step inside, a cold gust blew, and the sushi shop vanished like fleeting smoke.
Yoriichi regained his calm and continued forward.
Leaving the town, he reached a valley, its depths a dense forest. Looking up, Yoriichi saw a flock of crows take flight, startled by his gaze.
Like an ordinary old man, Yoriichi entered the forest.
But he hadn't gone far when two men blocked his path.
They were middle-aged, around fifty, clearly brothers, their similar appearances unmistakable.
"Stop! This area is forbidden. Take no further step!"
The elder brother brandished a sharp pitchfork, barring Yoriichi's way.
Yoriichi slowly raised his head, his gaze calmly meeting the brothers.
They were unremarkable in build and face, undoubtedly mere humans.
Yet Yoriichi's keen senses caught a faint anomaly—a pungent stench of decaying corpses emanating from them.
Ignoring this, as if their obstruction didn't exist, Yoriichi continued forward.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me?"
Seeing Yoriichi disregard their warning, the brothers gripped their pitchforks, moving to stop him.
With a sharp *snap*, the sturdy pitchforks shattered into pieces, scattering across the ground.
Yoriichi's figure flickered like a phantom, reappearing behind the brothers in an instant, striding onward without pause.
Staring at the broken pitchforks and Yoriichi's receding back, the brothers broke into a cold sweat.
What had just happened was too swift for them to comprehend. Clearly, that was merely a warning from the stranger.
Though fear and unease gripped them, the brothers exchanged a glance, gritted their teeth, and, summoning their courage, chased after him again.
"Sorry, no matter what, you cannot go up there!"
Yoriichi felt a flicker of surprise. What force or person granted these men such immense courage?
Looking into their eyes, he saw fearless resolve.
What drove them to defy even death?
"Let him pass. Bring him up."
At that moment, an ethereal voice echoed from the forest's depths.
The brothers, hearing it, ceased their obstruction, silently stepping aside.
Yoriichi's gaze pierced the forest's depths, a glint flashing in his eyes.
He recognized that voice, knew its owner!
Ren, is it you? You know I'm here, don't you?
He tightened his grip on his Nichirin Blade.
So, what will you choose?
Will you flee?
Flee, Ren. Just escape. If you evade me, if you hide long enough, it will be enough…