A few days later.
The dawn breaks quietly. A pale mist drifts over the meadow, carrying the scent of dew and fading blossoms.
Beneath a tall, leafless tree, Kasumi stirs awake, his breath a thin ghost in the frigid morning air.
He rises slowly, stretching, "It's too cold…" His voice vanishes into the fog.
Before him lies a still lake, its surface glimmering faintly beneath the first light. And there — beneath a cherry blossom tree near the water's edge—
Ren sits motionless upon a smooth stone.
He wears a crimson haori draped over a black hakama, his figure framed by drifting petals. His long hair, damp and glistening, falls straight down his back like liquid silk — strands of red, black, and white weaving together in a surreal harmony. His pale skin catches the soft light, and his red eyes reflect the world with a calm that feels distant, unreachable.
For a moment, Kasumi forgets to breathe. Ren looks almost too beautiful — like a being untethered from this world, a quiet storm of sorrow and serenity made flesh.
Even nature seems to hold its breath around him; the wind slows, the lake mirrors his stillness.
Kasumi's lips curve into a faint smile, but it fades as quickly as it came.
"Hajime-san's hair is turning white…" he murmurs softly. "He's been burdened since the day he was born. He's seen more of this world than anyone ever should. I just hope… he'll find peace someday."
He turns back, glancing at Miyuki, still asleep beneath another tree. Her long white hair spills across the grass — not from age or lineage, but from suffering itself.
Kasumi's eyes soften.
"I've only heard whispers… that her hair turned white from pain alone. I can't even imagine what she's been through."
Finally, he glances down at his own hair — long and straight, a blend of black fading into cyan, streaked here and there with white.
He exhales, a thin smile ghosting across his face.
"Whatever…"
A few hours later.
The trio walked side by side beneath a sky veiled by drifting grey clouds. Their journey led them to a village that had been reduced to silence and dust.
They stepped past the broken gate. Not a single soul remained. Even the insects had abandoned the place. Wooden beams lay scattered like bones, and the air carried the faint, bitter scent of ash.
Kasumi glanced around, uneasy.
"What happened to this village…?"
Miyuki's voice broke the silence, soft yet sharp.
"Why has no one rebuilt it? The Japanese rebuilt Hiroshima and Nagasaki after they were reduced to nothing… So why not here?"
Ren's calm voice answered, though something faintly unreadable flickered in his eyes.
"Your observation is excellent, Miyuki-chan. But who knows… maybe an earthquake… or something else. We'll ask the next village about this one."
And with that, they moved on.
A straight, narrow path stretched ahead — lined by lifeless trees. The only sound was the rhythm of their footsteps and the faint whisper of the wind brushing through brittle leaves.
Minutes passed, though each one felt heavier than the last.
Then, they reached another place.
This one wasn't merely destroyed. It was erased.
The land was uneven, as if something had torn it apart from beneath. The remains of houses were buried under layers of dirt and ash. There were no signs of life, no sound — only an unnatural stillness that made even breathing feel wrong.
Kasumi's eyes widened.
"What… what is this? No natural disaster could do something like this."
And then—
He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.
Ren and Miyuki spun toward him. Thick, black blood dripped from his lips, his breath ragged. His eyes dilated as he coughed violently.
Without hesitation, Ren lifted him up.
"Matsunaga-kun!"
He ran, carrying him away from the ruins. Miyuki followed close behind, her voice trembling.
"W-What happened to him?!"
Ren's tone was steady, but his eyes betrayed concern.
"Something here… triggered him."
Kasumi gasped, forcing words through his uneven breathing.
"I-I'm fine now…" He wiped his mouth, the black stain already fading. "I don't know what it was… but when we entered that place, my heart suddenly tightened. There's something wrong here. Is there… any village nearby? I need to know what happened to these places."
Some moments later.
The trio arrived at a small, quiet village nestled between the hills. The wind here felt strangely heavy, like it carried whispers from somewhere far away.
Ren's gaze wandered across the simple wooden houses until he noticed an old woman standing on a creaking balcony, her pale eyes fixed on them as if she'd been expecting someone.
He stepped forward politely.
"Hello, ma'am. Sorry to disturb you, but… do you know about a ruined village nearby? It looked like—"
Before he could finish, the old woman's raspy voice cut through the air.
"Yes. I know the one you speak of."
Her tone sent a shiver through Kasumi — too calm, too certain.
"You've come to the right person," she continued. "Only I know the truth of that place."
Ren smiled faintly.
"That's good to hear."
The old woman's cracked lips curved into a smirk.
"But before I tell you…"
She leaned forward slightly, her cloudy eyes glinting.
"You'll have to do something for me."
Miyuki blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"Clean my house," the woman said simply.
Kasumi stared, baffled.
"What?! We came here to learn the truth, not to do chores! Are you really trying to negotiate right now?"
The old woman chuckled — a dry, hollow sound.
"A deal is a deal, young man. Nothing in this world is free. Not even the truth."
Kasumi's brows furrowed, but before he could protest, Ren placed a calm hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.
"We're ready."
The old woman's smirk deepened, faintly unsettling.
"Good. Then come."
She turned and shuffled back inside, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath her bare feet.
Ren's eyes followed her, unreadable. Then he muttered under his breath.
"If Hanako-san were here, she would've already made her confess."
Kasumi sighed in defeat.
"I can't agree more…"
As they followed the old woman into her dimly lit house, the air inside seemed colder.
An hour later.
After the last speck of dust was swept away, the old woman finally spoke. Her voice rasped like dry leaves brushing against stone.
"Good job, children. Now… it's my turn."
She leaned closer, her milky eyes glinting with an eerie light.
"Listen carefully… What I'm about to say is not a story. It's a warning."
The room darkened. Even the wind outside seemed to stop.
"Around two hundred years ago… there was a village. Peaceful. Kind. Simple.
Until the devil was born.
He was born under a blood-red moon. The night he drew his first breath… his father's heart stopped beating. By dawn, half of the village was drenched in blood."
Miyuki's eyes widened slightly. Kasumi's throat tightened.
"They said the devil took the form of a beautiful boy — a face too perfect for this world. But that beauty was only a disguise… beneath it was despair itself. He slaughtered priests, monks, warriors — all who tried to stop him. He crushed them like insects.
They say his touch could make flowers wither, and his gaze could stop a heart. He even killed his own mother when she tried to pray for him. He didn't understand human emotions — love, pity, guilt — they were foreign things to him.
He wanted to challenge God himself and take his position… because to him, existence itself is a boring thing created by God…"
The old woman's voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
"Every war, every plague, every act of hatred… began with him. He calls himself the Architect of Despair. He feeds on chaos and grows stronger each time the world bleeds."
A long silence followed. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating.
Finally, she spoke again, barely audible.
"If we do not stop him, one day… he will erase this world entirely."
She fell silent.
Kasumi's mind spun. Everything she said about him… it's true.
He swallowed hard.
"Have you ever seen that devil yourself?"
The old woman's head turned toward him.
"No. And I never want to. Because those who have seen him… never lived to speak again."
Kasumi's heart pounded. I'm already dead, he thought. I'll die once I turn eighteen… That's why I could see his true form…
Ren stood and bowed politely.
"We're grateful for your words, ma'am."
The old woman shook her head slowly.
"Don't thank me, boy. We merely traded… truth for labor. Nothing more."
As they left the house, Miyuki's expression was thoughtful.
I understand why Matsunaga-kun could see him… but Hajime-san? she wondered. Why could even he see the devil? Is it because that monster failed to kill him?
The three walked in silence until the edge of the village.
Kasumi glanced sideways at Ren when Miyuki wasn't looking.
"Hajime-san… I sometimes wonder. How did you end up creating the breathing styles? At that time, nobody even knew such a thing was possible."
Ren's maroon eyes reflected the pale morning light.
"I didn't create them all on my own," he said softly. "It was Shinsaku who discovered it first."
Kasumi blinked.
"Shinsaku? Who's that?"
"I'll tell you about him… when the time comes."
And then, a cold wind blew from the direction of the ruined village, carrying with it a faint sound.
———————————————————————
At night.
Deep within the ancient ruins —
A place that didn't seem to belong to Japan, the air shimmered with ghostly light. The ruins were covered in moss and inscriptions of forgotten gods. The wind moaned through the hollow stone pillars like a requiem.
Countless demons crawled through the broken temple grounds, their claws scraping the cracked marble. But none dared to climb the stone staircase — because at its summit, on the crumbling throne of the temple—
Eliza sat.
Her figure glowed faintly, pale light flowing off her like moonlight over still water. The ruins, the jungle, even the air seemed to bend toward her in reverence.
Beside her, Jigen stood — or rather, was bound.
Divine white ropes coiled around him like threads of judgment, cutting through his black robes. His expression, as always, was unreadable, eyes as cold and still as eternity itself.
Eliza leaned close to him, her every movement both sacred and sinful. Her voice was honeyed mischief.
"Aww… don't go away, Jigen-sama."
He didn't move, though the ropes strained against his power. His breath left faint ripples in the air.
"You can't save them from death," he said quietly. "Their time has reached its end. I can see it."
Eliza only giggled, brushing her nose along his cheek.
"Mmm… so soft."
The demons below trembled — they could see only her, the glowing goddess above, whispering to the empty air. Not him.
Jigen's gaze never left them. His voice was calm, almost bored.
"Let me go."
Eliza ignored him, her delicate fingers tracing his jawline. She inhaled the faint scent of his hair — dark, like rain before a storm.
"If you only wished to kill them," she teased, "why did you turn them into demons at all?"
"Even if I hadn't," he replied, "they'd still be dead."
The demons hissed and wailed, their fear thickening the air.
"If you save them now," Jigen continued, "they will hunt humans. Do you still want to save them?"
"You shouldn't say that," she whispered, pouting. "If they die, you'll kill more humans anyway. And compared to you… they're far less violent."
His eyes turned slightly toward her — the faintest shift, yet enough to freeze the night around them.
"Whatever. I don't kill before their lifespan ends. But theirs is over. Don't stop me."
She smiled, lips curving like moonlight on a blade.
"If you want to leave…" she breathed into his ear, voice soft and dangerous, "then kiss me first."
A silence fell… so deep that even the jungle seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
Jigen's voice broke through, low and final.
"Time's over."
The ropes began to smoke, unraveling against his sheer will. His tone remained calm, but it carried the weight of the inevitable.
"You can't bind me anymore. Their hour has struck… and you know—"
He lifted his head slightly, the glow in his crimson eyes returning like an eclipse swallowing the sun.
"Death is inevitable."
The world darkened.
The demons froze as a black mist spread from him, swallowing the light. The next instant—
Whoosh!
A wind like a blade cut through the temple.
In less than a heartbeat, every demon fell. Their bodies crumbled, their blood painted the ruins. But not a single drop touched Eliza.
She looked at him — standing amidst the carnage, his hand dripping crimson, his black robes now soaked in death.
Jigen stood still, silent, as the wind carried away the scent of blood. He had taken all of it upon himself, so that not even a speck of darkness would touch her.
She stood up, leapt gracefully beside him, her bare feet barely touching the cracked stone.
"That was unexpected…" she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she tilted her head toward the blood-soaked ruins.
She pulled off her silken veil and began gently wiping the blood from his hand and chest.
Jigen's voice was calm and stoic. "There's no need for that… you've just ruined your veil."
She puffed her cheeks. "Doesn't matter. I'll just buy another one."
Then she flicked the veil aside with a dramatic toss, watching it drift down like a dying petal.
Jigen's eyes stayed fixed ahead. "What happened after you met Yoriichi… in his dream? When he visited your place."
Eliza blinked. "Why ask so suddenly? I was literally terrified like a cat after meeting him! It took every ounce of my divine willpower not to faint."
Then she squinted at him suspiciously. "Also, why do you always talk about him? Is he the only person you know?"
Jigen replied, voice low and unshaken. "There are fifteen people whom I remember the most… and he is only one of them. The rest don't matter."
Eliza leaned closer, her crystal-blue eyes glimmering with mischief. "Oh? So am I on that list too?"
He raised a hand, his fingers brushing softly against her hair and cheek, his touch almost tender.
"I can forget anyone… but you."
Her smile froze. Her eyes widened.
He pulled her face gently against his chest, still speaking with the same calm tone. "You're on the top of the list… my lady."
Her mind went blank. Then, her face turned crimson. "W-wha—"
Unable to process it, she started banging her forehead against a nearby tree, muttering nonsense under her breath.
Jigen ignored her antics, his gaze distant.
"Don't get me wrong. I remember those who are extraordinary… beings born once in a millennium.
Isaac Newton, Aristotle, Genghis Khan, Nikola Tesla, Srinivasa Ramanujan, Gautama Buddha, Yoriichi, Kokushibo, William Shakespeare, Leonardo da Vinci, that one immortal monk, Adam Weishaupt, Shinsaku, Michael Jackson… and finally you."
Eliza blinked. "…Your taste is impeccable, actually. Also, there are four Japanese out of fifteen. And who's Shinsaku? Never heard of him."
Jigen replied, "He's the one who discovered the original idea of breathing styles. Yoriichi perfected it, but without Shinsaku… even he couldn't have created it."
Eliza tilted her head, intrigued. "If he was that important, why does nobody talk about him?"
Jigen's tone deepened. "Because he's a forgotten legend... A forgotten hero born way before…"
Her playful look faded. "So… he lived in the same era as Muzan?"
"Yes," Jigen answered. "He was born in the Heian Era… when the Demon Slayer Corps first took shape.
He was thefirst demon slayer ever."
For a moment, Eliza was speechless, her eyes widening in awe.
He continued, his voice almost a whisper, like death itself speaking through eternity.
"But that's a story for another time. Of all of them, I remember only three most vividly… Because those three are souls that will never exist again, nor were they ever born before."
He looked down at her. "That's you… Yoriichi… and that monk still meditating in the Himalayas. I saw him a century ago. He's still alive."
[Author's Note: The "immortal monk" isn't a literal character. He's a symbol, a concept of eternal awareness that transcends life and death. Interpret him however you like.]
He leapt back onto the ruins, sitting quietly as if nothing had just happened. The air trembled faintly around him, still carrying traces of blood and silence.
Eliza's thoughts spun in quiet realization. "Wait… I was the only female in that list…"
She shook her head quickly, trying to banish the thought. "No, no, Eliza, don't overthink…"
Then, with a soft sigh, she stepped closer and gracefully lowered herself beside him.
Without a word, she laid her head on his lap, closing her eyes as the moonlight filtered through the broken ceiling of the ruins.
Jigen looked down at her expressionless, yet his crimson eyes flickered faintly with thought. "Get up," he said quietly. "We still have more places to visit. Our mission isn't done yet."
She murmured sleepily, her voice muffled against his robes. "Mmm… I'm bored of those repetitive missions…"
Her tone carried both playfulness and quiet weariness. She didn't move, her breathing steady, peaceful.
He stared at her serene face — calm, trusting, and completely unguarded. His thoughts darkened slightly.
"I can't convince her… It still confuses me how she can trust me so completely. I'm the last being anyone should ever trust…"
His eyes dimmed — and the world began to fade around him.
————————
45 years ago.
The air was chaos. The sky twisted red under a fractured eclipse. The earth itself tore apart; lakes rippled unnaturally as if trying to escape the pull of two divine forces.
Amidst the storm, two silhouettes faced each other — Jigen and Eliza — suspended in midair like deities at war.
Reality bent between them. The world screamed in distortion.
Eliza's eyes were filled with fury and despair. "You monster… So you're the one behind every tragedy… every shadow that consumes the light…!"
Her wings flared, blinding white in the darkness. "I swear… I'll kill you!"
Jigen hovered there in his silhouette form — unmoved, unreadable. The winds tore mountains apart, yet he didn't even blink.
His mere existence radiated absolute calm — the kind of silence that swallowed all sound, all life.
————————
Back to the present.
The ruins were silent once again.
Jigen's gaze lifted to the night sky — unchanging, emotionless.
Around him, the jungle began to decay. Leaves shriveled to dust, trees crumbled into ash, stone eroded into gray.
The ancient ruins dissolved in slow motion… as if nature itself couldn't bear his presence any longer.