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[ 30+ Advance chapter in Patreon]
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"You…"
Sure enough, when Yoriichi Tsugikuni saw me transform into a woman, his expression flickered. For just a moment, he looked uneasy, but almost instantly he returned to his calm, stone-faced self.
I kept shouting loudly. Lights began to turn on in nearby houses. But before I could cry out again, I felt something clamp tight around my neck.
"You… be still."
It was Yoriichi. His arm locked around my throat like iron. I could tell—he could've cut my head off with one strike right then. But he didn't. He was holding back… probably because killing me meant his brother would die too.
"Return to your true form," he ordered.
"Let go first," I muttered.
His hands stayed firm around my neck, but he didn't touch anywhere else. Instead, his feathered robe slipped over my shoulders, covering my exposed body.
Yoriichi's thoughts:
Is this really Kibutsuji Muzan? From the start, he hasn't shown any real killing intent. It's almost like he's… acting. His way of speaking feels strange too—like Tanjiro, in a way. He talks easily, even with enemies. But…
If I hesitate any longer, I'll be in danger. I should call on the demons. If Kokushibō comes as well…
"Change back first," he said again, voice flat.
I stared at his unchanging expression. This guy really is like a piece of wood… Since he refused to let go, I started moving my hands around, touching whatever I could reach.
At first, he ignored it. My neck was pinned, so I couldn't reach much anyway. But then my fingers brushed against something hard inside his robes. His eyes widened, his grip loosened instantly, and he quickly moved to guard the object with both hands.
Huh? What's that? I didn't think too much of it. By then, we were already a good forty or fifty meters apart.
I fixed my clothes, shifted back into my male form, and bolted into the bamboo forest. I could feel the presence of summoned demons approaching, so I ran as fast as I could. But Yoriichi had already regained his focus—his Sun Blade burning bright—and he was chasing me effortlessly.
"Damn it, will this never end?" I cursed. "Does he have an engine in his legs? I'm the demon here, but I'm the one out of breath! He looks like he's out for a stroll."
Before long, he caught up to me. His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with urgency.
"Where is my brother? Tell me."
I turned, stuck my tongue out at him, and teased:
"Not telling~! What, you gonna kill me? Lulululu!"
I was about to laugh more when, through the bamboo ahead, I saw a figure. A ghostly figure with six cold eyes.
KokushibĹŤ.
The instant I saw him, I nearly shouted for him to come over. But a voice behind me rang out faster. Yoriichi's voice—shaking in a way I had never heard before.
"…Brother?!"
He stopped dead in his tracks. His crimson eyes, usually so calm, widened in shock. In front of him stood his elder brother, now a demon under my blood, kneeling to a curse he could never escape. For the first time, Yoriichi's face twisted with grief. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks.
What the—his voice was faster than mine! I thought bitterly. Whatever. Yoriichi, he's your brother. You deal with it. Either he kills you… or you kill him.
I passed by KokushibĹŤ, whispering quickly:
"KokushibĹŤ, he's yours."
Without waiting for a response, I dashed deeper into the forest like my life depended on it—leaving even afterimages in my wake.
"Yes…"
KokushibĹŤ's six eyes glared at his younger brother. Familiarity burned inside him, mixed with a storm of jealousy and hatred. He unsheathed his blade.
"Don't look at me with that expression. It disgusts me!"
At that moment, every demon I had summoned arrived, filling the forest with a suffocating presence.
I glanced back once. So that's Yoriichi, huh?
By the time I returned, dawn was already approaching. I hurried my steps and hid in the shadows to avoid the sun.
The Infinite Castle was quiet. No demons stirred within. As for Tamayo, she had gone out—leaving only a note behind—searching for rare medical texts to inspire her research.
For decades, to avoid the Demon Slayer Corps, I sought out those abandoned by the world—those already close to death. I offered them my blood and let them choose for themselves whether to become demons. Unlike Muzan, I never erased their memories. Memory is precious. No one has the right to steal it.
I only asked for three things: keep a little of your humanity, kill as few as possible, and when your time feels enough—end it.
The ones who killed recklessly? I left them to their fate. If they crossed paths with the Corps, then death was the price they chose.
From time to time, I still encountered Yoriichi Tsugikuni. The moment I saw him, I always fled. Yet every time, he chased. Every time, he demanded answers—about Kokushibō, about life, about me.
Once, he caught up and told me to stop. He said he wanted to understand me. I never replied. He stood there silently… then left. Since that day, I've never seen him again.
As for Kokushibō, he remained the same as the original tale described—strict, proud, bound by hierarchy. He would only grant blood to warriors strong enough to stand beside him. He was the one who brought Akaza into our ranks.
It was also Kokushibō who forged his own blade—Kokushinkyō. He shaped it with his own flesh, bones, and blood, its length crawling with golden eyes.
Not long ago, KokushibĹŤ told me he was going to search for the Blue Spider Lily. The place he headed was a seven-story pagoda outside the city. I knew what that meant.
When he returned, there were faint tear marks under two of his six eyes. On his waist hung a purple brocade pouch. In his hands was still that terrible sword.
The strongest man in this world—Yoriichi Tsugikuni—had fallen.
Yet even after his death, I could not shake the feeling he still lived. His shadow lingered in my thoughts, his presence etched into my dreams. Even when reason told me he was gone, instinct whispered otherwise.
In time, the Upper Ranks were formed. Only Kokushibō and Dōma were my own creations. The others—Gyokko, Hantengu, the siblings Gyūtarō and Daki—came later, drawn to Dōma's side.
Dōma… He was different. Among all demons, he is the one I hate most, yet also pity most. Born unable to feel emotion, he lived empty of joy, grief, or anger. When I found him as a child, I took him away. For years, I led him across countless towns, showing him life—until at last, after eighteen years, he began to feel.
At twenty, I turned him into a demon. He knew what I was, yet he respected me as no one else did. For the first time, he had emotions of his own—and he never hid them again. His choice of Upper Ranks was less duty and more amusement. But even that was his way of living.
Through the centuries, Tamayo perfected a medicine that freed us from devouring humans. Just a little blood each day was enough. I drank it myself, and I gave what little she produced to the Upper Ranks, asking them to restrain themselves. Redemption might still be possible.
But the medicine was nearly impossible to make. The ingredients were rare. In a hundred years, only ten vials existed.
One of them I gave to Nakime, the woman whose Blood Demon Art controlled the very walls of the Infinite Castle. I had turned her myself one night, after wounding her by mistake. She never hated me for it. Quietly, she stayed by my side.
Time passed. To ease the centuries, I raised animals—cats, dogs, fish. The Infinite Castle slowly filled with them. Kokushibō, surprisingly, liked them too. When I was away, he would feed them. His favorite was a ragdoll cat. He claimed their size and temperament made them useful—like hawks or hounds.
When it died, he said nothing. But I saw it weighed on him.
I had too much time. Out of boredom, I recreated the things I remembered from my past life—cola, instant noodles, small comforts. I built factories, hospitals, networks. I became, in secret, the richest "man" in the land.
For centuries, I wore Muzan's face. Sometimes I considered changing it back to my own, but compared to his beauty, mine was plain. Vanity won. Only, I softened the sharpness of his features, made his face gentler, more approachable. Even changed his voice.
After all, a demon who wants to live peacefully cannot always look like the Devil himself.
And so I drifted into what I called "retirement." A quiet life, with pets and books, in a world that would never accept me. Sometimes, just for amusement, I appeared before Demon Slayers to frighten them, then vanished.
And then… time reached the era of Demon Slayer.
The Edo period.