During the wait for the pillar eting to begin, Hiru had Kakushi bring him so wood. He carved a white fox mask for Yoriichi—only half a face, with nothing more than the usual Inari patterns. If anything stood out, it was the pignt he used: that vivid red ca from Muzan Kibutsuji.
Monts like this always made Hiru genuinely grateful to Muzan. For years now, aside from that crimson pignt, he hadn’t found any other color nearly as satisfying—setting aside the plain ones he made himself.
Thinking that, Hiru even pressed his palms together and offered a devout bow.
【Thank you for your gift, Muzan.】
Yoriichi watched as Hiru solemnly paid homage to the mask, tilting his head in confusion. Before long he simply smiled, shook his head, closed his eyes again, and returned to ditation—reviewing the details of using the Bright Red Nichirin Sword and searching for a way to make its use universal.
Breathing Styles, Slayer Marks, the Transparent World—things others had to train relentlessly to master—ca to Yoriichi as naturally as a newborn crying or breathing. They were simply things he had known instinctively as he grew.
And because of that, he never thought himself remarkable.
Even when others told him again and again how exceptional he was.
【I have never saved anyone… I do not deserve to be called outstanding.】
He opened his eyes with a soft sigh, lowered his head, and gently brushed his fingers along the Nichirin Blade resting across his lap.
【I wonder when I’ll find my brother… and Muzan. If only…】
“Brother! The mask is done! Try it on! It’s not as refined as Urokodaki-san’s, but at least it won’t block your vision!”
“Alright.”
Yoriichi lifted his head. Seeing that Hiru had finally finished his ritual of reverence over the mask, he gave a faint smile.
【Everything that exists leaves a trace. This ti, I will end Muzan.】
...
The day of the Hashira eting arrived quickly. As the sun began to rise, a Kakushi ca to inform them that it was about to begin.
“So early?” Hiru looked up at the thin line of light on the horizon, startled. “I thought it’d at least be mid-morning.”
“Because so many new people are joining this year, the Master is quite eager,” the Kakushi said with deep reverence. “Please follow .”
Hiru glanced toward Yoriichi. Sohow he had already moved behind him, and when their eyes t, Yoriichi gave a slight nod.
When they reached the eting place, soone was already waiting under the eaves. The youth wore a light-colored kimono with cherry blossom patterns at the cuffs. He looked only fifteen or sixteen, with smooth, dium-length black hair and a gentle, handso face—soft and approachable, though slimr than others his age.
“Hello,” the black-haired youth greeted them, his voice so gentle it felt soothing just to hear. “You must be Yoriichi and Hiru? I’ve heard of you—exceptional swordsn in this year’s trials. The others haven’t arrived yet, so you may have to wait a bit.”
Yoriichi gave a small nod.
“We greet you, Oyakata-sama.”
“I’ve seen you before,” Hiru said, though he was looking more at the shadow behind the youth. “Back on Mount Fujikasane.”
The youth smiled. “I rember you too. You were the boy holding the picture book.”
Hiru nodded, sniffed lightly at the dicines placed nearby, and spoke flatly.
“These won’t save you.”
“I know.” The youth remained calm. “This is the curse of the Ubuyashiki family. These dicines only prolong life—they cannot cure it. Unless the Demon King, Muzan Kibutsuji, is destroyed, any treatnt is aningless.”
“Hunting the Demon King is a long process, but you don’t look like you have long left.”
“Yes.” The youth paused briefly, still smiling gently. “I likely have only a little over ten years. I keep taking these dicines to put the people who care about at ease.”
“Hey, brother,” Hiru murmured. “Do you think my dicines could possibly—”
Yoriichi fell silent for a mont.
“Hiru, that’s rude.”
Hiru: ...
“To see my condition at a glance… Mr. Hiru, you must be very knowledgeable in dicine.” The youth smiled, unfazed. “If you have any ideas that might benefit this frail body of mine, please speak freely.
If it lets cling to life just a little longer—long enough to witness Muzan Kibutsuji’s death—I’m willing to try anything.”
“I see.” Hiru nodded. “Then, if there's a chance later—”
“Greetings, Oyakata-sama! I’m ashad to have kept you waiting!”
Hiru jolted at the sudden booming voice, whipping around. The mont he saw who it was, his irritation turned instantly to shock.
The newcor had long yellow hair, the tips marked with red. His eyes were sharp, his features bold—though if anything, he resembled an owl.
【What the hell?!】
Hiru’s eyes widened. He instinctively stepped back and hid behind Yoriichi.
Yoriichi had been deep in thought about making the Bright Red Blade more accessible, and hadn’t noticed the sudden shouting. But when he saw the growing panic in Hiru’s eyes, he turned—and froze as well.
“…Mr. Rengoku?”
“Hmm?” The man looked his way, laughing heartily. “Young man, do you know ?”
Yoriichi shook his head, still stunned.
“No, this should be our first eting…”
Hiru now noted that though the man had the sa hairstyle as Rengoku Tetsushiro, his bone structure—while similar—was different.
Even so, Hiru could hardly believe it.
“The first ti I saw him, I thought I'd seen a ghost…”
“Young man, that’s rude!” the man roared with laughter. “I’m no ghost! I am Rengoku Shinjuro—the current Fla Hashira!”
“This strange sense of déjà vu…” Hiru muttered under his breath. “The Rengoku family really is sothing.”
Yoriichi nodded in agreent.
“Mr. Rengoku is lively as ever today.” Hijima said this while rolling his prayer beads through his fingers. Though sightless, he walked toward them with steady steps. He nodded to Rengoku Shinjuro, then bowed respectfully to the youth. “How is Oyakata-sama feeling?”
The youth smiled. “I’m well. Thank you for your concern, Hijima.”
“It is good that the Master is well.” Tears stread from Hijima’s pale eyes. “Namu Amida Butsu…”
“Hey, gloomy kid! You can’t always be so pessimistic! Didn’t you slay one of the Twelve Kizuki? We’ll be colleagues now! Hold your head up a little!”
“Namu Amida Butsu… Serving alongside Mr. Rengoku is my honor,” Hijima said, bowing his head with palms pressed together, his expression sorrowful as tears continued to flow. “But Mr. Rengoku, I’m not being pessimistic… I’m rejoicing…”
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