“It’s been ages since I’ve had this much free ti. I almost don’t know where to go...” Hiru stretched lazily at the entrance of Wisteria House, looking completely at ease. “Maybe I should go ask Miss Tamayo for more dicine to restore my sense of taste?”
But he quickly dismissed the thought. Unless absolutely necessary, he preferred not to visit Tamayo.
Perhaps realizing that neither he nor Yoriichi would harm her, Tamayo now watched him with a constant, probing curiosity. She often ntioned the progress of her human-restoration dicine, claiming she could already restore the humanity of newborn demons who hadn’t consud human flesh.
So whenever she had the chance, Tamayo would ask when they could find Muzan and kill him, urging them to cooperate in her drug experints.
After she transford Yushiro nearly two hundred years ago, Hiru grew even less willing to visit her except to restock the taste-restoring dicine.
Because that brat Yushiro was a complete mad dog!
Speak to Tamayo and he glared. Ignore Tamayo and he still glared.
He had even awakened a Blood Demon Art to erase his presence, using it several tis right in front of Hiru to wear away the tracking marks Tamayo had left on him!
And as a demon who had long lived hidden among humans with Tamayo, Hiru refused to believe Yushiro had forgotten how important identification docunts were in the human world.
Yet when he and his brother ca down from the mountains, aside from news of Muzan Kibutsuji and the local currency, they had nothing of the sort!
“That annoying kid...” Hiru ground his teeth, frowning. “Maybe… I should go back and look?”
He wasn’t sure whether the old house had been preserved by later owners according to the agreent. But there was no denying that it held nearly all his cherished mories of that ho.
Even after Yoriichi left, Hiru would still visit to find so peace. Later, Michikatsu tacitly kept it preserved, often standing before the house for hours.
“Yeah, I’ll go take a look. The new weapon will probably take a while anyway. I should have ti.” With his decision made, Hiru stopped thinking about it. He oriented himself and began heading toward Shinano.
...
Kokushibo returned to Shinano.
During the last eting of the Upper Moons, he had seen in Muzan’s mories soone who looked very much like Hiru. Driven by his own personal desire, he wanted to turn that man into a demon.
Because he had made his intentions clear, the other Upper Moons simply kept an eye on their surroundings without launching a broad search. Muzan tacitly approved.
For Muzan, low-tier demons could be created at will. Even if the Demon Slayer Corps killed them endlessly, it ant little. But gaining a subordinate who could wield a Bright Red Nichirin Sword—now that was sothing Muzan looked forward to, eager to see the Demon Slayer Corps’ reaction.
At first, Kokushibo had been confident. To him, finding a single human shouldn’t take long. Once he erased the man’s mories and kept him by his side, it would serve as a small compensation for the past—at least enough to ease his own mind.
But now, a long-lost frustration pressed down on him.
For the past three months, he had chased the swordsman’s traces, even setting aside feeding. Yet the swordsman’s movents were completely unpredictable, leading Kokushibo to miss him again and again.
Having once served in the Demon Slayer Corps and knowing so of their principles, Kokushibo couldn’t help but wonder how this swordsman could slay demons so efficiently while moving with no discernible pattern.
Lowering his gaze to the little hut—untouched except for necessary repairs over centuries—Kokushibo found his thoughts drifting back to his human years.
Unlike the tangled emotions he held toward his younger brother Yoriichi—emotions that ultimately curdled into hatred—
What Kokushibo felt toward the adopted son, Hiru, had always been guilt and pity.
But the words Hiru spoke that night revealed he had never cared for that pity.
“Father once said that, when necessary, I must give everything for my elder brother—that is the purpose of the third son.
You stand here now as Tsugikuni Michikatsu, do you not? I only ask that after you kill , you spare the remaining innocent mbers of our clan.”
Even now, Kokushibo could recall those words perfectly.
To face death with such calm and steadiness, to bargain with his own life so rationally—a man of such spirit would neither care for nor need anyone’s pity.
At that mont, Kokushibo understood: Hiru and Yoriichi were fundantally the sa kind of person. They cared more about others than themselves.
Just as Yoriichi had left ho for the sake of family harmony, Hiru could give up his life for the clan without hesitation.
This truth made Kokushibo—who had chosen to beco a demon out of fear of death—feel deeply ashad.
His desires and ugliness were reflected starkly in the presence of those two.
Though it appeared he spared Hiru, Kokushibo knew he had fled because he could not bear to face the ugliness within himself.
Later, he was stunned to discover that Hiru had beco a demon. He couldn’t comprehend why Yoriichi, who despised demons so intensely, would spare him—and why the two had walked the world together for so many years.
What was certain was that Hiru ultimately chose death, and Yoriichi followed by taking his own life shortly after.
When Kokushibo learned this, he stood frozen for a long ti, unable to stop asking himself:
Why were they both so calm in the face of death?
Even now, he still occasionally pondered that question.
“Could it be... heaven’s will...?”
Seeing the monks erge to replace the wisteria incense throughout the temple grounds, Kokushibo felt no desire to linger. He leapt from the eaves and headed toward Yamanashi.
With Muzan’s special permission, he could receive mory fragnts about the Bright Red Nichirin Swordsman from lower-tier demons.
Not long ago, he had learned from such mories that the swordsman was in Yamanashi. But before he could depart, news ca that the swordsman had already left.
He no longer expected to find him. But for a demon, ti held no aning. A trip to Yamanashi wouldn’t hurt.
...
Hiru gazed at the moonlit mountains and forests before him, then turned to the stubborn old man blocking his path. His tone dripped with resignation. “I swear I'm not going into the mountains to die.”
“Hmph! You call this not going to die?” The old man jabbed his cane forcefully. “You're just so brat who thinks learning a couple sword moves qualifies you to hunt bears in these hills!”
“No, I actually—”
“No, you! I've done exactly what you're doing now when I was young!” The old man wore an expression that said he'd seen right through him. “There have been rumors for ages about bears eating people in these mountains. Over the years, there have been plenty like you, but this is the first ti I've seen soone like you charging in after dark! Think you've lived too long?!”
“I only wish to reach Shinano Province,” Hiru sighed. “I swear I'm not here to hunt bears.”
“Then you have even less reason to travel at night!” The old man pointed at the black cloth strip hanging around Hiru's neck. “And have you ever seen anyone travel with their eyes covered?!”
“...”
But this is the only way Tsuchinoto can ensure he doesn't stray from the path.
Hiru sighed inwardly, gazing up at the sky. He didn't want to use Blood Demon Art either, but... His ink-black eyes shifted to gray amidst the old man's furious voice. Extending a hand toward the still-chattering elder, he murmured, “Blood Demon Art: World Painting Scroll · mory Rewrite.”
The furious little old man before him froze for a mont, then, as if Hiru had vanished, tapped his cane on the ground with obvious reluctance. Turning away, he shuffled toward the nearby house, cane in hand and one arm behind his back. "Ah, old age catches up to you. These youngsters nowadays all run too fast... Why are they all so stubborn and won't listen to reason?"
Watching the old man disappear into the house, Hiru reconfird his direction before wrapping a black cloth around his eyes. “Seriously... are there really this many do-gooders nowadays? Good thing there's nothing worth drawing around here...”
Yet, barely a mont after entering the woods, Hiru heard footsteps approaching from ahead, accompanied by a deep male voice speaking in an archaic noble accent: “Demon Slayer... Swordsman?”
Hiru didn't think much of it, assuming it was a fellow Demon Slayer Corps mber—after all, nightti patrols were routine, and encounters usually involved a simple greeting. He raised his hand and waved toward the voice. “Hello? On duty around here?”
Kokushibo watched the man he'd spent three months searching for appear so casually before him, mistaking him for a comrade. A sense of fate's cruel irony welled up within him once more. “...Sort of.”
“Need any help?”
“No... It's... already... taken care of.”
“Oh—I see. Where are you headed next, then?” “ Though he found it odd that only the scent of sandalwood wafted from the other man, the constant presence of Yoriichi—who carried no scent at all—made him less concerned. He halted and turned toward the voice. ”Heading to the Wisteria House to rest?“
”No... haven't... decided yet.“ Kokushibo's hand rested on his sword hilt, yet he showed no urgency to draw. ”Where... are you... going?"
“To Shinano. To visit my hotown,” Hiru smiled. “It's where I grew up.”
[He was born in Shinano? Could he be Hiru's reincarnation?]
Kokushibo looked down at the person before him. “Your... eyes...”
“Oh, these? They're fine.” “Hiru shrugged slightly. ”Sotis I drift off course unintentionally, so when I have sowhere specific I want to go, I do this to minimize interference.
If you have no other plans, would you like to co with to Shinano? That way, we could keep each other company on the road and have sothing to talk about.“
”...Alright.“ Kokushibo's gaze never left Hiru, but his hand slipped from the long sword's hilt. ”I... happen to... have no plans."
“Listening to you talk is exhausting,” Haku quipped before resuming his pace. “With that archaic noble accent, your family must be well-off. Why join the Demon Slayer Corps for such thankless work?”
Kokushibo fell into step beside him, his gaze still fixed on Hiru. “For... transcendence.”
“I see. Demons are indeed stronger than humans. Using them to temper oneself is a wise choice.” Hiru nodded, then shifted the conversation.
Yet soon, Hiru found himself thoroughly impressed by this swordsman he'd encountered. Aside from his sowhat jarring aristocratic speech, the man possessed an astonishing breadth of knowledge and profound insight.
Whatever Hiru said, the swordsman could respond after a mont's thought, and this delighted Hiru imnsely.
After all, within the Demon Slayer Corps, people either hunted demons, searched for demons, made dicine, or trained their swordsmanship. In these areas, Hiru could only contribute to the conversation about dicine.
The only two who patiently listened to his tangents were Hijima and Yoriichi, but they mostly just listened quietly, offering little in the way of response. This ant it had been a long ti since Hiru had enjoyed such a satisfying conversation.
As his enthusiasm grew, Hiru even ntioned to this Swordsman how he'd passed the Demon Slayer Corps entrance exam purely through brute strength, lacking any Breathing Styles, only to constantly break his Nichirin Blade afterward, earning the swordsmith's scorn.
“Honestly,” Hiru sighed, “I really am trying to learn swordsmanship. But no matter what I do, I just can't wield it properly. Maybe I should consider switching weapons?”
“Everyone... has... their own... characteristics,” Kokushibo replied, maintaining his unhurried pace. “You... are not... suited... for the martial way.”
“Not suited for the martial way... I suppose that's true.” “Hiru sighed again. ”But what can I do? I'm in the Demon Slayer Corps now. I can't avoid fighting. If I don't have a suitable weapon, I'll have to use my bare hands, right? That would just make my fighting look even worse.“
”Martial arts... have nothing to do with... aesthetics.“
”No, no, no, image matters!“ Hizuki shook his head. ”Think about it—don't the Hashira look amazing when they fight? The forms they display are incredibly beautiful, aren't they?“
After a long silence, Kokushibo reluctantly replied: ”...Hmm.“
”But if I beco a Hashira, not only would I be unable to display those forms, I'd have to charge at demons and fight them hand-to-hand? That's just pathetic. It sounds utterly la."
Kokushibo couldn't help but chuckle softly.
“Even though we get along well, if you laugh at again, I'll turn on you!”
Kokushibo rely shifted the topic. “How... do you... view... the demons?”
“Demons...” Hiru fell silent for a long ti. “I lost everything because of them. I will never reconcile with demons.”
Kokushibo froze, then fell silent too.
Indeed. For a Demon Slayer, demons were utterly irreconcilable.
[So it cos down to this after all.]
Kokushibo sighed inwardly, gazing at the town now visible in the distance. He knew it was ti to decide.
“Demons shouldn't exist.” Hiru stopped walking. His tone was calm, but the downturned corners of his mouth betrayed his unease. Yet he quickly lifted them again. “Speaking of which, we've talked this long without introductions. I'm Hiru. What about you?”
Kokushibo's sword-drawing motion halted. “...Hiru?”
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