Disclaimer: Demon Slayer is not mine. This fanfic is a translation.
Enjoy Reading!
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It was the Sengoku Period.
The Kamado household.
A summer breeze rustled the treetops, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the dense forest, scattering across the backyard before him.
Tanjuro opened his eyes and sat quietly, the scents of earth and grass filling his nostrils as he gazed ahead.
Though it was a memory, the sensations it conveyed were indistinguishable from reality.
"I've said all I wanted to say."
"Thank you for listening to me ramble for so long, Sumiyoshi-san."
At that moment, a slightly deep and calm voice sounded from beside him:
"After I finish this cup, I should be going."
Tanjuro was momentarily dazed. He instinctively turned his head to look.
Perhaps because he was within the memory, he hadn't noticed the person beside him until just now.
Beside him.
A man with a high dark-red ponytail held a teacup in his hand. His eyes, like deep crimson pools, stared straight ahead as he spoke softly:
"...I feel bad freeloading at your place."
As he spoke, the hanafuda earrings dangling from his earlobes swayed gently.
The crimson mark on his forehead gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight slanting under the eaves.
— Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
Tanjuro gazed at the vivid, living Yoriichi before him, somewhat lost in thought.
Though he had always known what kind of existence this was, seeing him alive and in person still felt surreal.
Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the foliage, falling upon Yoriichi's face, creating an incredibly peaceful atmosphere.
Beside him lay a Nichirin blade with a golden hilt.
Yoriichi's gaze rested on the familiar surroundings. Years ago, he too had lived here with his wife, in a warm little home.
"Not at all, Yoriichi-sama. You can stay as long as you likes!"
"The children adore you!"
These words were spoken by Sumiyoshi-san's wife.
Tanjuro said nothing. He glanced sideways towards the direction behind him—it was his wife, Suyako, smiling warmly at them.
Not Kie.
He was now, hundreds of years in the past, within the memory of the Sengoku Period ancestor of the Kamado family— Kamado Sumiyoshi.
Perhaps due to an exceptionally strong conviction, Sumiyoshi's memory had been passed down through the Kamado bloodline, enabling Tanjuro, centuries later, to still see everything so clearly.
A moment ago, Yoriichi had been confiding in Sumiyoshi-san, telling the story of what happened before he left the Demon Slayer Corps.
From his childhood in the Tsugikuni household, to his brother becoming a demon and killing the then-leader, leading to him, the younger twin, being expelled from the Corps.
Tanjuro pondered silently.
He looked down at his own hands.
The situation seemed... different from what he had imagined.
According to the original story's plot, his eldest son Tanjiro had also witnessed this memory.
But back then, Tanjiro couldn't interfere with the memory at all. He could only enter Sumiyoshi's first-person perspective and silently observe events unfold.
The words spoken, the actions taken—all were beyond his control.
Only when his emotions resonated with Sumiyoshi's could he occasionally utter the same words from the depths of his heart.
But now...
Tanjuro's gaze shifted from Suyako to Yoriichi, who was quietly sipping his tea.
It seemed he could voluntarily control this body of Sumiyoshi.
Creak...
He looked down, gently clenching his fist. The familiar surge of power within his body startled him.
The power of resurrection was still there.
This feeling...
It was incredibly similar to being in Sekiro.
Offering a Protective Charm before the Buddha statue, praying to return to the Hirata Estate three years and uncovering the incident that occured.
This wasn't an ordinary memory.
His pupils contracted slightly.
If that were the case.
Then whatever he did now—could potentially directly affect the reality hundreds of years in the future.
In Sekiro's Hirata estate memory arc, the things he did could, to some extent, influence the reality three years later.
For instance, if he killed someone in the memory from three years ago, that person would vanish three years later too.
Even if he had met that person in the future before killing them in the past.
With this thought, Tanjuro jerked his head up, an exhilarating idea suddenly striking him.
For a moment, he forgot about Yoriichi beside him.
Tanjuro stood up, his gaze fixed on the distance.
With a push of his feet, under the bewildered eyes of his wife and Yoriichi behind him, he dashed outward!
"..." Yoriichi Tsugikuni quietly watched Sumiyoshi's retreating figure. As he sipped his tea, a flicker of emotion stirred in his usually calm eyes.
Click.
His arm, holding the teacup, paused mid-air for a moment before he slowly placed the cup back on the tray.
His dark crimson eyes reflected Sumiyoshi's back.
...
Thump.
Thump! Thump!
"...It's no good."
Tanjuro stood outside the house, on the small path not far away, halting his steps.
His gaze pierced through the path, looking into the distance.
He reached out a hand, gently pressing it against the air before him.
The sleeve of his short jacket deformed, as if meeting resistance.
An invisible repulsive force here prevented him from advancing another step.
He slapped it twice, a solid, thumping sensation returning.
His maximum range of movement was only a little distance beyond the Kamado family backyard.
The idea of directly killing Muzan together with Yoriichi within the memory instantly crumbled.
Heaving a slight sigh, Tanjuro turned around, intending to go back.
Then.
He saw something under the eaves.
"Yoriichi-sama!"
Suyako was laughing happily, sitting by the veranda, looking up at Yoriichi who was about to stand.
"That incredibly beautiful sword dance, could you show us?"
Yoriichi glanced sideways, lowering his head slightly, as if a bit embarrassed.
"Ara~" Suyako raised her hands, smiling at Yoriichi Tsugikuni, and hugged their young daughter, who had just started to speak, from beside her. "Please, please!"
She placed the girl in front of her, laughing brightly and cheerfully.
Their daughter, Sumire, drooled slightly from the corner of her mouth. She blinked her eyes, babbling as she also raised her little hand and called out cutely.
"P'ease!"
Yoriichi paused for a moment, looking at young Kamado. His gaze gradually softened. He reached out and gently patted Sumire's head.
Silent, his eyes lowered, lost in thought.
Without a word, he simply turned and silently walked to the center of the backyard.
Click.
He grasped the Nichirin blade at his waist.
"Ahaha!" Sumire waved her little hands happily, leaning back into her mother's embrace, her little legs kicking with joy.
"Happy, aren't you~" Suyako laughed joyfully as well. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sumiyoshi standing not far away and beckoned him over.
"Come quickly, Sumiyoshi-san, Sumiyoshi-san~"
Hearing his name, Tanjuro paused for a moment before realizing he was being addressed. Smiling, he walked over to the veranda area.
He sat down, his gaze focusing on Yoriichi in the middle of the backyard.
Under the Summer blue sky.
The high-ponytailed swordsman danced with the crimson Nichirin blade in his hand.
Swish—!
The blade sliced through the air. The tip, red with a hint of gold, shimmered and reflected the sunlight.
Yoriichi's expression was calm, as if he were doing something utterly ordinary, wielding the blade with an ethereal grace.
His earrings swayed and clicked softly with his movements, a wooden sound.
Tanjuro watched, utterly captivated.
When he had learned the Hinokami Kagura, it was adapted into a dance—the sacred kagura dance—different from true swordsmanship.
The movements were gentler, the rhythm much slower.
Through years of practice, using his own understanding, Tanjuro had eliminated extraneous motions, focusing on delivering maximum force with minimal movement.
Ultimately, he had restored Sun Breathing to its original form, and the intervals and rhythm of breathing had naturally become integrated.
Simultaneously, thanks to these perfected forms, he had also awakened Transparent World in reverse.
Swish—!
The swing of Yoriichi's blade left a graceful streak of light in the air, reflected in Tanjuro's pupils.
"...I see," Tanjuro murmured to himself.
After witnessing the original Sun Breathing firsthand, Tanjuro understood.
The Hinokami Kagura had been conservative.
Though the movements were the same, the user was different, and the power would be different too.
After using Transparent World to carefully observe Yoriichi's breathing rhythm, muscle movements, subtle footwork, and the angle of his wrist twists,
The gaps in his own technique gradually filled in his mind.
Since he could move freely here,
Then...
There was no reason not to spar with the pinnacle of this world's power.
Tanjuro noticed the profound sorrow that clung to Yoriichi like the very firmament.
Click.
He stood up.
"Eh?"
Suyako blinked her eyes, looking at her husband, who seemed different today. She asked, puzzled.
"What did you say, dear?"
Yoriichi, who had just finished demonstrating the complete set of Sun Breathing forms, stood before Tanjuro.
He tilted his head slightly, repeating his words. "A spar?"
"Ah, I mean..." Tanjuro smiled, spreading his hands to explain. "I'll use a wooden stick. Yoriichi-san only needs to dodge or defend."
As he spoke, he glanced at their daughter, Sumire, who was laughing happily.
"Is that alright?"
The reason for crafting such a roundabout excuse was that Tanjuro knew clearly.
Yoriichi would never agree to a sparring request.
He opened his smiling eyes.
Yoriichi found it unbearable to inflict pain on others.
After his first spar using a wooden sword against someone, he had abandoned the idea of becoming a samurai.
Had his wife not been killed by a demon, perhaps Yoriichi would have lived peacefully in the mountains with his wife and child for the rest of his life.
Hearing Tanjuro's request, Yoriichi looked at him with slight curiosity, but seemed to notice Sumire's gaze.
Then he thought about how well the couple had treated him these past days, and how Sumiyoshi had just listened to him.
"Alright." He finally nodded, slowly raising his head.
But as Yoriichi looked up, he was slightly dismayed to find Sumiyoshi had already picked up a wooden stick from the ground and was holding it, seemingly just waiting for his agreement.
"Good! Then, I'm coming!"
Tanjuro stood before Yoriichi, using Sumiyoshi's body, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he shouted.
"Yoriichi-san!"
His lungs rose and fell slightly.
For the first time, within the world of memory.
)—Sun Breathing Total Concentration – Constant!—(
"Hiss—!"
White vapor escaped the corner of his mouth.
Tanjuro's gaze gradually stilled, his body lowering slightly.
"Sumiyoshi-san..." Yoriichi looked at the man before him with some astonishment.
After seeing the movements of Sumiyoshi-san's hands and, through Transparent World, the rhythm of his breathing,
His normally vacant expression flickered with surprise.
'How did you—'
Swish!
He kicked off the ground with force. In an instant, Sumiyoshi, who was not far away, closed the distance, the wooden stick in his hand coming straight down!
)—Enbu!—(
Yoriichi leaned back. The wooden stick grazed past his hair as it descended, a hot breeze brushing his face.
He watched as Sumiyoshi executed his techniques with precision that belied the man's experiences.
Seeing his attacks easily dodged, Tanjuro took a breath and pivoted again.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
First Form, Second Form, Third Form...
Swish!
Yoriichi shifted and dodged. The forms he himself had created, no one understood better than him.
Coupled with Sumiyoshi's straightforward, sequential attacks, it felt like—he was intentionally demonstrating them.
Watching his own forms being executed one by one by his friend before him, Yoriichi's expression gradually became dazed.
He watched his friend's movements intently.
Within his Transparent World, every muscle movement of Sumiyoshi was visible.
Under his concentrated attention, time around Yoriichi seemed to slow.
Finally, looking at Sumiyoshi's expression, he seemed to perceive something.
His demeanor gradually became relaxed and expectant.
The white vapor escaping Tanjuro's mouth stretched into a straight line as he took rapid steps forward.
He broke through Yoriichi's defense!
With a quick shuffle step, he surged right in front of Yoriichi.
—Thirteenth Form!
The wooden stick in his hand aimed for Yoriichi's neck, swinging horizontally!
But Yoriichi simply stood there smiling, neither dodging nor defending.
He had stopped participating in the spar.
Swish!
Tanjuro's pupils contracted. Unable to pull back his force in time, the wooden stick struck Yoriichi squarely on the neck.
Snap!
However, The stick broke in two from the stress it endure first.
It fell to the ground, bouncing slightly.
"Haah—" Tanjuro straightened up, white-hot vapor escaping the corner of his mouth as he looked at Yoriichi before him.
This was his own swordsmanship, refined after watching Yoriichi's demonstration.
But... he was still far from this man, as expected.
The latter, however, looked relaxed. He took a deep breath, a smile on his face as he gazed at the distant blue sky.
Yoriichi smiled freely, the summer blue sky and white clouds reflected in his dark crimson eyes.
His eyes were filled with reminiscence and nostalgia for the past.
He recalled one afternoon many years ago.
His brother had spoken to him about the lack of an heir.
His answer back then was the same as now.
He had believed it, and never changed.
"Look... brother." A peaceful smile graced his face as he murmured to himself:
"Wasn't I right..."
"Sooner or later... those whose talent far surpasses yours and mine will be born into this world..."
Those who follow the same path, though starting from different points, ultimately reach the same destination.
Yoriichi turned his head. His radiant smile seemed to forget all the unpleasantness of the past.
His eyes crinkled with a smile as he looked at Sumiyoshi.
"Thank you both."
He nodded softly.
Yoriichi's gaze wasn't just on Sumiyoshi-san.
It was also on the one who had just finished wielding the forms from within Sumiyoshi's body—Tanjuro.