He liked devouring strong opponents, yet had no interest in women.
Yuko felt that this guy would probably get along quite well with Doma.
After running through everything in her mind, Yuko asked the question she cared about most.
"Are there any other dojos in the city?"
The girl shook her head.
Yuko's brows knit slightly, but only for an instant before returning to normal.
There was no need.
As a martial fighter, his Blood Demon Art probably wouldn't differ too much in nature.
He should be the kind who fought with brute force, fists against flesh.
Although it was a bit regrettable that she had arrived one step too late, she hadn't gained nothing.
After finishing her questions, Yuko slowly stood up.
The girl hurriedly wiped her face and looked up at her.
Although she didn't say a word, Yuko understood what she meant.
After a brief silence, Yuko said, "If… if you can live past your seventies, I can bring you news of his death."
It was already the late Edo period. Yuko wasn't very knowledgeable about Japanese history, but she did know the story of the Meiji Restoration.
The Taishō period wouldn't arrive until the early twentieth century.
That meant the girl before her would have to live at least seventy or eighty years to possibly witness the ending of Demon Slayer.
These sudden words left the girl stunned for a long while.
Yuko lowered her eyelids slightly and turned to walk outside.
"Wait!"
The girl called out to stop her.
Yuko glanced back slightly.
The girl clenched her teeth. "Are you telling the truth?"
"The truth."
"I'll stay right here!" The girl clenched her fists tightly, her voice firm. "No matter how many years pass, I will stay here and never leave!"
"My father's dojo—I won't let it disappear!"
"…I understand."
Yuko gave a slight nod and turned to leave the dojo.
When she reached the doorway, her steps suddenly paused. She turned her head and asked, "By the way, did that demon ever say his name?"
"Akaza! My father called out his name before he died."
Yuko's mind went blank for a moment.
How had she managed to mix up "Akusa" and "Akaza" like that?
Even if she only recognized half the character, it should still be pronounced ka, right?
After thinking it over, the only explanation was those bizarre online commenters.
She was already just a casual viewer, and they still had to mislead her in short video comments—weren't they just making things harder for her?
Now it was great—she was starting to doubt the accuracy of the rest of the information in her little notebook.
Yuko sighed silently and left without looking back.
It wasn't that she was cold-hearted.
Tragedies caused by demons were countless.
The reason the Demon Slayer Corps' legacy had endured was fundamentally because demons continued to slaughter the human world.
Those who lost family and friends because of them wished they could eat the demon's flesh and drink its blood.
Seeing so much yet being unable to change anything would inevitably lead to despair.
All those generations of Demon Slayer Corps members who failed to kill Kibutsuji Muzan—
Did they all die with regret in their hearts?
They carried the wish to defeat demons and save the world—never for the sake of meaningless sacrifice.
One day, those wounded by demons would drive their blades into his chest and tear his body apart.
...
The road to finding the Upper Ranks was never easy.
In the more than one hundred years since parting ways with Tamayo, aside from running into Doma once, the only other time she came close was that near-encounter with Akaza.
Aside from those, she had never met another Upper Rank.
She had dealt with two Lower Ranks, though—because they were making too much of a spectacle, she simply sent them to their deaths once she found them.
It was, in a roundabout way, a relief to the Demon Slayer Corps.
Decades passed in the blink of an eye, and time finally entered the twentieth century.
The era Yuko had been waiting for.
The era of the nine Taishō Pillars, and the era of Tanjiro.
The era that could kill Muzan.
At this point in time, had Tanjiro been born yet?
One day, that thought suddenly popped into Yuko's mind and refused to leave.
After wandering this land for who knew how many years, Yuko once again found a temporary destination.
She set her course for the direction of the Kamado family and crossed mountains and rivers all the way there.
Over the course of several hundred years, many changes had taken place.
The town at the foot of the mountain had developed, even utility poles had been erected, and prosperity was plainly visible.
It was winter. Everything was wrapped in silver, blanketed in white snow.
The thin, cold air filled her lungs and dispersed much of the heaviness weighing on Yuko's heart.
Under the moonlight, she climbed into the mountains.
Hundreds of years had altered the mountain paths quite a bit, but the Kamado family's ancestral home shouldn't have moved. As long as she followed the general direction from memory, the rest could be left to time.
Whenever she encountered impassable terrain, Yuko would leap upward as if uprooting herself straight from the ground.
Her powerful physical conditioning allowed her to effortlessly perform feats akin to "lightness skill."
A tiny glimmer of firelight appeared in her vision and steadily grew brighter as she advanced.
The Kagura dance?
She had once, hundreds of years ago, seen a descendant of Sumiyoshi perform the sword forms of Sun Breathing.
Standing within the darkness of the forest, using the trees for concealment, Yuko looked toward the clearing.
The house had changed quite a bit over the centuries, but its location remained the same.
In the clearing, a man dressed in ceremonial garments danced in the snow, tirelessly swinging the ritual implement in his hands. A piece of white paper bearing the character "Flame" was pasted to his face.
The Dance of the Fire God…
Or rather, Sun Breathing…
How could the twelve sword forms be passed down with such perfect accuracy?
This wasn't the effort or talent of a single generation.
It was almost as if… it were the will of the gods.
Through her vision, Yuko could clearly see through the man's physical condition.
It was terrible—he didn't have many years left.
It was almost the same as when she herself had once been half-dead—maybe just a little better.
Yuko's first reaction:
This was Tanjiro's father.
She tried hard to recall something about him, but the only thing she could remember was what she had once written in her notebook.
During Tanjiro's battle with the Lower Rank Five, Rui, the flashback had helped him awaken Sun Breathing.
Beyond that, she couldn't recall a single thing—not even the appearance of the Lower Rank Five.
As Yuko's mind wandered blankly, she suddenly realized that the man's breathing rhythm was unexpectedly steady.
Under closer inspection through the Transparent World, he had learned breathing techniques to this level entirely without a teacher.
His breathing method was nearly perfect in keeping his body going.
Hm?
From inside the snow-covered house, two figures emerged—one tall, one short.
Yuko's gaze automatically ignored the taller one, locking straight onto the smaller figure.
A person's memory usually lasts only a few decades, or even less.
Even elementary school classmates who once played together for six years often can't remember a single clear face when recalling those days twenty years later.
Yet even after hundreds of years, Yuko still remembered Tanjiro's appearance clearly.
There was only one reason.
He was the protagonist.
He was the one who would defeat Muzan.
---
Currently at chapter 312 for advance chapters
https:// ko-fi.com/rabi08