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{This is my first time writing a story. I never wrote one for someone else to read. I took inspiration from many different stories. I'm not claiming all the ideas i will use in this story as mine, maybe they have already been used in a much better way. Conclusion, I'm a novice. I'm not claiming that you will like this story. Hope you give constructive criticism.}
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{Oh and English is not my first language. You may find a few errors but I will try to convey the story in a way that most people can understand, atleast I hope so.}
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Muzan lay flat on his back.
Not because he wanted to, but because he genuinely could not get up.
The white space above him shimmered faintly, distorted by heat rising from his own body. His chest was split open again, ribs visible for a moment before muscle crawled over bone in slow, stubborn threads. It wasn't the clean regeneration he was used to. It felt heavy and restrained, like his body itself was tired of the abuse.
"Fuuuuuuuucccckkkk…" A long, dragged-out groan left his mouth as he tried to get up.
'This is terrifying. If I didn't have my system, I would have died dozens of times by now.' Muzan grinned faintly despite the pain.
His fingers twitched against the ground as he pushed himself up.
"…Yeah, you make no sense," he said to the swordsman in front of him.
Across from him, Yoriichi stood exactly where he had been after the last exchange. Not panting, not hunched, not looking like someone who fought a life-and-death battle just a minute ago. His blade was lowered again, but that didn't mean anything. That blade lowered was somehow more terrifying than when it was raised.
Muzan rolled onto his side slowly, regeneration stitching muscle fibers together like reluctant threads.
"You are," Muzan muttered hoarsely, staring at the ground, "a monster in human skin."
No response came from Yoriichi. What a prick.
He laughed weakly.
"No, seriously. What the hell are you, man?"
He finally managed to push himself to his knees, one hand bracing against the ground as fresh skin crawled over burn scars that refused to fade completely. Even now, he could feel the sting.
He looked up at Yoriichi properly.
"This isn't normal, you know," Muzan continued, wiping blood from his chin. "Fast like thunder, smooth like water, relentless like fire,… are you trying to advertise the breathing techniques or what?"
Yoriichi remained quiet while watching him speak, without judgment, without arrogance.
Which somehow made it worse.
Muzan exhaled through his nose.
"Shit. You're actually scarier than I imagined. And I imagined a lot."
He finally forced himself to stand. His legs felt heavier than they should have. Not damaged, just strained. Like the white space itself pressed down on him.
Yoriichi's voice came, calm as ever.
"You observe well."
Muzan barked a laugh.
"Yeah? I prefer not dying. Observation helps with that."
Silence lingered between them.
Then Yoriichi spoke again, not condescending, not mocking.
"You fight differently."
Muzan tilted his head slightly.
"I'd hope so. I'm not the same guy."
"No," Yoriichi agreed. "You are not."
There was something strange in his tone. Not hostility. Not approval. Just… recognition.
Muzan rolled his shoulders slowly as regeneration finished sealing the larger wounds. Smaller burns still pulsed faintly.
"You know," Muzan said, flexing his fingers, "when I first saw you move, my first thought was, 'Damn, this guy is fast!' But I know it's not speed. Not just pure speed, at least."
Yoriichi did not deny it.
Muzan pointed at him, and threw out the truth, which he already kinda knew.
"You predict my actions."
"That See-Through World or whatever thing you have, that's what helps you predict exactly what I'm going to do. And with the kind of experience and talent you have, I'm not surprised you can actually act on those predictions."
'In the end, I'm against the last boss of this world. A true monster.' Muzan thought and grimaced.
'Shit.'
"You've adapted well," Yoriichi spoke a few words of recognition as well. "I have seen your growth since our battle began."
"Of course I adapted," Muzan shot back. "What, you think I'm just flailing anything around?"
"You were," Yoriichi answered without missing a beat.
Muzan clicked his tongue, caught.
"Okay, fair."
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. His mind replayed the exchanges. He was smart enough to dissect them, every angle, every time he came close to "death," every time he almost killed Yoriichi, which was none at all, of course.
He looked at Yoriichi, who was standing there, his sword lowered and his posture seemingly relaxed, waiting for Muzan to make his move.
Muzan tensed slightly, ready to dash forward as fast as he could. As soon as he did so, he noticed how Yoriichi's gaze sharpened slightly, almost impossible to notice, but Muzan did.
"There it is," he said quietly. "How am I supposed to fight someone who can predict my every move?" Muzan grimaced.
"It looks so easy when a Protagonist does it, but it's not easy at all." He grumbled, but in the end, he only had two options. He could either keep fighting or just admit defeat and die quickly.
'Yeah, no.' He scoffed.
And so, Muzan lunged again! Yoriichi, having already seen through his moves, moved sideways as a whip made of flesh and bone spikes went directly past his neck!
But Muzan was not going to give him any room!
Pushing his power to the limit, he multiplied that whip and turned it into a shower of bone bullets!
Yoriichi was ready. Stepping aside quickly to dodge most and parrying the ones he couldn't, he started approaching closer again.
Muzan looked down at his own hands, flexing them slowly. He knew what he had to do, and honestly? This was the last card he had in his arsenal.
"You know why I'm different from the Muzan you knew before?" Muzan asked and relaxed himself.
Seeing this, Yoriichi also stopped to listen. He wasn't close enough to use his sword, but for people like them, this distance might as well not exist.
"I want to live," he said very seriously. "Not just survive and rule like Muzan. Live."
"I don't care if everyone fears me or reveres me. I don't care if I have followers or not. I want to see different worlds, try different things, eat different foods, fight different monsters." He finished with a visible smile, one full of happiness and anticipation. "I don't want to sit in one place rotting in paranoia."
Muzan threw his hands back.
"I know so many places, so many people, so many dangers, so many opportunities!"
"I want to go on an endless adventure. A fun life is what I want! Visit all the places I know, meet all the different people I know. Some I'll get along with. Some I'll definitely kill on sight," he said with a chuckle. "Of course, that also means there are people whom I'll save on first sight as well. And then..."
Muzan pointed at Yoriichi. "I want to face people even stronger than you. And I know they exist. People faster than you, stronger than you, more skilled than you, and I want to win against those people."
A wide grin split Muzan's face.
Yoriichi stayed calm, and then said, "I see." Then, with a small smile, he added, "That does sound like a wonderful journey."
"I know, right? Hahaha." Muzan laughed loudly.
And then...
He exploded into chunks, just like once before he'd done. Just like the original Muzan had once done.
He'd planned this all along. All that long rant about his dream was just a way to prepare himself.
Yoriichi's eyes widened. Just as he raised his hand to start swinging again, all those chunks came down, and he realized something.
He wasn't trying to leave or make distance.
He was trapping him.
All those chunks started falling into place as they shaped themselves into a large dome of flesh.
And then that dome started shrinking.
Yoriichi raised his sword and swung at the flesh behind him. A scorched slash appeared on the surface, but it wasn't enough, because bones, flesh, and everything that made up this dome were already pushed to their extreme limit.
They were knitting back together, faster, they were displacing themselves faster, healing, thickening, hardening.
The inside of the dome was barely 3 meters, and it was shrinking every moment! But it was the thickness of the dome that sealed the trap.
All the flesh used was thickening the dome as it shrank, displacing itself, so rather than covering more area, it covered the area that was already present, and it was already at least 5 meters thick.
The dome continued shrinking, and while Yoriichi wanted to try more, the continuously shrinking space made it impossible.
And so, the next momet, the dome enveloped him.
.
.
.
.
.
But Muzan didn't kill him.
The dome shaped itself to Yoriichi's body, and only his face was exposed to the open space. In front of him, Muzan appeared again.
"Phew, that actually worked!" Muzan exhaled. You could see the exhaustion on him. He was shaking; his hands and legs were still connected to the flesh holding Yoriichi.
Yoriichi tried to struggle, but he was tightly bound. A demon's strength was, in the end, greater than that of a human.
Yoriichi finally stilled again and asked, "How did you do it?"
He had never seen that coming. It was like one second he was talking, and the next, the dome was already in place.
Muzan chuckled.
"Creative application," Muzan exhaled. "You know I have five brains, right? I forced out one of them, one of the flesh pieces you'd chopped off."
Muzan pointed to the flesh blob holding Yoriichi.
"I don't know how the Muzan who had them for centuries was still so dumb. Guess it's true that creativity and outlook are more important than just IQ and 'Brain' power."
Muzan's five brains served to manage his seven hearts and complex body structure, ensuring survival, but they did not increase his emotional intelligence, foresight, or creativity. He was still just a bum who couldn't train for shit! A brick brute, if you will!
"All those long talks we had? Yeah, this brain was gathering the flesh pieces that had fallen away from me. I've experimented way too many times during our fight, and I can confirm you can't see through the ground. So my brain worked underground, literally. Finally, as I prepared my last move, well, you already know the rest." He pointed to him.
Muzan smiled wryly. "But I'll be honest, I didn't expect this to work either. I was actually preparing to ambush you while you cut through the dome," he said slowly, "but you let your guard down while listening to my dream."
He paused, then spoke again. "You know, for someone summoned by karmic punishment space or whatever this is, you're a surprisingly empathetic listener. And thoughtful, too."
Muzan shrugged. "So? Wanna give up, please?"
Yoriichi stayed silent, then said, "I will not give up. But since you have already trapped me, you have the right to my life."
Muzan frowned. "How about you stick around? At least until the end."
But Yoriichi stayed silent.
When he didn't receive a reply, he said again, "You could meet your brother again. I think he'll definitely come too, probably."
Yoriichi shook his head and gave a small, sad and tired smile. It's amazing how a single smile can convey so many emotions. "I've failed him once. I don't want him to see me fail again."
Muzan went silent, because he realised.
'This man never forgave himself.'
Muzan felt it was wrong, and unjustified, and not logical. 'Michikatsu was definitely the one who was in the wrong. Of course, Muzan's temptation played a part, but Michikatsu was definitely in the wrong. But who could explain that to this guy?' He sighed. 'This guy is definitely a bro-con who won't listen.'
In the end, Muzan nodded, and after freeing one of his hands, he shaped it into a sharp pike and stabbed Yoriichi in the heart.
He could feel, not blood, perhaps these spirits didn't have actual blood in them, but there was a warmth there, and he could feel it fading. So he gave him the best well-wish he knew of.
"I hope you have a wonderful reincarnation, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, and I hope you find your true worth in your next life," Muzan said calmly.
Yoriichi smiled, a little more warmly, and said, "I hope you have a happy journey."
And then slowly, his form dissipated, and his soul returned to the cycle, a bit more peaceful than before.