By the by, he actually noticed that my Sun Breathing was half-hearted.
There was no grand reason why I had shown Sumiyoshi and Suyako the Sun Breathing—a style I had no aptitude for—instead of my own Moon Breathing, in which I took great pride.
It was simply because, when performing for an audience, Sun Breathing appeared much more impressive than Moon Breathing.
To put it bluntly, it was a matter of sheer style.
Moon Breathing consists of rapid slashes, chaotic hacking, and striking with overwhelming force; it is not a technique particularly geared toward aesthetic beauty for a spectator.
But what of Sun Breathing?
In all my seventeen plus twenty years of life, I had never laid eyes upon a swordsmanship so sublime.
Thus, I judged that if I were to demonstrate a breathing style to others, Sun Breathing would be the appropriate choice.
Even though I had become a Demon and possessed no natural talent for it, while I could never reach the state of 'Seeking the Truth' like Yoriichi, I was at least at the baseline level of 'Capable.' It was more than sufficient for a mere demonstration.
The second reason lay within the man known as Sumiyoshi himself.
He possessed a guileless, natural temperament; his wife was a woman with the heart of a child; and moreover, in my seventeen years, he was the second 'Child of the Glowing Embers' I had ever encountered.
The house he inhabited was the very same home where we had once lived.
It bothered me how he mirrored Yoriichi to an almost artificial degree.
He was not strong, nor did he possess a Breathing Style, the Transparent World, or the Mark. It might have been mere coincidence... but even accounting for that, it was too exquisite to be dismissed as such.
Though I claim not to believe in causality or fatalism, as one who has been toyed with by that very destiny, it was an ambiguous thing to overlook.
After all, just as the prophecy of the Master foretold, I joined the Demon Slayer Corps and became a hunter, only to eventually turn into a Demon myself.
Of course, the Master did not die by my hand, and Yoriichi did not lose Uta and Asahi, yet the fact remains that I have become a Demon. That truth is immutable.
So, I wondered what would happen if I handed Sumiyoshi—this man who reminded me so much of Yoriichi—the missing puzzle piece that was Yoriichi's identity: the Sun Breathing. I showed it to him out of pure curiosity.
One might call it searching for a 'hidden piece.'
Who knows? Perhaps this fellow truly has an aptitude for Sun Breathing.
The fact that he realized my breathing wasn't the 'true' Sun Breathing just by watching it once, and the way he fell into a trance—much like when Uncle Banda realized the potential of Mist Breathing during a demonstration...
It seems showing him the Sun Breathing was not the wrong answer.
And honestly, even if he doesn't have an aptitude for it, it doesn't matter. Sun Breathing is the progenitor of all styles. Perhaps in the distant future, he or his descendants might create an entirely new Breathing Style, just as I and the other Hashira did.
Anyway, he asked to see Moon Breathing as well... though I doubt there's much beauty in it.
What is so impressive about striking quickly, hacking violently, and slashing with raw power?
Michikatsu-san nodded at my words and stepped back onto the stage.
Hooo-ooo-ooo.
The sound of his breathing was different from before.
He drew his blade from its sheath, and as he did, the steel manifested as a red Crimson Blade, just as it had earlier. He began to swing.
I watched with absolute focus, intent on capturing every single one of his forms, just as I had when Michikatsu-san used the Sun Breathing.
He began with a horizontal slash that tore through the night sky—the polar opposite of Sun Breathing.
The second form was a broad, sweeping arc of the blade, as if tracing the circumference of a full moon.
The third form involved swinging the blade twice in rapid succession to both sides, reminiscent of Sun Breathing's rhythm.
For the fourth, he leapt into the air, twisting his body mid-turn to deliver a massive, gouging strike like a lunar eclipse.
The fifth form appeared as though he held the sword still, yet he dispersed a flurry of sharp blades of air all around him.
In the sixth form, he hacked downward with a series of continuous vertical slashes.
And so it continued... the seventh...
The eighth...
The ninth...
As his sword forms were unleashed one by one, my eyes met his directly, refusing to miss a single heartbeat of the performance.
How...
How can they be so different?
The breathing Michikatsu-san was wielding now was entirely distinct from the Sun Breathing he had demonstrated earlier.
It wasn't that there were no similarities, but it felt as if the very purpose it pursued was different. At least, that is how it appeared to my eyes.
While Sun Breathing felt as though each form flowed into the next to create a singular, unified swordsmanship, this breathing was the opposite. The forms did not link; instead, each one stood independent, possessed of its own distinct color and jagged edge.
And I could sense no beauty in this style, unlike the Sun Breathing.
It was cold, indifferent, and sent a shiver down my spine.
There was only a solitary, hollow moon—merciless and devoid of compassion.
If Michikatsu-san using Sun Breathing was like an ancient spirit, then the Michikatsu-san before me now was a void-like blade without emotion or mercy.
Or perhaps, he was Death itself.
And yet, he was a man.
A single man who resembled a spirit, who pursued the same heights as a spirit, yet silently carved out his own different path in his own unique way.
I could not explain it, but that was the feeling that washed over me.
This was Michikatsu-san's true breathing style...
I knew it.
Your story is no third-rate tale.
Even if it is a story different from that of the Sun Breathing, the tale you have created is a magnificent one that yields to no other.
"That was truly wonderful!"
As his demonstration concluded, Suyako and Sumire cheered and praised his swordsmanship with the same bright smiles they had given for the Sun Breathing.
"I did not expect such a favorable review."
Michikatsu-san scratched his head, replying with a faint smile.
"What did you think of it? My Moon Breathing."
Moon Breathing.
So the title of the book he has been building is Moon Breathing.
He looked straight into my eyes as he spoke.
I caught a scent of faint expectation drifting from him.
Smiling, I voiced the honest assessment I felt in my heart.
"It was the absolute best!"
At my words, his eyes widened, and he let out a short, airy chuckle.
"I am honored, then."
As he silently sheathed his sword and smiled, a scent of profound satisfaction began to emanate from him.
Seeing his smile, a surge of emotion welled up from deep within me.
He had shown me everything—both Yoriichi-san's story and his own.
Now, he would depart.
I might never meet him again.
Therefore...
"Michikatsu-san! Your story is definitely not a third-rate one!"
I had to say it now.
"I won't let anyone say such a thing! I won't!"
For some reason, a scent of bewilderment began to drift from him, but I continued regardless.
"The stories you have entrusted to me—both the Sun Breathing and the Moon Breathing—I will pass them all down to future generations!"
Tears began to fall, and my breath grew ragged.
Yet, I wanted to say it.
"Sumiyoshi..."
I wanted to tell him, again and again.
"...You."
That your story is by no means third-rate.
That it is because of your story that we are here now.
So please, do not disparage yourself so.
"I promise you! With the lives you have protected, we will..."
"Good grief..."
Michikatsu-san let out a soft laugh at my declaration.
"Michikatsu-san...?"
"You are quite something. That stubbornness of yours is certainly unlike Yoriichi. No, perhaps that is why..."
Yoriichi?
Why mention him so suddenly...?
He approached me and continued his thought.
"They say a story is usually divided into three parts. From where I stand, you—or perhaps your descendants—are the third part: the Finale."
The Finale?
"The first was Yoriichi, and he was perfect. But usually, the second installment is a failure. Just like me, who ended up as a Demon."
Again...
He was belittling himself again.
"However!"
He stopped in front of me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and looked straight into my eyes.
"Neither the first nor the second could finish the tale of slaying Muzan... yes, we could not bring the 'Demon Slayer' story to its conclusion. That is because the true quality of a story is determined by the third part... the Finale!"
He then knelt on one knee to meet my eyes and gave a sharp, confident grin.
"If you intend to write this story... then I hope you write the greatest masterpiece, one that can cover up this failure of a second part, Sumiyoshi."
The story continues to be written.
And the tale that began with Yoriichi-san has been passed through Michikatsu-san, and has now arrived before me.
But his story is not over yet. As long as he lives, the second part of the tale will continue.
I am but a lowly charcoal burner, so I cannot bring the story to its end, but perhaps before my descendants—the third part he spoke of—can conclude it, he might finish it himself.
Even so, you still believe in a simple charcoal burner like me...
His words were sincere.
I could smell a complex scent: the regret of not being able to end it in his own time, the expectation that his story might be continued, and a sense of responsibility that kept him from simply dumping the burden onto another.
Therefore...
I matched his smile with one of my own.
So that he could feel at peace.
So that he would no longer have to die a lonely death.
Even if hundreds of years pass, he will no longer be the only person who remembers his story.
And so, I make him a promise.
"I promise you. I will make sure the story you have entrusted to me reaches the future without fail."
And then.
"Next time, please come visit us again."
I speak of a promise for the future.
Since you are no longer the only one carrying Yoriichi-san's legacy.
If your journey ever feels too exhausting, come here.
And please, tell us more of the story you are writing.
We will be waiting for you, always.
His eyes widened at my words, and soon, a faint, genuine smile graced his lips.
"I shall come visit again."
I descend the mountain, sent off by the farewells of Sumiyoshi, Suyako, and Sumire.
'By the way... did you not... dislike leaving behind... records of your life...? Why did you... allow it...?'
Kokushibo, one half of the 'Dumb and Dumber' duo residing within me, speaks up.
Well, even if I wanted to, I couldn't stop a man with that much stubbornness.
Besides, he's the very first fan of my story. How could I possibly tell someone like that not to do it?
My dark history is... well...
He'll probably only pass down the Moon Breathing and the Sun Breathing.
'Is that so.... However... there is a contradiction... in your words.... The first fan... of your story... would not be... Sumiyoshi...'
Kokushibo speaks with a cryptic tone.
What do you mean by that?
'It is... no, never mind...'
Kokushibo lets out a sigh and ends the conversation.
What... how anticlimactic.
Anyway, I need to find a new place to stay before dawn.
Maybe I'll just build a separate house...
It was then, just as I had almost fully descended from the mountain.
'This is...'
A sweet scent drifted from somewhere.
It was a scent I had definitely encountered somewhere before.
There was no mistake.
This sweet aroma that evoked images of blooming flowers.
This was surely the Blood Demon Art of that female Demon who had been by Muzan's side.
I thought she was dead...
Did she actually manage to survive that total disaster?
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