Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
In the world of Demon Slayer, his name stood at the absolute pinnacle of power.
If Muzan Kibutsuji was the progenitor of demons—their supreme ruler, the being closest to perfection—then Yoriichi Tsugikuni could only be described as a god walking among men, a living Buddha whose existence defied all reason.
He was a man capable of delivering fifteen hundred precise and lethal strikes in a single swing of his blade.
In an era when Muzan had plunged the world into chaos, when no one could restrain him and despair spread unchecked, it was Yoriichi who stepped forward. It was Yoriichi who sought him out. And with just one strike—one impossibly swift, merciless strike—he nearly ended Muzan's existence altogether.
As Tanjiro listened to the demon's calm narration, his heart surged with emotion. He had never imagined that such a person could exist. Even the strongest of demons, reduced to fleeing in terror after a single blow… and for centuries afterward, still unable to escape the shadow of that moment.
Yet as awe gave way to thought, confusion crept in.
What did this man—this Yoriichi—have to do with the Kamado family?
"Your ancestor, Sumiyoshi, was Yoriichi Tsugikuni's closest friend. Before Yoriichi passed away, he entrusted his Hanafuda earrings and the 'Hinokami Kagura'—which contains the essence of Sun Breathing—to Sumiyoshi. He did this to ensure the legacy would not die out. Your ancestor vowed to protect these traditions as he would his own life, passing them down through the generations..."
Hearing this, Tanjiro began to understand. The inheritance carried by the Kamado family was something even the progenitor of demons feared—something he could never allow to persist.
And yet, another question lingered stubbornly in his mind. For hundreds of years, the Kamado family had lived quietly in the mountains, their lives peaceful and undisturbed. Nothing had ever happened. Why now?
As though reading the doubt in Tanjiro's eyes, Soma let out a faint sigh.
"That is because the first demon is exceedingly cautious. He feared that Yoriichi might still be alive, and so he never dared to show himself openly. After all, demons possess endless lifespans, while humans do not. All he needed to do was wait—to outlive Yoriichi. There was no need for him to seek out your family personally."
"…That's… despicable."
Tanjiro's hands clenched into fists, anger rising within him.
Soma smiled faintly before continuing, "Human lives are fleeting. Muzan Kibutsuji has hidden himself for all these years. Once he confirmed that Yoriichi had truly died, there would be no reason for him to remain in the shadows."
Tanjiro lowered his head, his thoughts tangled.
"Do you think," Soma went on, his gaze fixed on the boy, "that after so many centuries, the first demon would no longer care about the Kamado family?"
Tanjiro looked up abruptly. In truth, he had thought exactly that. Time erases everything, doesn't it? Even legends fade into dust. Yoriichi was long dead—who would still remember? Who would still care?
But Soma shook his head slightly.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. The first demon's thirst for vengeance far exceeds anything you can imagine. His heart is narrower than the eye of a needle. Centuries ago, to test if Yoriichi was truly gone, he slaughtered every swordsman in the Demon Slayer Corps who practiced Sun Breathing. Not a single one was spared. Anyone connected to that technique was eradicated. And beyond that… every trace of Yoriichi's existence has been systematically erased."
He paused, his tone turning colder.
"And before long… he may very well trace those remnants to your family."
Tanjiro shot to his feet, his face pale, fear gripping him in an instant.
To be marked by the first demon—
Even the thought alone was enough to make his chest tighten. The demon before him already felt overwhelming, an insurmountable force… so what of the strongest of them all?
"And that," Soma said, lifting his cup and taking a slow sip, "is why I advised you to move away as soon as possible. If you remain there, it's only a matter of time before he uncovers some trace and finds you."
He set the cup down and watched silently as Tanjiro's expression shifted, fear and disbelief warring within him.
Only after a long while did Tanjiro finally come back to himself, though the weight of dread still clung to him. He sank down weakly, his voice unsteady.
"Will… will that demon really come for us?"
Soma met his gaze, his expression unreadable.
"You can always hope," he said quietly, "that it won't walk through your door one night."
"Of course," he said, "you could place your hopes in others. Perhaps when that progenitor of demons finally comes knocking, you might fall to your knees, beg through your tears, plead desperately… and he may, just may, take pity on you. Perhaps he'll spare your mother, your younger siblings, moved by your desperation."
As he spoke, however, a note of gravity crept into his expression, his tone sharpening with quiet intensity.
"Or," he continued, "you could choose differently. You could take your life—and the lives of your family—into your own hands. That way, when the demon comes, you can protect what you cherish instead of watching helplessly as everything you love is destroyed."
Tanjiro sat there, his hands clenching and loosening in restless cycles, as though caught between two unseen forces. Watching him, Soma calmly poured himself another cup of sake and drained it in a single motion, a faint sigh escaping him.
"After all," he added, almost wistfully, "demons like me are… rare."
His gaze lingered on Tanjiro as he spoke again, quieter this time.
"Most demons, when they step into your home, will have already destroyed your happiness long before you even understand what's happening—shattered beneath the scent of blood."
"Haah…"
Tanjiro exhaled heavily, as though the weight on his chest had finally forced its way out. Without a word, he reached out and snatched the remaining sake from Soma's hand, tilting his head back to drain it in a single gulp. The words he had just heard pressed down on him from all sides, suffocating, leaving him struggling to breathe.
To be marked by the progenitor of demons… the sheer helplessness of it was overwhelming.
"Cough, cough..."
He coughed violently as he finished the last of the drink, his body shaking as he sank back down. And then, without warning, tears spilled over.
After all, no matter how much he tried to act composed, no matter how fiercely he steeled his heart, Tanjiro was still just a young boy.
The pressure—the immense, unrelenting fear—finally broke through the fragile defenses he had built, and he could no longer hold it back.
If his mother were here, if his younger siblings were watching, he would never allow himself to cry. He was their support, the pillar holding their fragile home together. But here, before this demon… he broke.
He cried in front of a demon.
It took some time before the storm passed. At last, Tanjiro wiped his eyes with his sleeve, though his voice still trembled faintly as he lifted his head.
"Sorry… you had to see that."
"No," Soma replied, shaking his head.
By the time Tanjiro spoke again, his emotions had settled, and something in him seemed to have shifted—quietly, but unmistakably. He looked more resolute now, his gaze steady as it fixed on Soma.
"You're a demon too, aren't you?" he asked. "If you're telling me to walk the path of hunting demons… aren't you afraid…?"
"Yes," Soma answered without hesitation. "I am a demon."
He extended his hand into the sunlight streaming through the window, letting it rest there openly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"But tell me," he said softly, glancing back at Tanjiro, "have you ever seen a demon bathed in sunlight?"
Tanjiro's lips parted slightly, caught off guard. He knew something of demons, but only in fragments—his understanding shallow, incomplete. He had yet to grasp the deeper truths that seasoned demon slayers carried with them.
And he had certainly not yet understood what it meant—
—for a demon to stand beneath the sun.
But it would not be long before he did.
Leaning forward slightly, Soma drew closer, the faint crimson hidden beneath his dark eyes glimmering as he fixed Tanjiro with an unreadable gaze.
"You don't have to think of me as a demon," he murmured.
"Then… what should I think?" Tanjiro asked, confusion flickering across his face.
Soma did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped fully into the sunlight, letting it wash over him as though it were his rightful domain. Then he looked back at Tanjiro, his voice calm—almost serene.
"You may think of me as…"
He paused, as though choosing his words with care.
"The most perfect being in this world."