The Mountain of DescendantsGuided by the burly villager, Kokushibo made his way along the narrow mountain path.
The night air was cool, carrying the scent of damp wood and freshly cut trees. Before long, a modest hut came into view, nestled against the slope. Beside it, a man worked tirelessly beneath the dim glow of lantern light, his axe rising and falling in steady rhythm against the trunk of a tree.
The burly man cupped his hands and called out:
"Tokito! Someone has come to see you says he's a relative!"
The woodcutter paused mid-swing.
Lowering his axe, he turned, confusion evident on his face as his gaze fell upon the unfamiliar figure standing beside the villager.
At that moment, the door of the hut slid open.
A woman stepped out slowly, one hand resting gently on her abdomen. Her movements were careful, protective. Even without looking directly, Kokushibo perceived everything with absolute clarity.
Through the perception granted by the Transparent World, her body was laid bare to his senses the flow of blood, the rhythm of life…
And within her
Two faint, developing heartbeats.
Twins.
A subtle stillness passed through Kokushibo.
So it had already begun.
The man approached, wiping sweat from his brow, his expression shifting between caution and curiosity.
"…A relative?" he asked.
The villager nodded before quickly excusing himself, clearly eager to leave the matter behind.
Silence settled.
Then Kokushibo stepped forward slightly, his posture composed, his eyes closed.
"Greetings."
His voice was calm, measured.
"Are you the head of this household?"
The man hesitated before nodding.
"I am Tokito… a woodcutter. But… I do not recall having any relatives."
"That is only natural."
Kokushibo inclined his head slightly.
"It has been many generations."
The woman exchanged a glance with her husband before stepping aside.
"…Please, come in."
A Faint Blood ConnectionInside, the hut was simple sparse, yet clean.
They offered him water, apologizing for the lack of proper hospitality.
Kokushibo accepted without comment.
Though he no longer required sustenance, maintaining appearances was necessary.
"May I ask your name?" the man said cautiously.
There was no hostility in his tone only uncertainty.
For a brief moment, Kokushibo was silent.
Then
"Tsugikuni."
The name left his lips without hesitation.
"It is a name your ancestors once bore."
The man froze.
"…Tsugikuni…?"
Recognition flickered faintly in his eyes not from memory, but from something passed down, distorted through time.
"I… have heard that name before," he admitted slowly. "Long ago, our family carried it… but it was abandoned generations past."
Kokushibo gave a slight nod.
That was expected.
After all, the name had been deliberately erased.
The disgrace of a man who had abandoned humanity… was not something a lineage would preserve.
Still
The connection remained.
Even now, he could feel it.
Faint. Distant. But undeniable.
A trace of blood that had endured centuries.
The Confirmation of TimeKokushibo's thoughts settled.
Twins not yet born.
A humble woodcutter family.
No signs of tragedy having occurred.
That alone was enough.
This was well before the rise of the current generation of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Before the era of Tanjiro Kamado.
Before the battle that would ultimately lead to the fall of Muzan Kibutsuji.
Twelve years.
Roughly twelve years remained.
A quiet, internal calculation concluded.
Everything aligned.
A Subtle Departure"I have confirmed what I came to see," Kokushibo said, rising to his feet.
"I will not impose further."
The couple exchanged surprised looks.
"So soon?" the woman asked gently. "It is late… at least stay for a meal."
"There is no need."
His refusal was calm, yet absolute.
After a moment of hesitation, the man stood as well.
"…Then I will walk you part of the way."
They stepped outside together.
The forest stretched endlessly ahead, dark and still beneath the night sky.
Kokushibo paused.
His gaze though his eyes remained closed shifted toward the surrounding trees.
"You intend to fell all of these?"
The man let out a weary breath.
"…I must. There is much to prepare before the children are born."
A simple answer.
Yet it carried weight.
Responsibility. Burden. Resolve.
For a fleeting moment
Something stirred within Kokushibo.
A remnant.
Not his own.
But belonging to the body he now inhabited.
Without conscious thought
His hand moved.
Moon BreathingThe blade was drawn.
Silent.
Fluid.
A single motion, refined beyond human comprehension.
Moon Breathing First Form.
A crescent arc cut through the darkness.
No flash.
No wasted movement.
And yet
Dozens of trees collapsed almost simultaneously, severed cleanly before the sound even caught up.
The man froze.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened in disbelief.
He had not seen the strike.
Only its result.
Kokushibo slowly returned the blade to its sheath.
"…You should rest."
His voice was quiet.
Indifferent.
As if what had just occurred held no significance.
The man struggled to respond.
"T-That just now… what was "
"Do not concern yourself with it."
The interruption was gentle, yet final.
"I will return… when the time is appropriate."
Without waiting for a reply
Kokushibo stepped forward and vanished into the darkness.
Echoes of the PastThe man remained where he stood, unmoving.
His gaze lingered on the fallen forest.
"…What… was that…?"
Behind him, the woman hurried out, alarmed by the sudden noise.
"What happened?!"
He could only shake his head slowly.
"…I don't know."
But deep within
A strange unease settled.
And something else.
Something he could not explain.
A Demon's ResolveFar from the mountain, Kokushibo walked alone beneath the moonlight.
The lingering sensation faded gradually.
"…So even now, traces remain."
A faint remnant of emotion.
Of attachment.
Of something that should no longer exist within a demon.
He exhaled softly.
"That is no longer who I am."
His thoughts sharpened once more.
Twelve years.
Time enough to prepare.
Time enough to observe.
Time enough to decide.
He would not blindly follow the path that led to destruction.
Nor would he act recklessly and disrupt the flow of events prematurely.
The future held one certainty:
The fall of Muzan.
And that moment
Would be his only true opportunity for freedom.
"To sever control…"
His voice was low, contemplative.
Among demons, there existed only one known anomaly.
One who had broken free from Muzan's absolute dominion.
Tamayo.
"If there is a way… it lies with her."
The decision settled.
Clear.
Unwavering.
Before DawnThe sky began to pale.
The first hint of sunlight approached.
Kokushibo's steps slowed.
Without hesitation, he turned toward the deeper reaches of the forest, descending into shadow.
No matter how powerful he was
Sunlight remained absolute.
Until that weakness was overcome…
Even he would burn.
And so
The demon disappeared into darkness,
Awaiting the next move in a game that had only just begun.