In truth, Saito Arashi's ability to carry out orders was exceptionally reliable.
"My lord, we've found what you requested."
Saito Arashi knelt respectfully before Kokushibo.
Kokushibo sat calmly beneath the dim lantern light, holding a cup filled with a highly concentrated blood mixture. He took a slow sip before clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction.
"Still not as good as Shinazugawa's blood."
Perhaps next time he would collect some more.
Naturally, Kokushibo had no idea that because of recent events involving Kanae, Sanemi Shinazugawa was already feeling mentally and physically exhausted.
The Wind Hashira had been pushed to his limits.
After hearing Saito Arashi's report, Kokushibo fell into thought.
Silence filled the room.
Several minutes later, a faint smile appeared on his face.
Perhaps becoming the power behind the throne would not be such a bad idea.
The Kyoto Imperial Palace.
The residence of Japan's Emperor.
The current ruler was Emperor Yoshihito.
According to the information gathered by Saito Arashi, the Emperor had been sickly since childhood and possessed a notoriously unstable temperament. Numerous physicians had been summoned over the years in an attempt to improve his condition.
Kokushibo could not help but compare certain details to someone he knew.
The description felt strangely familiar.
Very familiar.
For a moment, he almost wanted to summon Muzan and let him hear the report himself.
Later that night, Kokushibo arrived at the Imperial Palace accompanied by Saito Arashi and Kuchiki Makoto.
After all, this was the residence of Japan's Emperor.
Proper etiquette was important.
Thus
Fifteen minutes later.
Inside the Emperor's private chambers.
Emperor Yoshihito was pinned firmly to the floor.
Saito Arashi held one arm.
Kuchiki Makoto held the other.
Technically, either one of them could have accomplished the task alone.
But Kokushibo felt that allowing both demons to participate preserved the dignity of the Imperial Household.
The palace guards stationed outside were frozen in terror.
One unfortunate man had already attempted resistance.
He was currently unconscious several hallways away.
As for the hidden bodyguards concealed throughout the palace, they remained equally hesitant.
No one wanted to be the next example.
"You two are being rude."
Kokushibo sighed dramatically.
"We are guests."
He then personally helped the Emperor to his feet.
For a brief moment, even Kokushibo wasn't entirely sure who the guest was supposed to be.
To his credit, Emperor Yoshihito recovered his composure remarkably quickly.
Anyone capable of ruling an empire possessed a certain level of intelligence.
The moment he saw these intruders, he understood they were not ordinary men.
Thus, he responded with surprising courtesy.
The surrounding guards nearly fainted.
After both men sat down, Kokushibo gestured casually.
Kuchiki Makoto immediately moved to the doorway.
His expression alone convinced nearly every guard to retreat.
Only a single personal attendant remained.
Primarily because he had forgotten how to run.
Once the room was quiet, Yoshihito spoke first.
"You appear to be dressed in a style that predates modern Japan."
Kokushibo nodded.
"The Sengoku Era."
"My name is Kokushibo."
The Emperor froze.
The attendant froze.
For several moments, neither knew how to react.
Before they could ask further questions, Kokushibo decided introductions were incomplete.
His human disguise faded.
Six eyes opened.
Dark markings spread across his face.
The room immediately erupted into chaos.
"A DEMON!"
The attendant nearly collapsed.
Outside, the guards tried to rush forward.
Unfortunately, Kuchiki Makoto punched the first one through a sliding door.
The rest immediately reconsidered their life choices.
Inside the room, Kokushibo calmly placed his flesh blade against the Emperor's neck.
His smile never faded.
"Please remain calm."
Yoshihito became calm immediately.
Very calm.
The type of calm achieved only when a sword was resting against one's throat.
Kokushibo nodded in satisfaction.
"Excellent."
"Your Majesty, I merely have a few questions."
"Would you be willing to answer them?"
The Emperor agreed without hesitation.
After all, refusing seemed unhealthy.
Thus, the conversation began.
Over the next hour, Kokushibo obtained a broad understanding of the political structure of the modern world.
Japan remained Japan.
Foreign nations existed much as he expected.
International trade had expanded considerably.
Western influence had become increasingly prominent.
None of this surprised him.
After all, Muzan himself frequently acquired foreign goods and had even learned several foreign languages over the centuries.
The Demon King enjoyed adapting to changing times.
Once Kokushibo had gathered enough information, he casually asked another question.
"Your Majesty."
"Do you have an heir?"
The Emperor blinked.
"My son."
"Hirohito."
Immediately, a subtle smile appeared on Kokushibo's face.
He turned toward Saito Arashi.
No further explanation was necessary.
The demon immediately understood.
Stepping forward, Saito Arashi grasped Yoshihito's arm.
Blood Demon Art:
Same Source Rebirth.
The Emperor's body trembled.
Dark flesh spread.
Then
Saito Arashi vanished.
Moments later, he stood where the Emperor had been.
Perfectly identical.
Voice.
Appearance.
Mannerisms.
Even the smallest details had been replicated flawlessly.
The real Emperor was gone.
Only Saito Arashi remained.
The lone attendant stared in horror.
Before he could scream, the disguised demon struck him unconscious.
Silence returned.
Kokushibo looked at the result and nodded approvingly.
"Excellent."
He folded his arms.
"Much faster than building influence through merchants and politicians."
Saito Arashi immediately knelt.
"My lord."
"I will faithfully serve your will."
Kokushibo chuckled.
At least his subordinate understood loyalty.
Unlike a certain Demon King who preferred managing everything personally.
"Very well."
"Remain here."
"Continue acting as the Emperor."
"I'll contact you when necessary."
The disguised Saito Arashi bowed deeply.
"It will be done."
A short while later, Kokushibo departed alongside Kuchiki Makoto.
The palace guards remained thoroughly confused.
Three men had entered.
Only two had left.
And somehow the Emperor appeared completely unharmed.
Before anyone could ask questions, the disguised Saito Arashi pointed toward the unconscious attendant.
"Throw him into a prison cell."
"Immediately."
The guards obeyed without hesitation.
No one questioned the Emperor's orders.
Thus, Kokushibo's plan quietly took root.
After leaving Kyoto, Kokushibo sent Kuchiki Makoto back toward Mito.
As for himself, he headed directly toward the Infinity Castle.
There was a reason.
Muzan had announced a gathering of the Twelve Kizuki.
Naturally, no one dared refuse.
Inside the Infinity Castle, activity was unusually lively.
Nakime calmly played her biwa while maintaining control of the endless fortress.
The Upper Moons occupied their usual positions.
The Lower Moons sat together in another section.
However, what surprised Kokushibo most was not the gathering itself.
It was what everyone was doing.
Reading.
Almost every demon present was holding a manuscript.
The culprit was obvious.
Kyogai.
Ever since Nakime had forced everyone to read his stories or face being ejected from the Infinity Castle during daylight hours many demons had become unexpectedly invested.
Even Gyokko had started offering literary criticism.
Which somehow made everything worse.
Curious, Kokushibo approached Kyogai.
The former Lower Moon immediately brightened.
"Lord Kokushibo!"
"I've just finished another manuscript!"
Kyogai eagerly handed over several pages.
"Daki requested a story about siblings."
"I've never had brothers or sisters myself, so I'm not sure whether it feels authentic."
Kokushibo accepted the manuscript.
Then he glanced at the title.
His expression froze.
The title read:
"The Silver-Haired Brother and Sister Who Sought the Secrets Beyond the Heavens."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Kokushibo stared at the manuscript.
Then at Kyogai.
Then back at the manuscript.
A dangerous feeling suddenly emerged.
One born from centuries of accumulated experience.
The instinct that warned him whenever something catastrophic was about to happen.
Slowly, very slowly, he lowered the pages.
His six eyes narrowed.
"Kyogai."
The demon writer straightened proudly.
"Yes, Lord Kokushibo?"
Kokushibo took a deep breath.
Then another.
Finally, he spoke.
"…There are some stories that should never be written."
For the first time in centuries, Upper Rank One felt genuine fear.
And it wasn't caused by a Hashira, a Demon Slayer, or even Muzan himself.
It was caused by literature.
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