Yami Tsukishiro never expected that Muzan would leave behind such a massive impact.
Forget about the explosion of memes — even monster prototypes were going off like fireworks because of him.
The only word Yami could think of to describe it was exaggerated.
"Master," Shion suddenly spoke, pointing toward a small wooden house nearby. "There's a faint breath of life coming from there… and it carries a power similar to that guy just now."
Yami's eyes narrowed slightly.
Inside the wooden house were several corpses, and from a single glance, he could already guess whose family this was.
Tanjiro Kamado's.
It seemed he'd arrived at a rather critical moment in this world's timeline.
As for the weak, flickering life force that Shion had sensed — it belonged to a young girl with long black hair. Her body was slowly changing, veins darkening, fangs beginning to form.
She was turning into a demon.
"Why is she still alive...?" Yami muttered, his tone carrying genuine surprise.
If he was right, this girl had to be Nezuko Kamado — Tanjiro's sister.
But logically, after Muzan's death, all demons should've perished as well.
Unless… not all of them were bound by his control.
Some might've survived after being freed from Muzan's blood influence.
In that case — how had Nezuko escaped?
Yami's mind raced. Could it be… the Blue Spider Lily?
Maybe Tanjiro's family had eaten it somehow, allowing her to resist Muzan's curse.
Before he could think further, Nezuko's eyes suddenly shot open — glowing a deep crimson. With a feral snarl, she lunged at Yami, fangs bared.
"[Stop.]"
The single word left his lips like a commandment of the world itself.
Nezuko froze mid-air, her body instantly locked in place — her eyes wide with confusion and pain.
Yami's gaze softened as he studied her trembling figure.
"How to deal with you…" he murmured, then a small smile tugged at his lips. "I suppose there's a way."
"[Stay sane.]"
Another word of power flowed out.
The effect was immediate — Nezuko's demonic aura began to fade, the crimson glow in her eyes dimming as her human features slowly returned. Her sharp fangs retracted, her breathing steadied.
It worked.
The proverb's command forced her scattered consciousness to stabilize — pulling her back toward her human self, even if only partially.
"I…" Nezuko's lips trembled as her voice returned.
Then, as fragmented memories rushed into her mind, she turned her head — and saw the lifeless bodies of her family.
Her pupils shrank. Tears welled up.
"Mother…"
Her voice cracked as she fell to her knees, sobbing quietly in the wreckage of her home.
"[Don't cry.]" (PS: Bruh...)
Seeing the tears forming in Nezuko's eyes, Yami Tsukishiro stopped her with a single command.
"..."
Her sobs froze in her throat.
The emotion vanished almost unnaturally, leaving her standing there, trembling—caught between grief and emptiness.
It was an awkward silence.
One that even Yami didn't quite know how to describe.
"Crying won't change anything," he muttered, sighing softly.
Without another word, he waved his hand.
The shadows beneath the bodies of her family stretched and swallowed them whole—dragging them gently into the darkness of his dimensional space.
Then, from that same darkness, a faint, glowing orb floated out—its light soft, yet pulsing with a strange power.
Yami glanced at the girl. "If you want to bring them back… take it."
His voice was calm, almost detached. But there was something faintly human beneath it—a quiet discomfort at seeing her cry.
Without waiting for a response, he turned away, stepping into the shadows with Ella and the others.
The darkness swallowed them, leaving only silence.
Nezuko stood alone in the blood-stained house.
"..."
For a long time, she couldn't move.
Her mind was a storm of confusion and fragments she couldn't piece together.
She remembered only flashes—
A man breaking into the house.
Mother screaming.
Hanako and the others falling, one by one.
The smell of blood.
She should have died too. But for some reason… she didn't.
When she woke up, there was a man—and three women standing beside him.
That man took her family's bodies.
Then he left her with a single glowing sphere, and words that echoed in her mind:
If you want to resurrect them… seize it.
Nezuko's hands trembled. She stared at the light.
"…Mother. Hanako. Everyone…"
After a long hesitation, she clenched her fists—and reached for it.
At that very moment—
"Mother! Nezuko! Everyone!"
A desperate voice echoed outside.
Tanjiro Kamado, with the scar on his forehead still fresh and faintly bleeding, was sprinting toward his home. The thick scent of blood filled his nose long before he reached the door.
He burst through it with all his strength—only to freeze.
The house was silent. The walls stained dark red.
The air was heavy with loss.
And no one was there.
No bodies. No Nezuko. No mother. Nothing.
Only blood… and the faint trace of a smell he'd never sensed before.
"…What… happened here?"
For the first time, Tanjiro felt truly lost.
Truly powerless.
--
"Nezuko has made her choice."
Yami Tsukishiro smiled faintly, clearly satisfied.
There were six "special invitation" slots left to fill in the Demon Slayer world—people fated to join his growing domain—but the remaining five gave him a headache.
He wandered the forests with Shion, Ella, without any real direction.
Finding women with potential here was harder than expected; this era of the story barely had any still alive.
"The Butterfly Mansion… maybe," he mused. "Kanzaki Aoi could qualify, though that's uncertain."
He counted silently.
Uzui Tengen's three wives? Already gone. No interest there.
Yushiro's master, Lady Tamayo—yes, perhaps. A widow, a doctor, and a demon who defied Muzan. That one might be worth recruiting.
"If none of them fit," he sighed, "then I'll just throw a man into the outer city and call it balance."
Before he could continue grumbling, a calm voice drifted through the trees.
"Please stop. There are demons ahead."
The sound was soft but clear, carried by the wind.
Yami raised his head.
A girl stood before them, her black hair tied neatly, a fox-shaped mask covering part of her face. Her expression was cold and unreadable.
Ella immediately stepped forward, her wings of light shimmering faintly as she blocked Yami's path.
"Master, she isn't human."
Yami's gaze sharpened.
He could see it too now—the faint transparency of her limbs, the flicker of spirit light surrounding her form.
She wasn't flesh and blood.
She was a ghost—one bound to this forest.
"Interesting," Yami murmured. "Another remnant of this world's training grounds… a forgotten soul, still guarding the forest."
The wind rustled the leaves as the two stood face-to-face—one a shadow-walker from another realm, the other a phantom who refused to fade.
Yami Tsukishiro could sense that faint, nostalgic aura and spoke softly.
"Makomo?"
The girl tilted her head, her fox mask shifting slightly as she blinked.
"…You can see me?"
So it really was her—Makomo, one of Urokodaki's former disciples.
Even in death, her spirit still lingered here, watching over the next generation of Demon Slayers.
This world, it seemed, truly allowed such things—souls, memories, fragments of life that refused to fade.
"..."
Yami's eyes flickered with sudden inspiration.
A soul like this… could she become an adventurer too?
He decided to try.
Opening a special invitation scroll, he extended it toward her spirit—and to his surprise, it worked.
A faint golden orb materialized before Makomo's eyes, its glow reflecting in her wide gaze.
Her expression tensed. "Blood Demon Art…? Are you a demon?"
Yami shook his head calmly. "No. Not a demon—just someone who carries a different kind of fate."
He smiled faintly. "Tell me, girl… do you wish to be reborn? Do you want to avenge yourself—to see the Hand Demon fall?"
Makomo hesitated. The words echoed deep inside her, stirring emotions she thought she'd long buried.
Before she could answer, the man vanished—his form swallowed by the shifting shadows of the forest.
She stood there silently, the light still hovering before her.
The Hand Demon…
The one who devoured her and the other children Urokodaki had sent to Final Selection.
Revenge—yes, she wanted it.
But the man's aura, that shadow-tinged power… it unsettled her.
So instead, she turned and walked away.
...
After a long while, she stopped.
The glowing orb still followed her, floating gently behind, impossible to shake off.
Its golden light pulsed softly, almost calling out to her—Take my hand.
Makomo frowned. "This doesn't feel like the power of a demon…"
Still, she couldn't trust it completely. He might have been lying.
And she… she was already dead. She had failed her trial. She was never officially a Demon Slayer.
"If this really is some demon's trick," she whispered, "then better me than someone still alive."
Her resolve hardened.
Makomo reached out—fingers brushing against the golden light.
If this is evil, she thought, then let it end with me.
But if there's even a chance it could help someone… then I'll take it.
The moment her hand closed around the light, it spread across her entire body.
A warm radiance wrapped around her like sunlight through leaves, and even as her vision began to fade, she found herself smiling.
Sensei… please forgive me if this is foolish.
Then the forest fell silent.
And the soul of Makomo vanished within the glow.
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