Sunlight pierced through the clouds, pouring down without restraint onto the ravaged courtyard.
The gold ingots reflected a blinding glare under the sun.
Those two brand-new Nichirin blades lay alone in the dust, their edges reflecting the faces of the Hashira.
They were gone.
All that remained was wreckage strewn across the ground—and a silence as dead as a grave.
"Cough… cough…"
Ubuyashiki Kagaya covered his mouth. Blood seeped through his fingers.
Two lines of clear tears slid down his face, carved through by the curse marks, dripping onto the tatami.
"Master!"
Amane hurriedly supported him, her voice full of worry.
"I… never wanted it to end like this."
The Master's voice trembled.
"That child… was a good child. I could feel his sincerity.
But… Amane…"
He lifted his head. Those blind eyes were filled with pain.
"I am the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps. Every decision I make carries the lives of hundreds of swordsmen on its back—
and the future of countless civilians who have yet to be killed by demons.
When faced with a variable that could destroy everything… I cannot gamble.
For the sake of more lives… even the slightest possibility… I cannot ignore it."
Great love.
Great sorrow.
With his own hands, he pushed away a child who only wanted to embrace them.
"Waaaaah—!!"
A heart-rending cry shattered the suffocating silence.
Kanroji Mitsuri collapsed to her knees, covering her face as her whole body trembled with sobs.
"Why… why did it have to turn out like this?!
Inosuke-kun and the others… he worked so hard in the Swordsmith Village…
They were injured so badly just to protect us…
We completely broke their hearts… wuuuh…"
Images flashed through her mind—the boys swinging their blades,
that smiling face saying her hair looked cool.
Iguro Obanai stood silently behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder.
He wanted to comfort her, but it felt as though cotton stuffed his throat—he couldn't say a word.
His gaze fell on the gold ingots scattered across the ground.
So Inosuke had never been short on money from the very beginning.
That so-called "debt" was just an excuse…
an excuse for that kid to get closer to him.
And now, he'd been driven away.
Rengoku Kyojuro tilted his head back, staring fixedly at the clear blue sky.
"Inosuke-boy… Kamado-boy… Agatsuma-boy…"
He repeated their names over and over.
Scalding tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking his collar.
"I didn't even get the chance to say it…"
His voice broke.
"I didn't get to tell you myself… that I wanted to take you as my tsuguko!!
I wanted to watch you grow into a Hashira who surpassed me…
As an older brother… I failed you…!"
Uzui Tengen leaned against a wall, head lowered, staring at the reflection of his flamboyant headband on the ground.
Silence.
A silence as heavy as death.
He remembered how that boy, gravely injured, had foolishly delivered his wives right into his arms.
"…This really is the least flamboyant ending."
Tokito Muichiro stood in a corner, hand in his pocket, fumbling for a long time.
He pulled out a piece of konpeito.
He gently placed it into his mouth.
The sweetness spread across his tongue, stinging his eyes red.
"If only…"
Muichiro murmured.
"If back then…
I had agreed to be your lackey… would everything… have turned out differently?"
Kocho Shinobu stood frozen in place, her body swaying.
The fake smile she always wore had completely collapsed.
She stared blankly at the torn piece of fabric in her hand.
Tears slipped down soundlessly, dripping onto the cloth.
"Did I… do the wrong thing?"
She asked herself.
Maybe she hadn't been wrong.
Guarding against demons was instinct for the Demon Slayer Corps.
But the sharp pain tearing through her heart told her otherwise.
She was wrong—terribly wrong.
She had let her hatred for Doma spill over onto a child desperately trying to redeem himself.
"Inosuke-kun…"
Shinobu covered her mouth, letting out a shattered sob.
"I'm… sorry…"
Tomioka Giyu hadn't spoken a word.
He had been quietly watching the direction those three boys left.
He had watched them grow up.
He was the one who recommended Tanjiro and Inosuke to Urokodaki.
He had watched that proud young master slowly grow into a warm-hearted swordsman.
What kind of person Inosuke was—no one knew better than him.
Sharp-tongued. Reckless.
And yet, whenever he looked at Inosuke and Tanjiro,
he was reminded of Sabito—and of his former self.
A fury he hadn't felt in countless years erupted within Giyu's long-dormant heart.
He slowly turned his head toward Shinazugawa Sanemi.
Sanemi was staring blankly at the Nichirin blade on the ground.
Whoosh!
Giyu strode forward, wind whipping up around him.
Bang!!
A punch, thrown with all his strength, smashed straight into Sanemi's face.
Sanemi staggered back several steps.
"Y-you?!"
He clutched his cheek, staring at the usually taciturn Water Hashira in shock.
"Tomioka… what the hell are you doing?!"
"Why?"
Giyu's voice was quiet.
"Why did you do that?"
Sanemi froze.
"I… I did it for the Demon Slayer Corps…"
"Are you talking to me right now?"
Giyu cut him off, stepping closer and grabbing his collar.
"Did you want them…
to suffer the same pain you did?!"
Boom!
Those words exploded in Sanemi's ears like thunder.
The same pain.
Being misunderstood by the only brother he had, living in hell branded as a murderer.
Just now… he had nearly turned Tanjiro and Zenitsu into the second and third victims.
"What did you say?!
You bastard!!"
Sanemi's eyes reddened as he instinctively tried to strike back.
"Stop it!!
Brother!!"
Genya burst forward in tears, throwing himself around Sanemi's waist, clinging tightly.
"Stop… please stop…"
"Namu Amida Butsu…"
A massive hand reached out, pressing down on both Giyu's and Sanemi's shoulders.
Himejima Gyomei was already weeping openly.
"Enough!!"
The Stone Hashira's voice was hoarse.
"That pain of being wrongfully judged… how could I not understand it too?!"
Crying, Gyomei forced the two furious men apart.
"We… were wrong.
We… swung our blades at the ones who wanted to protect us the most."
The Demon Slayer Corps plunged into an icy silence.
After a long while—
Gyomei released them.
Giyu adjusted his disheveled haori.
He looked at Sanemi, his gaze cold—like he was looking at a stranger.
"Shinazugawa."
Turning his back on everyone, Giyu spoke flatly:
"I am not worthy to serve alongside you."
With that, he began walking toward the gate as well.
Sanemi stood there, stunned.
He looked at Giyu's departing back, at the wreckage on the ground, at Genya clinging to his leg and sobbing.
"Aaaaargh!!!"
Sanemi suddenly clutched his head, letting out a beast-like roar.
"Come back!! All of you, come back!!"
"You bastards!! Curse me! Hit me!
Why are you leaving?!"
He collapsed to his knees, pounding the ground with his fists.
He knew he was wrong.
The moment his brother knelt down… the moment he heard Giyu's words… he truly knew he was wrong.
But… it was too late.
They had lost something…
something more precious than life itself.
...
On the mountain road.
The rising sun stretched the shadows of the three boys long and thin.
Inosuke walked at the front.
His clothes were torn and ragged from the earlier struggle.
The heavily modified uniform on his body was stained with dirt and blood.
He stopped.
He didn't look back at that place filled with memories—not even once.
Expressionless, Inosuke reached into his chest and pulled out two folding fans.
He snapped them open. They glittered brilliantly in the sunlight.
Then—
Rip!
He grabbed the uniform on his body and tore it off.
Buttons flew. Fabric ripped apart.
Like tossing away a filthy rag, he flung it behind him.
The discarded uniform hit the ground, kicking up dust.
Beneath the shredded Corps uniform—
was a red shirt.
The matching parent-child outfit that his smug idiot of a father had forced on him.
He had been wearing it all along.
He was no longer a wronged Demon Slayer.
He was the Young Lord of the Eternal Paradise Cult.
"Inosuke…"
Tanjiro and Zenitsu watched him.
Their hearts ached—but somehow, they felt this was the real Inosuke.
"Big bro…"
Zenitsu wiped his swollen eyes and asked carefully,
"Where… are we going now?"
Inosuke flicked his fan, his tone calm.
"Back to the Eternal Paradise Cult.
It's cold there—but it's my home.
At least there… no one asks whether I'm human or demon."
Tanjiro stepped forward and took Inosuke's hand.
Worry filled his eyes. After hesitating for a long time, he finally asked:
"Inosuke-kun…
do you… hate them?"
Inosuke halted.
He didn't answer.
Hate?
How could he not?
Having your sincerity crushed underfoot—
it hurt more than broken ribs.
But—
Inosuke closed his eyes.
Images surfaced in his mind—Rengoku kneeling to vouch for him,
Giyu kneeling and offering seppuku,
Muichiro's piece of konpeito.
After a long while—
Two silent tears slid down his cheeks.
"No."
His voice was soft.
"I am the Young Lord of the Eternal Paradise Cult.
My birth itself was an original sin.
Back then… everyone had their reasons.
Whether Shinobu hated me, or the Wind Hashira wanted to kill me…
from their standpoint, none of them were wrong."
He turned to his two worried brothers and forced a smile uglier than crying.
"This is the price.
The moment I chose this path…
I was destined to bear all of it."
He lifted his head, staring into the blinding sun.
"No matter the process… no matter how much grievance I suffer…
As long as the final ending is good…
that's enough."
"…That's enough."
Those words shattered Tanjiro and Zenitsu's restraint.
"Waaaah!!"
Zenitsu finally broke, throwing himself into Inosuke's arms.
"Big bro!! Are you an idiot?!
Why are you so damn understanding?!
Hate them! Curse them! Why do you carry everything alone?!"
Tanjiro hugged him too, tears soaking Inosuke's shoulder.
"Inosuke-kun… we believe you.
Even if the whole world doesn't—we believe you."
"Wherever you go, we'll go.
Back to the Eternal Paradise Cult… or even to hell—
As long as you're there… as long as the three of us are together…
Anywhere is fine."
Feeling their warmth—feeling that unconditional trust—
Inosuke's unyielding pride finally softened.
"…Wuuuh…"
He tore away the last of his composure, hugging the two idiots tightly.
"You two… damn idiots…
Who told you to turn into demons…
Who told you to follow me…
Let's go home… we're going home…"
Under the rising sun,
the three boys clung to each other and cried their hearts out.
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