Original Breathing. The strongest swordsman. The legendary Demon Slayer.
These were the records left by successive Flame Hashira about Tsugikuni Yoriichi—
The weight of autumn pressed down, bending even the old maple trees in the courtyard.
Withered yellow leaves spiraled down, covering the stone slabs, crunching crisply underfoot like the sound of life drying up.
On a sword rack in the corner of the courtyard, a Nichirin Sword with a crimson scabbard lay quietly. The flame pattern on its tsuba was dull and lusterless.
This was the Rengoku family dojo, also the place where a prisoner was temporarily being held.
The door slid open softly, letting in a breath of cool air.
The tall figure of the Flame Hashira, Rengoku Eijuro, appeared on the veranda. In one hand, he carried a small, plain ceramic sake flask; in the other, two equally simple ceramic cups.
His thick brows were tightly furrowed. Silently, he sat beside a silent man, his gold-red eyes carrying a trace of concern.
"Tsugikuni-dono, would you like some?" He handed a cup to the other, speaking softly.
The man beside him wore a red outer garment. His deep red hair was tied in a high ponytail. Red patterns on his face, like flames, covered half of it. His entire being exuded a rock-like stability.
He took the cup and nodded to Eijuro: "Thank you."
Even today, when the Demon Slayer Corps was about to pass judgment on him, his eyes, which seemed able to pierce the underworld and reflect sunlight, remained clear, calm, without sorrow or joy.
He was Tsugikuni Yoriichi, the strongest swordsman of the time.
"The other Hashira and the elders of the Ubuyashiki Family are somewhat dissatisfied with you...." Eijuro raised his cup but didn't drink, only staring at the sake within it as he murmured: "About Muzan not being killed, letting the demon escape, and also...."
Eijuro didn't continue, not mentioning the most terrible crime.
Yoriichi's elder brother, the powerful swordsman Tsugikuni Michikatsu whom he had introduced into the Demon Slayer Corps, had killed the reigning Oyakata-sama and defected, taking his head with him!
Yoriichi did not respond to him.
The Flame Hashira, somewhat anxiously, took a silent gulp of sake. He didn't know what punishment this selfless swordsman, who had taught Breathing Styles to everyone, would face. His mood was very gloomy: "Tsugikuni-dono! I want to know, what kind of monster is Kibutsuji Muzan?"
"Could it be that even your blade cannot kill him?"
Hearing this name, Yoriichi silently drank some sake, his gaze vacantly fixed on the swirling fallen leaves, as if piercing through the present desolation to look upon a more distant, darker place.
"Muzan...." The name emerged from between his lips, his voice carrying a cold chill: "I encountered him in a bamboo grove outside Kyoto...."
Deep in the Kyoto suburbs in late autumn, within a vast bamboo grove.
Tall green bamboos intertwined into a forest, their leaves forming a dense canopy, filtering the daylight into a dark, deep green sea.
At that time, he was walking alone among them.
Suddenly-
A sticky, cold malice, without warning, emanated from the depths of the bamboo grove, instantly bursting into my perception.
He had already entered the realm of that transparent world. The slightest rustle of the mortal world was easily detected, let alone such a detestable aura.
Deep within the layered, bottomless, dark bamboo grove, a person stood there.
Although that person had the appearance of a human male, he could clearly see that this thing had five brains and seven hearts. His entire body exuded a nauseating aura.
Beneath the handsome skin, an evil and ferocious soul writhed, as if wanting to devour all other life.
Just from that first meeting, he knew his identity… Kibutsuji Muzan.
At the same time, he had never felt so strongly: The reason he was born into this world was probably to defeat this creature before him.
The moment he placed his hand on the sword at his waist, Muzan also discovered him.
Muzan didn't deliberately hide. Looking closely, beside him followed a figure with a woman's appearance, also a demon.
Muzan simply stood there, elegantly, a hint of a cat-toying-with-mouse smile on his lips.
"To be honest, I'm already a bit tired of you Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen and your Breathing Styles," He said.
Then, his figure suddenly dissipated on the spot.
The next instant, with an explosive sound, the spot where he had stood erupted in a cloud of smoke, shaking the surrounding bamboo poles violently, bamboo leaves raining down like a storm!
In the blink of an eye, he was before Yoriichi. His speed almost surpassed the limits of human vision!
His right hand spread its five fingers. His nails gleamed with an obsidian-like dim light in the fading light, aiming straight for my head.
Yoriichi dodged quickly. The bamboo grove behind him was mowed down in swathes by Muzan's mutated demon claws.....
"To be honest, since I was born, it was the first time I encountered such an enemy... I felt the joy of battle for the first time..." Yoriichi recalled for Eijuro.
"What happened next!" Eijuro held his cup nervously, pressing Yoriichi for what came after.
"Next... I used the strongest sword technique I could unleash against him...."
"The Thirteenth Form of Sun Breathing...."
Shrrrk—!!
Muzan's pair of mocking scarlet pupils froze, instantly enveloped by unimaginable terror!
Too fast! Too fast for even the thought of fear or evasion to form!!
In an instant, accompanied by the hissing sound of a hot knife cutting through butter, Muzan's body was sliced into several pieces by Yoriichi!
For over a century, not only had no one ever sliced Muzan into pieces... there hadn't even been anyone who could wound him!
Even more terrifying was that this blazing, gleaming Nichirin Blade's light actually suppressed his limb regeneration!
Yoriichi's Nichirin Sword seemed like burning steel, scorching and dazzling..... The ugly patterns on his face at that moment seemed to come alive, transforming into flowing flames.
Yoriichi walked towards Muzan, his gaze cold as he passed judgment on the progenitor of all demons:
"What exactly do you live for?"
"What is fun about killing people?"
"What do you take life for?"
"Hah... hah...." Muzan's lips moved with difficulty, emitting meaningless breaths. His gaze venomously fixed on Yoriichi.
'No! I can't die! I can't die here! I am perfect! I am the eternal, immortal demon king!'
The instinct to survive overrode everything! Muzan's scarlet eyes, filled with fear, hatred, anger, and cowardice, erupted with a desperate, reckless light!
"Ughhhhh—!!!"
An inhuman scream of terror suddenly erupted from his mouth!
This sound was bloodcurdling, like ten thousand demons wailing in hell, shaking countless bamboo leaves down once more!
Bang!!!
Then, Muzan's body suddenly exploded without warning! Instantly splitting into over one thousand eight hundred small chunks of flesh!
They shot and fled madly, desperately in all directions… up, down, left, right, every possible crevice of the bamboo grove!
Each of these flesh chunks was wrapped in a layer of writhing black demonic aura, like a black meteor shower exploding in the bamboo grove!
This was Muzan's last life-saving trump card.
An ultimate evil technique that abandoned all dignity, all form, seeking only a thread of survival!
Yoriichi's reaction was already fast to the extreme. Almost at the same instant Muzan split, he swung his Nichirin Sword, trying his utmost to leave this demon!
Boom—!!
Boundless, flaming blade light, like a golden crow descending to the mortal world!
The all-consuming gold-red flames instantly, with Yoriichi at the center, roared and spun, interweaving into a heavenly net of flames, instantly enveloping the vast majority of the fleeing flesh chunks from Muzan's split!
Sizzle Sizzle Sizzle—!!!
Dense burning sounds rang out. The air filled with a suffocating, thick stench of burning.
Countless flesh chunks wrapped in black aura let out bloodcurdling shrieks, instantly incinerated into wisps of dissipating black smoke!
That black smoke twisted, like countless agonized, screaming demon faces, struggling and dispersing in the flames....
"But even so, I only managed to kill about one thousand five hundred pieces of his flesh.... Muzan still escaped...."
"That's how it was. I'm sorry for disappointing everyone...."
In the courtyard, Yoriichi's voice calmly fell with the last syllable.
He raised the cup before him and downed the now slightly cool sake in one gulp, his gaze once again vacantly fixed on the horizon.
The sake cup in Eijuro's hand had long tilted, spilling liquid onto his hakama at the knees, but he was unaware.
His entire body was frozen stiff, as if bound by invisible ice.
"Even you, sir... cannot kill him...."
... Time passed. These conversations and events were recorded by Eijuro, passed down through generations, and ultimately presented before Taka and Rengoku.
Taka frowned deeply as he finished reading the entire story. He didn't care about these people's self-pity and blame. He only noticed two things.
'Yoriichi's blade also burned, didn't it....'
'And on his face, there were also patterns....'