"Understood."
Ryousuke lightly stroked the hummingbird's head.
In the Demon Slayer Corps, ranks were strictly tiered from Mizunoto at the bottom to Kinoe at the top. Above Kinoe stood the Hashira. For a normal swordsman, reaching that peak took at least five years, requiring fifty confirmed demon kills or the head of a member of the Twelve Kizuki.
With less than a year to live, Ryousuke didn't have five years. He didn't even have five minutes to waste.
He went inside, changed into his new uniform and black haori, and packed a sparse travel bag. Jigoro, Shota, and Rika came out to see him off.
Rika reached into her sleeve and pulled out a charm sewn from coarse indigo cloth. The stitching was amateurish and crooked, but a single character—An (Peace)—was embroidered carefully in the center. She pressed it into Ryousuke's hand, her face flushing pink.
"Take this, Ryousuke-niisan. I made it myself. Gramps says it brings protection."
Ryousuke smiled and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, Rika."
"Tch!" Shota looked away, his sense of balance completely thrown.
Ryousuke ignored him, gave Jigoro a respectful nod, and prepared to descend.
"Hey!" Shota called out.
Ryousuke paused. Shota was pointing at the white blade at Ryousuke's hip, his expression twisted with that awkward, adolescent pride.
"Going alone... with that... that weird sword... you sure you can handle it?" The words came out sharper than he intended, but his competitive streak wouldn't let him back down. "Don't you dare die out there! It would disgrace Gramps!"
Thwack!
Jigoro's cane came down hard on Shota's head. "Idiot! Watch your mouth!"
Shota winced, rubbing his head as he stumbled back. Jigoro turned to Ryousuke, his voice softening. "Come back safe."
"I will."
Ryousuke offered a final bow and turned away.
"Ryousuke-niisan! Be careful!" Rika's voice echoed behind him. He didn't look back, but he raised his right hand and gave a sharp wave.
The night was ink. The hummingbird flitted through the air, chirping to guide the way. Ryousuke had been traveling for half a day, and his failing liver was beginning to throb, a dull, nauseating ache that sapped his strength.
"Damn this body..." He gripped a tree trunk, gasping for air. The hummingbird landed on his shoulder with a soft peep. "I'm fine. Not dead yet."
He wiped the sweat from his brow and closed his eyes. System, get out here.
[Ding-dong! Dear Host, how may I serve you today?~]
"Cut the crap. Tell me," Ryousuke took a deep breath. "How many years of lifespan to fix my liver?"
[Not many! It only requires ten years!~]
"Ten?!" Ryousuke's voice spiked. "Say that again?!"
[Yes, indeed! Ten years of lifespan will completely eradicate your illness, leaving you with a brand-new, vibrant, and healthy liver!~]
"Ten... haha... ten!" Ryousuke felt a surge of cold fury. "I nearly blew myself up to kill the Hand Demon and only got one measly year! You want ten?! I still have skills to upgrade! Do you think I'm a pack mule? Do you think demons grow in the ground like radishes for me to pick?!"
[Host, please, high investment leads to high returns! Think of it: a healthy body means you can use the full power of Thunder Breathing. You'll kill stronger demons and the lifespan will come rolling in!~]
"Screw you! I have one year left! One! Year!" Ryousuke's pulse pounded in his temples. "At this rate, I'd have to kill ten Hand Demons just to survive! I'm the most pathetic transmigrator in history!"
[Please remain calm, Host. Emotional distress accelerates lifespan consumption!~]
"Get lost!"
Ryousuke forced himself into a run. He couldn't afford to upgrade his skills now. He had to "buy" his health first.
By the time the horizon turned the color of a fish's belly, he had reached Mt. Hinode. He expected to start a standard hunt, but as he approached a temple on the mountainside, the air changed.
A thick, cloying scent of iron hit his nostrils.
"No..." Ryousuke's heart sank. A fragment of memory surfaced. Mt. Hinode. A temple. The tragedy of the strongest Hashira.
He burst through the gates.
The morning light revealed a literal slaughterhouse. Shattered talismans, scattered toys, and overturned food trays painted a picture of the previous night's horror. In the center of the blood-slicked room, a massive, muscular man was kneeling, his knuckles raw and bloody. He was mechanically pounding his fists into a pile of ash that used to be a demon.
Behind the blind monk, a small girl named Sayo sat huddled in the corner, shivering.
Just as the demon vanished completely into the sun, the sound of heavy boots thudded outside.
"Authorities! Stand aside!"
A squad of constables rushed in. The leader took one look at the carnage and the blood-drenched giant kneeling over the remains.
"What happened here?"
Sayo pointed a trembling finger at the monk. "That man... he's a monster. He killed everyone."
The official looked at Gyomei, his face twisting into immediate disgust. "Seize this maniac!"
Constables swarmed Gyomei, pinning his massive shoulders. The monk didn't fight back. He looked numb, his sightless eyes wet with tears. Sayo's accusation was a stake through his heart, more painful than any physical wound. He opened his mouth to explain, but the girl's sobbing stopped him dead.
"It wasn't him!" Ryousuke yelled, stepping into the blood-soaked hall. "Wait! It was a demon! The thing that just turned to ash killed the children! He was protecting them! The 'monster' the girl saw was the demon, not him!"
"Move aside, kid!" The lead constable shoved Ryousuke back, sneering at his uniform and his white sword. "Don't talk rot. A demon? Where? All I see is a bloodied monk and a room full of dead children. A 'protector' doesn't let everyone die!"
He gestured to the bodies. "The evidence is clear. Interfere again and you'll join him in the gallows!"
Ryousuke's hand twitched toward his hilt. The sheer stupidity of it—the unfairness—made his blood boil. He wanted to draw. He wanted to show them what a real monster looked like.
But a low, steady voice stopped him.
"Young man..." Gyomei managed a faint, tragic smile. He shook his head slowly. "Do not be reckless. Do not stain your hands for my sake."
Ryousuke's teeth ground together. He watched, helpless, as they dragged Gyomei away in chains. The massive man looked hunched, his spirit crushed by the weight of a lie he couldn't disprove.
As they reached the temple gates, Ryousuke gathered every bit of breath in his failing lungs and screamed.
"Hey, Monk! Look up!"
The guards paused. Ryousuke's voice tore through the morning air.
"You are NOT a murderer!"
"You were protecting them! You fought for humanity until the sun came up! Don't you dare forget that!"
Gyomei's frame shuddered. He turned his head slightly, a single tear tracking through the blood on his cheek. He couldn't see the boy, but he heard the truth. For the first time in that hellish night, the darkness receded.
Gyomei pressed his palms together in a prayer and bowed deeply toward Ryousuke's voice.
"Thank you... young man."