"How pitiful you are... Elder Brother..."
No one truly understood what those few words meant to Kokushibo.
That was the very last thing Yoriichi Tsugikuni had said to him. It was the only sentence his younger brother had uttered before the moment of his death.
Even though centuries had passed, the moment those words left Izumi Kiyokazu's mouth, it felt as if that familiar silhouette had crossed the threshold of hundreds of years to appear before his eyes once again.
The familiar mark on the boy's skin—it was just like his.
How could Kokushibo ever forget? How could he ever forget the appearance of that mark? The pattern currently surfacing on Kiyokazu's face was an exact, perfect replica of his own, and of his brother's.
"...!?"
The moment Kiyokazu's voice trailed off, Kokushibo's advancing footsteps were pinned to the spot.
His tall, slender frame swayed visibly, as if the very earth beneath his feet were crumbling away. In the next instant, the six crimson eyes on his face contracted and trembled with unprecedented intensity. The coldness and murderous intent that had previously congealed in his gaze were shattered by an emotion called "disbelief."
That voice... that tone... that bone-deep sorrow and pain?!
Impossible!
It's absolutely impossible!!!
"...You."
In this moment, Kokushibo's voice completely lost the steady composure characteristic of a high-born noble for the first time. It was replaced by a hoarseness that bordered on a total loss of control.
"What... what did you just call me?"
Kiyokazu's heart was hammering against his ribs like a stampede of wild oxen. He felt as though his chest were about to explode from the pressure. But as he looked at Kokushibo's distraught state and his halted footsteps, Kiyokazu knew he had, in all probability, won his gamble!
That guy Muzan... he really hates looking into his employees' emotional histories when he recruits them. That's why he ends up being such an incompetent boss, screaming over and over for people not to leave him!
At the same time, however, Kiyokazu knew that this alone was far from enough to guarantee his safety. Kokushibo's current state was shaken, but not yet completely swayed. He had to add more fuel to the fire.
As for whether he would succeed, Kiyokazu honestly didn't know. But right now, this was the only way he could possibly escape. In this era, Kokushibo's strength was second only to Muzan himself; the entire Demon Slayer Corps of this period combined wouldn't be enough to stop him.
Recalling the original story, where Kokushibo was still obsessing over Yoriichi even at the moment of his death, Kiyokazu's only hope was to feign being Yoriichi's reincarnation and see if he could slip through the demon's fingers. Of course, there was also the possibility that Kokushibo might have a sudden "epiphany" and simply slice him to pieces. If that happened, he could only chalk it up to bad luck.
But how should he play the part? To what extent should he "remember"? These were the details he had to calculate carefully.
First and foremost, he couldn't pretend to be Yoriichi with his memories fully restored. He didn't actually know Yoriichi well enough to pull that off. Relying on a few lines from a manga was nowhere near enough to deceive Kokushibo. If he showed even a single hint of something being "off," Kokushibo would see through it instantly and shred him into pieces—that would be a truly stupid way to die.
Therefore, he couldn't be a "complete" Yoriichi. He had to be a confused soul, a wanderer troubled by fragments of a past life.
However, the degree of confusion couldn't be too deep either. If he only remembered one or two vague scenes, Kokushibo's interest in him might wane. While it was still unlikely Kokushibo would kill him then, it wasn't impossible. He needed to "remember" just enough.
With this in mind, Kiyokazu forced more tears to well up in his eyes. He looked at the Kokushibo before him, doing his absolute best to look pained and haunted by memories he couldn't grasp.
Kokushibo possessed the "Transparent World." He could see the twitching of Kiyokazu's facial muscles and feel the massive shift in his emotions. Yet, he didn't feel a shred of suspicion. Whenever it came to Yoriichi, Kokushibo subconsciously looked for excuses and reasons to convince himself.
The unnatural twitching of the facial muscles? That is the past life's memories struggling against the vessel of this current life.
The massive emotional upheaval? That is the natural reaction of Yoriichi's reincarnation upon seeing me.
Everything felt too "normal." In fact, if these things weren't happening, it would be less believable!
He stared at the weeping Kiyokazu, at the familiar Sun Breathing Mark that looked like a blazing sun, and at a face that felt like something he had seen once, hundreds of years ago.
"I... I don't know."
Kiyokazu looked at Kokushibo, tears continuing to stream down his face. His voice carried an indescribable sense of confusion and agony. He instinctively wiped his eyes and began to mutter to himself:
"Why? Why did I say that? Why do I feel this suffocating pain in my heart the moment I look at you? Who... who are you?"
At that moment, the mark on his body seemed to burn brightly. The Sun Breathing exhaled from his mouth and nose was warm and pure. Every single element of the scene overlapped perfectly with the past.
Kokushibo lowered the hand that held the Nichirin Sword. The broken flute he kept tucked away in his robes suddenly felt like red-hot iron, searing wound after wound into his chest.
As Kokushibo remained silent, Kiyokazu continued softly:
"It's not just that... I saw so much more..."
His voice was halting, like someone talking in their sleep.
"You were standing in front of me... a blood-red moon was hanging in the sky... I felt like... like I was already very old..."
Hearing these words, Kokushibo reached a point of absolute certainty: the boy before him was the reincarnation of his younger brother, Yoriichi Tsugikuni!
The scene Kiyokazu had just described was the exact setting of his and Yoriichi's final encounter. It was there that Kokushibo had sliced through the flute he had personally given to Yoriichi all those years ago.
Every word leaving Kiyokazu's mouth was like a sharp blade, stabbing deep into Kokushibo's heart.
The flute, the departing silhouette, the blood-red moon...
These were details known only to the two brothers—memories he had practically sealed away. Even Muzan had only been able to read the memory of Kokushibo slicing Yoriichi's corpse. In all the world, no one besides him and Yoriichi could possibly know everything that had transpired that night.
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Demon Slayer: Starting by Snatching Daki(175 Chapter- Ongoing)
Join the journey and become part of the story!