Chapter 210: The Long-Awaited "Feeding Ink Shadow" Segment
[Ink Shadow: "Not eating, thanks."]
(The following is the main text)
Once the others had dispersed, Tamayo retreated to her workspace, moving with practiced grace. She immediately began preparing the complex materials required for her dual-phase procedure: the catalyst to temporarily convert a human into a demon, and the specialized medicine designed to revert them back.
Even if Tanjuro ultimately refused this radical treatment, she knew her research would not go to waste. The future was unpredictable, and the war against Muzan was brutal.
After all, it was tragically common for Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen to succumb to severe, untreatable injuries on the battlefield. Among those dying warriors, there would inevitably be someone desperate enough to accept this unorthodox salvation.
Meanwhile, at the Kamado residence.
Tanjuro lay quietly on his futon, his breathing shallow and labored. He had grown so frail that even the simple act of sitting up required assistance. Every daily necessity, from eating to changing clothes, now relied entirely on his family's gentle hands.
For a man who should have been in the vibrant prime of his life, this deep helplessness was a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, whenever he looked at Kie—who tended to him day and night without a single word of complaint—and saw the earnest, loving faces of his children, the dark thoughts faded. He simply could not bring himself to utter the words, 'Just let me end my life this way.'
According to Sawaki Kochou's original medical prognosis, Tanjuro's physical decline should never have accelerated to this extreme. The doctor had initially estimated a timeframe of five years, yet they were barely entering the third.
Under normal circumstances, Tanjuro would have eventually become bedridden, but he shouldn't have been stripped of his basic motor functions so soon.
The catalyst for this sudden deterioration had occurred some time ago, when he forced his failing body to guide Tanjirou through his Breathing Technique training. Knowing his eldest son would soon face the horrors of demons on the front lines, Tanjuro's paternal instincts had overridden his caution. He wanted to impart every ounce of knowledge he possessed.
He had mistakenly believed that tapping into the Transparent World for just a fleeting moment wouldn't cause any lasting harm.
He was wrong. That single, brief exertion shattered his already fragile constitution, sending his overall health into a terrifying freefall.
Desperate to prevent Tanjirou from carrying the crushing weight of guilt, Tanjuro had secretly relied on his Breathing Technique to mask his symptoms. He forced himself to appear steady, smiling through the agonizing strain just long enough to maintain the illusion of stability.
But that facade came at a devastating cost. His physical condition, which had been stabilized with such painstaking effort, plummeted straight to rock bottom.
The breaking point arrived a few days ago. The moment Tanjirou departed for Gyoumei's estate to resume his training, Tanjuro's iron will finally gave out. He collapsed, unable to hold back the toll any longer.
Kie, who intimately managed his daily care, had sensed the subtle shifts in his health much earlier. However, bound by her husband's earnest pleas, she had kept her silence.
But the second Tanjirou was out of the house, Kie didn't hesitate. She rushed straight to the Butterfly Mansion, her heart pounding against her ribs, to beg Sawaki to examine Tanjuro, breathlessly explaining the dire situation along the way.
When Sawaki learned of Tanjuro's reckless disregard for his medical advice, he was torn. As a father himself, he deeply understood the desperate need to protect and prepare one's child. But as a doctor, he could only massage his temples, fighting off a massive headache over his patient's stubbornness.
Following a thorough and grim examination, Sawaki delivered a prognosis that shattered Kie's heart. Barring any sudden miracles or accidents, Tanjuro's failing body would only hold out for another year, at most.
Yet, just today, a fragile ray of hope pierced through that suffocating despair.
Night had just draped its dark veil over the mountains when Tamayo, escorted by Akira, arrived at the Kamado household.
Because Akira had sent word ahead regarding the nature of their late-night visit, Kie was already waiting anxiously by the main gate, flanked by Tanjirou and Nezuko. The younger siblings had been tucked into bed early, blissfully unaware of the heavy decisions looming over their home.
Tanjirou had been urgently summoned back from his training at Akira's explicit suggestion. Since this concerned a potentially life-saving procedure for Tanjuro, it was only right that the eldest son be present to weigh in.
"Big Brother Akira... Lady Tamayo," Tanjirou began, his voice trembling slightly. "Can Father really be saved?"
Even though the message had outlined the possibility, both Tanjirou and Nezuko needed to hear it in person. They stared at Akira and Tamayo with wide, desperate eyes—a swirling mix of eager anticipation, sheer surprise, and a deep-seated terror that this fragile hope might shatter at any moment.
"Theoretically speaking, the treatment plan is sound," Akira replied, his tone calm and grounding. He naturally took the lead, carefully breaking down the specific, grueling details of the procedure. He laid out the risks, the mechanics of the transformation, and the eventual cure, before falling silent to let the family process the weight of the choice.
When Akira revealed that Tanjuro would need to be temporarily turned into a demon, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the trio.
Tanjirou and Nezuko had been part of the Demon Slayer Corps for two years now. Even if they hadn't faced the absolute worst of the Upper Ranks yet, their time at the Butterfly Mansion and Tanjirou's grueling training had thoroughly educated them on the sheer horror of demons. They understood the innate, bloodthirsty evil that came with the transformation.
Now, the man they loved most in the world was going to become one of those monsters. Even with the promise that it was only temporary, swallowing that reality was agonizing.
To make matters heavier, this radical treatment had never been successfully tested on a living human. Tanjuro would be the first subject for a clinical trial.
There were no absolute guarantees—only a theoretical chance of survival.
"We... we need a moment to discuss this. I'm so sorry," Kie whispered, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt.
Seeing Akira and Tamayo nod in quiet understanding, she gently ushered her son and daughter inside, sliding the door shut before leading them toward Tanjuro's bedroom.
"I am willing to accept this treatment plan."
The raspy, yet unwavering voice greeted them the second they stepped into the room. Despite his physical decay, Tanjuro's foundational strength remained. Even without activating the Transparent World, his heightened senses had easily picked up the entire conversation from the courtyard.
"But what if..." Kie started, her voice cracking. She stepped closer to his futon, kneeling beside him.
Out in the courtyard, out of respect for Akira and Tamayo, she hadn't dared to voice her darkest fear. 'What if the cure fails? What if he can never turn back?'
Even if a demon sired by Tamayo didn't possess the maddening, feral hunger for human flesh, he would still be fundamentally altered. He would be a creature of the night. They respected and trusted Tamayo, treating her as an equal, but that dynamic relied on a polite, professional distance.
Accepting that the pillar of their family, the husband and father who warmed their home, might permanently become a creature of the dark was a terrifying prospect.
"It doesn't matter," Tanjuro interrupted gently, reaching out a trembling hand to brush against his wife's knuckles. "I don't have much time left anyway."
To Tanjirou and Nezuko, their father's words sounded like simple pragmatism—if the treatment failed, it wouldn't make his already terminal condition any worse.
But Kie heard the unspoken weight beneath his tone. She looked into her husband's eyes. Despite his emaciated frame, his gaze remained strikingly clear and bright. She read the hidden, heartbreaking directive in his stare. 'If I cannot turn back into a human... then you must kill me.'
"We owe the Demon Slayer Corps and Akira far too much," Tanjuro continued, his voice lacking any heaviness, yet carrying an immovable resolve. "This is merely conducting an experiment with a high probability of success on a dying man. What could possibly be the problem?"
There was another, deeper reason he kept to himself.
Tanjirou would inevitably face the Upper Moons. The boy would bleed, suffer, and risk his life. If this radical treatment succeeded on a man whose life force was already burned to ash, it proved the method worked. It meant that in the future, as long as Tanjirou didn't suffer an instant, fatal blow like decapitation, there would be a guaranteed way to pull him back from the brink of death.
As a father whose days were already numbered, if he could use his failing body to pave a life-saving path for his children, how could he possibly refuse?
"Alright..." Kie whispered. She understood the deep, selfless sacrifice her husband was making. She bowed her head, biting her lip to hold back the hot tears threatening to spill.
Tanjirou and Nezuko noticed the sudden, heavy shift in their mother's emotions. A chilling realization began to dawn on them, but before they could voice their protests, they met Tanjuro's gaze.
His eyes were filled with an unshakable firmness, overflowing with a quiet, unconditional love.
Swallowing the lump in their throats, the siblings could only nod in tearful agreement.
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