After that, Yoriichi and Hiru continued to travel together, visiting countless places and witnessing many breathtaking landscapes.
Hiru painted endlessly along the way, and as they journeyed, the name Yomi spread far and wide. Yet, many art collectors were puzzled. Why did this Yomi-sensei, clearly a master painter—never depict anything under sunlight?
Every scene he painted was bathed in gentle moonlight. On the rare occasions he portrayed daytime, it was always cloaked in frost, rain, or mist. Many speculated about the reason, but none ever realized the truth—Yomi-sensei simply couldn't bear to face the sun.
Hiru was content, even blissful, in this wandering life—traveling freely with his brother, unburdened by the world's affairs.
Yoriichi's posture remained tall and proud as ever, but Hiru could see the changes time had wrought. The black hair that once gleamed like polished ink was now streaked with white, and fine lines traced across his brother's once-youthful face. The day they both knew was coming drew steadily nearer.
"How lovely today's sunlight is~"
Just as he had done decades ago, Hiru perched on Yoriichi's shoulder, shaded beneath his straw hat, watching the sunlit fields sway like golden waves in the breeze.
"This year will surely be a good harvest! Just imagining the abundance feels so wonderful~ This must be one shade of happiness, right?"
Yoriichi turned his gaze toward the fields by the roadside. A faint smile touched his aged face. "Yes. A bountiful harvest truly is a sight that brings happiness."
"Then what does happiness feel like for you, Brother?"
"Hmm..." Yoriichi rested his chin in one hand, thinking for a moment before smiling softly. "For me, this is enough. There are so many beautiful things in this world. Just being born into it makes me happy."
"I still can't wrap my head around that kind of mindset..." Hiru crossed his arms, muttering, "If you'd been raised in a temple, you'd have made an excellent monk. You sound so full of Zen philosophy."
"Perhaps," Yoriichi replied calmly. "But I don't dislike the life I have now."
"Do you have any regrets, Brother?"
"Regrets..." Yoriichi's hand instinctively moved to his chest, where a small wooden flute rested—one that could no longer play in tune. "Yes... there are some. But I doubt I'll ever have the chance to make up for them. What about you, Hiru?"
"Oh, I have plenty of regrets." Hiru puffed his cheeks and began ticking them off on his fingers. "I've never gotten to taste strawberry daifuku again. I never found a demon that could make white pigment. I never got to find our eldest brother and tell him just how miserable becoming a demon really is.
But the most frustrating thing—I've never managed to catch Muzan Kibutsuji! That coward! He's been hiding for decades now, not even creating new demons anymore. Because of that, the demons I can use for pigment are getting rarer and rarer!
After I die, I'm definitely waiting for him in hell. When he finally gets sent down there, I'll make sure to give him a proper beating!"
Yoriichi chuckled quietly. "You really do have a lot on your mind."
"Of course I do. Some things are just too hard to let go." Hiru leaned sideways, resting against the strands of white hair near Yoriichi's cheek. "But there are happy things too.
I'm really glad Miss Tamayo managed to overcome her urge to eat humans. At least our ideals will live on. Even if Muzan Kibutsuji ever resurfaces, Miss Tamayo will guide the Demon Slayer Corps to fight him properly. That gives me some peace of mind."
"...Yes," Yoriichi murmured, lowering his gaze. "Let's hope future generations succeed in slaying Muzan Kibutsuji." He paused, then asked softly, "Is there anything you wish to do right now, Hiru?"
"Hmm..." Hiru tilted his head back, peering through the narrow gaps of Yoriichi's straw hat where faint rays of light filtered through. "Let's go watch the sunrise. I want to see it. After all, Yomi-sensei has spent decades painting the night—his final masterpiece should carry a touch of light to be complete."
Yoriichi's steps faltered slightly. "...It's not time yet."
"But it will be soon, won't it?" Hiru turned to look at him. "You're just avoiding it, Brother."
Yoriichi lowered his eyes, saying nothing.
"The longer we're together, the harder it becomes to let go," Hiru said quietly, staring down at the gravel path beneath them. "That's true no matter who it is. But if you wait until the very last moment... what if I change my mind?
What will you do then? How will you stop me? Besides, the place I want to go is really far—it'll take a long journey to get there."
"...Where do you want to see the sunrise, Hiru?"
"Mount Ryū in Yamanashi." Hiru's tone was light, almost cheerful. "They say from there, you can see the sun rising behind Mount Fuji. The morning light reflecting off the mountain's eternal snow shines with an extraordinary brilliance.
If I could see that on New Year's Day, I think I'd be blessed for the rest of my life... maybe even in the next. I want to paint that moment and give it to you, Brother—because you're that kind of radiant existence."
"...Yamanashi, huh?" Yoriichi murmured. "At our pace, we'd need to leave before the year's end to get there in time."
"Right? And I still need to organize the new medicine formulas and send them to the Demon Slayer Corps—along with Miss Tamayo's contact information..." Hiru's voice grew softer as he spoke. "It's just a shame that Tetsushiro passed away decades ago after awakening his Mark in battle. If he were still alive, I'd have invited him to watch the New Year's sunrise with us.
It would've been so lively with that owl swordsman around…"
He went quiet for a moment, then asked suddenly, "Brother, why do you think humans—whose lives are so short and fragile—still choose to fight in the dark for people they don't even know? Why do they give up their lives quietly and die without recognition?
All that marks their existence are small stone tablets in the earth and faint, powerless words in books. Don't you think that's... meaningless?"
"Because they carry on the will of their predecessors."
"Huh?"
"Precisely because their lives are short, humans pass down what they've learned to the next generation. The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the homes we live in—all of it exists because those before us took risks to discover the way.
We may not remember their names, or the dangers they faced to find the right path, but we record what they accomplished and follow in their footsteps, step by step."
A soft smile touched Yoriichi's lips. "And in that way, our predecessors continue to walk beside us. In turn, we'll pass on our experiences to those who come after. Humanity has endured since ancient times by doing just that.
So there's no such thing as whether it's worth it or not. We're simply continuing along the road our ancestors left behind."