Human beings, when admired, become careful—meticulously maintaining their image.
They don't want the ones who admire them to see their flaws.
After a long silence — Michikatsu, spoke calmly.
"A man like me… what is there worth entrusting anything to?"
Yuko lowered her head to look at him and replied with something seemingly unrelated:
"I know, Brother—you dislike Yoriichi, don't you?"
At her words, Michikatsu's eyes narrowed slightly. Faced with Yuko's gaze, he subconsciously looked away.
It was as if, before Yuko, he stood stripped bare—without any secrets at all.
Yuko didn't mind. Her tone remained gentle as she said,
"I'm actually envious… no, I suppose I should say I envy him to the point of jealousy. I envy Yoriichi's talent."
"A natural-born ability that no matter how hard others chase, they can never even reach the shadow of it."
Michikatsu's lips parted slightly—showing surprise in front of Yuko for the first time.
This was Yuko's method of healing.
Step one: help Michikatsu establish self-worth.
Step two: let him know there is someone who shares his language—that they are both ordinary people crushed under Yoriichi's genius.
Some things are painful to bear alone. But if someone else can share that burden—especially someone who truly understands—the pain becomes far less.
This is why people often grow close to classmates and colleagues.
Because they stand on the same ground.
It was only today that Michikatsu realized his younger sister had such a gentle expression.
Of course—it was because…
He watched Yuko for a moment and noticed the fine beads of cold sweat at her temples.
So it was true… Yuko had been suppressing her pain the entire time she fought him.
For once, Michikatsu felt a rare flicker of guilt.
Yuko reached into her chest and took out the wooden flute she wore on a cord around her neck.
Michikatsu blinked in surprise. She still carried it?
Yuko had never worn it around her neck before—she always kept it tucked in her pack.
This time, she had deliberately brought it to help "PUA" Michikatsu.
Yuko held the flute gently, smiling brightly.
"Brother, please carry Yuko's dream with you—and keep striving to catch up to Yoriichi."
"Ahem… I'll be cheering you on."
And then…
After she reached twenty-five, they would leave this world together.
Reborn into this life, she truly felt content already.
…
Three more years passed.
Yoriichi felt that his brother had changed.
Even though Michikatsu still trained as diligently as before, still lived the same way he always had…
Yoriichi couldn't help but feel something was different.
"I lost," Michikatsu said, sheathing his Nichirin blade and accepting his defeat calmly.
Yoriichi smiled gently.
"Brother, your technique has improved again."
Yuko waved at them as their spar ended.
"Brother, come have some tea."
She poured tea and handed cups to them both.
Yoriichi sipped lightly and praised her,
Yuko's tea has improved as well."
Yuko rolled her eyes.
"Yoriichi, can you not change that line? You say it every time."
Yoriichi chuckled. "How's your body? The doctor asked me to keep an eye on you—and make sure you don't run around recklessly."
Yuko felt a vein throb on her forehead.
"What kind of personality do people think I have?"
Michikatsu drank his tea and said flatly, "A monkey."
"??" Yuko stared at him in disbelief.
Michikatsu ignored her.
Watching the two bicker, Yoriichi smiled. But when he unconsciously looked at Yuko's lungs through the Transparent World, his gaze lowered, full of apology.
"Sorry, Yuko. If only I had been by your side back then."
Yuko froze for a moment before realizing what he meant. She shook her head with a smile.
"That was my mission. I was simply too careless."
"It's fine. Sometimes I just can't help coughing. It doesn't affect my daily life."
After that incident, Yuko—who now struggled to use Breathing Techniques—retired from the Demon Slayer Corps frontline and shifted to logistics work.
Occasionally, she instructed new recruits in swordsmanship, indulging in her small dream of being a teacher.
Hearing Yuko speak so lightly, Yoriichi finally felt somewhat relieved.
Michikatsu, however, did not want to dwell on Yuko's illness. He changed the subject.
"More and more swordsmen are awakening their Marks. The Corps grows stronger by the day."
"Perhaps the war between humans and demons will end in our generation."
Yoriichi nodded. "Yes. Even demon sightings have decreased lately."
Without a doubt, both the birth of Breathing Techniques and the awakening of Marks made the Demon Slayer Corps unprecedentedly powerful—effectively suppressing demon activity.
The brothers still held an optimistic outlook.
Only Yuko fell silent upon hearing this.
More and more demon slayers were awakening Marks.
The first generation of Hashira had all awakened them.
After awakening his Mark, Michikatsu quickly mastered both the Red Blade and the Transparent World—becoming, after Yoriichi, the second person to obtain the full "three."
Yuko could occasionally enter the Transparent World, but it was unstable.
As for the Red Blade—triggered by immense grip strength to ignite the Nichirin blade's energy—Yuko couldn't activate it. Even with the physical boost from her Mark, her grip strength was still insufficient to make the blade change color.
She had fallen completely behind her two brothers.
The brothers' abilities were overwhelmingly superior—far beyond the rest of the Demon Slayer Corps.
The three siblings stood on the back mountain, gazing into the distance.
"No one's strength can rival ours. The inheritance of the Breath Styles is practically doomed."
"At this rate, the skills forged through countless trials will be lost."
Unlike Michikatsu's anxiety, Yoriichi remained calm. He smiled and said:
"Brother, you're giving us too much importance."
"You and I are merely two travelers in the long history of humanity."
"Perhaps, somewhere in the world at this very moment, a child is being born whose talent surpasses ours."
"I'm sure they will eventually reach the same heights as us."
"There's no need to worry. We should simply let nature take its course, and wait for the day our lives grow quiet."
Hearing this, the tiny change Yuko had brought to Michikatsu's heart was swallowed once more by the deep mire.
Yoriichi… every time you smile, I feel sick.
When we're talking about something as grave as Breath Styles dying out, you still wear that strange optimism… you even smile…
Yuko opened her mouth, wanting to say something to her brothers, but couldn't bring herself to speak.
She had long since realized it.
Yoriichi completely overlooked how his brother felt about him.
That, too, was a kind of inherent "indifference" that geniuses have toward ordinary people.
When a genius speaks lightly of their own mediocrity, how could those struggling to catch up possibly remain calm?
That year, Yuko was twenty-three. The brothers were twenty-four.
…
A swordsman with a Mark died.
At first, people thought it was just sudden death caused by overtraining.
But shortly after, another swordsman with a Mark also died—one day after his twenty-sixth birthday.
Then even among the first-generation Hashira who had awakened Marks, someone died.
Only then did the Demon Slayer Corps notice:
Every sudden death involved a swordsman with a Mark.
And they all shared one trait.
They were over twenty-five.
The Mark was a power borrowed from heaven—an ability that consumed one's lifespan in advance.
Those who awakened it would not live past twenty-five.
This rumor slowly spread throughout the Corps.
---
+40 Chapters
(Currently at Chapter 54 on Ko-Fi.)
https:// ko-fi.com/rabi08