The darkness receded, not like a tide, but like a heavy curtain being pulled back by a reluctant hand.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni—now Xiao Ning—took his first conscious breath in the Dou Qi Continent.
The air tasted different here. In his previous life, the air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Here, the oxygen felt denser, charged with a subtle, vibrating energy that hummed against his skin. It was Qi.
He opened his eyes.
The first sensation was a thrill—a pure, electric jolt of excitement that started in his chest and raced down to his fingertips. I am alive, he thought, the realization hitting him with the force of a lightning strike. I am in a new world. A world of strong warriors. A world where I can start over.
The stagnation of his final years, the feebleness of his eighty-year-old body, was gone. In its place was the raw, unpolished vitality of youth. His heart beat like a war drum. For a man who had died with a sword in his hand, feeling the potential for growth, for struggle, was the greatest gift he could have received.
But the euphoria was quickly tempered by reality.
As he tried to blink, he realized his left eye wouldn't open fully. It felt heavy, swollen, and throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pain. He raised a hand to touch his face, his fingers brushing against rough linen.
He pulled the silk blanket up, peering down at his own body.
"A thorough defeat," he whispered, his voice raspy.
His torso was wrapped tightly in white bandages, smelling strongly of medicinal paste. Dark bruises bloomed across his ribs like ink spilled on parchment. His meridians—the internal highways for energy—felt clogged and chaotic, the result of a brutal blunt-force impact.
Xiao Yan, Yoriichi thought, the name surfacing from the depths of the boy's memories.
He closed his good eye, letting the memories wash over him. He felt the arrogance of the original Xiao Ning, the burning jealousy, the need to crush someone he viewed as "trash." He felt the humiliation of the arena, the shock when Xiao Yan's fist connected, the feeling of his ribs snapping.
It was his own fault, Yoriichi concluded, a wave of disappointment washing over him. Arrogance blinds the eyes faster than any blade. He underestimated his opponent and fought with anger, not intent. This pain... is the price of his pride.
Suddenly, a surge of foreign anger bubbled up in his chest. It was a physical reaction, the residual instinct of Xiao Ning's body wanting to scream, to break something, to demand vengeance.
Calm down, Yoriichi commanded his own soul.
He initiated the breathing technique. Not the physical Breath of the Sun, for this body was too weak to handle it yet, but the mental state. He inhaled slowly, visualizing the sun rising over a calm ocean. The anger hissed and evaporated, leaving his mind clear and placid like a mirror.
With the internal storm quelled, Yoriichi turned his head to inspect his surroundings.
The room was spacious and elegant, built from polished dark wood that smelled of sandalwood. Sunlight streamed through a large, circular window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Outside, he could see a traditional courtyard garden. Ancient trees with twisted branches dropped pink petals onto a koi pond, and jagged rock formations mimicked the towering mountains of the distance.
"Beautiful," he murmured, appreciating the serenity. "Nature is the same, no matter the world."
He tried to push himself up. He wanted to sit, to feel the flow of blood in this new vessel.
As his right hand moved across the bedsheet to find leverage, his fingers brushed against something warm and soft.
Yoriichi paused. He turned his head slightly further.
There, sitting on the floor with her upper body slumped onto the edge of his mattress, was a young woman. She wore a dress the color of deep aqua water, highlighting her fair skin. Her long legs were tucked beneath her uncomfortably, and her breathing was deep and even.
Xiao Yu, the name appeared instantly, wrapped in a layer of deep, protective affection that belonged to the original owner of the body.
Yoriichi stared at her. In his past life, he had lost his wife and child before he could truly protect them. He had lost his brother to a demon. He had walked a lonely path for decades.
But here, the moment he opened his eyes, he was not alone. Someone had been keeping vigil.
He looked at the dark circles under her eyes, visible even in sleep. She had been worried. She had stayed by his side while he hovered between life and death.
A warmth that had nothing to do with the sun spread through Yoriichi's chest. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in sixty years.
I have a family, he thought, his gaze softening into a look of profound gentleness. I am Xiao Ning now. I carry his past, his sins, and his bonds. I will not let this one be taken from me.
He shifted his weight, trying to make himself more comfortable without waking her. However, the wooden bed frame creaked.
Instantly, the girl stirred.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and then her eyes snapped open. They were sharp, alert eyes, currently clouded with fatigue. She looked up, her gaze colliding with Yoriichi's open eye.
For a second, there was silence.
Then, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Ning'er!"
The scream was not just vocal; it was amplified by Dou Qi. An invisible shockwave rippled through the room, rattling the tea set on the table and nearly blowing the curtains off the window.
"You're awake! You're finally awake!" she yelled, scrambling to her feet. Without waiting for a response, she turned to the door and channeled her Qi into her voice again. "GRANDFATHER! HE'S AWAKE! GET HERE! NOW!"
Yoriichi winced slightly at the volume, but he couldn't help but smile at the sheer energy she possessed.
Before the echo of her shout had even faded, a gust of wind slammed into the room.
The door burst open, not from a hinge, but from sheer speed. A blurred figure materialized by the bedside. It was an old man with a long white beard and robes that fluttered with the residue of high-speed movement.
The First Elder, Xiao Lu.
His face was a mask of panic that instantly melted into overwhelming relief. He looked at the bandaged boy, his hands trembling slightly.
"Ning'er..." Xiao Lu breathed out, stepping forward. "You scared this old bag of bones to death. Are you alright? Does your chest hurt? Can you move your legs?"
Yoriichi looked at the old man. He saw the genuine love in those aged eyes—a love that transcended the clan politics and ambition.
"I am fine, Grandfather," Yoriichi said. His voice was calm, steady, and lacked the usual whining tone Xiao Ning used to have. "The pain is manageable. I apologize for worrying you."
Xiao Lu froze. He blinked, exchanging a confused glance with Xiao Yu. Apologize? Manageable? Since when did the spoiled brat Xiao Ning speak with such dignity?
Xiao Yu wasn't having it. She leaned in closer, her face inches from his.
"Are you really okay?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Did Xiao Yan hit your head too hard? Why are you talking like an old monk?"
She reached out, her cool hands cupping his face. She squished his cheeks together, forcing his lips to pucker. Then she moved her hands to his shoulders, patting his arms, poking his ribs (gently), checking for broken bones or perhaps a fever.
"Big Sis..." Yoriichi tried to speak through the squished cheeks.
"Hush! I'm checking for brain damage!" she insisted, poking his forehead. "You're too quiet! Where is the screaming? Where is the 'I'm going to kill him' rant?"
Her touch was invasive, frantic, and filled with love. Yoriichi, who had been treated with reverence and fear for most of his life as a Demon Slayer, found this rough affection incredibly endearing.
A bubbling sensation rose in his throat. A laugh.
"Stop, stop," Yoriichi chuckled, batting her hands away gently. The sensation of being poked was ticklish. "I am not brain damaged. I am just... happy to see you both."
Xiao Yu froze again. Her hands hovered in the air. She looked at her brother's single open eye. It was dark, deep, and held a tranquility she had never seen before. It was like looking into a deep well that reflected the moon.
"You..." she stammered, her face flushing slightly. "You're weird today."