"I don't want you to become another Muzan Kibutsuji in the future."
Sakonji Urokodaki spoke with firm seriousness.
In the old man's eyes, everything that defined Muzan existed within Soma as well. In fact, Soma had already overcome the weakness of sunlight—and even suppressed the urge to devour human flesh. To Urokodaki, that made him, in many ways, another Muzan.
Perhaps even something more terrifying.
No matter how powerful Muzan was, he was still a creature of darkness, bound to the shadows, unable to step into the sunlight without fear.
But Soma… could stand beneath the sun.
"Muzan Kibutsuji?" Soma repeated, then shook his head. "I would never become something so pitiful."
He looked at Urokodaki as he continued,
"No matter what the future holds, there's only one thing I'll never forget—I am a human. At the very least, I was human. Even if I've become a demon now, the bottom line I held as a human will never change."
No matter how difficult things had been before, he had never abandoned that line.
And he wouldn't in the future either.
Urokodaki studied him for a long time. His keen sense of smell picked up the unwavering conviction in Soma's words. There was no trace of deception—this was truly what he believed.
After a long silence, the old man let out a quiet sigh.
"I hope… this time, I'm not repeating the same mistake I made with the Hand Demon."
Back then, his moment of hesitation had led to tragedy for his disciples on Mount Fujikasane.
And now, he had made the same choice again—to let a demon go.
If this decision turned out to be wrong, the consequences could be far worse than the birth of Muzan himself.
Yet in the end, he chose to believe.
To believe that this demon standing before him would be different.
Soma said nothing more. Seeing how weak and unsteady Urokodaki looked, he smiled faintly.
"I'll carry you back."
"…Very well."
Urokodaki nodded.
With the old man on his back, Soma walked along the mountain path as the wind drifted through the trees. Urokodaki gazed at the familiar road leading up to Mount Sagiri, letting out a quiet sigh.
So many of his disciples had once walked this path, heading toward Mount Fujikasane for their final selection—
and never returned.
Now, only two remained.
Makomo and Giyu Tomioka.
Thinking of the last disciple still by his side, Urokodaki lowered his head.
"Don't tell Makomo… about your identity as a demon."
Soma's steps paused slightly before he gave a faint, wry smile.
"I'll try."
A trace of worry appeared in Urokodaki's eyes.
He knew his disciple well. Too many of her loved ones had been devoured by demons. The hatred she carried toward them ran deep.
If she were to learn that the person she cared about… was a demon—
he didn't know how much that would hurt her.
…
By the time Soma carried Urokodaki back to the house halfway up the mountain, everyone was already waiting.
There was clear concern in their eyes. Perhaps they had sensed something was wrong earlier.
But now, seeing both Soma and Urokodaki return safely, they all let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Sensei, what happened to your hand?"
Makomo was the first to notice the blood-stained cloth wrapped around his palm.
"It's nothing," Urokodaki replied, shaking his head. "Just a small cut."
Makomo carefully checked the wound, her expression tense at first, but once she confirmed it wasn't serious, she let out a small sigh of relief. Then she shot Soma a reproachful glance, as if blaming him for not taking proper care of her teacher.
Soma couldn't exactly explain that Sakonji Urokodaki had cut himself on purpose, so he could only give an awkward smile before helping the old man inside.
…
A Kasugai Crow flapped its wings as it descended.
On a quiet road, a man with long black hair tied in a low ponytail, dressed in the dark uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps, walked in silence.
It was Giyu Tomioka.
Hearing the sound, he lifted his head.
After receiving the message from the crow, a trace of sorrow appeared on the usually expressionless swordsman's face. Without hesitation, he turned and headed straight toward Mount Sagiri.
…
Only a few days after leaving, Shinobu Kocho returned once again to Mount Sagiri.
After examining Urokodaki, she faced Makomo's hopeful gaze—
and silently shook her head.
The light in Makomo's beautiful eyes dimmed instantly. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, everyone falling quiet.
Yet the one at the center of it all, Urokodaki himself, seemed far less affected. Instead, he asked calmly,
"How long do I have left?"
Shinobu hesitated, then finally answered in a low voice,
"At most… half a month."
"That's not bad," Urokodaki said, almost with a hint of relief. "Longer than I expected."
He even seemed faintly pleased.
Then he pointed to the notebook beside him.
"These are my observations since awakening the Demon Slayer Mark—everything I felt about the changes in my body. Perhaps it can help in the future… in treating those who awaken the mark."
Shinobu looked at the old veteran, then picked up the notebook and bowed to him in silence.
…
News of Upper Rank Three's death soon spread.
Inside the Infinity Castle—
A sealed room slowly opened.
A figure stepped out, with long dark red hair tied high, crimson markings across his forehead and neck, and six eyes. The sclera of his eyes were red, while the irises shone gold. In the center pair, the characters "Upper Rank" and "One" were engraved.
He exuded an overwhelming, terrifying presence.
He was Kokushibo, Upper Rank One of the Twelve Kizuki—the strongest among them.
For years, he had pursued the same realm his younger brother, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, once reached.
But even now, he had yet to attain it.
Nakime entered and relayed the news of Upper Rank Three, Akaza's death.
At those words, Kokushibo paused.
All six of his eyes opened at once, turning toward Nakime.
Even though she had seen it many times before, being stared at by those six eyes still filled her with unease.
"How did he die?" Kokushibo asked calmly. "Did he fall to a group of Hashira?"
Over the past centuries, members of the Twelve Kizuki had been killed before—but only the Lower Ranks.
Never an Upper Rank.
Even a Lower Rank demon could contend with a Hashira. To kill an Upper Rank, it would take multiple Hashira working together—especially someone like Akaza.
Among the Upper Ranks, he was exceptionally powerful.
Though Kokushibo had never liked Akaza's tendency to challenge those above him—a reminder of human ambition—he had never doubted his strength.
In his estimation, three Hashira could at most hold Akaza back.
To kill him… it would take at least five.
"I heard…" Nakime lowered her head, "he walked into the sunlight… and allowed himself to burn."
Kokushibo suddenly stood up, disbelief flashing across his six eyes.
"What?"
A demon… willingly walking into sunlight and dying from it—
it sounded almost absurd.