Disclaimer:

I do not own nor claim all the rights to 鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba | Demon Slayer; all rights are reserved to its respective creator, Koyoharu Gotōge. This is purely a work of fiction; names, characters, businesses, events, localities, and occurrences are all extrapolated from the author's writings and imagination or utilized in a fictitious manner. As such, any direct or indirect references to actual entities, dead or alive, or events do not, in any shape or form, resemble the opinions of the author.

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"..." = Dialogue

'...' = Internal monologues

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"I've already won this game," Shinobu, despite being short of breath and utterly exhausted, managed to forge a countenance replete with confidence.

Kanashimi could only gawk at this seemingly haphazard pronouncement along with the expression of resolve resting on the Insect Hashira's lineaments.

'What is she saying...?' The Demon of Grief couldn't comprehend her opponent's statement. 'She's already won? Won what? You're beaten.'

Instead of dwelling on the words of a pitiful human, Kanashimi decided to cast her bafflement aside, "I suppose delusion is another coping mechanism for the intolerable condition you find yourself in."

"Hah... Hah..." Shinobu continued gasping for air, ignoring the demon's provocations in the meanwhile.

"I can only assume that you've rejected my offer once more, given your abnormal answer," Kanashimi further remarked.

"I don't need to be proffered anything from you," Shinobu replies. "After all, the outcome of this battle has already been decided."

"Ah, of course. You've realized that your forlorn attempts will not change the outcome. Good to hear that you hold some rational thoug—"

"Oh? I must've misspoken," Shinobu's cadence endorsed mockery of the highest order. "I didn't mean it for you."

"Don't fool yourself. How could you possibly be on the verge of winning? Look at yourself. Broken ribs, abrasions across your face, lacerations across your limbs and torso, blind in one eye, fatigue from constant combat, and, not to mention, extensive blood loss in spite of your best efforts in mitigating it," the demon immediately rebuked in a methodological and analytical fashion.

"I fail to see how or why you would lie to yourself. You've already won this game? With what? As things stand right now, you won't be able to last another 10 minutes!" Kanashimi shouted, almost feeling offended by what she perceived to be the absolute stupidity of her opponent.

Shinobu merely smiled smugly, "Oh my, I didn't think you would be so sensitive to the topic of losing. How callous of me, maybe I should've kept my mouth shut."

Kanashimi was completely aback by both the Insect Hashira's comments and mannerisms, 'What is she trying to do? Has she completely lost her bloody mind? Is this some chimera designed to ingratiate her nerves before fighting me again? I don't understand a single thing.'

"Don't be stupid, you of all people should know all too well that the battle is a guaranteed win for me. In what fantasyland should victory be handed to you?"

"And why should you assume that in the first place?" Shinobu simply retorted, her voice still brimming with self-assurance.

The Demon of Grief felt provoked, "You idiot! Can't you see?! There's NOTHING! No hope for you! You've lost! Accept it!"

"Oh dear, did I strike a chord?"

Kanashimi was enraged beyond belief, 'This bitch is hopeless! She doesn't know when to give up, when to acknowledge that she's lost! She's just like him—!'

Confusion.

Him.

Who is 'him'?

'Huh? Who was I thinking of...? And why am I so angry in the first place?'

Even with regard to her own emotions, Kanashimi was incapable of deciphering the rationale behind her contemporary behavior.

There was just something, something about that woman's actions that ticked her off.

As if she's seen this before.

As if she's recalling a distant memory lost to the test of time.

A memory so strong and potent that it is capable of puncturing the collective amnesia of her demonic nature.

"Do you really want to test the waters?" The Insect Hashira queries ominously.

Kanashimi snapped out of her reverie, "Wha—?"

Shinobu had this almost sadistic grin plastered onto her face, "What if I had been poisoning you this whole time? What if reattaching your shadows was a very poor move?"

'What the hell is she saying...'

"Because, just to let you know, I have Wisteria Poison within my systems..." Shinobu prodded further.

"Poison... in your blood...?"

Kanashimi searched her head for any indication of matters pertinent to this information.

"That's right..." she came to the realization. "You're crazy enough to make yourself a suicide bomb for the sake of revenge."

"Indeed," Shinobu leered at the enemy, an aura of ruthlessness emanating from her appearance alone. "Your shadows, some of which had my blood splattered over them, have been returning to your body—you've voluntarily been adding poison to yourself."

Kanashimi, the Demon of Grief, the harbinger of untold suffering to countless victims through her deceptive spells and illusions, felt a cold chill running up her spine.

All because of a human.

'I've misjudged this woman. She's not just crazy, she's batshit insane!'

"Now, do you understand the gravity of your situation?" questioned Shinobu.

'I'll have to withdraw for now,' the demon surmised.

"Heh..." Kanashimi smirked, albeit somewhat hesitantly. "You've certainly caught me off guard there, Insect Hashira; I somehow had forgotten about your ridiculous antics in the past...."

She continued, "BUT, you once again failed to take the most basic rule of this game into account!"

Shinobu appeared to be unfazed by her comments, choosing to remain silent in lieu of further discussion.

'That's odd. What was the purpose of that exchange? What was she trying to do? I do consider her rather stupid, but not stupid enough to forget about the most fundamental rules of the game—that I can regenerate once we return to the Fountain of Illusions,' Kanashimi, in spite of having nearly zero doubt in her final victory, still felt uneasy.

'Oh well. Whatever pretensions this woman may have is of no concern to me...'

She gave the incantation: "Blood Demon Art: Oblivion."

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"I'm going to repeat this over and over, as much as it takes, until he comes to his senses," a faint but discernible voice asserted, its inflection espoused the characteristics of a man too young to die but a boy too old to appreciate the living.

"Why are you wasting your time. You know you can never defy him," Kanashimi replied sardonically.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he provides a staid response.

"You're beyond stupid. Just give up. It's hopeless," she angrily rebukes.

"Hopeless?"

The Demon of Grief's temper continued to rise with no recourse, "That's right, you stand no chance! You're going to keep failing, over and over! You'll repeat this over and over until you get the ideal result!"

"Indeed."

"Y-You won't be able to bear it! The grief, the GUILT, will be unimaginable!" shouted Kanashimi.

"I reckon so."

"THEN WHY?!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

The figure took a moment to meticulously and carefully formulate his answer, "... Because I don't think it's hopeless. Because I believe I can end this once and for all. To break this cycle for good."

That's... That's not it!

How will you be able to bear the burden, the pains, all by yourself?

How will you ever find peace again?

The grief you will carry will be worse than anything you've felt before!

You're just going to torture yourself for a far-fetched goal...

All by yourself...

"Don't do it... please..."

"I will do what I must," said the figure.

"Please... Onii-san..."

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"Onii-san..." Kanashimi whispered, the recollections overwhelming her mind and spirit.

Somehow, for whatever reason, her interactions with the Demon Slayer made her wallow in reminiscence. And yet, she could not remember the transpiring of such events.

Had she forgotten them? Or do they not exist in the first place?

But something deep within her was unequivocal about the validity of this colloquy; she just knew this wasn't a fabricated recollection.

'What was that...? I've never had this conversation in the past... Could it be the future? Is the Fountain of Illusions showing me something? But why is the Fountain tapping into my mind?' a myriad of questions occupy her thoughts, temporarily lulling her into a state of idleness.

'Unless... it's not from this timeline...'

"Moshi Moshi? You there?" Shinobu spoke, waking the enemy from her trance.

*Hack* *Hack*

Kanashimi coughed before responding, "Ah, right. I had nearly forgotten about you."

"It's not good to be distracted in the middle of battle," the Insect Hashira quips.

"The battle is already over, Hashira. One more round and you'll be finished. I've been toying with you long enough," Kanashimi replied succinctly, still perturbed by the sudden influx of memories she cannot recognize.

"Is that so?" Shinobu's face relaxed and her overall deportment seemed to have lost its stiffness.

Then, she did the unexpected.

Shinobu began to saunter toward the enemy, completely disregarding any notions or procedural norms of strategic maneuvering—as if she was deliberately allowing herself to be exposed to the enemy.

Indeed, she was partaking in a nice, tranquil stroll toward her foe. The visual description can be nearly akin to that of an intrepid hero courageously approaching the villain head-on, like the kinds of actions undertaken within myths and tales of old.

Within this dark, caliginous chasm, this fluorescent fountain of sentimentality, the Insect Hashira took the liberty of simply walking toward the enemy.

Her eyes were bereft of any fear or doubts. Her body language did not hide any ulterior emotions.

Despite knowing the risks, and the futility of it all, she nonetheless continued her trek—each step forward only serves as a testament to her determination and conviction.

Kanashimi had seen this—those eyes—before.

That look of consummate tenacity and obstinacy.

It aroused all sorts of feelings within her: anger, confusion, annoyance, and sadness...

It reminded her of him.

"Why... WHY DO YOU STILL RESIST?! I could have you prostrated on the ground right now! My powers are limitless, and you stand no chance against me!"

Shinobu ignored her and carried on with the trek.

"You're all the same..." the demon bitterly opined. "You are all irrational, incapable of seeing the meaninglessness of it all..."

"Then stop me, if you dare," Shinobu plainly states.

Veins protrude from all sides of Kanashimi's temples.

How dare this human make a mockery of her. How dare everyone ignore her warnings, her rational, logical prognostications!

She's always been ignored, the kind of individual whose opinion holds no sway in the minds of anyone around her.

She can persuade, plead, beg, grovel, do anything, but they still won't listen.

They'll continue to do whatever it takes to destroy themselves.

"I'LL KILL YOU!!" She raised her arm, aiming to employ the gravitational field to her advantage once more.

But, before she could immobilize the Insect Hashira, she was interrupted...

THUMP

Kanashimi felt a strange sensation within her chest—or, rather, the lack thereof.

'What's going on...? My insides feel hollow...'

*HACK* *HACK*

With a sudden retching, Kanashimi disgorged large sums of blood and spittle from her mouth.

In addition, blood and other substances started oozing out of her skin, blemishing her attire and pale complexion.

'My heart... just blew into pieces...'

*Splash*

A puddle of her own blood began to accumulate underneath her.

In addition, her body became a mass of contusions, encasing her entire musculature with a purple pigmentation.

As if that wasn't enough, inhaling and exhaling was now an arduous task for her, as her respiratory system was imploding on itself.

There's only one plausible conclusion that can be drawn from this predicament.

'I-I'm... Poisoned??'

"Did you notice?" said Shinobu, still apace with her antecedent speed. "That there's Wisteria Poison within you?"

Kanashimi's regenerative faculties weren't being activated; she couldn't draw her powers within this diminutive and helpless state.

'How? HOW?!?! Why is this happening?! How did she figure it out?! How did she—!'

"'How did she figure out that I'm completely defenseless in the Fountain of Illusions,' you may be asking yourself," it was as if Shinobu was reading her mind. "Well, it's simple: I had a hunch and went with it."

Kanashimi, even under her precarious physical state, managed to get a few, but hushed, noises out of her orifices: "A hunch? How? Why? When?!"

"When you said we couldn't kill each other here," Shinobu answered. "Certainly, you didn't try to kill me; you simply paralyzed me and took no further actions. However, that alone provided a hint into your inability to kill me—or, rather, my ability to kill you."

"What's more, the wounds you incur within the dreamscapes are instantly tended to once you enter the Fountain," she then smirked. "But... What if you were injured here? Within the Fountain? Then I suppose the damage would be permanent."

Indeed, it is a strange arrangement, but the Demon of Grief is powerless in her own realm.

'She saw through my bluff from the very beginning!'

"How... did you... poison me..." Kanashimi was practically suffocating at this point, the damage to her lungs was almost untenable at this point.

"This whole time, I was testing different compounds and concoctions with varying reaction times on you."

"What?"

The Insect Hashira continued to articulate her account whilst advancing towards the enemy, "Did you honestly forget that some poisons have delayed reaction times depending on the compound? In the entirety of our battles, I was carefully injecting each compound with every strike of my blade. These substances remained within your body and were evidently not erased when you returned to the Fountain—which proved that your regenerative prowess only addresses Conspicuous injuries rather than Inconspicuous poisons."

In other words, Kanashimi's body could only detect the poison that was actively harming her body, but not the poison that lay inactive for an extended period.

Thus, Kanashimi's very physiology had a fatal design flaw: she is easily susceptible to toxins that are hidden until they are released at the right time—that being when she's sojourned in the Fountain of Illusions.

This makes Shinobu's careful planning all the more impressive, considering how she had to also calculate the right moment the concoction would go into effect.

'She was multitasking the entire time?! With those wounds?!' Kanashimi couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I'm honestly surprised at your level of stupidity," Shinobu reproached her with the same language the enemy had previously used on her. "There were so many holes in your powers that it's almost amusing. And your regenerative powers are laughable; I've seen Lower Rank Kizukis have more impressive feats than this."

Kanashimi gritted her teeth in frustration, "So... that ploy about your blood being poison... was just a ruse to get me back here..."

"The dormant poison inside you required a stimulus, so I had to introduce an external substance: my blood. Also, I had to wait until you let your guard down, and only then would you be so impotent enough to fall for this novice-level plan."

"Although... some of the compounds had prematurely activated, considering how much you were already coughing," Shinobu further observed.

'This bitch! She lured me back into the Fountain of Illusions, where I'm completely vulnerable to any attacks!!! She's been plotting since the beginning! AND ALL BECAUSE OF A HUNCH SHE COULDN'T EVEN CONFIRM!!!' Kanashimi's frustration was reaching a boiling point, though there was really nothing she could do regarding it.

"Oh well, it worked out in the end," the Insect Hashira shrugged it off. "Now, allow me to end this."

Shinobu thence picked up her pace, transitioning from a leisurely walk to a brisk jog, hastily approaching Kanashimi at a higher and higher velocity.

She drew out her Nichirin Blade.

A thought traveled through Kanashimi's head, a conception she had seldom needed to dwell upon in the past, but a prospect that was now well within the realm of probability: 'I'm going to die... I'm really going to die now... At the hands of this insane woman...'

"D-Don't come here..." the Demon of Grief panicked. "Didn't you forget? W-We can't kill each other in this realm."

"Now, why would I trust the words of a demon..." Shinobu growled with a scowl, fully disclosing the personality that was hitherto hiding behind the mask.

'Butterfly Dance: Caprice.'

WHOOSH

With accelerating motion, Shinobu sprinted at an astonishing speed—gaining greater and greater momentum by the second.

She used up the last reserves of her strength and energy for this final, decisive attack against the Demon of Grief.

She then leaped into the air, the visual imagery of her flapping haori and nimble movements imitating the caricature of a butterfly.

Graceful, yet undoubtedly resilient.

Meanwhile, Kanashimi—as a result of the poisoning—was rendered immobile by the poison and, perhaps, by her own mixture of fear and intense sadness.

'I can't die here! I can't... I have so much to do... so much to say...'

The passage of time is ever so slow in these final moments

Like a film reel, Kanashimi's entire life flashed before her eyes. A plethora of moving pictures galloped before her like a theatrical production—reminding her of the sorrow, the joy, and the regrets.

The memories once locked away by the demonic curse flowed back into the inner sanctum of her soul.

With the chains and bondage fractured, Kanashimi was free to recollect in these final moments.

Free to indulge herself in the part of her soul that was hidden all these years—centuries, even.

Memories of the days of old.

Memories she wouldn't have recognized in her current form, but she shall witness as a spiritual being.

Because, in the end, she was still human.

SLASH

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The air, aided by the occasional breeze, felt cool on this summer day.

The sun shone brilliantly but not too oppressively.

There stood a plain rural home with little possessions, but an ambiance of warmth and love that encompassed the premises.

A couple sat on the edge of the veranda of their abode, with the wife cradling their newborn baby in her arms whilst the husband perched adjacent to her—gazing at his miracle from afar.

"Mommy, Daddy!" a little girl crawled over to her mother's lap.

The mother, feeling the touch of her youngest daughter, answered, "Do you want to see your brother, Etsuko?"

There was no color in her eyes, but her warm smile exuded a brightness and tenderness that served to outshine her faults—her angelic countenance was all that was needed.

"Mhm!" the girl jovially replied.

The mother gently lowered her arms, permitting the girl to look at her baby brother.

"Say hi to Isamu," the mother encourages.

The girl took a few moments to stare at the infant.

"Chubby!" she giggled.

Both the mother and father chuckled at the comment.

With their fourth child, they had brought a fourth source of familial love and happiness into their lives.

The Father, in particular, felt eternally grateful.

Appreciative of the life he currently has the privilege of savoring.

All thanks to the woman he now calls his beloved.

He planted a kiss on his wife's cheek.

"Daddy kissed Mommy!" the girl exclaimed.

"Ah, that was sudden," the wife blushed, her eyes still staring at the courtyard. "You still know when to surprise me, don't you?"

The man softly nodded and grinned widely.

This was the life he had sought for so long.

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Cold.

Unrelenting.

Merciless.

In the vastness of a great field, a stunning image of hay and tall grass enclosed this particular meadow. The late evening sunlight shone brilliantly as its majestic rays illuminated the locality with its galvanizing and illustrious blaze. The lush greenery and cultivated fields exuded an atmosphere of serenity and perpetual tranquility.

With such a remarkable scenery, one would anticipate the physical characteristics and ambiance of this particular vicinity to be reflected upon the hearts and minds of any individual who happens to situate themselves here.

However, on this particular occasion, no such feelings could be discerned by either the eyes or ears.

Only the odor of rotting flesh, the scene of a myriad of corpses prostrated on the mud, and blood splattered along every blade of grass and every square meter of the floor could be perceived; they were the only identifiable facets of this dark reality.

Among the dead, only one man stood with vigor in the moor.

The Father stood indignantly with a solemn posture—with malice towards none, but no pompous attitude displayed towards all.

He stood, equipped with an unsheathed Katana on his right hand, bruises and lacerations protruding throughout his physique and a grim look on his face as he stared upon the endless streams of bodies that lay before him.

He stood in silence as a requiem for his loved ones, but also a curse directed towards the sinners and the delusional.

He stood in a position of strength and superiority, but he did not endorse such extravagant dispositions. He mourned, but he did not ask Kami-sama for forgiveness.

He simply stood because he was both the casualty and the aggressor, the receiver of deceptions and the deceiver of the innocent, both the victim and the murderer.

The life he had relished so much was gone.

The woman he had loved so deeply and intimately was gone.

Now, all that was left was just him.

Just him again. All alone again.

Forced to abide by the Curse of Izanami again.

Despair.

He felt his soul hollowed out, his very essence being drowned in the ruthless indifference of this world.

No.

He cannot accept this outcome; he cannot sit back and merely watch as everything he holds dear is sent to its ultimate demise.

He will rebel against this cruel world.

He will defy its laws ordained by the heavens, and he shall defy both Kami-sama and the spawns of Yomi.

By any means necessary, he will bring that life back.

He will make his family whole again.

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"Please... Onii-san... Don't leave us again..." she supplicated, the eternal grief and sadness welling within her corrupted soul—further exacerbating her internal suffering and turmoil.

"I must, for Father," the figure simply said.

Everything was tearing apart again, everything was repeating again.

Just like when the warm fabric of affection which had kept their family together disintegrated on that godforsaken day, that dilapidated bond has all but caved into the wickedness that now forsakes its own kin.

The curse that has ruined their lives and their bonds with each other.

She, in particular, was chained by the curse of her Grief—the eternal grief she will experience from incessantly witnessing the fragmenting of the love and faith that had once bound them together.

The figure stared pensively at his younger sister, seeking to formulate a coherent, reasonable response that will abate her woes.

But he couldn't find any such combination of words. After all, with such malice in his soul, he can't possibly ameliorate the suffering of others...

Instead, he had to uphold his duties and protect what he deemed to be most important to him.

"I'll be going now."

"..." the girl refused to speak any further.

She then felt a pat on her head, prompting her to glance upward at her brother.

"Take care of yourself... Etsuko..."

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Etsuko

My body felt numb.

I can't see a thing, everything's pitch black.

What's happening...?

Ah, that's right. I've been defeated.

Thoroughly beaten.

It's the end of the line for me.

Just moments ago, I was pretty angry about losing to that Hashira.

But now... I suppose I feel relieved.

Relieved about leaving this body, this prison cell.

Have I finally been released from this neverending nightmare?

No... The nightmare has not yet ended.

Mother is still gone.

And Father won't stop until he 'fixes' everything.

The family will continue to suffer, unless—by some miracle—Father is convinced otherwise.

Is this all part of your plan, Onii-san?

Your plan to save us all?

Have I been saved?

"Take care of yourself... Etsuko..."

Etsuko... Huh.

So that's my name...

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Shinobu

I awoke on the floor.

My head felt heavy, but the rest of my body—surprisingly enough—felt as light as a feather.

"Ugh..." I carefully hoisted myself up, still reeling from the immense headache that beleaguered me.

I look around.

Wait a minute.

I can see from my left eye.

I quickly scrutinize my body, patting myself all around as a means to detect any pulsating sensation.

No way... All my wounds are gone; it's like the battle never happened in the first place.

Then, does that mean I escaped the Demonic Spell?

Shifting my head in all directions, I scan my surroundings.

"Where... Where am I?" the words automatically came out of my mouth.

This place was... beautiful.

It was as if I had reached the ethereal domain of the Gods, the peripheral beauty of the Universe.

The enthralling, clear-blue sky was intermittently adorned with a few feathery clouds that faded in appearance. The ground, meanwhile, was like an azure sea cladded with some of the same clumps of water vapor present in the sky.

In other words, the ground appeared to be merely the reflection of whatever was above: the clouds and the blue atmosphere.

It was a picturesque scene—straight from the imagination—that one could hardly replicate in the real world. Even just standing here was enough to calm my spirit and soothe my soul.

This, however, also implies that I'm still in the illusion.

Does that mean I failed in defeating the enemy?

"Not at all," a soft—but firm—feminine voice said from behind.

I immediately turn around to greet this mysterious figure.

Upon doing so, I was met by a young teenage girl—probably around 14 years of age. She had long, straight hair styled into a Hime Cut, a coiffure that originated from the Heian Period in Japanese history.

She was accoutered in a light blue kimono—matching the setting with relative ease—that had a black obi sash wrapped around the waist.

She had this tired expression on her visage, clearly conveying her weariness—with what, though, I could not tell.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" I ask politely.

"You have succeeded in defeating me, it's only a matter of time before I truly pass away," she stated candidly.

My eyes widened, "So, you're..."

"You are correct... I'm Kanashimi," she admits.

I ponder the implications for a moment, "... I see."

"You don't seem surprised," she observes.

"I can't say it's my first time having such a conversation," I reply.

"Ah... right... you defeated Osore... He talked to you?" she asked, curiosity beginning to manifest in her eyes.

"Yes," I confirm, "though it was mostly my partner who beat him..."

"The Water Hashira?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry about him, he's still alive," she informs.

My heart jumps at the news, "He is?!"

"Yes..."

"Thank god," I let out a heavy sigh, the weight on my shoulders being somewhat more bearable.

"However... he cannot escape the dreamscape by will. Hence, why you must descend down the Pool of Memories before I die," she forewarns, imparting crucial information.

"Pool of Memories?"

"This place, you see, is still the Fountain of Illusions—just transformed. My powers technically still linger, though I cannot harness any of it now. However, upon my death, the Fountain will dissolve along with anything in it. Which is why you must retrieve the Water Hashria before his spirit is locked in here forever," the girl expounds, providing further context for this odd environment.

She goes on, "The location of the Pool of Memories is close to you—you can probably summon it by will. If you jump in there, you will find your partner."

Just minutes ago she and I were at each other's throats.

And now, she's helping me save Giyuu.

It's an anomalous situation—the same way this whole mission is an anomaly.

But, then again, she's no longer a demon. And I've had the same experience with Osore. So, it's not like I'm at a complete loss of words.

Still, it is quite confounding to watch.

Oh well.

I'm too concerned about Giyuu to focus on hating her anyway.

"Thank you," I nodded, proceeding to walk toward what I believed to be the Pool she was referring to.

"One more thing," she interjects, "the memories of your dreamscape from the 1960s will be gone once I die."

I stop walking, "And?"

"I know it will be difficult to come to terms with this... especially since I took your sense of grief and converted it into fabricated memories..."

Of course, I had a suspicion that I wouldn't be able to retain those memories for long. I can't confuse reality with delusions, after all.

I do feel saddened by the news, those memories are very precious indeed; they are everything I wanted, everything I longed for, and everything I had resolved to never forget.

Nonetheless, I don't think I'll be needing them.

Because, ultimately, I have plenty of happy recollections of the past in this world. I don't need another world to ingratiate myself with even more recollections.

"I won't be needing them anyway. Because I already know that I have a loving mother, father, and sister in the end," I look up to her. "The fact that they existed, the fact that their love for me was real and pure, is all I need."

"I... see," she replied, seemingly at a loss for words.

Then, she spoke again: "Also!"

I face the interlocutor again.

"I... want to ask you something..." There was dithering in her voice. "What were his last words—I mean, Osore's...?"

She wants to know his last words?

"Please, Miss, stop my father. Save my siblings and, most of all, save my father..."

"He asked me to save his siblings and his father," I give a straightforward answer.

Tears started streaming down from her optics, as a look of astoundment and delight swept her facial features.

"Isamu... that's my baby brother's name..." she smiled poignantly, an aberration from her previous mannerisms.

"And I'm Etsuko," she added, fully revealing herself.

Osore is Isamu, and Kanashimi is Etsuko.

Once defeated, demons often reveal the humanity they had abandoned. Oftentimes, it's out of desperation, fear, regret, or something along those lines. Either way, I don't spare much sympathy for them

But it's different for these demons.

Maybe it's the genuine, familial bonds that connect them, or maybe because I've changed myself, but I can't help but sympathize with them.

I can only assume that a terrible tragedy collectively affected the entire family, plunging them into an irreversible condition that has irreparably stained the bonds they hold for each other.

I return the smile, "Farewell, Etsuko."

"Good luck, Kocho Shinobu. From here on out, the trials would only get harder... But please, despite everything, please do as Isamu speaks; please save my family," pleaded Etsuko, bowing in the process.

"I will try my best," I acknowledge.

"Thank you..."

I jump into the aperture present on the floor, initiating my descent into the Pool of Memories.

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..

Finally, after so long, I'll be able to see you again, Giyuu.

Whatever I say right now cannot describe the indescribable feelings I harbor both for you and regarding you.

The longer we are apart, the more I lose myself in the grief and sorrow. It took everything just to pull myself out of this conundrum.

I had doubts about my purpose in life; I didn't know how to address the gaping hole in my heart that yearns for loved ones who have already ascended.

But with everything that has happened thus far, I have resolved to fight on.

Even if the future may be bleak, even if my pain cannot fully mend with time, and even if I cannot completely heal whatever scars you may have, I still want to be with you.

Because, in the end, I will not let my fear or my grief overpower my conviction.

Because I love you and always will, Tomioka Giyuu.

That, I know, will never change.