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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When did it all start?

The pain, the sorrow, and the hatred?

The effigies of corpses immortalized in the mind and tainted in the soul?

He believed in this salvation, believed in its ability to bring closure to his troubled spirit and impress upon himself the true purpose of his existence.

And yet, he has not only regressed but further indulged in the cynical and malicious nature of his being.

While supposedly seeking to precipitate the revival of his most beloved, he had inadvertently fulfilled the twisted decrees dictated by his equally corrupted creator.

In his pursuit of happiness, he allowed the inner demon to manifest and guide both the mind and body to its bloody destination.

He craved that feeling again; what he most desired was a return to the days of old—the aspirations, hopes, dreams, and joy of his past life.

A life so fulfilling that he willingly surrendered his longevity in order to pass away alongside his mortal loved ones.

Alas, as the light of those memories dims with each passing century, he can only faintly recall the distant merriment: he can only reminisce the THOUGHT of that happiness, not the happiness itself.

What he now believes to be happiness is but a mere figment of his own delusion.

As such, he has forgotten the very feelings he's trying to simultaneously preserve and resurrect.

He has neglected the duties and oath he had ordained upon himself and his most beloved.

He has forgotten the cherished existence of his children.

He has forgotten the happiness they had brought him.

Instead, he has infused within them a parcel of his very soul, corrupting their hitherto untainted spirits.

The innocence and joyful children that once playfully roamed the abode are now distorted constructs of his own demonic nature.

In his efforts to save them, he has only served to further torture and haunt their spirits—depriving them of the luxury of passing into the next realm in peace.

Indeed, he has made them murderers, voraciously consuming innocent lives in order to satiate the all-encompassing desire to unite and save this family.

But, as he fails to realize or acknowledge, this family is beyond saving.

In fact, it is him who has jeopardized the safety of this family.

In that respect, Utsuro is no father: he doesn't impart fatherly wisdom to his children, he only commands them; he doesn't wish for their well-being, he merely wishes to utilize them as a cog in his machinations; and he doesn't love them anymore, he now treats them with the same contempt a master would treat his slave.

It was not always like this.

Akio wasn't like this.

But, in his despair, Akio permitted Utsuro to embark on the task of saving his loved ones.

Only now does he realize that there is not an iota of love within his horrid being.

Utsuro is empty, a void that is insouciant to the fulfillment of the soul.

He seldom shares any of the same sentiments Akio does.

Much less the love towards his own children.

..

..

..

..

A hushed, cool breeze wafted gently through the air, placating the senses and mollifying the perturbed mind of all disturbances.

Amid the morning dew, with the glittering grass sprinkled with droplets of water along the viridescent blades, there stood the cozy warmth of a humble residence; though not ostentatiously glamorous in its architectural splendor, this home was sufficient in providing both comfort and happiness to all those who lived under its embrace.

In other words, the Minka-style vernacular home was clearly built without the professional or academic guidance of traditional architectural wisdom, but it nonetheless stood strong after so many years—even as dwellers grew larger in number—thereby fulfilling its fundamental purpose.

On this particular wet morning, though, there was excitement and energy in the air.

Three carefree children frolicked around the house. The reticent eldest daughter, another boisterous daughter, and the youngest son.

They paid no heed to the intricacies of the world around them; they were not burdened by the mundane stresses of daily life, but, rather, relishing in the innocence of this blissful environment—and of the innocence of their kind, young hearts.

As they raced around the wooden abode, a motherly figure remained perched along the Engawa platform of the structural peripheries. Although nominally tasked with "watching" over her children, she had to instead resort to "listening" to the giggles and individual reverberations of their movement.

Despite this impediment, she gleefully indulged herself with the resonance of pure joy and expressions of excitement emanating from these personified manifestations of sunshine.

The mother smiled broadly as she overheard the energetic rhythm of their strides and the sweet melody of their laughter.

"You're it!" Etsuko tapped her elder sister.

"Wait, that's not fair! You didn't give us time to run," Eiko protested, evoking a deep frown in the process.

True to her mischievous nature, Etsuko stuck her tongue out, "Stop being a crybaby about it!"

This, of course, only served to incense the nominally reticent elder daughter: "Hey, don't forget I'm older than you!"

"Then prove it!" Etsuko giggled.

"Nee-san is it!!" A younger boy jumped into the fray, making his presence clearly known.

"Isamu, stop siding with Etsuko!" Eiko whined, seemingly frustrated by how she was being outvoted on this particular matter.

"Catch me if you can!" Both Etsuko and Isamu made a dash, permanently settling the dispute in their favor.

"You guys suck!" Eiko, while still convinced that she was in the right, ultimately chose to pursue her siblings—inadvertently endorsing her sister's position.

"Eiko, language!" The mother lightly called out, reminding her daughter of basic manners.

"Sorry Mother!" Eiko automatically answered as she sprinted towards her two targets.

Himari grinned once more, evidently content with the current state of affairs—her daughters can be impish at times, but they are all truly wonderful children that she cherishes and will forever love.

Nevertheless, as the mother silently observed—by varying means—-the younger members of the family, there was a glaring omission from this band of jovial fellows: the eldest brother and the father.

Indeed, the two had embarked on an excursion into the woods, primarily with the intent to procure an assortment of chopped firewood.

With a blind mother and three feeble children, only the father and the eldest son had the wherewithal to partake in this physically straining activity.

*CHOP*

With one mighty swing of the axe, Junnosuke—the eldest son and firstborn—cleaved the moderately-sized girth of a Sugi tree's log.

"Hah..." he panted heavily, with the arduous activity taking its toll on his young body.

"Chin up, we still have more work to do," a stern voice instructed from afar.

"Yes... father..." Junnosuke haggardly answered, beads steadily dripping from his forehead.

As he raised the axe once more, Junnosuke could still hear the distant chuckles and the carefree, childish giggles.

He momentarily stopped.

A frown crept up along his lineaments, the seeming manifestation of an inner frustration brewing beneath the facade of the obedient, eldest child.

He slowly lowered the axe, opting to instead ponder the implications of these conflicting emotions.

The father, eventually taking notice of his son's inactivity, rejoined, "What are you doing?"

Junnosuke, however, did not entertain a response. He stood in silence, the axe now hanging lazily in one hand.

"Junnosuke, get back to work," the father commanded in his low, gruff tone.

"Father..." the eldest son finally voiced his reservations.

Finally taking notice of this abrupt shift in his son's demeanor, the father let out a heavy sigh, "What's the matter."

"Exactly that," Junnosuke murmured.

The father raised an eyebrow, "Exactly what?"

"The way you talk to me."

"What about it?"

"You..." Junnosuke struggled to articulate his thoughts correctly, not wanting his father to obfuscate their meaning—especially since he doesn't hold any particular ill will towards his own father.

Indeed, Junnosuke simply wanted his Father to hear his voice for once.

"Me? What about me?"

"U-Uhm..." The boy stammered, still engaged in this perpetual toil of conveying and translating abstract sentiments into tangible, meaningful words.

"What is it? Speak up, boy," the father ordered, infusing further tension and apprehension into the exchange.

"D-Do you... Do you hate me, Father?" Junnosuke asked almost innocently, like a child seeking answers or validation for something they could not fully comprehend.

Perhaps it is precisely because Junnosuke is a child that makes this a conceivable outcome in the first place.

The boy braced for the worst, expecting another stern lecture from his father. Another directive demanding him to get back to his chores.

Another responsibility to fulfill his duties as the eldest son.

But, against expectations, he was met with complete and utter silence.

Junnosuke was too afraid to scan his father's facial expressions, fearing that he would be met with a look of disapproval—a look that exhibited disappointment of the highest order.

All his life, he had been inculcated the importance of his responsibilities and familial duties as the eldest child. All his life, he had been a role model for his younger siblings, assisting both his mother in raising the children and his father in providing for the family.

And yet, throughout it all, he felt neglected; all the love of his parents was directed towards his younger siblings, while he alone had to put up a strong front—to become the ideal, dependable son and older brother.

Why was he given this role? This burden? At such a young age?

Was it because his father hated him?

He could not identify any other reason.

Unexpectedly, his father kneeled down—their eyes now meeting face-to-face—and placed his warm, calloused hand on Junnosuke's shoulder.

It was as if the touch of his hand somehow managed to release all the stress building up inside Junnosuke.

Concurrently, Akio had a slight frown on his countenance, one that exuded subtle hints of dismay and guilt.

"Son, I don't hate you..." Akio said in a near whisper.

Junnosuke's eyes widened with astonishment.

Akio frowned, "I don't hate you, son. I'm sorry if I'm too hard on you."

"Father..." Junnosuke blurted, overwhelmed by the gravity of the scene.

Never had he seen his father—normally austere and unrelenting—so frank, so raw with his insecurities, and so sentimental all at once.

"I constantly question whether I'm doing my job as a father correctly. I never imagined I would fall in love, much less raise children," he reminisced softly.

"With your mother's condition and your siblings too young to fend for themselves, I only have you to rely on, my son... Which is why I tend to expect a lot from you," he added.

"I know it's hard. I know it's overwhelming. But... you're the only one who can look after your siblings when I'm not around. You're the only one who can lead this family when I can't myself."

Then, in an act of unprecedented affection and warmth, Akio patted the boy's head and smiled weakly, "You're the only one I can trust."

"F-Father..." Junnosuke stared in awe.

Akio exhaled deeply before promptly standing upright once again, "Go on now."

"Yes, Father," Junnosuke, understanding the depths of his duties and the intrinsic value they bear to both his family and—most of all—to his father, subsequently lifted the axe to labor once more.

"I didn't mean that," Akio called out as he began striding away toward his own workplace, any visual observation unable to describe what inscrutable expression he had possibly donned.

Junnosuke stared at the man with perplexity.

Akio then stopped in his tracks, his back still facing the eldest son.

"I mean go to your mother, your siblings... take the day off," Akio elaborated gently.

A giddy feeling of excitement shook Junnosuke to his spine.

He reacted without a moment's hesitation.

"T-Thank you, father!!" he dropped the axe and sprinted towards his destination: the humble abode.

From the corners of his eyes, Akio bore witness to the colorful imagery of his gleeful son fleeing from the responsibilities he had been compelled to carry—fleeing from the heavy weight of his father's work and towards the carefree, joyful environment closer to his mother.

The corners of his mouth curved upward at this sight.

"Perhaps I'm too harsh..." he mutters to himself.

After all, he does not hate his son.

He does not hate his family, nor the life Himari has granted him with her love and affection.

He loves it dearly.

He loves his wife and his children with all his empty heart could muster.

Yes, the delightful sight of that boy running to play with his younger siblings was forever etched into his mind and memory.

It was to become the hallmark of this miracle.

This miraculous life.

He then set off, hoping to finish a day's work fast enough to spend time with everyone else.

..

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..

..

In the inner sanctum of a cold, desolate chamber, there stood two figures mired in shadow and bloodlust.

Within the depths of the darkness, in the deepest core of the chasm, evil was abound and omniscient.

The humanity that once was had been sacrificed. Morals for vengeance, rationality for malice, and love for power.

"To what matter does the Demon of Guilt request an audience," a low, malevolent voice boomed, echoing eerily throughout this vast space.

"My lord, I ask that you reconsider the matter regarding the mass-ritual initiative," the shadow answered.

"To what end?" his voice cut more sharply than any masterly-crafted Katana.

"To the conclusion that this plan holds no merit whatsoever. There are other means we can explore in order to achieve our goals," the shadow replied deftly.

"Other means? Do you know why I have decided to pursue this particular objective? Because everything else has FAILED. I SEE with my own EYES! There are no other alternatives left, there is no future left!" the authoritative figure lashed out.

"But this plan goes beyond the scope of the simple goal we had in mind," the shadow countered.

"And what is that goal, remind me?"

"To save our beloved mother."

"Then, understand, this is the only way."

"No!" the shadow objected. "It is not!"

"And why's that? If you had to sacrifice a few measly lives for the sake of Himari, would you do it?"

"This is no longer simply abducting victims and killing a few humans here and there. This is a WHOLE city! Millions! You want to launch a sundering of the very fabric of this Earth in order to revive Mother!!"

"If it is necessary, then we must do exactly that," the father hissed.

"Just listen to yourself! I highly doubt that Mother would want to be revived this way, that she would approve of thi—!"

"SILENCE! Don't you dare invoke her name!"

This only strengthened the shadow's resolve: "None of this is what Mother taught us! She would be heartbroken to see you like this!"

"ENOUGH! I don't want to hear any of that from a failure of a son! The failure of a firstborn who couldn't protect the family—who failed in upholding his duties and keeping his word to both his mother and father!"

Zaiaku-kan clenched his teeth in frustration, the insurmountable burden of his guilt weighing down on his corrupted soul—a soul so twisted and bastardized that any mention of his sullied past was sufficient in silencing his very voice.

The proud warrior was now a frightened child, facing the harsh rebuke of his superior—or, rather, his father.

"That's right," Utsuro snarled, "you useless, worthless child. You're the reason why we're all miserable!"

That's all it takes to bring the Demon of Guilt to his knees: guilt itself.

"Your shortcomings have proved to bring about the demise of your own mother."

His words were like poison, infecting the mind and stymieing the body. Zaiaku-kan was helpless against this rampage.

"For... For nearly a thousand years... You have constantly berated me, subjugated me and my siblings, coerced me, and treated me like a worthless piece of garbage..." Zaiaku-kan's shadowy, sorrowful presence permeated throughout the vicinity.

"Utsuro... Father... Do you hate me...?" he whispered.

"..." Utsuro refused to answer.

"You now wished that our places had been exchanged..." Zaiaku-kan started.

"... That I had died and Mother had lived," he finished with a heavy heart.

"Yes... I had wished that..." Utsuro gave a tepid response, much unlike the typical authoritative cadence he usually emits.

For the first time, within the confines of his apathetic and corrupt demonic soul, Zaiaku-kan felt a raw, intense aching that eerily reminded him of human-like emotions—an acute sadness that removed the veil of indifference that he had donned as a demonic creature.

It was the first of its kind since the distant memories of his human years.

A teardrop.

Though he was formless, though he was thoroughly corrupted, and though he had been numb to the pain and suffering of his existence, he couldn't help but despair.

The answer to his anxieties, his reservations as a child, and his distress as a demon was all for naught.

He had lost what remained of Junnosuke.

"The Eyes of Prognostication... I will take them from you. I will prevent this despair from overtaking you and the family. I will save us all..." Zaiaku-kan proclaimed, albeit in a tone that did not evince strength nor resolve.

"Hah," Utsuro scoffed. "Try as you might. You will never succeed. You have already failed once, son."

"Don't call me that. You're not my father... You're just Utsuro."

"You're not Akio."

..

..

..

..

..

..

He awoke from a long dream.

Or, rather, from a recollection of a distant memory.

A reminder of his eternal emptiness, the bitter taste of defeat and disappointment throughout the ages.

Yes, he ought to remember.

His body felt cold, his breathing was conspicuously rhythmic, and his voice was raspy—choking in his own spittle and blood.

As the pool of ichor beneath him continued to grow in radius, it became clear to even onlookers that the Father Demon was mortally wounded.

Lying flat on the ground, Utsuro was no longer the towering, formidable figure that was poised to bring a miserable end to the brave Hashiras.

"Wha... What is this...!!!" Utsuro growled in a synergistic fit of rage and confusion.

Both the Water and Insect Hashiras, still somewhat fixed in a battle stance, were also utterly bewildered by this new and unexpected development.

With their eyes dilated and their countenance evoking a look of shock, Giyuu and Shinobu did not know what to make of this.

After all, it all happened so fast...

..

..

"Where are their corpses? The Hashiras' corpses!! WHY AREN'T THEY DEAD!!!" Utsuro shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What corpses?" Akio's eyes narrowed. "There weren't any to begin with."

"What do you mean..." Utsuro answered with trepidation.

"Utsuro, this body is no longer yours," Akio calmly asserted.

"And who decided that," Utsuro snarled.

"I just did."

..

..

..

..

Utsuro unsheathed his katana, putting the Hashiras on high alert.

"Apologies about my rambling, I will make this as short as possible for the both of you," said Utsuro.

"You can try," Shinobu said defiantly.

"Don't be stupid. You can't possibly win against me. Barring your injuries and already-diminutive fighting state, my eyes have already predicted your next moves. There's nothing you can do to win," Utsuro replied plainly.

"Even so," Giyuu raised his Nichirin Blade. "We have to try."

Shinobu raised hers as well, "Because everyone is counting on us."

Utsuro sighed at the futility of it all, "So be it."

Giyuu and Shinobu shared one last, apologetic look at each other—one expressing their love, regrets, aspirations, resolve, and trust in each other.

Whatever the outcome was going to be, there was one thing they did not regret at all: acknowledging and proclaiming their love for each other.

Such emotional tenderness was indispensable; the unbounded elation and solace found in their affection could never be deprived.

Indeed, no matter the outcome, they could die knowing they've found what they've been searching for all along—an inner peace manifested by their undying love.

They let go of each other; their hands no longer clasped.

Utsuro raised his sword, the Hashiras did the same.

He stepped forward, they did too.

Giyuu mustered what little strength was left.

Shinobu was poised to conjure what little agility she could perform.

They were terribly injured, but they were not going down without a fight.

They mentally prepare for the worst.

"DIE!!" Utsuro yelled.

'Third Form...' Giyuu started the incantation, the pressure on his damaged lungs so great that he felt it could implode any second now.

'Dance of the Bee Sting...' Shinobu similarly began, her lungs and stamina also diminished in vitality—meaning she would have to contend with great difficulty in performing this movement.

JAB

They both immediately paused.

A blade had pierced through flesh.

Blood dripped from the impact region.

"ACH!" The victim coughed up spittle and disgorged ichor.

Both Giyuu and Shinobu gawked at the scene before them. Completely taken aback, they both unconsciously broke battle stance.

Nothing could have ever prepared them for this development.

A blade ran through Utsuro's chest.

His own blade.

A blade to which Utsuro utilized to stab himself.

As if he was trying to kill himself.

"ACH!" Utsuro coughed once more.

THUD

He collapsed head-first onto the ground.

..

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..

..

"Impossible... How..." Utsuro could not fathom this outcome.

"You aren't some immortal monster anymore, Utsuro."

Utsuro's face furrowed, unable to temper his fury, "Tell me, who did you call out for in the pits of hell? Who did you beseech to resurrect and save your own family?"

"..." Akio's gaze fell slightly, acknowledging the implications behind Utsuro's charges.

He continued, "When they burned your sorry corpse, watching as they murdered, maimed, and raped your children one by one, whilst gouging the heart out of your beloved wife, who did you call out for in the darkness?"

"..."

"I DID. You cried out for MY name and pleaded for salvation. Akio summoned UTSURO because he was too weak to protect his family! You are NOTHING without me! You cannot possibly hope to protect anything—hope to resurrect our beloved Himari—without ME!" His repulsive words withered away every iota of respect and self-dignity to this colloquium, with the foul stench of evil instilling an atmosphere of intense abhorrence and emptiness.

Utsuro conjured up the amalgamation of all the hatred, shame, guilt, fear, grief, and self-loathing in order to specifically remind Akio of the spiritual state of their soul; that is, just how hollow it was, just how meaningless it was to defy its destiny.

After all, Utsuro had spent all centuries tying Akio to this hollowness, subjugating him by way of mental and emotional manipulation—by means of reminding him of his meaningless state of being.

All to justify Utsuro's continued existence.

"You're right..." Akio muttered, ostensibly in defeat, "I was desperate. I reached out for any hope, any solution that could potentially salvage the insanity that transpired before me. In my despair, I allowed you to assume total agency, under the foolish assumption that only strength and raw power could rectify what had gone wrong."

"Then—!" Utsuro started.

"But," Akio interrupted, "there's simply no point anymore."

"What are you saying, you blithering idiot?!" Utsuro shouted.

"Look closely. Pay attention for once," Akio replied coldly, his anger becoming increasingly palpable behind the veneer of composure. "Your children are dead, your wife is dead. You've failed to protect everyone. There's no hope of going back; there never was. Instead of accepting that, we deluded ourselves into believing that we were only one step closer, only to realize that we left a trail of our kin's blood along that way."

"WE WILL ACHIEVE WHAT WE DESIRE. WE WILL BRING HIMARI BACK—!"

"I can't listen to this anymore. You've been saying the same thing over and over and over... I just can't believe any of it anymore... I was getting tired, sick of it all..."

"SHUT UP YOU DEFEATIST COWARD, YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT ME!!"

"You know, I was thinking of doing this long ago. Freeing my children's souls from their demonic, corporeal forms, and ending this whole charade while accepting whatever punishments the Gods or my Creator has in store for my sins..."

"YOU FUCKING COWARD, HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME!" Utsuro was losing all sense of sanity, slowly devolving into a blabbering cacophony of insults, obscenities, and defamation.

Suddenly, Akio then grinned slightly, "Until I saw those two... Those Hashiras... They showed me something I haven't seen or felt in a while..."

"SYMPATHIZING WITH THE ENEMY, HUH?! YOU FUCKING BASTARD, OBEY ME, OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES!!"

Akio continued to ignore the wildly unhinged polemical rant, "Those two almost reminded me of something I've forgotten all these years. Despite all the pain, all the longing, and all the regrets, I've forgotten why I wanted Himari back in the first place."

"ARE YOU SLOW?! IT'S BECAUSE WE'RE TRYING TO REUNITE THE FAMILY! IT'S ALL FOR THE SAKE OF OUR FAMILY!!" Utsuro rebuked harshly.

"A family you have forsaken," Akio reprimanded harshly.

"If the extent of our intentions is merely the knowing, yet not the comprehending, how are we to truly appreciate the outcome? If all we remember from those days is some vague feeling of longing, then what are we fighting for? What emotion have we forgotten? What feelings are we trying to remember in our quest to bring her back?" Akio threw a flurry of questions.

He continued, "Have we forgotten what it means to love? Have we forgotten the vows exchanged, the promises made, and the oath we swore to uphold?"

His eyes drew downwards in a gesture of contemplation and humility, "I've been watching our enemies closely, watching them struggle, overcome numerous trials and tribulations, rise above their pain, shed many tears, and embrace each other in the darkness."

"Watching Tomioka Giyuu and Kocho Shinobu, seeing how lives have and will unravel throughout the many planes of existence, I've rediscovered what it means to love. What it means to weather the storm side-by-side with someone you care deeply about. This pure, sincere devotion to each other is the essence of the memory of my beloved, Himari. Her love and devotion is what saved me, and it will be your undoing as well," Akio finished.

"LOVE?! WHAT USE IS LOVE WHEN THE CORPSES OF LOVED ONES ARE STREWN ACROSS THE BLOODY GROUND?! WHAT IS THE POINT OF UNDERSTANDING IF WE CAN'T EXPERIENCE IT ANYMORE!!" Utsuro angrily retorted.

Akio, likewise, answered in kind, "Is that why you allowed the children to be mentally and spiritually tortured all these years? Is that why young Isamu is forced to live in a constant state of fear? Fear of humans and the outside world—the same fears you share? Why Etsuko has to endure the incessant grief tearing apart her soul? The grief of losing her mother and siblings—the grief you also endure? Why Eiko has to feel the shame of being utterly weak and the mercy of the enemy? Just like you? And why Junnosuke has to suffer from the guilt of failing to protect his family? A promise you compelled upon him?

"Is that it? Is that why you imbued your corruption and tainted blood into their pure, pristine souls? Why you took advantage of their pain? You say you want to make the family whole again, yet you refuse to love your own children—right when they needed you the most."

"This family will never be whole again... unless Himari is brought back to life!" Utsuro, catching his breath from all the shouting, replied scathingly.

"You don't love Himari either," Akio asserts brusquely.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Utsuro shouted in response to this blatant provocation.

"Do you honestly believe Himari would've wanted any of this? To see her husband revert back to his murderous ways, to have her children become twisted and docile demonic beings, and all that justified under her name? Would she be happy with what we are now? And we are about to undertake?"

"HIMARI DESERVED TO LIVE!!"

"As did the thousands we've slaughtered over the centuries. And so do our children—they deserve to find peace with themselves, rather than being constantly tormented under our curse," Akio riposted.

"If you cannot recognize this simple fact, then you never truly understood Himari. And neither have I..." His voice expressed a more somber and doleful tone. "Perhaps I too have failed to live up to my own expectations... of my love for her...

"Which is why I cannot allow you to win, Utsuro," Akio looked firmly at Utsuro, his determined countenance unwavering and no longer rife with doubt. "Otherwise, I will have betrayed everything I cherish. None of this is worth the revenge and solace you are attempting to seek."

"You are NOTHING without me! You cannot accomplish ANYTHING without me!! I WILL CRUSH YOU, THEN I WILL RIP THE HEARTS OF OUT THE PITIFUL HASHIRAS' BODIES. I WILL END THIS FOOLISH MATTER ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!" Utsuro unsheathed his sword.

"So be it," Akio softly acknowledges.

"We shall see who triumphs."

..

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..

..

Utsuro, suffocating and reeling from extreme blood loss, panted heavily as he hoisted up himself from the cold, concrete floor.

Large sums of blood, cladded in a black and demonic tinge, continued to pour out of the wound socket, leaving an ever-expanding fountain directly beneath the enemy.

Blood drooled out of his mouth nonstop, alluding to the irreparable damage he had just caused to his own internal organs.

The Hashiras, meanwhile, simply stared at this bizarre image—unable to even react.

"Shinobu... did you see that...?" Giyuu whispered.

"Yeah... At least, I think I did..." Shinobu whispered back.

"Why did he stab himself?" She added.

"I don't know," Giyuu said as he raised his katana once more, "but this could be our chance."

Realizing just how much of a miraculous development this was, Shinobu quickly nodded and fixed a battle stance, "You're right."

"You fools..." Utsuro muttered as he spat out the extraneous fluids, his weakened vocal projection being indicative of his deteriorating physical condition. "You think you have a chance of winning??"

Neither Giyuu nor Shinobu chose to entertain these scurrilous remarks.

"I can see your futures...I can see grief and fear," Utsuro spoke under his breath with a contrived, evil grin. "As I gaze upon your past, I see guilt and shame. There is nothing for you in the present. NOTHING!!"

WHOOSH

He quickly lunged forward, moving at an imperceptible speed whilst raising his blade for an assault, "YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO PROTECT! YOU TWO ARE BOTH HOLLOW!!!"

He was poised to strike the Hashiras.

CLANG

Sparks from the metallic collision singed the air.

Giyuu's Nichirin Blade, angled more horizontally, clashed with the lower base of the blade—closer to the handle.

Shinobu's needle-like katana, at the same, had halted the blade closer to the kissaki (point), with a bearing that angled the sword slightly above Giyuu's.

The result was a complete obstruction of Utsuro and his blade's momentum, with both the Hashiras contributing to its stationary condition.

"What we want to protect is right here with us," Giyuu stated firmly.

"They will always be," Shinobu asserts.

"We will never be empty inside," they both proclaimed in unison.

"As long as I have her."

"And I have him."

Utsuro, once more, was shaken to the core at the prospect of two meager humans parrying his attack.

In an act of desperation, he attempted to press forward against the two contacting blades, hoping to break the stalemate.

*HACK*

Unfortunately, the force exerted by this action placed immense pressure on his internal bodily functions, which were already irreparably damaged.

*HACK*

Choking from his own blood, he couldn't properly engage the mind nor the body for a concentrated maneuver against the Hashiras.

Consequently, his foes took notice of this opening.

With the swing of one leg, Giyuu kicked the demon back—Utsuro was too preoccupied to take notice of this.

BAM

The kick released the deadlock between the blades and made Utsuro stagger backward in a disorienting movement.

"Argh!" Utsuro yelped in pain.

WHOOSH

Shinobu thence thrusted her blade forward, stabbing Utsuro in the shoulder and infusing his insides with her poisonous concoctions.

"ARRR!!!" Utsuro shrieked.

..

..

..

..

"What... WHAT'S HAPPENING?! WHY AM I NOT REGENERATING?!" Utsuro agonized over these unfortunate events.

"WHY CAN'T I FIGHT BACK!!!"

From the corner of his eye, he caught wind of Akio's conniving look in conjunction with a condescending smirk.

"You... YOU! THIS IS YOUR DOING!!" Utsuro accosts as he marches toward the interlocutor.

"Indeed," Akio replies plainly.

Utsuro promptly, and aggressively, lands a tight grip around the neck of Akio, "Undo this at once, OR YOU WILL PAY!"

Akio, however, retains his antecedent smirk, "You can't do anything against me."

"I AM THE PRIMORDIAL SPIRIT! I AM THE MANIFESTATION OF THE CURSE OF IZANAMI! I INHABITED THIS BODY LONG BEFORE YOU DID!"

"Don't you get it, Utsuro?" Akio spoke with such clarity, as if the choking had no tangible effect on him. "You are me. And I am you. We are both spirits of the same soul."

"And I will not let you win."

..

..

..

..

Utsuro wheezed as he maintained a distance from his enemies.

Blood soaked his garments and painted his pale skin in a scarlet red.

"Impossible... How could my Eyes not foresee this... Why am I not generating... HOW IS ANY OF THIS POSSIBLE!!!" Utsuro bemoaned.

While Utsuro's physical state was clearly in decline, it must be emphasized that the Hashiras were just as physically drained.

That singular skirmish with Utsuro was enough to induce both Giyuu and Shinobu to gasp for air as well.

Shinobu was tenuously resisting the pangs of pain and throbbing permeating throughout her petite build. The injuries sustained from both Haji and Zaiaku-kan's perforation were still somewhat raw, after all.

Giyuu, concurrently, could feel some of his wounds from the battle with Haji and Zaiaku-kan opening up. In particular, he felt teetering on the edge of dizziness, given how hard Zaiaku-kan pummeled his forehead, and his legs agonized over a simple walking movement.

Suffice it to say, this was going to be a battle of attrition; whoever succumbs first from exhaustion or blood loss would lose.

"Giyuu... are you alright...Your wounds...?" Shinobu asks in her weariness.

"Don't worry about me... Focus on the enemy..." Giyuu dismisses, huffing through his words.

Shinobu frowned, as she could clearly see traces of blood leakages emerging from Giyuu's bandages—indicating that the aforementioned apertures along his torso had widened.

Nonetheless, the exigence of the threat before them demanded their full attention.

"YOU ARE BOTH EMPTY! YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME! I AM DESTINED TO WIN! I HAVE SEEN IT!!" Utsuro resumed his vitriolic rhetoric.

*HACK* *HACK*

With every passing second, and with every subsequent retching of blood and ill, Utsuro felt in his soul the ever-coming imminence of failure—a failure that would forever jeopardize everything.

A failure that was never supposed to be—a failure he never foresaw with his all-encompassing eyes.

And yet, here he was: bleeding, wounded, and shirking in fear.

Utsuro grunted, trying his best to ignore this burgeoning risk, "The emptiness of this realm smears the sanctity of the very spirit; it devolves the ideals and casts away all that is good. What hope do you mere mortals stand against this merciless world? Against the cruelty of time and death? In the end, you WILL remain empty."

"As long as we have each other, we will never be empty on the inside," Shinobu voices, declaiming the totality of her feelings and love.

"PATHETIC! DO YOU TWO HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO LIVE THROUGH THAT VOID?! THROUGH ALL THE PAIN AND SUFFERING??!!" Utsuro rambled with increasing hysteria.

WHOOSH

He leaped into the air and readied his blade for a swing.

CLANG CLANG

Both Giyuu and Shinobu simultaneously parry the attack.

'Dance of the Dragonfly: Compound Eye Hexagon!' Shinobu pressed forward and released another maneuver on the enemy.

'First Form: Water Surface Slash!' Giyuu invokes, supporting his partner's offensive operations.

JAB JAB

SLASH

Both attacks, despite their haphazard execution on account of Giyuu and Shinobu's physical state, managed to land direct hits on Utsuro.

"ACH!" Utsuro wallowed in pain.

The red cascade of Utsuro's blood continued its unending plunge.

The end was near.

..

..

..

..

"TELL ME! Why didn't my eyes foresee this?! What sorcery did you invoke in order to sabotage me!" Utsuro clamored, reinforcing his hold on Akio's neck.

"Because, Utsuro, the Eyes of Prognostication are not as all-powerful as you believe. They merely show you the path YOU must take to ensure that future, not necessarily that the future itself is guaranteed," Akio explained, once again seemingly impervious to the choke hold.

He continued unimpeded, "Hence, my interference was something it could never envision, precisely because you alone are the sole arbitrator of whether or not you want to guarantee a certain future. And I am also a resident of this soul."

"END YOUR INTERFERENCE AT ONCE!"

"Give it up, Utsuro. It's clear what the outcome will be."

"NO, THIS CANNOT END! I REFUSE TO LET IT END!"

The eyes bore witness to the images of a fiery flame engulfing the abode, the sullied bodies left to rot on the ground, and the hopes for salvation dissipating.

"I CANNOT LET IT END!!"

The odor of burning flesh and black soot lingered for the nose.

"I CAN'T..."

All the pain, the suffering, and the cries of agony rang in the ears.

"I just can't..."

The eternal grief and bittersweet memories tugged at the heart.

Isamu's innocent laughs raising his spirits.

Etsuko's mischievous antics being both a source of headache and amusement.

Eiko shyly hiding behind his right leg, a sight for the ages.

Himari's ethereal beauty making him fall in love again.

Junnosuke hard at work, strongly devoted to his family.

"I..." he said, full of sadness.

"Because I love you, Akio. I always will. That's all the reason I need."

"Himari..."

"Mommy, Daddy!"

"Etsuko..."

A reticent girl then peeked out from the corner.

"Eiko..."

An infant cooed at the sight of his father.

"Isamu..."

"Do you hate me, Father?"

"My dear boy..." Utsuro recognized.

"You now wished that our places had been exchanged... That I had died and Mother had lived."

"Junnosuke..." Utsuro could not control the flow of his tears.

"Let go, Utsuro. Let go. It's alright. You've fought long and hard enough. You've endured enough."

"Release yourself. Let go..."

..

..

..

..

"Mommy! Daddy!" Etsuko called from the summit of the hill. "Hurry up!"

"Don't be too hasty, dear," Himari, cradling Isamu in her gentle arms, called out as she was being guided by her husband.

"Onii-san, come on!" Eiko enthusiastically grabbed the sleeve of her beloved brother.

"Whoa, Eiko, slow down haha! You're awfully excited today," Junnosuke enjoyed this unusual side of his normally-diffident sister.

She grinned widely, "What are you talking about? I'm always like this!"

"Liar liar, your pants are on fire!" Etsuko stuck her tongue out.

"Am not!" Eiko protested.

"Am too!"

"Mom!!" Eiko beseeched.

"Eiko, Etsuko, behave yourself, both you," Himari instructed.

"Why me??" Eiko frowned.

"Come on, Eiko, let's focus on getting up the hill," Junnosuke intervenes, reassuring his sister.

She promptly smiles again, "Ok!"

As the two raced up to meet Etsuko, Akio and Himari opted for a more leisurely approach upward—mainly due to both Himari's disability and the baby resting in her arms.

"Now what made you want to have a family picnic of all days?" Himari said cheekily.

"Am I really that neglectful towards the family? I just wanted to spend time with the kids, given how I usually am too busy to do so," Akio tilted his head in confusion.

Himari beamed with pleasure, "You know you are a great father, right?"

"I..." Akio was at a loss for words.

"You may seem harsh and strict, but the kids love you dearly. They enjoy your company just as much as I do. That's why they're all excited—even Eiko is bursting with anticipation!" she remarked lightly.

"I'm trying my best," Akio answered sheepishly.

"Mommy, Daddy, hurry up!" Etsuko called once more, her ebullient smile exuding a jovial atmosphere.

"Dad, use your super strength to pick Mom up and run!" Eiko suggested.

"Haha!" Junnosuke chuckled. "Yeah, come on Father!"

"Daddy!"

"Dad!"

"Father!"

They all shone so brightly.

Brighter than he ever could.

But perhaps that is why he can see the light in the first place.

Because of his children.

..

..

..

..

"I have endured the pain of losing my family for an eternity, spending an equally numerous amount of time trying to rid myself of that pain."

"But, now, I realize that it is a pain I would rather have."

"For, it is evidence that those warm feelings of love, those familial bonds, and those memories exist. That none of it was a dream."

"Though I am defeated and without success, and though I will likely never be able to reunite with them again, I can take solace in the fact that they have traversed into the afterlife."

"And I can find peace in the fact that I decided to bring to life this family in the first place, and that it was as happy and loving as I could make it."

"The very fact of its existence is proof of my legacy."

"I find solace in that."

..

..

..

..

THUD

Utsuro fell on his knees.

The Hashiras were choking for air, completely deprived of oxygen after utilizing their breathing techniques in the most recent maneuver.

In addition, their bodies had reached their limits: one more breathing technique, and they could potentially face serious physical consequences involving long-term damage.

But their determination outweighed their physical constraints; if need be, the Hashiras would fight to the death in an act of unsolicited honor.

Still, they could not gauge the status of the battle—were they winning, or was this a brief respite from the fighting?

Utsuro remained silent, there was too little blood to either escape or give life to the body.

*Drip* *Drip*

Droplets of the red liquid, trickling down from his arm, dribbled from the fingertips.

Utsuro's gaze faced downward, his countenance inscrutable and unidentifiable.

There was a heavy stillness, one that may as well have lasted for a whole eternity.

Both Giyuu and Shinobu, while gasping for air, nevertheless held their proverbial breaths—not privy to the state of Utsuro, they retained a tense disposition towards the situation.

Had the enemy been overthrown? Has he been subjugated?

They did not know.

Then, they were roused by a sudden whisper.

"Tell me, do you truly believe you have what it takes to live through it all? Through the pain that awaits you?" Utsuro said under his breath.

"..." "..."

"Can you ensure that you will not relapse into the emptiness the both of you felt before?" Utsuro posed a question.

Both Giyuu and Shinobu stole a glance at each other before answering.

"Never, I've already felt the emptiness before, and I do not wish to return. For, I am beholden to another purpose—to protect my beloved Shinobu," said Giyuu.

"Whatever awaits in the future, I know I cannot despair. For, I have realized that I must live on—live on for the sake of my dearest Giyuu," said Shinobu.

"I see..." Utsuro's voice echoed.

He looked up, a smile tinged with hints of sadness and melancholy constituted the expression along his lineaments.

Both of the Hashira's eyes dilated with surprise.

No longer was the innate rage and lust for power plastered onto the face. Indeed, Utsuro was no longer there; in his place, another being had assumed control over the corporeal form.

"Make good use of your lives..." he said with grace.

Then, the Hashiras saw it. The first of it.

The skin began peeling off and drifting into the air like leaves on a cold autumn day.

"Savor every second of it."

His body was disintegrating.

The decomposition of the body began to eat away at the torso.

"Cherish every moment..."

The dusting of his body now reached the face.

"And cherish each other..." he uttered the last words.

And, just like that, he was gone.

Gone with the wind.

Gone with the last specters of this lair.

Gone into whatever path the Gods have ordained him.

Forever vanquished.

..

..

..

..

"Hah... Hah..."

The heavy pants of the Hashira were the only discernible sounds present within this vast chamber.

The two merely gawked at what manifested before them.

And what concluded before them.

"I-Is... Is it over...?" Shinobu said almost hesitantly.

"Yes... It's done..." Giyuu exhaled deeply.

TING TING

The resonance of metallic blades tumbling on the ground reverberated and rang loudly.

As if almost automatically, both the Hashiras released their hold on the Nichirin Blades, disarming themselves immediately.

THUD THUD

By virtue of extreme fatigue, the Hashiras—running on willpower alone—collapsed onto their knees.

As if the weight of the world was lifted from their weary shoulders. 

"It's done..." Shinobu repeated, still unable to comprehend the implications entirely.

She smiled, "It's over."

Turning to face Giyuu, her eyes watered with tears, "It's over, Giyuu..."

Giyuu, for his part, hugged her, "I'm so relieved... Relieved that you're safe... That you weren't killed because of me..."

"What are you talking about... Idiot... I'm the one who should be relieved that you weren't killed..." Shinobu responded in kind.

He sniveled, "I'm sorry for everything, Shinobu."

"Why are you apologizing Giyuu, we should be celebrating," Shinobu chuckled, albeit with tears now staining her cheeks.

"I'm sorry for being a stubborn bastard and choosing to do everything myself," Giyuu's voice cracked.

"No, I'm sorry too, for being stubborn too," Shinobu tightened her hug.

Giyuu caught a whiff of her hair, "You've always smelled pleasant."

"What perverted thoughts are you having now?" Shinobu answered facetiously, though she was delighted to hear it from him.

"If I could, I would always hug you like this... Have you come over, make Salmon Daikon, and just embrace you..." Giyuu conveyed with all his heart and fondness for the woman.

Shinobu flushed with embarrassment, "I want to be around with you more as well... I want to do all kinds of things for you... Hug you... kiss you all around... Kiss you more..."

"Too bad we can't get out of here... I feel like I'm going to faint any second now..." Shinobu added sardonically.

"I'm sorry I didn't have an exit plan," said Giyuu, who similarly felt the weight of his eyes bearing down on him.

Shinobu giggled gently, "I think that was the least of our worries..."

"What if we're stuck down here..." Giyuu raises.

"I don't mind being stuck with you..." Shinobu quipped.

Giyuu released his embrace, pulling her back to meet her face-to-face, "And I wouldn't mind either..."

Shinobu felt utterly flattered by this man, whether it be his not-so-eloquent, yet direct, words or his other shenanigans.

"I love you, Tomioka Giyuu... For you, a thousand times over," Shinobu said, breathless.

"I love you too, Kocho Shinobu," Giyuu reciprocated.

So worn out and so drained, yet so ecstatic and affectionate, it was truly the end for them.

They had won.

Utsuro was no more.

As they embraced each other in the inner sanctum of this lair, the Hashiras took pride in this victory.

But they also relished in the love that has now fully blossomed.

A timeless, boundless love.

Born in the depths of this darkness.

Yet, emerging into the light.