Demon Slayer: Starting with the Great Swordmaster System, My Master Tsugikuni

The Life-Borrowing Demon Slayer Mark, Conversation Between Yoriichi and Katsumi

Twenty-five!

Judging by the number alone, it should have been an age when people were at the height of their strength.

But Mister Scribe knew that for Kyojuro and the others, this age was fatal!

The Demon Slayer Mark!

As a bearer of a Demon Slayer Mark brought forth by another's influence, Rengoku Kyojuro did not possess Tsugikuni Yoriichi's talent.

Once they reached the age of twenty-five, they would die because they had awakened the Demon Slayer Mark.

Borrowing life from heaven was the best explanation for the Demon Slayer Mark.

Having only just realized this, Mister Scribe knew it was already too late.

He had previously thought that Rengoku Kyojuro would be celebrating his twenty-second birthday early, like Ubuyashiki Kagaya.

He had never expected Rengoku Kyojuro to be celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday!

What should have been a joyous day for the entire family, even the entire Demon Slayer Corps, had instead become the day that separated the living from the dead.

"Mister Scribe?"

A somewhat childish voice called out. It was the Rengoku Family's third son, Kyojuro's third younger brother, Rengoku Kyōjurō.

Not yet six years old, the still-young Rengoku Kyōjurō had bizarrely experienced the death of his eldest brother.

The moment he saw Mister Scribe, he ran straight over, threw himself into Mister Scribe's arms, and burst into tears.

"Waaah! Mister Scribe, Brother... Brother passed away."

"Why? Why did Brother Kyojuro suddenly die when he was perfectly fine?!"

Seeing Rengoku Kyōjurō crying in his arms, tears and snot streaming down his face, Mister Scribe gently patted his shoulder and comforted him.

Although he had not interacted much with the Rengoku Family, Kyōjurō had always held him in high regard.

Only after quite a while did Kyōjurō finally calm down.

"Who is handling the Rengoku Family's affairs now?"

"Father and Second Brother Senjurō."

Mister Scribe nodded and followed Kyōjurō into the Rengoku Family residence.

In one of the reception rooms, Mister Scribe met the previous Flame Pillar, Rengoku Shinjurō, and Rengoku Senjurō, who was about to succeed Kyojuro.

"You know about it too?"

After seeing Mister Scribe, Rengoku Shinjurō only spoke a few simple words before falling silent.

He seemed somewhat displeased by Mister Scribe's arrival.

At first, Mister Scribe thought it was because of Kyojuro's death.

After all, Shinjurō was nearly fifty, yet he had suddenly suffered the pain of losing a son.

No matter how weathered he was, a father burying his son was not something Shinjurō could recover from in such a short time.

But when Mister Scribe saw Rengoku Senjurō's expression, he realized it was not that simple.

Senjurō's gaze toward him was filled with fury, even traces of resentment.

His teeth were clenched as though he wanted to tear Mister Scribe apart and devour him.

"Mister Scribe, perhaps you should—"

Just as Shinjurō was about to say something, Senjurō suddenly rose to his feet and roared at Mister Scribe.

"It's all because of you! Because of you and that jinx of a master, Brother Kyojuro died!"

As he spoke, Senjurō drew his sword and stepped forward, intending to attack Mister Scribe.

"Senjurō, sit down!"

Seeing his second son so agitated, Shinjurō hurriedly stopped him.

"But, Father, it's because—"

"Silence! These are completely separate matters!"

Cutting Senjurō off, Shinjurō directly ordered him out of the room.

"My apologies. Senjurō is too immature."

"It's nothing. I more or less understand why he reacted that way."

The moment Senjurō mentioned a jinx of a master, Mister Scribe knew that the Rengoku Family had learned that Kyojuro's death had been caused by the Demon Slayer Mark.

And as the one who had brought the Demon Slayer Mark to the Demon Slayer Corps, Tsugikuni Yoriichi naturally became the target of their hostility.

For that reason, Mister Scribe, as his disciple, had also become the object of Senjurō's resentment.

With another sigh, Shinjurō waved his hand.

"When the doctors determined Kyojuro's cause of death, their conclusion was that it had been caused by the Demon Slayer Mark."

After telling the Scribe some of what he knew, Yangshoulang turned around, his back to the Scribe.

"That is all I have to say. You may leave."

"Once the funeral is over, I will report this to the Master."

Faced with the disciple of the chief culprit responsible for his son's death, even Yangshoulang had no desire to say more.

The fact that he had managed this much was already not easy.

"In that case, I shall take my leave first."

Leaving the room, the Scribe headed out of the Rengoku Family residence.

As he rounded a corner, he saw Rengoku Senjurō, who had gone out earlier.

Patting Kishurō in his arms, Senjurō's gaze remained fixed on the Scribe.

It was clear just how deeply this eighteen- or nineteen-year-old youth resented the Scribe and Tsugikuni Yoriichi.

Upon returning to the familiar little house, the Scribe did not see Tsugikuni Yoriichi.

Tsugikuni Iwashiro seemed to have noticed that something was off with the Scribe as well, but the Scribe did not wish to tell him.

And so, amid a somber atmosphere, the Demon Slayer Corps held Tōshirō's funeral.

After Tsugikuni Yoriichi returned, Mengyin convened a meeting on Ubuyashiki Kagaya's behalf.

All five Hashira, including Senjurō, as well as four newly appointed Hashira such as Inoue Mie, were present—a total of nine Hashira.

Together with Tsugikuni Yoriichi and Tsugikuni Iwashiro, whose identities were sensitive matters, that was everyone.

The Scribe had been invited as well, but he declined.

Through Tōshirō's death, the Scribe realized that quite a few people in the Demon Slayer Corps harbored dissatisfaction toward Tsugikuni Yoriichi.

Senjurō was the first one he knew of, but he would not be the last.

I hope they can show me some respect and not forget that the Demon Slayer Corps only became what it is today because of Master Yoriichi's Breathing Techniques.

After brewing himself a pot of tea, the Scribe sat quietly in the living room and waited for Yoriichi to return.

Meanwhile, after the meeting ended, Tsugikuni Yoriichi and Tsugikuni Iwashiro walked along the road home.

"Yoriichi, don't you have anything to say?!"

Tsugikuni Iwashiro suddenly spoke, his voice charged with emotion.

"Now that you know every holder of the Demon Slayer Mark will die at twenty-five, don't you have anything you want to say?"

Tsugikuni Yoriichi stopped and slowly turned around, a faint smile appearing on his face.

The instant Tsugikuni Iwashiro saw that smile, he flared up in anger.

"What the hell are you smiling about?!"

"You, me, those worthless fools, even your disciple—we'll all die at twenty-five!"

"The Breathing Techniques our generation created may even vanish because of this!"

Tsugikuni Iwashiro's chest heaved violently. He seized Yoriichi by the collar and shook him back and forth.

"Do you understand? We have no future at all! We barely have any time left to train!"

Looking at his brother, who was this agitated before him for the first time, Tsugikuni Yoriichi said nothing.

He pried Iwashiro's hand away, then walked to one side and drew the Nichirin Blade at his waist.

Holding the blade horizontally toward the sun, he spoke.

"Elder Brother, what kind of people do you think we are?"

"What kind of people?! Of course we are people with extraordinary talent! We are geniuses who created Breathing Technique after Breathing Technique!"

Yoriichi shook his head slightly and gave his answer.

"No. We are merely grains of sand in the vast river of history."

"Even if we die, countless successors will take our place, carry on our legacy, and even surpass us."

"Death is not such a frightening thing. All we can do is make the most of the present."

After hearing Yoriichi's words, Tsugikuni Iwashiro felt as though his mind had exploded.

Yoriichi possessed talent that everyone else could only envy, yet he held no attachment whatsoever to his own life.

He could not understand it. If that was the case, why had someone like Yoriichi been given such immense talent?

At that thought, Tsugikuni Iwashiro nearly ground his teeth to pieces.

With a sweep of his sleeve, he turned and walked straight toward the outskirts of the Demon Slayer Corps.

"Yoriichi, I am deeply disappointed in you!"

Watching his brother's retreating figure, Yoriichi's expression remained as calm as ever.

Likewise, he could not understand why his elder brother was so obsessed with prolonging life.

After standing there for quite some time, Yoriichi set off once more.

In that remote little house, his disciple was still waiting for him.

The One Who Pursued His Path to the End Was Me Alone

Hearing footsteps from outside, Scribe knew Yoriichi had returned.

"Master."

Yoriichi nodded and sat down across from Scribe.

"Is something the matter?"

"If not, sit down and talk with me."

To Scribe's surprise, Yoriichi had actually taken the initiative to ask whether anything was wrong.

This was the first time in seven years.

Without the slightest hesitation, Scribe poured Tsugikuni Yoriichi a cup of tea.

He sat quietly and waited for Yoriichi to speak.

After taking a sip of tea to moisten his throat, Yoriichi's expression shifted in a rare flicker of emotion.

"I was born into a powerful samurai family. When I was young..."

After telling Scribe about his past, Yoriichi repeated what Katsumi had said to him earlier.

"Scribe, tell me—what reason do people have for living in this world?"

Setting down his teacup, a faint sorrow flashed through Yoriichi's eyes.

Scribe said nothing. He picked up a sheet of paper and a brush, then drew something on it.

The drawing was simple. Beside a massive star were countless tiny, delicate stars.