Yoriichi's Final Request: The Blood Moon Arrives / The Battle of the Tsugikuni Brothers: The Story of Yoriichi Comes to an End

His gaze sharpened, and his previously gentle aura underwent a tremendous change in an instant.

A sunlike, scorching aura erupted. Those standing beside him felt as though they had encountered a blazing furnace and hurriedly made way.

Walking in through the opening, Scribe saw the two people inside.

Ignoring the thug lying on the ground and groaning weakly, his gaze focused entirely on the old man.

His hair was gray-white, his face aged, and the exposed skin on his body was like withered branches.

There were two flame-like marks on his left forehead and beside his left eye, and a sword was likewise tucked at his waist.

The moment he saw the old man, Scribe's outward aura instantly vanished and withdrew back into his body.

His eyes reddened slightly, and a tear ran down his face.

It had been a long time, Master.

Yoriichi's Final Request, the Blood Moon Arrives

Scribe's voice was soft, so soft that it was drowned out by the surrounding crowd's clamor in an instant.

Yet those few words made Yoriichi, standing in the open area, pause.

Turning around, he began searching the crowd for the person from his memories.

Unfortunately, there was not a single old man in his sixties or seventies among the surrounding crowd.

Just as Yoriichi wondered whether he had misheard, the sound of a flute rang out.

Woo~ Woo~ Woo~

The flute sounded strange, even somewhat out of tune.

But to Yoriichi, it was an all-too-familiar signal.

He had played it beside his disciple more than once.

Following the sound, Yoriichi finally fixed his gaze on a young man.

The moment he saw the young man, he knew he had found the right person.

Even though the other's appearance was completely different from what he had imagined, he would never mistake that aura.

Walking over to Scribe's side, Yoriichi was first stunned, then understood.

Scribe, you've grown up.

Scribe said nothing. He merely smiled at Yoriichi.

Memories from sixty years ago silently unfolded between them, and it was as if they had returned to the days when they took missions and hunted demons together.

There were no tearful cries that shook heaven and earth, but for the two of them, this was already the best reunion.

It's too noisy here. Let's find somewhere else to talk.

Yoriichi nodded and followed Scribe out of the crowd.

As for the thug lying on the ground, he would only be met with people's scorn and condemnation.

Returning to the inn from before, Scribe rented a room for himself and Yoriichi.

After buying some wine and food, master and disciple sat facing each other in the room.

Master, aren't you curious about my appearance?

Yoriichi shook his head, indicating that he did not wish to ask too much.

Everyone had their own secrets. Even he was no exception.

Being able to see his disciple healthy and happy was already enough to satisfy him.

Seeing that Yoriichi did not wish to ask further, Scribe offered no more explanations.

He took the Handmade flute from his robes and slowly pushed it before Yoriichi.

The flute had barely changed from sixty years ago. Only the passage of time had turned the emerald bamboo flute a dark yellow.

Seeing that Scribe had preserved his flute so well, Yoriichi's hand suddenly paused.

Slowly, he too took several sheets of paper from his robes.

Under the moonlight, Scribe noticed something strange about the papers.

They were tattered and covered in traces of being pasted together.

Judging by their colors, every sheet had been pieced together.

The images on them were the same. It was clear that they differed somewhat from before.

Scribe also understood that preserving several sheets of paper for sixty years was no easy task.

The patchwork marks showed that Yoriichi had put enormous effort into them.

Yoriichi had just begun to speak when Scribe stopped him.

Placing the flute in his hand, Scribe tucked the papers into his robes.

Our promise was to return these things to each other's hands. Besides, it wasn't as though I kept the flute perfectly safe either.

Faced with his disciple's understanding, Yoriichi could only sigh inwardly.

After exchanging their keepsakes, he suddenly spoke.

Over the years, have you ever returned to the Demon Slayer Corps?

Scribe said nothing and merely shook his head slightly.

Though he had encountered Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen many times over the years, Scribe had never revealed his identity to them.

Much less returned to the Demon Slayer Corps.

In his heart, from the moment he and Yoriichi had been expelled, there had been no longer any relationship between them.

If possible, I hope you can help them when the time is right.

Upon hearing those words, an indescribable chill suddenly rose in Scribe's heart.

He felt that Yoriichi's next words were the true point.

After all, at that time, you will be the only swordsman who uses Sun Breathing.

I only have a few days left to live.

Hearing this, Scribe's hand, which had been pouring wine, suddenly stopped.

From the moment he heard news of the Blood Moon, he had felt that something was wrong.

What Yoriichi said now only confirmed his earlier suspicions.

Yoriichi was now in the twilight of his years, with his lifespan nearly at its end.

Birth, aging, sickness, and death were simply part of life.

Yoriichi patted Scribe on the shoulder and comforted him.

I came here to complete one final demon hunt at the end of my life.

Lowering his head, Scribe slowly clenched his fists.

Would the brothers' reunion beneath the blood moon finally come to pass?

I will personally kill Elder Brother.

With a calm expression, Yoriichi stated his goal.

The reason he had appeared here was because someone had claimed that a Six-eyed demon with a sword had once appeared nearby.

Judging from the appearance described in the rumors, it was not difficult for Yoriichi to conclude that it was his demonized elder brother.

The user of Moon Breathing, Kokushibo.

You are a good disciple, and an outstanding Demon Slayer.

Yoriichi rose to his feet, stood before the window, and looked up at the moon.

But just this once, I hope you won't intervene.

Bright moonlight fell over Yoriichi. A faint sorrow appeared on his aged face.

This was Yoriichi's final request before his death.

Scribe understood clearly that Yoriichi did not want him to turn a blind eye to Kokushibo's evil deeds.

He merely hoped that Scribe could become the final witness to the two brothers and bring an end to this story that had lasted over eighty years.

Scribe stood and looked into Yoriichi's eyes.

Master, I promise you.

Thank you.

After sixty years apart, Scribe once again saw a smile on Yoriichi's face.

Unlike the smile Yoriichi had worn when parting from Tankichi back then, his smile now held more relief and liberation.

A sense of loneliness emanated from him, making one unable to help but feel sorrowful.

He had lost his mother in childhood, his wife in youth, then suffered his elder brother's betrayal and expulsion by his comrades.

If not for Scribe's appearance, Yoriichi might have believed his life had achieved nothing, that he was simply someone who could do nothing right.

The high-hanging moon gradually tilted and finally sank beneath the horizon.

The blazing sun that rose also set with the passage of time, once again replaced by the moon.

Over those few short days, Scribe and Yoriichi spoke of many things.

Though sixty years of stories were long, they were far from enough for the two of them to discuss.

At dusk one day, Yoriichi suddenly rose and looked toward the distant setting sun.

The time has come.

Scribe nodded and handed the Nichirin Blade to Yoriichi.

Taking the Nichirin Blade, Yoriichi tucked it at his waist and then left the inn.

Scribe silently followed behind him without saying a word.

The sun vanished, replaced by a moon.

It was red as blood, as though foretelling something.

The Blood Moon had finally arrived.

The Tsugikuni Brothers' Battle, the Story of Yoriichi Comes to an End

Following the faint instinct in his heart, Yoriichi headed outside the town.

The townspeople said there was a Tall tower in the wasteland beyond the town.

It had originally been built for rituals, but had since fallen into ruin.

The rumors of the Six-eyed demon with a sword had also begun there.

Before long, Yoriichi and Scribe arrived near the Tall tower.

Go there.

Yoriichi pointed to the Tall tower in the distance and spoke to Scribe.

I have a feeling Elder Brother will come.

After saying that, Yoriichi stood where he was, looking toward the distant horizon as he waited quietly.

Before leaving, Scribe looked at Yoriichi's somewhat lonely back.

Master, becoming your disciple was the most correct thing I have done in this life.

Me too. Being able to meet you in this life was truly wonderful.