What would this world be like if I had never appeared?
Haruto had never deliberately considered that question.
He did not believe all the Demon Slayer Corps' accomplishments were thanks to him, though he did not deny that he had played a very important role.
He had done all this because fate had pushed him forward, because he did not want those black-and-white manga panels to become reality.
As for him, whatever personal goals he had were no longer important in the grand scheme of things.
His comrades in the Demon Slayer Corps had become his family, the children who newly joined were like nieces and nephews, and there were his two apprentices, his pretty, adorable girlfriend who rarely got angry...
Was keeping all those beautiful things alive not a purpose in itself?
He followed Murata, stumbling toward the heart of the battle, where the sounds of fighting rang especially loud.
He wanted to see, to see what this world without him would become.
"Murata! Haruto! Come help!"
Someone shouted up ahead.
It was Giyu's voice.
Haruto hardly dared call out to him. This Giyu was far gloomier than the one he knew, as though he had spent a long time lost in a sorrowful past.
What was he mourning? Was he mourning Sabito's death?
Tanjiro lay on the ground, his fate unknown. Ugly clots of blood and growths covered his eyes, and he seemed to have stopped breathing.
And across the battlefield, Tanjiro was far from the only one whose fate hung in the balance.
Himejima lay slumped to one side, Shinazugawa stared with blood-red eyes, and Obanai Iguro and Mitsuri Kanroji supported each other. Everyone felt both unfamiliar and familiar.
*It shouldn't be like this. A Demon Slayer Corps filled with nothing but sorrow and the will to