Shinjuro fell silent as he listened to his son.
Those without talent were pitiable.
The chosen ones were just as pitiable.
No matter how hard those without talent worked, they could scarcely reach the heights attained by the chosen ones. Even the Twelve Kizuki were formidable foes, let alone the Demon King.
The chosen one had reached heights those without talent could never touch, yet he stood alone. In terms of sheer power, he could already kill the Demon King with ease, but his life had still ended in failure.
But what if, when Yoriichi Tsugikuni first encountered the Demon King Muzan, he had trustworthy companions at his side? Even if those companions were not chosen ones like him, surely Muzan would not have escaped so easily...
Shinjuro raised his head toward the blue sky above. Looking at things from another perspective, he suddenly felt he was seeing a view he had never seen before... No, perhaps he had seen it before, but had simply ignored it.
When he looked back at Kyojuro beside him, he felt for the first time that his son had truly grown up, and had become even better than he himself had been at that age.
He picked up the sobering tea Kyojuro had brought earlier from the floor beside him. After a moment's hesitation, he drank it all in one go, and a refreshing coolness immediately washed through his heavy head.
"Kyojuro, if there's anything you want to ask, ask me now," Shinjuro said as he set the empty teacup back on the floor beside him.
This was the first time he had drunk sobering tea since his wife Ryuka's death. It also marked his farewell to the broken man he had become.
*Ryuka, I'm sorry you had to see me in such a