After you died... that lord and I killed every last swordsman who knew Sun Breathing... so why has your breathing style survived to this day...?
Why couldn't I leave anything behind...? Why couldn't I become anyone...? Why were we so utterly different...? What was I even born for...?
Countless thoughts flashed through Kokushibo's mind, yet all he could see now was Yoriichi and the past they had shared.
"Is your dream to become the strongest samurai in this country, Brother?
"I want to be as strong as you, too... then I'll... become the second-strongest samurai in this country..."
"I'll treasure this flute as though it were you, Brother. Even if we're separated by mountains and seas, I'll take it out every day and practice. I won't let loneliness get me down."
"I'm terribly sorry, Brother. I'm late..."
"There's no need to worry. All we have to do is let nature take its course and wait for the day our lives come to an end.
"Don't you think that's a wonderfully heartening thought, Brother?
"The children born into this world after us will surely surpass us both and reach even greater heights."
"How tragic, Brother..."
The memories stopped on the night he had last encountered Yoriichi. After Yoriichi delivered a single slash and died of old age, Kokushibo, consumed by rage, cut his body in two. The Short Flute, severed into two pieces, fell from inside his robes.
The words Yoriichi had spoken before leaving echoed in his ears.
"Shut up. Don't say another word... I hate you..."
Tears spilled from his six eyes for reasons he could not understand. And for reasons he could not understand, he picked up the broken Short Flute and tucked it into his robes...
*You were like a sun