37 Vol. II Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

A few days earlier, in Kyoto's Asakusa district, Haruto had asked Tamayo a question.

"Does Kibutsuji Muzan have any weaknesses?"

Five hundred years ago, Tamayo had been turned into a demon by Muzan and, for over a century, had been forced to serve him.

To put it in modern terms, Tamayo had acted as Muzan's personal secretary for more than a hundred years.

In terms of knowledge about Kibutsuji Muzan, she knew more than even the Ubuyashiki family, who had hunted him for generations.

Hearing the name, Tamayo paused in her work.

"Weaknesses?" she echoed softly. "He has spent centuries relentlessly pursuing immortality. What he fears most, of course, is death. Lack of human blood, sunlight, and wisteria poison—these are all his weaknesses."

Haruto frowned slightly, clearly unsatisfied with her answer.

"I understand what you mean," Tamayo said, her voice tinged with something sharper. "There was a time when Muzan feared someone—a swordsman."

For a moment, a bitter, almost vindictive smile curved her lips.

"That swordsman was Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the most powerful swordsman I've ever seen.

"When I first saw him, I was still under Muzan's control, living a dazed and blood-soaked existence. Yoriichi intercepted us in a bamboo grove... though I doubt he even noticed me."

Tamayo's voice softened as her violet eyes glimmered with unshed tears—not tears of sorrow, but of tightly controlled hatred.

"With a single stroke, Yoriichi cleaved Muzan in half. The burning red blade inflicted wounds so severe that Muzan's regeneration failed for the first time.

"I had never seen such terror in his eyes before—Kibutsuji Muzan, the one who saw himself as untouchable, reduced to nothing more than prey on the butcher's block!

"But Muzan, being who he is, had prepared for even this. As Yoriichi moved to finish him, Muzan unleashed his final trump card. He divided his body into countless tiny pieces—splintering apart in an explosion of flesh.

"Yoriichi's blade was fast, but not fast enough to destroy every fragment. Muzan escaped.

"That battle left him weaker than he'd ever been, and I finally managed to break free of his control.

"For decades after, Muzan vanished, too terrified to emerge from hiding. It wasn't until Yoriichi's death that he dared to reappear."

This was the closest Haruto had ever come to hearing Yoriichi's story from someone who had witnessed it firsthand.

He recalled Kagaya Ubuyashiki's words: after Yoriichi's death, Muzan slaughtered all practitioners of Sun Breathing.

Tamayo wasn't wrong—Muzan had been utterly terrified of Yoriichi.

Haruto coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips. He struggled to lift his head, his eyes locking onto Muzan.

When Haruto learned that Tanjiro wore Yoriichi's hanafuda earrings and might have inherited Sun Breathing, he knew this day would come.

What expression would Muzan wear when faced with those earrings?

Shock? Confusion? Panic?

None of the above.

Muzan stood there, gripping Nezuko's unconscious form in one hand, his crimson eyes fixed on Tanjiro. Those piercing, blood-red pupils... trembled.

He was afraid.

The same taunting phrases from the commentary surged back into Haruto's mind like a flood of mocking voices.

"What's wrong, Muzan? Your daddy's here!"
"Look at him shaking—our mighty Big Bad's terrified of a pair of earrings!"
"You're not running from Tanjiro, Muzan—you're running from the legacy of Yoriichi."

Haruto let out a shaky breath of relief. Maybe—just maybe—they would survive this.

But what about Kie? What about Nezuko?

Tanjiro's eyes were ablaze with fury as he surged forward, gripping his Nichirin blade.

"Give me back my sister!"

For the first time, Muzan faltered. In a move that shocked both Giyu Tomioka and Haruto, the demon lord hesitated—before tossing Nezuko toward Tanjiro.

As Tanjiro caught her mid-air, Muzan turned and disappeared into the fading shadows of dawn.

Tomioka was stunned.

"What just happened?"
"Is this really our Big Bad? The dude just ran away!"

Haruto, weak from blood loss and exhaustion, slumped against Giyu. He couldn't even hold himself upright.

Tanjiro cradled Nezuko tightly, tears streaming down his face.

"She's warm... she's still warm! I need to get her to a doctor—"

"No."

The coldness in Giyu's voice froze Tanjiro in his tracks.

"...What?"

"She's turning into a demon," Giyu said flatly, shifting Haruto higher onto his back. "You're a swordsman in training. You know what that means."

He drew his Nichirin blade, the glowing words Destroyer of Demons reflecting his grim resolve.

"Slaying demons is our duty. Don't forget that."

Tanjiro's hands trembled as he looked at his sister.

"She hasn't hurt anyone—she wouldn't—"

"Your teacher is dying," Giyu cut him off. "I need to get him to the Butterfly Estate immediately. So stop arguing and do what needs to be done."

Haruto's weak voice broke the tense silence.

"Giyu..."

"Haruto?"

"Your heart... it's so gentle. So why are your words always so cold?"

Before Giyu could respond, Haruto's weight shifted, his body going limp as he lost consciousness.

The sun rose, shrouded behind thick clouds.

Nezuko stirred, her transformation taking hold. She lunged at Tanjiro, only for him to shove his sword's scabbard into her mouth.

"Nezuko!" he cried, his voice raw.

Tears streamed down his face as he pleaded with her, desperate to reach the sister he knew.

And then, as if answering his call, tears rolled down the demon's cheeks.

Giyu felt the dampness of blood seeping through his haori from Haruto's wounds. Time was running out.

He sighed softly. "Tanjiro, tie her up."

The boy looked up, his tear-streaked face filled with desperation.

"I'll notify the Kakushi to retrieve your family," Giyu said, his voice quiet but firm. "They deserve a proper burial. Now, take your sister and follow me."