In memory.

Four hundred years ago.

Warring States Period,

When Black Death Mu was still a human, his name was Jiguo Yansheng, and he was the moon pillar in the ghost killing team at that time.

Although he was the latest to join the Demon Slayer, he became the second most powerful pillar at the time.

That.

"Fate one."

Jiguo Yansheng stood on the side of the edge of the body, he looked at the sunlight pouring out of the cloud top in the distance, and his tone was full of anxiety:

"No one's strength can match you and me."

"The inheritance of the breathing method is simply despairing..."

He sighed:

"If this continues, the skills that have been honed for thousands of years will be lost."

After a pause, Jiguo Iwa Katsumi did not respond.

Aren't you worried, Yuanyi.

Jiguo Yansheng turned his head to look at his brother, at this man who had everything in the world in his heart.

Although he said this, there was a faint contempt in his tone for the rest of the people.

Enichi, with his high crimson ponytail, stood in front of Jikuni Iwatsu, his back to his brother.

The breeze blew through the hem of his clothes, the dark red feather weave draped over his shoulders, and there was no emotion in his faint tone:

"Brother."

"You're thinking too much of us brothers."

Ji Guoyuan just stood there, expressionless, looking into the distance calmly, and said lightly:

"You and I are just two passers-by in the long history of mankind..."

"A baby whose talent is far superior to you and me may be born somewhere in the world right now."

"Presumably, they will eventually be able to reach the same level as you and me."

As if he was stating an unimportant fact, he didn't notice the disbelief in Jikuni Iwatsu's eyes beside him:

"Don't worry about it."

"Brother."

Yuan Yi turned his head, looked at Jiguo Yansheng, looked at his brother seriously, and said in a deep tone:

"Those who are poor will return to the same place."

"Even if times change, or the path is different."

"We're all going to end up in the same place."

……

……

"Don't you think it's a pleasant thing?"

"Brother."

Yuanyi's gentle, deep words echoed in his mind.

Whoop -

Crimson blood poured out and spilled onto the ground, staining the shattered stone brick floor red.

Black Death Mou clutched his right arm, which had been cut open in the middle, the muscles of the wound tense and the charred flesh bulging.

The blood still gushed from between the fingers.

It didn't regrow his right arm in an instant as usual.

He subconsciously raised his half-amputated arm and took a look.

Whew...

A puff of charred white smoke rose from half of his right arm.

Regeneration... Hindered......

In a trance, Black Death Mou looked at Tanjuro in the stove not far away, and he saw the black blade in Tanjuro's hand.

At this moment, the jet-black knife in his hand was filled with smoke, and it began to glow red and hot from the middle position.

And... Fate one, the same... Red Knife...

At this moment, all the thoughts in Black Death Mou's heart were clear, and he seemed to understand something.

I see...

Black Death Mou looked at Tanjuro's appearance, and he suddenly breathed rapidly, as if he understood his brother so much for the first time in hundreds of years.

The emotions in my heart were stirred up again.

I see...

Fate one!

Have you been waiting for someone like this to show up...

For hundreds of years... Always...

Don't think about it...

Because one day... Someone will carry on your mantle...

Is that what it means...

Fate one.

In the pupils of the Black Death Mou, the image of Tanjuro Kamado was reflected at this moment.

The markings on his left forehead were very eye-catching due to the increase in body temperature, and the sturdy body under the wide dark red feathers made his whole body much taller.

Crimson hair was tied up high, and the familiar pair of earrings that had been passed down from generation to generation.

In addition, the red and shiny knife in his hand.

At this moment, Tanjuro coincides with the fate of Jiguo hundreds of years ago.

"The poor... The same goes for the return..."

Black Death Mu looked at Tanjuro Kamado in a daze, his grip on the hilt of the knife gradually loosened, and his mouth slowly muttered.

"Same ......"

……

……

Suddenly.

Black Death felt as if he understood what Yuan Yi had thought four hundred years ago.

This made him, who had never been with fate, feel a little... Surprise.

It was joy from the bottom of his heart, but this emotion made Black Death Mou himself stunned.

"It's my path... Did you go wrong..."

Black Death muttered under his breath, he raised his left hand and looked at the protruding green tendons on his arms, as well as the dark nails.

The poor.

He chose to become a ghost in the first place, whether this path was right or wrong.

This question was thought about once when Black Death Mou saw Yuan Yi's clothes when he was a child.

But this time, his heart resounded with the emotions of the once old Yuanyi towards him:

'How sad... Brother. ’

……

on the streets.

It doesn't make sense.

Everything you do by yourself, there is no point.

It's also pointless to fight here ...

Smack.

Black Death Mou slowly straightened up, he no longer covered his wounds, but looked at Tanjuro generously.

He walked out of the rubble.

He knew he had lost.

He lost again, both in strength and in thought.

Lost to the person in front of him who seemed to be very close to the one.

Lost to Yuan Yi, who had anticipated today's scene four hundred years ago.

At that time, he was still anxious that his sword skills would be lost in the next generation.

Yuanyi, on the other hand, has been setting his sights for hundreds of years, or even longer.

Completely defeated.

But at this moment, there was no trace of the anxiety in his heart as before.

Whoa—

He reached out and pulled off the remaining strands of his clothes with an expressionless expression.

The upper body is naked in the air, and the muscles that have been honed for hundreds of years are clear.

Tanjuro Kamado was standing not far away, with a blade erected, vigilant, and slowly walking towards this side.

Swish!

Black Death Mou raised his head, and his six eyes looked at Tanjuro again, his voice low and slow, and the words were clear:

"You..."

He held the blade of the knife and pointed the tip of the knife at Tanjuro:

"What's your name...?"

was suddenly asked, Tanjuro was slightly stunned.

He narrowed his eyes and looked vigilantly at the Black Death Mou, who had been silent for a while and then became very wrong.

——？

The wedge pill clenched in his hand never let go.

“… Gohachiro. ”

Tanjuro frowned, and he looked around casually.

After hearing this, Black Death Mou didn't have any other reactions, he just nodded slightly, and the whole ghost became quite strange:

"Ganghachiro, I remember..."

He was very confused now.

After understanding a hint of Yuanyi's thoughts, Black Death suddenly didn't know what he had done before.

He didn't leave anything in the world.

Nothing mattered.

That...

A hint of confusion flashed in Black Death's eyes.

I... What is the meaning of existence?

Thereupon.

In the interval between Tanjuro taking the opportunity to gasp and adjust his breathing.

Black Death Mou lowered his head and pulled out a small purple-pink pouch with delicate patterns from his black hakama.

In the bag, there was a rough wooden flute broken in two.

Swish!

Black Death turned into an afterimage and left the place.