Chapter 4: The News Spreads
"Why—why didn't that kill him?!"
The woman standing beside Muzan collapsed to the ground with a scream, her tightly wound emotions shattering completely.
"I was so close to killing him… and he even survived having his head nearly severed?!"
Tamayo cried out through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with rage. "You damn monster! Why won't you just die?!"
Her fury caught Yoriichi Tsugikuni off guard, and he hesitated instead of striking her down immediately.
Both Yoriichi and Akito could see it clearly now—the hatred burning in Tamayo's eyes wasn't for them. It was directed at Muzan Kibutsuji.
Tamayo ignored the two Demon Slayers beside her and slumped to the ground, lifeless and despondent, as though all hope had been drained from her body.
"Damn it… we were so close!"
Akira pounded the ground with his fists, frustration and guilt pouring from his eyes. "I had him right there!"
Akito placed a hand gently on Akira's shoulder. "Don't lose heart. He escaped… but we'll find him again."
"It's useless."
Tamayo's voice was heavy with despair. "Muzan is extremely cautious. Now that you've failed, he'll go into hiding. You won't see him again in your lifetimes."
Her words struck Akira like a blade to the heart, deepening the pit of regret already inside him.
His voice trembled as he raised his head. "Master… If I hadn't suggested we split up, could we have killed Muzan?"
"Akira!"
Yoriichi snapped, jolting Akira from his spiral. His crimson eyes slowly regained focus.
Yoriichi turned to Tamayo. "You know him, don't you? Muzan Kibutsuji. Can you tell us more?"
He saw it clearly again—real, unwavering hatred in Tamayo's eyes. It couldn't be faked.
Perhaps it was the overwhelming strength she saw in Yoriichi and Akito… perhaps it was the first time she'd ever seen a glimmer of hope. Whatever the reason, Tamayo shared everything she knew about Muzan.
When Tamayo explained how Muzan would likely disappear until Yoriichi and Akito were long gone, Akira's hope crumbled.
It would've been easier if there had never been a chance. But there was—and he missed it. That, more than anything, was unbearable.
Akira bowed his head. His entire world went dark, the last sliver of light slipping away.
"Akira!!!"
He faintly heard his master's voice calling to him—then everything went black.
His injuries were grave. In his final strike against Muzan, Akira had thrown away all regard for his own body, fighting past the limits of human endurance. But he was only human. He didn't have the regenerative powers of a demon. And now, even survival was uncertain.
What kept him standing until now was one thing: the will to kill Muzan. Now that hope was lost, his body gave out completely.
---
"Brother, you're awake!"
When Akira opened his eyes, he was home—and Chitose sat beside him, worry etched across his face.
Akira tried to speak, but his throat was parched and raw.
"Water!"
Akito—his younger brother—hurriedly fetched a glass of water.
Akira reached for it, but his arms were so weak they barely moved. The glass slipped, spilling most of it.
"Let me help you!"
Chitose gently brought the cup to Akira's lips.
As the cool water touched his mouth, Akira stared at his limp wrist and muttered, "Why…?"
Why couldn't he even hold a glass?
"Brother, your injuries were serious. The doctor said… you might not be able to wield a sword again."
Chitose forced a smile. "But that's okay. I'm grown now. I'll protect you."
But Akira barely heard the words. Only one thought echoed in his mind:
I can't fight anymore?
Simple words, but they struck him like thunder. He had braced for it… but facing the truth broke something inside him.
"Chitose… where's Master?"
"Master Yoriichi…"
Chitose hesitated.
Akira narrowed his eyes. "What happened?"
And so, Chitose told him. While Akira was unconscious, the world had changed.
Tsugikuni Iwakatsu—Yoriichi's older brother—had returned as a demon, stormed the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, and killed the Lord. He severed the head of the Corps leader and vanished.
Now, Yoriichi—his master—was on trial.
Hearing this, Akira jumped up and ran out, ignoring the pain that racked his battered body.
"Brother!"
Chitose called after him, but Akira didn't look back.
He could only see Yoriichi's face—kind, patient—now being judged by the very Corps he had served.
He ran through the streets toward the base. Passersby turned, shocked to see him.
But instead of admiration… he saw something else in their eyes.
Disgust.
As if he were something filthy.
As if… he'd done something unforgivable.
But he hadn't!
When the Demon Slayer members saw him, they instinctively stepped away, avoiding him like a plague.
Someone whispered behind him:
"That's him, right?"
"Yeah. You're new, but he was in the same group as Yoriichi. Word is… he's the one who let Muzan escape."
"Why is he still in the Corps?"
"Hmph. Should've died with Yoriichi."
Akira stopped. He turned toward the one who said it.
"What… did you just say?"
Silence fell. Those who had spoken lowered their eyes, avoiding his gaze.
Akira didn't lash out. He just stared at them coldly… then turned and walked away.
But inside, his heart burned.
The rumors had spread.
Why were they slandering Master Yoriichi?
And how could anyone say he let Muzan go?