Chapter 5: Expelled from the Demon Slayer Corps
"You should commit seppuku!"
"It's your fault the demon escaped!"
"You're a disgrace—a sinner! You shouldn't even be alive!"
"How can the Demon Slayer Corps harbor scum like you?!"
Akira never imagined the nightmare that had haunted him for years would one day become reality.
They pointed at him, spat hatred from their mouths—and this time, he saw their faces clearly.
They were the people he knew best.
When Akira arrived at the lord's mansion, he saw the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps surrounding Tsugikuni Yoriichi. Every word they hurled at him was filled with contempt.
Yoriichi stood silently, head bowed, not offering a single word in his defense.
Akira rushed forward to shield his master, but the moment the Hashira saw him, their fury turned toward a new target.
"It was you who let Muzan Kibutsuji escape!"
The Sound Hashira stormed forward and seized Akira by the collar, eyes bloodshot with rage. "How dare you show your face here? You and your master are nothing but filth! If not for you, Muzan would be dead! The lord would still be alive! You should be executed!"
Yoriichi, who had remained passive until now, moved in an instant. He appeared before the Sound Hashira and gripped his wrist tightly.
"What are you doing?"
Veins bulged on the Sound Hashira's forehead. The others quickly drew their Nichirin Blades, surrounding Yoriichi and Akira in a tense standoff.
Looking into the hostile, suspicious eyes of those around him, Akira felt like he was in a different world.
Was this still the Demon Slayer Corps he knew?
Had he and his master truly become the villains of this story?
Had they committed some unforgivable sin?
"The one who killed the lord was Tsugikuni Michikatsu!" Akira shouted, glaring at the Sound Hashira. "What does that have to do with my master?!"
The Sound Hashira sneered. "Michikatsu was his brother. And who brought him into the Corps in the first place? Your master. The one closest to him. You really think that means nothing?"
"And you—you're the one who let Muzan go. Don't think we haven't considered the possibility that you were working together. Michikatsu became the new Demon King, and you let Muzan live. Too many coincidences!"
Akira's heart surged with fury, but he had no way to release it.
He looked around at the people who once stood shoulder to shoulder with him—and all he saw now was cruelty.
These people wielded the Breathing Techniques developed by Yoriichi, and yet they turned on him without hesitation.
He had sacrificed his body to defeat Muzan—and now they called him a traitor?
"You don't deserve to judge us."
Akira shoved the Sound Hashira aside, sweeping his cold gaze across the group. "None of you are worthy."
"What did you say, brat?!"
Akira stepped forward, voice cold and sharp. "If only you had encountered Muzan first. With your brainless arrogance, you would've made excellent bait. Maybe I could've finished him off."
The Sound Hashira's hand flew to his sword. "Say that again. I dare you."
Akira didn't flinch. "You've got so much strength now—so where were you when Michikatsu attacked? Hiding?"
"And you call yourself the Sound Hashira? My master created the very breathing style you abuse. Aren't you ashamed to speak his name?"
He turned to the others. "All of you. Before you demand seppuku from us, look in a mirror. If not for the breathing techniques Yoriichi gave you, you would've all died long ago. You should be grateful—not slanderous."
---
"Brother, are we leaving?"
"Yes… let's go."
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know. But we're never coming back."
At the crossroads near the Demon Slayer Corps base, Akira paused to look back at the place he'd called home for years.
"We'll never return here again."
He turned away.
After all that had happened, there was no longer a place for him in the Corps.
Because of the confrontation, the Hashira ultimately backed down. Some still glared daggers—especially the Sound Hashira—but none dared strike again.
They chose exile.
From another path, Yoriichi approached, and for the first time, Akira saw sorrow in his master's eyes.
"I'm sorry… I dragged you into this."
His voice was quiet, guilt-ridden.
"My brother became a demon. And I couldn't finish off Muzan when I had the chance. If only I'd been faster—"
"Master," Akira interrupted, voice low, "blame me. I wasn't strong enough."
"No." Yoriichi shook his head. "You did everything you could."
In truth, even Yoriichi knew the truth. Had he been there that day, the outcome might have been the same.
Akira's final attacks were their best shot at killing Muzan. But even those weren't enough. And now… they might never get another chance.
---
"Brother! Master Yoriichi!"
Akito caught up to them, blinking back emotion. "Don't think about all that anymore. Didn't you say you always wanted to see the world, Brother? Now's the time!"
Akira took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right, Akito."
He turned to Yoriichi. "Master, where should we go next?"
Yoriichi looked up at the sun, dazed for a moment. "There's a place Shi and I once lived. Let's go there."
---
They traveled deep into the mountains, Yoriichi helping support Akira, whose injuries still hadn't fully healed. His master's face softened with memories.
"My wife… Shi was kind. So very kind," Yoriichi said, smiling faintly.
"You must've been happy living together," Akira said with a faint smile of his own.
Yoriichi nodded. "We spent ten years in peace here. If not for the demons… I would've stayed with her forever."
At his words, all three fell silent.
Demons… how many lives had they ruined? How many families had they torn apart?
"We're here," Yoriichi said softly.
A small home appeared in the distance.
The door opened, and a man stepped out, wary at first. But when he recognized Yoriichi, his face lit up with joy.
"Benefactor!"