"The Midnight Hunter?" Yoriko asked, tilting his head with a look of genuine confusion.
This is the worst possible situation. I was being too cocky, asking far too many questions. He forced his heart to slow, his mind to clear. He glanced at Ruzuki, whose eyes were fixed on him, searching for any sign of a lie.
"A-Ah! The Midnight Hunter!" Amaki suddenly exclaimed, his hands clasping together. "He's said to be a shadow that lurks in the depths of the night, defeating demons without even breaking a sweat!"
Whoa! Seems like I've got a fan. A cold smile crept across Yoriko's face, hidden from the others. The boy's hero-worship was a tool he could use.
"Oh, I see…" Yoriko said, his voice soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'm not a physically well person, and I didn't even know about the existence of demons until today. I couldn't possibly be this 'Midnight Hunter.'"
He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. If he told them he wanted to leave, that would be too suspicious. It was better to diffuse this right here and now, before Ruzuki could pry any deeper.
Yoriko held his breath, waiting. A moment later, Ruzuki's face softened just slightly, the sharp edges of her gaze dulling into a reluctant apology.
"I see... my apologies. I must have been mistaken," she said, her voice flat.
Phew... Still, I guess I need to be more careful. The relief was a subtle rush through his veins. He had won this round, and the victory gave him a surge of confidence.
He smiled, a genuine, amused tilt to his lips. "No need to worry. But you have intrigued me. This 'Midnight Hunter' you speak of... is he a part of the Demon Slayer Corps? From what you've said, he sounds like a valuable ally."
His question was innocent, almost a friendly curiosity, but it was anything but.
Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream from outside shattered the stillness of the afternoon.
The three Demon Slayers were on their feet in a single, fluid motion. They were out the door and into the street before Yoriko had even fully registered the sound. He followed on a hunter's instinct, a cold knot of dread tightening in his gut.
When he saw the scene, a vicious scream tore from his own throat, a primal sound of pure horror. There, hanging from a thick rope connected to the house next door, were the bodies of the maids. They were twisted into grotesque, broken shapes, their necks snapped at impossible angles. Hana's lifeless body swayed gently in the afternoon air, her eyes wide and vacant. The sight sent a violent shock through Yoriko's body, a wave of nausea so intense he felt his stomach turn. He couldn't breathe. His lungs seized in his chest, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
He heard a quiet, almost poetic sound. Slash… hiss…
In the moment he had frozen, the three Demon Slayers had been decapitated. Their heads fell silently to the ground, their bodies collapsing into unmoving heaps. The sight was too much for Yoriko to process.
What's going on? his mind screamed, but no sound came out.
A thick, dark liquid began to pour from his eyes, blurring his vision and painting the world in a horrifying crimson. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground. The last thing he saw, through a vision filled with red, were the legs of a person standing over him.
Yoriko Yagami had died.
A rush of coldness. It was cold. So cold. Much colder than the place he had been before, wherever that was. But…he could feel the cold. Which was strange for someone who was supposed to be dead. How was he even thinking right now?
An instinct took over, commanding him to open his eyes.
And as he did, he saw a vast forest blanketed in snow, illuminated by a brilliant, full moon.
**"A-ARRRRRGH!"
A bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat. A mix of terror and rage, it was a sound that seemed to rip his lungs apart as he vomited all over the pristine snow. An insane, ringing headache pulsed behind his eyes, a violent warning of something he couldn't grasp.
M-My brain… it's… overlapping memories!
Flashes of a luxurious house, the three Demon Slayers standing over him, and a gruesome scene of his own maids hanging from a rope, all played out slowly and clearly in his mind. He saw his own body on the ground, blood pouring from his eyes. He saw the legs of the person who had stood over him, and then… nothing.
He had been dead. He was sure of it.
But now he was alive. Not only that, but he was back in the snowy forest from the night he had been killed. He had gone back in time. A cold, chilling clarity settled in his mind. He had managed to overcome death, and now he had a second chance.
"Who's there?" a voice shouted from the darkness.
Before him stood the same demon as before, its teeth bared in a vile grin. "Looks like luck is on my side—"
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Yoriko screamed, his voice a raw, furious sound. The memory of Hana's lifeless body and the three slain Demon Slayers flashed in his mind, fueling a rage he had never felt. He drew his blade, a blur of motion in the moonlight, and charged the beast.
There was no need for him to use his breathing style. His anger was all the power he needed.
Slash… hiss…
He had already cut the demon's head clean off. It fell to the snow with a wet thud, the body crumbling into dust a moment later. Yoriko threw the mask from his face and fell to his knees, his body trembling.
W-What's going on… How am I alive? Why did Hana-chan kill herself? Why did the Demon Slayers and I die as well?
He was a mess of confusion and emotion, unable to reconcile the reality of his past with the horrors of his future. He sat in the snow, surrounded by the remnants of the demon, a lone figure in a world that had suddenly become foreign to him.
Should I go back? Of course I should. I should go back.
His mind screamed the command, but his body remained frozen, a useless statue in the snow. He tried to lift his hands, to push himself up, but something held him down. It was a force more powerful than any demon he had ever faced: fear.
Why?… Why… Why! The question rattled in his head, a frantic, unanswered echo.
He was a slayer, a man who had made his peace with death. He had walked into countless battles prepared to give his life. His entire identity was built on the readiness to die. So why, now that he had died and been given a second chance, was he so terrified to return?
The thought of it, of the blackness, of the pain of his head hitting the ground, of the sight of his own blood—it was a memory that burned with a sickening clarity. He had overcome death, but he had no idea how. He didn't know if he would come back again if he died a second time.
Tears, hot and searing, streamed down his face, freezing to his skin. He had faced down demons and felt nothing. But the profound, unyielding terror of the unknown—the cold void of death itself—it was the one thing he was not prepared for. "D-Damn it!" he screamed into the cold air.
His mind was a maelstrom of fear and responsibility. He didn't want to die. He really didn't. But Hana… and maybe even his father, his mother, and his younger siblings. They might be in danger. He had to save them.
I need to save them! Move! Move! Why can't I move!
He tried to push himself up from the snow, his muscles burning with a desperate urgency, but his body refused to obey. He was a prisoner in his own skin, trapped by a terror he couldn't control. He wanted to go back. He wanted to scream at the monster, to cut it to ribbons, to tear it to shreds. He wanted to protect his family.
I don't want them to die! No matter what! MOVE!
No matter how hard he tried to stand, to crawl, to even so much as twitch a finger, it was useless. His will was screaming a command, but his body, having already tasted death, was screaming a different one. It was paralyzed by a fear he had never known.
The sun had soon risen, casting a brilliant light through the snowy forest. The world was now a breathtaking tableau of white and gold. As snowflakes drifted slowly onto Yoriko's face, he lay there, staring up at the clouds.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't move. His will was screaming, but his body was still a frozen, useless lump in the snow.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate, final act of surrender.
Darkness.
And then, a memory appeared. One that had been buried so deep inside him, he had forgotten it existed. It was the face of a boy, a bit younger than him, who wore a green and black haori. He couldn't remember what the boy had said, but he remembered the sheer, unshakeable determination in his eyes. This boy had lost everything—his family, his home—and was left with only his little sister. Even so, he looked so kind, so full of an unbearable hope.
That kid… he was kind of an inspiration to me, Yoriko thought, a burning sensation behind his eyes.
He squeezed them tighter, fighting to recall a name, a voice, a reason to get up.
I think his name was…
A single name, as clear and bright as the sun, broke through his despair. The boy who would help Yoriko overcome his fear was Tanjiro Kamado.