Fifteen days later, the Ubuyashiki estate was no longer quiet.
One by one, the Hashira returned from training. The air filled with the sound of sandals on gravel, the rustle of haori, the flutter of Kasugai crows circling above.
Sanemi Shinazugawa was the first to storm through the gate, scowling as usual."Oi," he barked at the Kakushi waiting near the entrance, "what's with everyone whispering like scared little mice?"
The Kakushi exchanged nervous looks.
"Shinazugawa-sama," one of them said, bowing quickly, "there is… a guest at the estate."
"A guest?" Sanemi frowned. "What kind of guest makes you all look like you've seen a ghost?"
Before the Kakushi could answer, Mitsuri Kanroji appeared, bright and curious."Ohhh, is it true?" she asked, clasping her hands. "I heard someone sparred with Gyomei and won! Who is he? Is he really that strong?"
"Won?" Sanemi's head whipped around. "Gyomei lost? You're kidding."
"Not kidding," a Kakushi said, still bowing. "He is staying in the east wing. We… we were told not to disturb him."
Obanai Iguro, who had just stepped onto the veranda, narrowed his eyes."Who is he?"
The Kakushi hesitated. "We… do not know his name. But he carries a Nichirin blade and wears a haori like no one we have ever seen."
"Sounds suspicious to me," Sanemi muttered, fingers twitching near his sword hilt.
Before he could say more, Gyomei's heavy footsteps approached.He emerged into the courtyard, towering and calm as ever, prayer beads in hand.
"It is no rumor," Gyomei said in his deep voice. "There is a man staying here — a swordsman of unmatched skill."
Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "And you lost to him?"
Gyomei nodded once. "I did."
Obanai's eyes widened just slightly. Mitsuri put her hands to her mouth in astonishment.
"What's his deal?" Sanemi asked. "Another Hashira? Some ex-Corps geezer?"
"You will see for yourself," Gyomei said. His tone held no irritation — just simple fact.
That only seemed to annoy Sanemi more. "Hmph."
More footsteps arrived as the other Hashira returned one by one — Tengen, Muichiro, Shinobu, and finally Giyu. Each one heard the whispers, saw the Kakushi bowing a little deeper than usual, felt the tension thickening in the estate.
By the time night fell, there was no mistaking it: something was different.
A council was called for the next morning. Kagaya himself had sent word for all Hashira to attend.
And somewhere in the east wing, Yorichi sat in silence, his sword across his knees, his breathing slow and steady.
The first light of dawn would bring a meeting eight centuries in the making.
The next morning, the estate buzzed with nervous energy.
Tanjiro, freshly back from training, had barely set foot inside the courtyard before Zenitsu grabbed his sleeve.
"Tanjiro! TANJIRO! Did you hear?!"
"Hear what?" Tanjiro blinked.
"There's some guy here!" Zenitsu practically squeaked. "And everyone's acting like the world's about to end! They say he beat Gyomei! GYOMEI! Nobody beats Gyomei!"
Inosuke dropped down from a nearby tree, landing with a thud.
"Where is he?!" Inosuke demanded, his boar mask tilting toward the east wing. "I'm gonna fight him!"
"Please don't!" Zenitsu yelped. "He'll kill you!"
"Not if I kill him first!"
"Both of you, stop!" Tanjiro said quickly, though his curiosity was gnawing at him too. He spotted a Kakushi hurrying by and ran to him.
"Excuse me," Tanjiro said politely. "Who is staying in the east wing?"
The Kakushi hesitated, bowing slightly. "Forgive me, Kamado-sama, but we do not know his name. Only that he is… someone of great importance."
"Importance?" Tanjiro asked.
"Yes," the Kakushi said softly. "He carries a Nichirin blade, and his haori is of a style none of us have ever seen. And the mark…"
"The mark?" Tanjiro leaned forward.
"Across his brow," the Kakushi whispered. "The same as in the oldest Corps records."
Zenitsu paled. "Oldest records? You mean… like… ancient Hashira records?"
Later-
The sliding doors of the council hall creaked as Kakushi lined up along the courtyard, beckoning the Hashira inside.
Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke crouched behind a nearby tree, just out of sight.
"Hashira meeting… this early?" Zenitsu whispered nervously.
"They say it's because of him," Tanjiro said, his voice low. His heart was still racing from what the Kakushi had told him earlier.
"Then I'm going to see this guy for myself!" Inosuke hissed, pressing his face to the edge of the wooden frame.
The last of the Hashira filed into the council hall.
A stillness fell over the estate.
Inside the Hall
Kagaya Ubuyashiki sat waiting, serene as ever, his wife Amane kneeling beside him. His daughters arranged themselves quietly behind.
Then, footsteps.
Slow, steady, unhurried.
The doors opened, and Yorichi Tsugikuni stepped in.
Sunlight caught in his long red hair. His Nichirin blade gleamed faintly at his hip, and the faint mark across his brow seemed to burn with quiet life.
Every Hashira turned to look.
Sanemi's usual sneer froze on his face. Mitsuri blinked, her mouth parting in awe. Tengen's single visible eye narrowed, and even Muichiro — usually lost in thought — focused on the newcomer.
Only Gyomei bowed his head in silent respect, for he had already crossed blades with the man.
Kagaya's soft voice broke the silence.
"Thank you all for coming. Today, I have something of great importance to share."
He gestured for Yorichi to stand beside him.
"This man has been staying in the estate these past days. Some of you may have sensed his presence. Some may even have heard rumors."
Sanemi's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, we heard. The guy who beat Himejima?"
"That is correct," Kagaya said, smiling faintly. "And much more than that."
The master's calm gaze swept across the Hashira.
"In our archives," Kagaya continued, "there is a record of the first man to create the breathing arts. The one who once brought Muzan Kibutsuji to the brink of death. His name is etched into the very foundation of the Corps."
He turned to Yorichi, his voice reverent.
"Yorichi Tsugikuni."
The room went still.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
Then Mitsuri gasped softly, her hands flying to her mouth.
"No way…" she whispered.
Even Sanemi's disbelief faltered. "That's… impossible."
Shinobu's eyes narrowed with sharp curiosity. "If this is true… then we are in the presence of history itself."
Kagaya nodded once.
"It is true. Yorichi-dono walks among us once more. And he has agreed to fight at our side."
A ripple of shock moved through the Hashira.
Outside, Tanjiro's heart hammered. His head swam as images flickered in his mind — Sumiyoshi kneeling in the dirt, Yorichi smiling gently, the words 'live long, be happy' echoing from somewhere deep inside him.
"That's… him…" Tanjiro whispered, his hands trembling.
"Who?" Zenitsu hissed.
"The man from my memories," Tanjiro said, voice shaking with awe. "He's real."
Inside, Yorichi's calm voice filled the hall.
"I know Muzan lives," he said. "I have faced him once before. I failed. I will not fail again."
Gyomei closed his eyes, nodding deeply. "Then we will follow you," he said.
Sanemi scowled, but there was no defiance in his tone this time. "If you can really kill that monster… then I don't care where you came from."
Kagaya smiled, serene and certain.
"In fifteen days, I will call you all again. By then, prepare yourselves as never before. With Yorichi-dono standing with us… this may be our final battle."
No one spoke after that.
The weight of the moment settled over them all like falling snow.
Outside, Zenitsu was pale and shaking. "We are so, so dead for eavesdropping…"
"Shut up," Inosuke hissed. "I wanna fight him."
Tanjiro couldn't look away from the closed doors.
For the first time since this war began… he felt a spark of something new.
Hope.