After his last encounter with Yoriichi, Kokushibo already knew he could never match him—even though he had become a demon earlier and had never once let up in his training over the centuries.
He had known for a long time that Yoriichi was different.
It went back to when Hiru first arrived at the Tsugikuni household. After a fierce argument between their parents, Yoriichi was allowed to spend more time outside during the day.
That happened to overlap with the hours Kokushibo, as the heir, was meant to train in swordsmanship. So whenever he practiced in the yard, he would often see the two of them lingering nearby.
Unlike Hiru, who was busy picking up pretty stones, Yoriichi watched his training with complete focus—while still keeping an eye on Hiru to make sure he didn't get hurt.
[Brother, is your dream to become the strongest samurai in the country?]
Yoriichi had never spoken since birth, and Kokushibo had once believed him deaf and mute. So when he first heard him speak, he was too stunned to respond.
What came after that?
Ah—Hiru had tugged at Yoriichi's sleeve, asking what it meant to be the strongest samurai.
[A samurai is someone strong who protects the weak. The strongest samurai is one who would give their life for them.]
[Then you're already the strongest, aren't you? Last time Father got angry at me, you stepped in and protected me without hesitation!]
Yoriichi had laughed softly.
[Mm, you're right. I want to be as strong as Brother too… but I could never surpass him, so I'll settle for second place in the country!]
Hiru tilted his head, puzzled.
[If my brothers are the strongest and second strongest, then… wouldn't it be strange if I didn't become a samurai?]
Yoriichi reached out and ruffled his hair.
[Hiru, you don't have to force yourself. We'll protect you.]
[Really? I don't have to become a samurai?]
Faced with their gazes… how had he answered?
[Of course. Just do what you want. I'll protect you.]
Those words now felt like nothing more than a mockery of his own arrogance.
Not long after, Yoriichi revealed an astonishing talent for the sword. With only a few simple instructions, the very first time he picked up a blade, he defeated the instructor Kokushibo himself had never managed to beat—in just four strikes.
And yet, when Kokushibo sought him out afterward, Yoriichi said he no longer wanted to become a samurai.
Simply because he disliked the feeling of striking others.
It was repulsive.
To possess a talent so many could only dream of—and speak of it so casually.
When Kokushibo asked how he had done it, Yoriichi said the world looked completely transparent to him. With a glance, he could tell exactly what his opponent intended to do.
More than that, compared to swordsmanship, he would rather fly kites or play board games with his brothers.
After that, everything changed.
Their instructor reported his talent to their father. Yoriichi became the heir, while Kokushibo was pushed into the cramped three-tatami room Yoriichi had once occupied—taking on the fate that had originally been meant for him.
The younger brother he had once pitied had surpassed him completely.
It made him feel like a complete joke.
That was the first time Kokushibo felt hatred toward him.
Why wouldn't the heavens grant talent to those who longed for it?
To give such overwhelming talent to someone who found no joy in it—wasn't that a waste?
And yet, he refused the position of heir.
Three days before their father was set to announce it, he said his farewells and vanished into the night, leaving no trace behind.
The next day, Hiru came to him in tears, clutching a letter he had left behind—so brief it held only a single line. He said his brother was gone and asked if it was because he hadn't agreed to the room exchange, whether that had hurt him and driven him away.
But how could he answer that?
Their father still tried to find him, but he hadn't gone to the temple as he claimed. He had simply disappeared.
Good. He's gone.
Even now, Kokushibo found that thought from back then utterly despicable.
Not long after, their mother fell ill and passed away, and their father became almost obsessed, muttering endlessly about finding him.
After her death, Hiru stopped applying himself to his studies. Even when the tutors scolded him for lacking ambition, he remained unmoved.
More than a decade passed in relative peace.
Both of them found their own paths. Kokushibo married, had children, and became the head of the Tsugikuni clan.
Hiru, meanwhile, became known for his calligraphy and paintings. His works were highly sought after, bringing valuable connections to the family.
Life was stable—almost too stable.
Until the day it shattered.
While leading his men on a campaign, they encountered a demon during a night encampment. His subordinates were slaughtered, leaving him barely alive.
And then—he saw Yoriichi again.
With a single strike, he effortlessly slew the demon. His swordsmanship had reached perfection.
And in that moment, after so many years, hatred surged once more within Kokushibo's chest. Jealousy burned fiercely, consuming him.
At the same time, his desire for strength reignited.
He abandoned everything—his family, his wife, his children—and followed him without hesitation.
Through that, he came to see a much broader world. He learned of Breathing Styles and the Slayer Mark, and understood that these were what made him so overwhelmingly powerful.
He taught his swordsmanship and Breathing Styles to the Corps without holding anything back—never claiming credit, always remaining humble.
But to Kokushibo, it was nauseating.
That kind of unconscious generosity—like a handout—was unbearable.
Those who claim they have never envied others are simply fortunate.
Fortunate enough never to have met someone blessed by all the gods.
Kokushibo gazed at him, whose presence now surpassed even what it had been in the past. The storm of emotions within him gradually settled.
The past could not be changed, and he had no intention of excusing his own sins. Let the gods judge him after his death.
What he desired now—was only a final battle, fought with everything he had.