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Over a thousand years, I suppose. A stretch of time so long humans couldn't even imagine it.
My memory wasn't that good. Across those thousand years, I'd forgotten countless people and events. Even the faces of those I thought I'd remember forever had gradually blurred.
So I believed I'd forgotten Muzan's face and that most suffocating period of my life.
But when he appeared before me again on this moonless, pitch-black night, I realized I'd never forgotten at all.
I still hated him just as much.
Yet these vile emotions seemed to belong to me alone. He looked at me with flat, empty eyes—as if there were no deep hatred between us, as if we were still back in that estate.
Even his tone when he addressed me was no different from before. "Chihaya? You actually chased him all the way here. Seems you're no longer afraid of my punishment?"
I really wanted to curse him out with something filthy. What was he still putting on airs for? I hadn't been his maid in ages.
We'd both lived a long time, but we'd never once met face to face.
Hard to say if it was coincidence or deliberate. Probably both.
At first, the Demon Slayer Corps lacked the strength. Ubuyashiki didn't want Muzan knowing I had ties to them, afraid it would draw his attention.
Later, as Muzan created more and more demons, he delegated most tasks to his subordinates while hiding himself among human society, rarely showing his face.
Even knowing the Corps had me backing them, the gap in our strength meant he didn't take me seriously.
Of course, I knew the gap between us was still enormous.
The moment he appeared, I caught a whiff of an utterly vicious aura—terrifying as a demon crawling straight out of hell. My instincts screamed danger.
How many people had he devoured over all these years? How far had he evolved?
I really did want to kill him. But I knew that even with the same breathing technique, the power I could unleash was nowhere near Yoriichi's level.
I couldn't see those hearts and brains Yoriichi spoke of. Couldn't destroy them all simultaneously.
Since I couldn't kill Kokushibo either, I weighed our respective strengths and considered retreating.
Fortunately, Muzan had never taken me seriously. Based on what Doma said before... if I groveled and begged for mercy, he might not even bother killing me.
Wouldn't be the first time I'd played submissive in front of him. I had zero psychological pressure doing it in front of Kokushibo either.
Countless thoughts battled in my head. In reality, barely any time passed.
After he finished speaking, I trembled slightly. My momentum suddenly deflated—like prey spotting a natural predator, carefully retracting all claws and fangs.
Kokushibo looked over. All six eyes seemed filled with doubt and wariness.
But Muzan showed no surprise. I'd always appeared docile and obedient before him—except for that one night when I'd lunged for his throat.
But perhaps a thousand years was simply too long. Long enough that he seemed to have forgotten I genuinely wanted him dead. Right now he maintained that same condescending attitude, saying with unclear intent:
"You're still the same as before—enjoying mingling with those lowly creatures. Their deference must make you feel quite superior."
Communicating with him remained as always: a massive challenge to my sanity.
I took a deep breath, instinctively maintaining that old humble tone. "That's not true."
The rebuttal sounded weak and powerless. It only earned me his contemptuous laughter.
"These years, you seem to have killed quite a few of my subordinates. You've improved considerably from before."
He changed tack abruptly, once again extending his hand toward me with casual indifference. "Compared to those fools, you're actually more useful. As long as you return to my side, I can forgive your past insolence."
Muzan's self-important demeanor made me want to laugh.
But I could only lower my eyes meekly. "Before, I was just young and hot-headed. I only want to live peacefully. I don't have grand ambitions like yours. My current life is satisfying enough."
I thought I'd been humble enough. But Muzan's expression suddenly darkened, turning ice-cold as he stared at me and sneered.
"Chihaya, do you actually think Ubuyashiki treats you sincerely? To humans, you're nothing but a tool to help them resist demons."
He spoke with vicious cruelty: "Outsiders will always be outsiders. Do you really think you can still find your place among humans? If you persist in this delusion, then let me kindly help you face reality."
Surging malice and killing intent poured out undisguised. My body reacted faster—I leaped away. The next second, Kokushibo's slash landed where I'd just stood.
Simultaneously, a whistling sound came from behind. Probably some Blood Demon Art of Muzan's.
Two old bastards. No honor in their attacks.
I cursed them internally but didn't dare let my guard down for a second.
My only option now: fight while retreating. Dawn wasn't far off.
I was fast. If I could just reach open ground, even if I had to endure some sunlight, it would be fine.
Gyomei was nearby. He'd definitely reach me before the sun burned me to death.
Unfortunately, wishful thinking remained wishful thinking. These two bastards showed absolutely no mercy.
Kokushibo's talent might not match Yoriichi's, but it far exceeded mine. Over hundreds of years, he'd clearly never stopped refining his swordsmanship. His blade work was unpredictable, lethal moves coming one after another.
Him alone, I could still handle. But with Muzan attacking from behind—
Every time I showed the slightest opening, the blades he'd transformed from his flesh carved another bloody gash across my body.
My regeneration slowed again and again, dragged down by his interference. My escape speed gradually decreased.
While crossing an open clearing in the mountains, Muzan severed my lower leg.
That stumble—Kokushibo immediately chopped off my sword hand.
I crashed to the ground. My limbs regenerated instantly, but blades pinned down all four of them.
At the same time, I felt intense discomfort. Something surged madly into my body through those vein-like things.
Muzan's blood.
I realized what was happening. Remembered what had caused my failure that night. Started struggling violently.
But I was pinned down tight. Could only gasp for breath as blood—countless times more than before—poured into my body.
My blood vessels, my nerves, my cells—all screaming. As if enduring a brutal massacre. Eventually even my thoughts grew murky.
Before the last shred of clarity vanished, I heard Muzan's vicious voice: "Let me see how those self-righteous fools will treat you."
...
I woke up.
But who was I?
Intense hunger swept through my mind, making it nearly impossible to think of anything. Only the urge to eat, driving me to get up immediately.
So hungry. So hungry. I needed food. Needed delicious food to fill my stomach.
I smelled something sweet. Not far away. Moving closer toward me. Making joyful sounds.
So much food walking right up to me. Those sweet scents drove me nearly mad.
I could barely wait for them to reach me. Right now I needed to grab the nearest one immediately, take a good hard bite—
[Chihaya! Don't!]
I swallowed the saliva flooding my mouth. Watched the food's expression shift from joy to terror. Then, at a tall man's command, they all retreated backward.
Finally only the man holding an axe remained standing before me.
How strange. Why did he feel so familiar? Why did his face show such agonized struggle?
Another strange voice pleaded in my ear:
[Let's go. The sun's about to rise. Hurry and hide.]
Right. The sun. I couldn't be exposed to sunlight. I had to hide somewhere safe quickly.
Survival instinct overpowered appetite. I kept swallowing saliva as I slowly backed away, then ran toward the shadows.
Strangely, the man didn't chase me. He watched me leave, as if he'd turned into a statue.
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