That night, Kazama Aoi lay in bed, staring at the newly added character panel on her system. Her heart felt heavy.
Listed there were names—each one a fragment of unfinished business, a memory of tenderness scattered across time, and a lingering regret buried deep in someone's soul.
Sabito
Makomo
Kanae Kocho
Tsutako Tomioka
...and many more.
Can I really bring them all back? she wondered.
Suddenly, the system's notification pinged in her mind. It wasn't the usual push for a mission, but a soft, warm message: [Host's heart is resolute; the path of salvation shall be smooth.]
Aoi's eyes crinkled into a smile, and she snuggled deeper into her blankets. It was okay. Soon, she would make these regrets right.
Before the cooldown period for her "treasure" ended, Aoi received a mission. She was to execute it alongside a slayer named Kaigaku.
Aoi had a vague memory of Zenitsu mentioning him. Zenitsu had only scratched his head and muttered, "My senior doesn't really like me," before trailing off, refusing to say more.
When she arrived at the meeting point, she saw a boy in a Demon Slayer uniform leaning against a tree. He looked incredibly annoyed, his fingers drumming impatiently on the hilt of his Nichirin Sword. His brow was knitted in a deep scowl.
As she approached, he looked up, his gaze dripping with disdain and irritation, as if her very presence was an inconvenience.
"Sorry, I'm late," Aoi said with a polite nod.
Kaigaku let out a cold snort. His eyes swept over her sword before settling back on her face. "You're dawdling. If you can't even manage your time, don't expect me to clean up your mess during the mission."
His words were sharp and aggressive, but Aoi didn't take offense. Instead, she noticed the restless anxiety hidden in his eyes. It wasn't just a bad temper; it was a deep-seated, bone-deep insecurity—like a string wound so tight that the slightest touch would make it snap with a jarring, screeching sound.
"I won't hold you back," she replied, meeting his gaze.
There was no elaborate excuse, no attempt to flatter him. Just a simple, calm statement. It caught Kaigaku off guard for a second. He had expected her to either argue or cower, and the sudden lack of a target for his rehearsed insults left the words stuck in his throat.
"Hmph. Let's go!" Kaigaku turned and stalked off without another word.
Aoi followed at a steady pace, her eyes lingering on his stiff, lonely back. "My name is Kazama Aoi. You can call me Aoi."
Kaigaku's footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. He didn't look back, only letting out a faint grunt that sounded like he couldn't be bothered to respond. "Kaigaku."
Aoi smiled. "Kaigaku, then."
"So, Kaigaku... you and Zenitsu are fellow disciples under the same master, right?"
"Don't mention that piece of trash," Kaigaku snapped, his irritation peaking.
"Oh? But Zenitsu told me he really admires his senior!" Aoi didn't push back; instead, she gently steered the conversation.
"What does that brat know about admiration? He's just a crybaby who acts like a spineless coward to anyone he meets."
"That's not true. I've seen him stand up for you," Aoi said softly. "Once, a few other slayers were gossiping about how you were too impatient with your training, saying you didn't deserve to be a student of the former Thunder Hashira. Zenitsu was the first one to rush in, face red with anger, shouting that his senior was the strongest and that they weren't allowed to say bad things about you."
Aoi's gentle words drifted into Kaigaku's ears.
A long silence followed. Finally, he let out a heavy, forced snort, his voice defensive. "I didn't ask for that!"
He ducked his head and hurried forward.
"Wait for me, Kaigaku!" Aoi caught up quickly, walking side-by-side with him.
She could see it now—Kaigaku was someone starving for affection. He craved undivided attention and recognition, yet his pride and bone-deep anxiety forced him to wrap himself in a cold, jagged shell. He refused to bow his head, and he refused to let anyone see the vulnerability underneath.
She glanced at him. He was still looking down, his bangs casting shadows over his eyes.
"Kaigaku, this is for you." Aoi pulled a braided bracelet from her sleeve. "I made it myself. No one else has one."
Kaigaku's head snapped up. He stared at the hand-rope, his voice a low murmur. "Only... only I have one?"
"Of course! It's one of a kind."
One of a kind.
He had lived his whole life listening to people whisper behind his back. He had pushed himself to the brink in training just to earn a scrap of recognition, yet no one had ever looked him in the eye and said, This is for you, and you alone.
"What is this junk?" he blustered, trying to sound dismissive. "So childish!"
Despite the harsh words, he quietly tucked the bracelet into his pocket.
Aoi suppressed a laugh as she kept walking. "Fine, fine. I'm childish."
She couldn't tease him too much, or the "puppy" would really bristle.
As they walked, Aoi chatted away about nothing in particular. She was a far cry from the girl who had first transmigrated, always on the verge of tears. Kaigaku initially scowled, findng her "noise" annoying, but eventually, he gave up the struggle and simply let her chatter beside him.
By the time they reached their destination, night had fallen. Aoi looked at the silent village, her voice dropping to a whisper. "That's strange. It's too quiet."
Kaigaku agreed. Even for late at night, the lack of any sound was unsettling. He scanned the surroundings, his hand hovering over his blade.
Suddenly, a suffocating aura slammed into them. Kaigaku instinctively grabbed Aoi's hand and yanked her behind him. When he saw the figure standing before them, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks.
The pressure was monstrous.
A demon with six eyes stood in their path. Kaigaku could clearly see the characters etched into those eyes: Upper Rank One.
The intelligence was wrong!
Kaigaku felt the blood in his veins freeze.
Kokushibo looked past Kaigaku at Aoi. He hadn't expected to run into the very person he had been looking for while merely out for a stroll.
He then glanced at Kaigaku, standing protectively in front of her, and furrowed his brow. "A Demon Slayer... how weak."
The sheer weight of Kokushibo's presence made Kaigaku's legs buckle. His eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated terror.
"Do you wish to become strong?" Kokushibo's voice was hollow and echoing, his six eyes devoid of any emotion.
The question hit Kaigaku like a bolt of lightning.
His body was shaking from the pressure, and his mind was screaming in fear, but Kokushibo's words pierced straight through to his deepest obsession. Hadn't he bled and sweated over his sword just for the sake of becoming strong?
The feeling of being utterly crushed by Kokushibo's power swirled in his chest—a feeling more suffocating than the fear of death itself.
He looked at the towering figure of Kokushibo, radiating absolute power, and then instinctively glanced back at Aoi.
"Strong..." Kaigaku whispered, his voice trembling—not just from fear, but from the internal struggle. "You want me to... become a demon?"
Kokushibo seemed to have expected the question. A faint trace of mockery flickered in his six eyes, though his tone remained flat. "And if I do? Power knows no morality; there is only strength and weakness. Become a demon, and you shall possess power to rival my own. You will never have to experience such pathetic helplessness again."
Kaigaku's heart was at a breaking point.