Chapter 205: Reunion of Grandfather and Grandson
The Hashira Meeting did not last very long. After a brief exchange of vital information, Akira and Gyoumei took turns sharing their deep insights regarding the Transparent World.
Once the serious matters concluded, it was time for the routine sparring session.
As the Hashira grew more familiar with one another, these sparring sessions had gradually evolved into an unofficial time to "settle old scores and grievances." After all, the Demon Slayer Corps now boasted a roster of Hashira in the double digits. Daily patrol duties no longer required exhausting amounts of effort, leaving ample time for them to visit each other privately to cross blades.
Sabito, for instance, would drop by the Butterfly Mansion from time to time specifically to get beaten up.
In every conceivable sense of the phrase.
He was routinely subjected to Akira's unapologetic displays of affection with his lovers, only to then be thoroughly outplayed by Akira's overwhelming martial skill in the courtyard.
Truthfully, Akira sometimes felt a twinge of embarrassment about it. In a very real sense, Sabito could be considered one of his future brothers-in-law. Sakonji Urokodaki had raised Makomo like his own daughter, to the point where she had even taken his surname. The bond between Sabito, Giyuu, and Urokodaki was equally deep, blurring the lines between master and father.
Yet, whenever Akira attempted to go easy on him during their spars, Sabito would actually grow furious, loudly demanding that Akira respect his opponent. It left Akira feeling utterly helpless.
As for toning down the public displays of affection? How could a mere nominal brother-in-law possibly deter Akira from pulling his beloved women close?
Because of these complex, intertwined relationships, the "settling scores" segment of the Hashira Meetings almost always devolved into a fixed "Corner Giyuu" segment.
Giyuu's unique "art of conversation" remained far too authoritative. His blunt, easily misunderstood remarks never failed to attract a line of eager "sparring opponents."
In Giyuu's own mind, the logic was simple: Everyone likes to spar with me. I really wasn't hated after all.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Hashira simply smiled with a dark, relieved amusement, silently cracking their knuckles.
Given Giyuu's stellar performance in previous meetings, it was naturally Akira who sought him out for today's session.
"Giyuu, it's been a while since we sparred. Want to practice?"
Akira stood in the center of the training clearing, holding a wooden sword loosely at his side, gesturing casually toward the Water Hashira.
Giyuu gave a slight start. The muscles in his jaw tightened a fraction.
"Can I refuse?"
"What do you think?" Akira squinted at him, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"I think I can."
Akira stared at him in deadpan silence.
"Isn't that what you asked?" Giyuu added, his mismatched eyes blinking in genuine confusion.
From the sidelines, the other Hashira watched with eager anticipation, practically breaking out the popcorn at the unfolding drama.
Akira nearly broke character. Don't laugh, you come too... pfft, mixed up my lines...
"I don't think so," Akira finally squeezed out through gritted teeth. He stared at Giyuu, who looked entirely innocent but somehow radiated a faint, black-bellied temperament.
Akira took the opportunity to shoot a piercing glare at Sabito, who was standing nearby, desperately biting his lip to hold back his laughter.
Based on Giyuu's usual stoic personality, he would never have come up with such a mischievous, deflective response on his own. It didn't take a genius to figure out which roommate had been actively corrupting him.
Sabito merely shrugged, his eyes dancing with amusement. Yeah, who is it? Who corrupted my obedient Junior Brother?
Seeing that Akira remained unyieldingly insistent, Giyuu could only release a helpless sigh. He picked up his own wooden sword and trudged over to stand opposite Akira.
Giyuu was just like that; as long as someone was firm enough, he would eventually yield and do what was asked. Of course, if a certain Upper Rank demon ever asked for his name, that would naturally be a different story.
Some time later, the "friendly exchange" came to an end.
Akira stood panting lightly, thinking, That was not an exchange.
The spectating Hashira winced in sympathy, thinking, That was definitely not friendly.
Giyuu merely blinked his innocent eyes, brushing some dust from his uniform. I think it was fine?
With the sparring concluded, the Hashira Meeting was officially adjourned, and the pillars dispersed to their respective territories.
After warmly greeting his two women, Akira departed in a completely different direction.
During the meeting, he had deliberately omitted a crucial detail about the Transparent World: the fact that it allowed the user to see ghosts. He had only verified this phenomenon with Koyuki so far, and the specific triggering conditions remained entirely unclear.
However, he kept absolutely no secrets from the women who shared his life. Not only had he told them the amusing tale of how Koyuki had forcefully dragged Akaza back to his senses—effectively pulling the plug on the demon's connection to Muzan—but he had also proposed a deeply personal journey.
He was going to visit Keizan Kanzaki's grave.
He needed to verify the fragile conjecture that had taken root in his heart over half a year ago. He needed to see the old man who had once given a lost, reincarnated soul the deep feeling of a "home."
Driven by an instinctive, overwhelming sense of urgency, Akira's figure blurred. Golden electric currents sparked violently around his calves.
The occasional passersby on the dirt roads only felt a sudden, blinding flash before their eyes, accompanied by a roaring gust of wind that forced them to squint against the kicking sand. When they opened their eyes to look closer, the road was completely empty. Scratching their heads in bewilderment, they simply continued on their way.
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised shades of violet and orange, Akira had arrived at the outskirts of the small town.
A journey that would normally require a full day and night of travel had taken him little more than half a day.
Yet, as he stepped onto the familiar dirt paths of the town, Akira's frantic pace slowed to a crawl.
It was the classic timidity of approaching home, but layered with a suffocating fear of losing what he had just begun to hope for.
Part of him wanted to sprint the rest of the way. He wanted to see his grandfather immediately, to sit by the grave and recount his colorful, dangerous experiences. He wanted to talk about his warm daily life, the women he loved, and the wonderful, peaceful future he was fighting to build.
But another part of him wanted to delay the arrival indefinitely.
Because... he was terrified. Terrified that all of this was merely a desperate guess. Terrified that Keizan's soul had already entered the cycle of Reincarnation, and that the fleeting, translucent figure he had glimpsed half a year ago was nothing more than a grief-induced hallucination.
It wasn't that Akira selfishly wanted Keizan's soul to linger in the human world forever. Being trapped in a state where one could neither be seen nor heard by the living was a deep torment.
He just wanted to see him one last time. Just once, to say a proper goodbye.
Keizan had passed away far too quickly back then. So quickly that Akira, who hadn't even reached his seventh birthday, was robbed of the chance to say farewell.
It had been an ordinary winter day. Just a simple afternoon nap from which the old man never woke up.
During the day, Keizan had been energetic, pulling young Akira out into the courtyard to play. His mental state had seemed sharper, his smile brighter than it had been in months.
The young Akira hadn't known that there was a cruel medical phenomenon known as "terminal lucidity." He had genuinely believed his grandfather's health was improving, going to bed that night with a heart full of relief and dreaming sweet dreams.
It wasn't until the next morning, when he shook the old man's shoulder and found him cold and unresponsive, that the crushing reality set in. His grandfather had passed away in his sleep.
For an ordinary person, passing away quietly in one's sleep at a ripe old age was considered a blessing. A good ending. There was no agonizing pain, no natural disasters tearing the family apart, no man-made calamities.
But there had been one thing left behind. A lingering attachment that the old man simply could not let go of.
That was why Keizan Kanzaki had tethered himself to the human world for over a decade, refusing the natural pull of life and death. He had stayed behind to watch that fragile little boy grow up, bit by bit.
He watched him gradually transform from a silent, introverted child into a sunny, cheerful young man.
He watched him grow from a frail, sickly boy into a towering warrior capable of holding his own against the darkest evils of the world.
He watched him step out of his crushing loneliness to find love, support, and the strength to build a new "home."
And finally, he watched him transition from being completely unaware of his spectral presence to standing right in front of him, staring straight into his eyes.
Whether it was the timidity of approaching home or the paralyzing fear of loss, the small town was only so big.
From the entrance to the quiet cemetery, the distance was finite. Eventually, the walk had to end.
Finally, Akira stood there.
Under the frost-like glow of the moonlight, amidst the cool, sweeping evening breeze, he looked toward the simple stone marker.
There, standing quietly over the grave, was that familiar figure. The gentle, weathered silhouette that time had never managed to erase from the deepest recesses of Akira's memory.
Akira's breath hitched. His throat tightened painfully.
"Grandfather..."
The translucent figure turned, a warm, crinkled smile spreading across his ethereal face.
"Long time no see, child."
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