Chapter 206: Saying Goodbye at Dawn
After more than ten long years, Kanzaki Akira finally heard that familiar voice once again.
It carried a slight, echoing rasp—worn down by the relentless passage of time—yet that did not diminish the deep warmth woven into every syllable. At this moment of reunion, standing before the ghost of his past, Akira found his heart beating with a steady, unexpected calm.
He didn't break down into agonizing sobs as he had once imagined. He didn't throw himself forward, desperate to bury his face in the elder's chest like a lost, choking child. Instead, Akira simply stood there. He quietly studied the weathered face hovering before him. Aside from the faint, translucent shimmer of his spiritual form, his grandfather looked exactly as he remembered. For a long while, silence stretched between them.
Akira had spent years preparing for this. He had mentally drafted a thousand different conversations, mapping out exactly where to start, which battles to recount, how to weave in lighthearted banter, and how to answer the inevitable questions. Most, he had rehearsed exactly how he would introduce the lovely women who now shared his life.
Yet, now that the moment had arrived, standing face-to-face with the man who raised him, Akira's lips parted, closed, and parted again. The grand speeches dissolved in his throat.
In the end, a soft breath escaped him. "Long time no see."
Immediately, a low chuckle rumbled from the ethereal figure, and a second later, Akira found himself laughing as well. With that simple, shared laughter, the heavy veil of a decade's separation vanished like mist under the morning sun.
The floodgates finally opened.
Akira leaned comfortably against the cold stone of the grave, the words spilling out naturally. He started with his fateful encounter with Kuwajima Jigorō, painting a vivid picture of the grueling Breathing Technique training and the endless, playful bickering between master and disciple. He spoke of his transition from a solitary survivor to a young man surrounded by steadfast friends—exchanging letters, sharing drinks, and enduring countless sparring sessions with a certain stubborn rival who refused to stay down no matter how many times he lost.
Then, his tone softened. He spoke of his first meeting with Makomo, and how that chance encounter had snowballed into crossing paths with one incredible woman after another.
Hearing this particular segment, Kanzaki Keizan's spectral brow twitched. The old man shot his grandson a highly skeptical, thoroughly amused look.
However, over the years of surviving both demons and the chaotic affections of his household, Akira's 'thick-skinned' defense had reached absolute mastery. Unfazed by the silent judgment, he merely grinned, smoothly pivoting the conversation to his martial achievements. He recounted the desperate, near-fatal struggle against Upper Rank Five in his early days, all the way to the triumphant, clean decapitation of Upper Rank Three.
In truth, much of what Akira shared had already been murmured to the wind during his routine visits to the cemetery. He had often updated the silent tombstone on Jigorō's eccentric care and the daily absurdities of the Demon Slayer Corps. But there were details he had glossed over—specifically, the domestic bliss and trivial daily routines that blossomed whenever he brought Kanae and the others along to pay their respects.
During those visits, once the formal incense was lit and the prayers finished, Akira's time meant for solemn reflection usually devolved into affectionate, heart-to-heart teasing with the girls kneeling beside him. Thinking about it now, a wry smile tugged at Akira's lips. Keizan had likely been floating right there the entire time, watching his grandson and future granddaughters-in-law flirt over his grave with a doting, if slightly exasperated, smile.
That is, until the sheer number of beautiful women accompanying Akira each year probably made the old ghost question his grandson's sanity.
Unknowingly, Akira had slid down to sit fully against the base of the tombstone, his posture relaxed, speaking to the air just as he had done for years. Keizan drifted to the opposite side, sitting cross-legged in the air. The old man didn't interrupt. He merely listened, absorbing his grandson's past and present with quiet grace.
They stayed like that until the night deepened into the darkest hours before dawn, and Akira's sprawling narrative finally wound down.
Naturally, a decade of blood, sweat, and romance couldn't be fully encapsulated in a mere few hours. But by omitting the gruesome, unimportant combat details, skipping over the darker tragedies of the era, and setting aside the intimate intricacies of his relationships, there wasn't much left to say.
Akira had originally assumed he would need days and nights to empty his heart. He thought Keizan would have a mountain of advice or reprimands to offer. Yet, upon deeper reflection, there was nothing left for the elder to say.
What could Keizan possibly add? Should he complain about the cold loneliness of lingering as a spirit for over ten years? Should he scold his grandson for being an unrepentant womanizer? He certainly couldn't demand that Akira abandon the Demon Slayer Corps and shirk his duty to protect those very women.
Beyond that, the old man was out of words. The fragile child he once shielded from the world had grown into a towering pillar of strength. Akira didn't need a ghost nagging him to stay safe. Keizan knew he could offer no tangible help against the Upper Ranks; voicing his worries would only highlight his own powerlessness. The little boy who used to hide behind his legs now stood at the forefront of a brutal war, and Keizan no longer had a physical body to shelter him from the storm.
Forget it, the old man's gentle eyes seemed to say. I am beyond my limits. To fret now would only add to his burdens.
Seeing his grandson alive, strong, and excitedly recounting a life full of love and victory was more than enough. As the old proverb went: children and grandchildren make their own fortunes. Keizan had been dead for years; it was time to stop worrying about the mortal realm.
As Akira's voice finally trailed off, the ink-black sky began to thin, hinting at the approaching dawn. Akira shifted his gaze, locking eyes with his grandfather.
Within those weathered, translucent eyes, Akira saw a deep ocean of emotions: immense pride at the man Akira had become, pure, unconditional love, a faint sorrow at the impending finality of their separation, and above all—relief. The lingering attachment that had anchored Keizan's soul to the living world for over a decade was finally unraveling.
The boy had grown. He no longer needed a ghost to watch over him.
In a romantic sense, Keizan had remained behind to give Akira a confidant, a silent guardian to ensure the boy never felt truly abandoned. But Akira was no longer that lonely orphan. He was surrounded by a fiercely loyal found family and women who adored him. Keizan couldn't even offer his grandson a physical hug anymore. Continuing to linger would only mean he doubted Akira's strength, or doubted the love of the women standing by his side.
Since his bones were already buried and his time passed, clinging to the mortal plane was pointless. Before, when Akira lacked the supernatural sight to perceive him, Keizan could justify his presence by claiming he wasn't bothering anyone. But now that they had spoken, the tether was fulfilled.
It was time to let go.
Akira read the quiet resolution etched into his grandfather's face. He could perfectly trace the old man's line of thought. After a brief heartbeat of hesitation, Akira swallowed the selfish urge to ask him to stay. Keizan couldn't remain a wandering spirit forever, trapped in a silent graveyard with no one else to talk to. Rather than condemning his grandfather to eternal, isolated lingering, it was far kinder to let him rest.
The dead belonged to the afterlife. All that remained for the grandfather and grandson was to bid each other a proper farewell.
"I'm leaving," Keizan's voice echoed, softer this time, blending with the morning breeze. "Don't come looking for this old man too soon, you hear?"
A gentle, confident smile graced Akira's face. "Don't worry. Your grandson is going to live a very long life."
"Haha... good. A long life is good." Keizan's ethereal form began to glow. "You and those girls around you... take good care of yourselves."
As the first brilliant rays of dawn pierced through the lingering night, bathing the cemetery in a warm, golden hue, Kanzaki Keizan turned. He took a step toward the rising sun. With every stride, he walked further away, ascending higher into the morning light, his spiritual form becoming increasingly translucent.
Akira stood tall, his eyes never leaving the glowing silhouette until it completely dissolved into the dawn.
"Goodbye, Grandpa."
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me!
Want to read ahead on our official home, or unlock 50 advanced chapters (plus an Ad-Free experience) to feed your addiction? Help keep this shameless translator alive here:
(P.S. Replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
🌐 Official Website: elysianreads[.]com
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters & Ad-Free): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]