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Yoriichi stood silently by the side of the dying man, his gaze locked on the quiet scene unfolding before him. The young girl sobbed uncontrollably, her small frame trembling as she leaned over her father, her hands caressing his as if by touch alone she could will life back into him. Every tear she shed seemed to carve deep wounds in his regret, her despair an unbearable weight that hung in the room like an oppressive fog.
Yoriichi could do nothing but watch, the powerlessness trying to suffocate him but he held strong. His sword and unparalleled skill in battle meant nothing in this moment. This was not a demon to be slain, nor an evil to be extinguished. There was no enemy here, only the cruel inevitability of life slipping away, and the agonizing truth that he could do nothing to stop it. The very sight of it felt like a mocking twist of fate—a tragic joke that he was not in on. It was painfully familiar like always, something he was used to.
He had bandaged the man's wounds after dispatching the demon that had threatened them, but those injuries were nothing compared to the uncaring finality of time. The demon had been slayed swiftly by Yoriichi's blade yet standing before him, the life of a man was dangled by the thinnest of threads. His injuries were severe, and Yoriichi could see that the fight between life and death was already lost, the frail pulse of the man's heartbeat a feeble whisper against the unrelenting tide of mortality.
Yoriichi knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was only his sheer will to hold on to life that kept the man breathing. His body was so close to death that it seemed his spirit was already beginning to slip away. Every shallow breath, every quiver of his chest, was an act of defiance against the inevitable. And yet Yoriichi could do nothing. He was a swordsman, not a healer. He had saved lives by the dozen but never could he bring someone from deathbed. His heart ached at the bitter taste of defeat.
"Please... Master Swordsman... take me to my bed... just one last time. I want to die where my wife... breathed her last." His voice cracked, the words slow and deliberate, for each one cost him more energy than he had left.
Yoriichi knelt down, his hand resting gently on the man's shoulder, feeling the last vestiges of warmth ebbing away with each passing second.
Yoriichi nodded silently, unable to speak. His heart clenched as he met the man's gaze, his expression one of resignation. The frail man offered a faint smile that carried the weight of years of hardship, love, and now, loss.
"Thank you... for your..." The words died on his lips as Yoriichi spoke.
"No," Yoriichi said, his voice low. "Do not waste your breath on me. There is nothing I can do for you, but your daughter..." His voice faltered, but he quickly regained composure. "Your daughter still needs you."
The girl's eyes were red from crying, her cheeks streaked with the marks of desperation. The anguish on her face deepened as she looked from her father to Yoriichi, desperate, panicked, like a bird trapped in a cage.
"W-What!? What do you mean?!" she gasped, her hands clutching at Yoriichi's sleeve, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "You're so strong, aren't you!? You can save him, right!? You must have some kind of healing magic... or something! Please—please, tell me you can save him!"
Her voice cracked with every word, and Yoriichi felt the weight of her desperation push against him, each plea like a blade of ice stabbing through his heart. Her hands tugged at him, shaking him, but no amount of strength in her slim frame could shake his body.
Yoriichi's face remained stoic as he gently removed her hands from his chest. "I am sorry," he said softly, the words bitter on his tongue. "I do not have the skills you seek. I am but a swordsman—one who came too late, who could only fight the demon and not this. Your father's wounds are beyond my reach."
The sobs grew louder, her face turning red from the intensity of her grief. "No! NO!" She threw herself at Yoriichi, pulling at his cloak and trying to force him to act, to do something—anything. "Please, please, don't let him die! He's all I have left! You can't just stand there and do nothing!"
Yoriichi gently lifted the frail body of the man, ignoring the girl's protests, her cries, and the futile tugging at his arm. He turned and walked, slowly and deliberately, toward the room where the man had asked to die It was a place filled with memories of a woman the man married.
The girl stood frozen for a moment, unable to move, her chest heaving with every breath, her face wet with tears. Her father's voice broke through her whirlwind of emotions, fragile yet filled with finality.
"Oh, my beautiful daughter... Please, let me have this last wish."
His words, so vulnerable were enough to pull her from her frozen state. She wiped her eyes hastily, and though her heart was broken, she stepped forward, following Yoriichi into the room where her father had once shared his life with another.
Yoriichi laid the man gently. The bed, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt like a cold, final resting place. The person who previously yelled at him stood at the door, her eyes glued to her father's face, searching for anything that might offer some sign of hope. But there was nothing there.
"Please, Father... I'm here. I'm with you."
Yoriichi lingered in the doorway, his eyes closed, his back to the room as he stood still, letting the quiet moment unfold. He didn't want to intrude, didn't want to take this last bit of time from them. There was nothing more for him to do now.
The girl sat beside her father, her small hand gently holding his. The two of them shared a moment that needed no words, a promise made not out loud, but in the softest of touches. Yoriichi couldn't hear it, but he knew it was there. There was nothing that could take away the pain, not in the way she wanted, but perhaps, in time, there would be something to rebuild from the ashes.
"Master Swordsman," the man rasped, his voice barely audible, but desperate in its plea.
Yoriichi's head snapped back toward the bed. The man's eyes were now fixed on him, clouded with pain but still holding a trace of that strength that had carried him through it. "Please... if you could do me a favor," he continued, his voice growing weaker with every word. "Escort Mira to safety. There is a town to the west of here… you should be able to find my old acquaintance there. Speak the name Heinrich to the guards and they shall let you in. There is a man in the town. They call him Gorzel—a merchant, and he owes me. Tell him what happened here, and he'll understand."
Yoriichi's brow furrowed. The man had asked a lot of him, he knew that. But looking at his daughter, Mira, who now stood with her head bowed, her hand still gently holding her father's, Yoriichi couldn't bring himself to refuse. He could see it in the man's eyes—the understanding, the last hope for his daughter, the silent request for her protection.
"I assume you are this Heinrich?"
The man didn't need to nod for Yoriichi to know the answer.
He glanced at Mira one last time, her tear-streaked face so filled with sorrow that it seemed as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her fragile shoulders. Yoriichi couldn't help someone with grief if he didn't know how to himself.
The area surrounding the building was dangerous, and the threats out there were real and constant, taking the form of demon-like monsters who could walk in the sun without caring for the sunlight. Yoriichi could see why the man had asked for such a favor. If he were to let her go alone, she would never make it to safety.
He had many questions but they could wait.
"Very well, then," Yoriichi decided, the words heavy but resolute.
Heinrich nodded weakly, a look of relief crossing his features. He squeezed Mira's hand one last time before his breath faltered. "Thank you... Master Swordsman..." His voice trailed off into silence.
After sending his last prayers Yoriichi turned away, his hand brushing against the doorframe as he stepped outside the room. Mira, still holding onto her father's hand, was left with nothing but the aching echo of her last moments with him. The lone halls stained with blood felt much colder to Yoriichi now.
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"Hey! Don't ignore me!"
As they walked through the woods, the air around them thick with tension, Mira's anger began to boil over, her voice shaking with frustration. She couldn't understand why Yoriichi wasn't giving her space to breathe, to mourn. The weight of everything pressing down on her had to be unbearable.
"Why are we even going there?" she spat, her words laced with bitterness. "What's the point? You should just leave me here and let me rot! Not like it matters to you…"
Her voice cracked, the anger and pain mixing into a mess of raw emotion. Her fists clenched at her sides, shaking, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from speaking, her thoughts tumbling out one after the other.
Yoriichi didn't say anything, just kept walking. He didn't respond to her anger for it wasn't about him. Not really. He knew she was hurting, and he didn't have the right words to fix that.
He promised to do his part.
The air around them was tense, every step feeling heavier than the last. Yoriichi was alert, listening for anything that might signal danger, but his mind thought about these venom-filled words.
After a long stretch of silence, with a hesitation, Yoriichi finally spoke.
"Tell me about your father."
Mira blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, she almost didn't know what to say. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she found herself wavering like she was unsure if she wanted to relive it.
But the words came anyway, quiet and broken, like she had been waiting for someone to ask.
"After Mom died…" she started, her voice shaky, "Father... changed. It was like he stopped being the person I knew." Her lips trembled slightly. "He used to be… kind, you know? He'd smile, play with me, and we'd talk for hours. But after she was gone, it was like he just... shut down. He was there, but not really there."
The pain of a girl who lost her parent not once but twice.
Her shoulders slumped as if the weight of those memories was too much to carry. "I was so little, and I didn't know how to help him. I thought... maybe if I was good enough if I was listening enough, he'd go back to the way he was. But he never did... until today."
Her voice broke for a second, but she quickly wiped her eyes, trying to push the tears away. "I should've tried harder. I should've asked him why. I should've forced him to talk, but I just... I didn't. I let him die peacefully without knowing anything. And now... now he's gone, and I never got the chance to ask him. I never told him how much I needed him."
Her words fell into silence, and Yoriichi said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He knew that all too well. Sometimes, the words didn't come because there was no point.
Yoriichi didn't need to speak about his regrets. He didn't talk about that story. He wasn't going to burden her with his own pain, but in that moment, he understood her, maybe more than anyone else ever could. He was old, he felt old.
She was carrying all this regret, this guilt, and Yoriichi could feel the weight of it in her voice.
Finally, after a long pause, Mira let out a shaky breath. "I never told him I loved him even though I did. And now I'll never get to."
Yoriichi glanced at her briefly, then back to the path ahead. He didn't have the answers, and he knew that.
But there was something that, in time, maybe would help her heal. He didn't know what it was yet, but it was there, even if it was hard to see.
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They came across a pack of wolves. In a heartbeat, Yoriichi was already moving, his sword cutting through them with expert precision. The creatures barely had time to snarl before meeting their end.
A moment later, a trio of green monsters, as Yoriichi didn't know what to call them, appeared from the woods. Yoriichi unsheathed his blade.
Next, a lone bear ambled into their path. A flash of steel, and it, too, was down, its enormous frame collapsing without so much as a groan.
And yet, despite these constant dangers, they moved forward without delay.
They walked in silence for a while, the path stretching out before them like an unspoken promise of somewhere distant, somewhere safe. But Mira, despite the overwhelming grief she carried, couldn't hold her questions in for much longer. She glanced up at Yoriichi, his expression always unreadable, and finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper:
"Who are you, really?"
"A swordsman," he said, his tone as neutral as ever, like it was the simplest answer in the world. "Just someone who happens to wield a sword."
Mira frowned, her hands tightening around her cloak. "That's all? You're just... that?" she pressed, a slight bitterness creeping into her voice. "You're so good. You fight like... like a monster. You killed demons in the blink of an eye! So who are you?"
He thought about the question for a long time, considering how to answer her. How could he explain that some things were better left unsaid?
"I'm a Demon Slayer."
Mira looked even more frustrated, her eyes narrowing because this didn't answer her question.
After another stretch of silence, Mira's voice broke in again, this time with a more fragile, vulnerable edge. "Then will you teach me? The way you fight. Will you teach me how to use a sword?"
Yoriichi looked at her then, his gaze steady and unflinching, though there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes. His answer came without hesitation, but it was not the one Mira had hoped for.
"No."
Mira's heart skipped a beat, disbelief, and frustration flashing across her face. "What? Why?"
"No."
Her shoulders tensed, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "What do you mean? I just want to learn. I want to be strong like you. I want to make sure no one ever hurts anyone I care about again."
Yoriichi didn't answer immediately. His thoughts were measured, but this time, a deep, unsettling feeling seemed to grow inside of him. He could see the spark in her eyes. He had seen it many times before, in the eyes of those who had lost everything. That cold fire burned in their chest, pushing them toward vengeance, toward a life built on violence and hatred. He had seen what it did to people, how it consumed them until there was nothing left but rage.
"You don't want that," Yoriichi finally said, his voice softer, almost imperceptible. "I know it's hard to hear, but revenge won't bring back what you've lost. It won't bring your father back. And it will only hurt you more in the end."
Mira stared at him for a long moment, her face twisted with anger. "But I want to fight. I want to make them pay for what they did." Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her voice trembling. "I don't care what happens to me. I just want them to feel what I felt."
"You don't want to spend your life carrying that," he spoke gently. "You have the chance to live a different life. A better one. Let it go now."
Mira bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. For a moment, she was silent, her gaze lost in the dirt beneath her boots.
She wanted to scream, to argue more but something in his eyes seemed old and very tired, causing her to reconsider.
Finally, she let out a long, shaky breath. Her shoulders drooped, and her hand, which had been clenched so tightly, relaxed. She nodded slowly, barely audible as she spoke, "...I'll try."
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The journey took several more hours, and the silence between them became familiar, almost comfortable in its way. Mira walked a little slower, her mind still heavy with everything that had happened, but there was something about the way the days passed that started to ease the sharpest of her pains. Maybe it was the constant motion, or maybe it was the steady presence of Yoriichi beside her, though he never said much. She had grown used to the quiet.
Soon enough, they arrived at the town. It was a bustling place, full of activity and life. The streets were packed with traders, farmers, and travelers, their voices rising and falling in a blend of languages and local dialects.
Yoriichi led Mira to the main gate, where a pair of guards stood watch, their eyes scanning the road ahead. As soon as they saw him, one of the guards narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking to Mira before he spoke in a low voice. "State your business."
Yoriichi didn't hesitate. "I've come to speak to someone. I was told to give the name 'Heinrich.'"
The mention of the name caused an immediate reaction. The guards exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. One of them stepped forward, his posture shifting from wary to respectful, and waved his hand to signal the other guard. "You may pass," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "Head to the west end of town. You'll find what you're looking for."
Yoriichi nodded, offering a brief, curt bow of gratitude. Mira, who had been silent since they'd entered the city, seemed surprised at the ease with which they were allowed to pass. Her eyes flicked from the guards to Yoriichi, and she stepped closer to him.
"Why does everyone know him?"
"I don't know," he shook his head. "But it seems he was someone important. Your father seemed wealthy. Maybe that's why he lived so far away from the town. The woods are a good place to hide."
Mira didn't respond, but the frown that creased her brow told Yoriichi she knew something.
"Let's find this man," Yoriichi said, breaking her thoughts. "and then I will depart."
They made their way through the city, the air growing thick with the smells of food, sweat, and the occasional waft of incense. The buildings here were tall, clustered close together, their stone foundations solid against the wear of time. The streets seemed endless, full of people moving in every direction, with carts and animals creating a constant hum of activity.
Yoriichi kept his eyes ahead, moving through the crowd with ease. He didn't need to speak much, and people didn't tend to bother him when he kept his gaze steady and unflinching. Some only stared weirdly at his clothes. Mira followed just behind him, her eyes wide as she took in everything around her—the vibrant colors of merchant stalls, the shouts of children playing in the streets, the different kinds of goods being traded.
Finally, they reached the west end of town. The buildings here were smaller and quieter, the people fewer and less in a rush. It was a place where the more well-off might choose to live that offered a semblance of peace without the noise of the town center. And it was here, on a narrow, winding street, that Yoriichi stopped in front of a building that looked, in some ways, too shady for the area.
He stepped forward, Mira trailing behind him, and knocked on the door.
A moment later, it creaked open, revealing a man with a thick beard and piercing eyes. His stance was relaxed, but there was a sharpness about him as if he were always alert.
"Yes?" the man said, his voice low but authoritative.
Yoriichi looked at him without blinking, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I've come to speak with Gorzel. Heinrich sent me."
The man's eyes flickered with recognition. Without saying another word, he stepped back, holding the door open. "Come in," he said and closed it softly behind them.