I, Kibutsuji Muzan, Does Not Want To Die (Patreon)

Chapter 12: Continuation

The reason I encountered and fought that man was because all the demons in that area had already been hunted down by him.

The surrounding area hadn’t been fully scouted, but I thought I would be fine—no, I had half-heartedly resigned myself when heading there.

That man resembled Yoriichi— No, to be precise, Yoriichi resembled him.

But the aura they exuded was completely different.

Yoriichi had such a faint presence that if he stood still, you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

I only learned this later, but considering the power he held within him, the fact that he could appear so harmless was a terrible trap in itself.

This man, on the other hand, was certainly strong.

Even compared to the five strongest demon slayers—excluding Yoriichi—he stood on equal footing with them.

But still—

Clang!

“Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa— ngh!”

“—Stop it. You can’t defeat me.”

His strength was not enough to threaten my life.

This man carried an aura that was… fierce, perhaps. Constantly tense, as if both himself and others were being pressured by it.

It was as if he were always on edge, cornered by something unseen.

Now, that man’s blade had been broken in half, and he knelt to the ground, out of breath…

Yet still, he glared at me with unrelenting determination.

“Haa—! Don’t screw with me! You— you’re the demon Rengoku spoke of, aren’t you!?

A monster that devours humans, and yet so arrogantly spares others as if we’re beneath you! I’ll cut you down!”

He gripped his broken blade once more and steadied his breathing.

With the distinctive breathing techniques of the demon slayers, he sprang to his feet.

He unleashes a fast, powerful movement.

A mere human wouldn’t even be able to react to it.

And by directing his fierce spirit and killing intent at me, he even threw in a feint to mislead my senses, then followed it with a bold strike aimed at my neck.

But even so—

CRACK!

“What…?!”

It didn’t reach me.

THUD!

“Gah!”

I shattered the rest of his blade, slipped behind him while he stood stunned, and struck the back of his neck with a hand chop.

He collapsed onto all fours.

—His durability is Impressive. That strike had enough force to tear a frail human apart.

Still, it's such a hollow feeling.

From the look of him, this man had gone through tremendous training.

All demon slayers do, but even among them, he stood out as exceptionally strong—far beyond the realm of ordinary humans.

And yet, despite all that…

Despite being someone who likely devoted almost his entire life to training, someone like me—who gained this power by pure chance and did nothing to earn it—could still overpower him with sheer physical strength alone.

If left alone, this man would surely go on to kill more demons… but even so, I couldn’t bring myself to kill him.

Not someone like me, who just happened to be born with this strength.

“…Grr… grrrrrrAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—!”

The man let out a groan.

His face contorted with frustration so intense that the sound of his teeth grinding echoed in the air. Still unable to stand, he glared up at me.

“Why?! Why do monsters like you even exist?!”

“…Monsters like me?”

“You and Yoriichi—!

Why is it that you both can so effortlessly stand in my way?!

I couldn’t become the greatest samurai in all of Japan, nor the most skilled swordsman, nor a hero who exterminated the demons!

I cast aside my wife, abandoned my child, gave up my status, threw everything away!

I awakened the Mark, trained endlessly, even created my own breathing technique—

And yet I couldn’t surpass Yoriichi! I couldn’t even kill a single demon—!

And now I’m being spared?!”

At some point, large tears had begun to fall from his eyes.

Was it humiliation? Sorrow? Or despair…?

“I bear the Mark, which means I will die soon!

I only became strong after gaining the Mark—!

And even then, I couldn’t reach it, and now I’m going to die like this?!

Without achieving anything, without becoming anyone at all—!

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die!

I don’t want to die like this!!”

It sounded like a cry straight from his soul.

When he said he would die soon… I didn’t think that was a lie.

That voice, those words—they trembled with fear and dread.

Despair… He was bleeding from his mouth, perhaps having bitten something in anguish, and I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

To me, this man now looked like nothing more than a dying child, trembling in fear of death.

I pitied him… I couldn’t help it. That desperate cry came from the depths of his heart.

Before I knew it, I had extended my hand to him.

He stared blankly at it, then slowly lifted his face.

On his face, I could see a Mark—not the same as Yoriichi’s, but similar in form.

The man gazed at me in a daze, all that overwhelming emotion from earlier now drained from him.

I don’t fully understand the nature of the Mark or what it does to one's lifespan.

But I’m certain of one thing—this man forced himself to ascend to the same stage as Yoriichi.

And that mark was either the price he paid, or the proof of it… and still, the gap between him and Yoriichi remained immense.

He couldn’t reach him. And he couldn’t reach me, either.

It’s no wonder he despaired. It must be a fear beyond comprehension…

To spend your days trembling in the shadow of death, unable to do anything…

Death is terrifying. You cease to exist, can’t even think anymore…

It’s overwhelmingly frightening.

And that’s exactly why… I extended my hand to him.

“What’s your name?”

“…Michikatsu Tsugikuni…”

“Michikatsu… Would you consider becoming a demon?

You’ll bear the sin of devouring humans, and become a monster who can no longer walk in the sunlight.

Even so… if you become a demon, you’ll be able to live for an eternity.”

Tears still streaming down his face, Michikatsu didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

He simply stared at me in disbelief.

As if looking at something that couldn’t be real, his eyes flicked back and forth between my face and the hand I held out to him.

“…I understand how you feel, at least a little.

I too am afraid of death—I don’t want to die.

Even though I’m a monster who spreads death, I still don’t want to die.

That’s why… someone like you, who cries out not to die… who trembles in fear of death… won’t you allow me to save you?”

I don’t know how long we stared at each other.

But at some point, Michikatsu threw away the hilt of his broken sword, got down on one knee, and bowed before me.

“…I would be honored… to accept your offer…”

As Michikatsu bowed his head, I gave a deep nod.

Satisfied that I had saved this great, lost child.

And at the same time… crushed by despair at my own rashness.

Michikatsu had an unusually high tolerance for my blood.

So I told him that by taking it in gradually, he would become a strong demon—and handed him a vessel filled to the brim with my blood.

—I never expected him to drink it all in one gulp.

Watching him writhe in agony, I couldn’t help but see the shadow of Yoriichi in him.

So I placed Michikatsu in a safe place and entrusted him to Nakime… and went out for a breath of fresh air.

On a whim, I took Tamayo with me… I gently took her hesitant hand and headed toward a nearby bamboo grove.

—So, by coincidence—no, this was probably divine punishment.

Maybe it could be called fate.

After all, I had turned Michikatsu into a demon.

I had turned a skilled demon slayer—someone with inside knowledge of the Demon Slayer Corps—into a demon.

I should have foreseen the tragedy that would result from this decision.

Which is why… that moment was the turning point of fate.

“…It’s been a long time, Muzan.”

“…Yoriichi…”

My old friend stood before me, just as he had in the past—yet his eyes now burned with unwavering resolve.

“—That sword—! A demon slayer—! Muzan-sama, please run—I’ll at least buy you some time—!”

Tamayo stepped forward in front of me, raising her alabaster arm as if to bare her claws.

But I stopped her by catching her hand.

She turned toward me, startled—but I simply shook my head quietly.

“It’s fine… stay back and watch.”

“…Understood…”

Tamayo shrank back with a small nod. Without looking her way, I kept my eyes on Yoriichi.

He too stared back at me in silence.

His sword remained sheathed, his left hand resting gently on it, while his right arm hung at his side.

“…Muzan. I must cut you down.”

Tamayo gasped behind me.

And yet… I felt strangely calm.

I’d thought that when this moment came—when I stood before the man who had slain so many of my kind—I would be overcome with something more.

In fact, whenever I received the memories of demons he’d killed, my body would tremble with terror.

But now, all I felt was… that the moment had finally come.

“…I see… yes, you're right.”

Yoriichi’s sword let out a soft sound as it was drawn.

The blade that appeared was dyed red.

“You… you have every right to kill me… I… Uta—”

“That’s not it.”

As I lowered my gaze and muttered self-deprecatingly, I was abruptly cut off.

When I looked up, wondering why, I saw Yoriichi wore a serious expression, yet smiled gently.

He carried that same gentle atmosphere from long ago.

“Muzan, you are our friend. No matter what happens, that won’t change.

And that friend… has been suffering for so long. That’s why I wanted to save you.

That’s why I became a demon slayer—to stop you.”

Chak

He pointed his red-stained blade at me.

Faced with his eyes full of resolve, I could only be dismayed at how narrow-minded I’d been.

And… exasperated by how good a person Yoriichi was.

“To save the one who killed your wife…?

What foolishness. You should just kill me, act on your hatred, and strike me down.

With your skill, you could easily do it.

I am the progenitor of demons—Kibutsuji Muzan! Every atrocity committed by demons is my doing!

Uta’s death… might as well be my own doing!

You must hate me, despise me, Yoriichi!”

Even as I glared and shouted, Yoriichi remained wrapped in his calm aura.

He didn’t respond with hatred or resentment—he was simply there, as a friend.

And seeing him like that… I found myself unable to say anything more.

“…I don’t hate you. It’s just…”

Yoriichi quietly closed his eyes.

From those eyes, a single tear streamed down.

"It is painful and sad to know that my friend has been suffering for so long.

So, at the very least… I will give him the final push with my own two hands!”

In that instant, Yoriichi’s eyes snapped open, and though it wasn’t bloodlust or fury, a powerful pressure radiated from him.

Thump—my heart pounded with a sudden jolt.

My instincts screamed: Run. You’ll die.

But I kept my eyes wide open… and accepted it.

“…I see… if it’s you, then…”

“Hinokami Kagura—Sun Breathing—!”

Yoriichi’s figure vanished from where he stood—and before I knew it, he was right in front of me.

At the same time… a flurry of slashes tore through my body.

My face twisted in agony from the intense pain that shot through me, and I looked up to the sky.

The moon was thin—a dark night sky.

My body, strangely slow to regenerate, was still trying to heal… only to be carved into again by Yoriichi’s red blade.

If I let go here, I could finally… find peace.

Be freed from all the burdens…

My goal remains unfulfilled… but isn’t it enough already?

I’ve lived for hundreds of years. I’ve tried too hard… I’ve endured too much…

Since Yoriichi had shown this much resolve, I should respond to him… let go… lie down…

And then?

Then what…?

I will… die.

Die.

Die—

“—I don’t want to die.”

. . . . . . . . . .

When we reunited, Muzan looked like he could die at any moment.

He looked even worse than when we first met, he’s practically a corpse.

That’s why I reaffirmed my resolve to send him off—to deliver his final release.

Muzan is… truly a kind-hearted demon.

Precisely because of that, I had to sever his neck before he could cause any more tragedies… so that he himself wouldn’t suffer any further.

Muzan, who carried the deaths of Uta, of those he killed, of demons who died… all of it—he bore those deaths as if they were his own. It was unbearably pitiful.

So I swung my blade with all my strength.

There was no hesitation in the sword I swung at my friend.

But still… it hurt so much in my chest.

Before me, Muzan—his body already in pieces—was, perhaps by instinct, just barely holding himself together.

And yet, even with the regenerative power of the demon progenitor, he wasn’t healing completely.

That confirmed it for me.

If things stayed as they were… I could kill Muzan.

I could finally save my friend who had suffered for so long, consumed by his own guilt.

—Maybe that certainty became my downfall.

Muzan’s lips moved slightly.

“I don’t want to die.”

Noticing his whisper, I glanced at his face even as I continued my form.

At that moment, our eyes met.

He was crying—tears streaming down, snot running, showing a truly pitiful expression.

And just for a second, for the briefest moment… my focus wavered.

“—I’m sorry, Yoriichi. Please forgive this cowardly self of mine…”

BANG!!!

In that instant, Muzan’s body exploded.

He scattered into 1,800 fragments of flesh, flying in every direction.

Panic gripped me.

Immediately, I slashed through over 1,500 of those fragments… but that was all I could do.

“Wa— wait, Muzan!”

Am I… really going to let Muzan escape here?

Am I… unable to save my friend?

“If I can’t stop you here, if I can’t end this now—!”

Then what was any of it for?

I had already braced myself to lose my friend…

"For what purpose was I born...?"

Muzan’s presence had already vanished from the surroundings.

All that remained were the discarded fragments of his flesh.

I lowered my blade, powerless, and hung my head.

I thought I had been prepared—but my own moment of hesitation… I loathed myself for it.

In the end, I couldn’t do what needed to be done.

I accomplished nothing. I left nothing behind.

Ah… I couldn’t protect my wife, my child, I couldn’t save my friend, couldn’t stop him, couldn’t fulfill my mission…

All I was left with was the horrifying memory of having carved into a dear friend.

What… what was the reason for my existence…?

“Ku… ugh… AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Clang.

I collapsed to my knees right there.

The choking stench of blood—what was left of my friend—seemed to haunt me endlessly.