"And, Master..."
It was a night like any other.
Roughly a year had passed since I left the Demon Slayer Corps.
This was likely the last time I would ever visit the Ubuyashiki estate.
I had been summoned by a sudden call from the Master of the House.
He told me that today, of all days, he absolutely wished to see my face and speak with me.
I followed the servant who had met me at the gates, winding through the estate toward the Master's quarters.
I had heard that the new Ubuyashiki mansion was already complete, so I wondered why he was still staying at the old one.
Then again, I didn't even know where the new place was; I'd heard it was completely surrounded by wisteria trees.
Ultimately, it was more convenient for me to meet him here.
The servant led me to a stone-paved garden.
It was the very same garden where we used to hold our monthly meetings.
On the veranda, the Master lay frail and still, with Lady Ubuyashiki by his side, nursing him.
The sight was macabre.
Just as Kokushibo had described, the Master's body was little more than a half-corpse.
The only parts of his face not shrouded in bandages were his nose and mouth.
He was so mangled internally that it was hard to believe he was even breathing—he was, quite literally, a living corpse.
It was a miracle he had survived this long.
I forced myself to remain composed as I approached him.
"Master..."
"Don't... come any closer..."
Suddenly, the Master spoke.
What on earth is this? Why call me over just to tell me to stay away?
"Underneath here... there are piles of [Horokubi-biya bombs]..."
...Pardon?
"If they go off... the entire area... would be blasted away... that's how many there are..."
Piled underneath? He was talking about bombs?
My mind went numb, unable to process the absurdity of the statement.
Our Master could be eccentric, but he wasn't insane.
He summoned me just to tell me he'd rigged the place with explosives?
And he intended to self-destruct while Lady Ubuyashiki was right there?
My eyes darted to Lady Ubuyashiki's face, and then it clicked.
The muscles in her face were trembling.
She looked as though she were desperately hiding a smile.
So that's how it is.
Oh, he's doing this again.
"Master, if you keep this up, I'm just going to leave, you know?"
I spoke curtly. The Master turned his head toward me and answered.
"You... you aren't fooled..."
Looking at his shameless expression, I found myself speechless.
Seriously, there is a time and a place for jokes.
He was playing around using his own life as collateral.
Is he losing his mind now that he knows the end is near?
I sighed and stepped onto the veranda, sitting beside him.
"Lady Ubuyashiki, please try to talk some sense into him."
"I did try..."
Lady Ubuyashiki averted her gaze, hesitating.
"He said... he wanted to pull one last prank before he passed..."
This man...
A headache began to bloom behind my eyes, and I buried my face in my hands.
Who in their right mind plays a prank at the expense of their own life just because they're dying?
Then again, I couldn't exactly scold a living corpse.
"Master... why did you actually want to see me?"
"I just... wanted to see your face today... and talk..."
The Master smiled faintly, his voice slow and labored.
"Michikatsu... how long... do you think I... have left to live...?"
"Honestly, it's a miracle you're still alive," I replied matter-of-factly.
From what I had observed using the [Revealed World], his insides were already a total wreck.
He was so close to death that he would look the same even if his heart stopped this second.
Like Tsugikuni Yoriichi, I cannot predict a lifespan with absolute precision, but I doubted he would make it through the day.
...
Neither the Master nor Lady Ubuyashiki reacted with shock to my bluntness.
They simply nodded in acknowledgment.
They already knew; they just wanted confirmation.
"Is that so..."
The Master spoke with great effort.
"Death... death, huh... Michikatsu, what do you... think happens... when I die...?"
I wondered about that myself.
Is there a world after death?
Perhaps there is nothing—only a void of eternal silence.
Or perhaps there is a heaven for the virtuous and a hell for the wicked.
Maybe there is reincarnation, a cycle of life and rebirth, but it's impossible to say since I haven't experienced it.
"Well, at least it won't be hell for you."
"Hmm... probably not... The place... I'll end up... is hell, I suppose..."
Hell?
Lady Ubuyashiki looked at the Master, her expression mirroring my own confusion.
Judging by the look on the Master's face, this was no longer a joke.
"Master, why do you think you'll go to hell?"
"I..."
He caught his breath and continued.
"To fight the inevitable death brought by Kibutsuji Muzan... to forge the path that would lead to his end... I balanced the lives of countless children on a scale... and I chose the future..."
He was talking about the Selection Exam before the reforms.
No matter how you phrase it, it was an indefensible blot on the history of the Demon Slayer Corps.
"There's no denying that it was a grievous fault," I admitted.
I didn't try to sugarcoat it.
It was a stain. How could an organization whose sole purpose was to save lives justify killing its own?
"Yes... though every prophecy up until now has lied to me... I clung to that future as if it were my only hope... and drove countless children to their deaths..."
My lack of denial clearly wasn't the comfort the Master was seeking.
"Even if that future were guaranteed... no one... should have the right to weigh... human lives on a scale..."
I wasn't saying his choice was right, but it was likely inevitable.
Kibutsuji Muzan was a monster with a near-zero chance of defeat, even if one combined Breathing, [Hyeokdo], the [Revealed World], and [Spots].
And that was in an era before Breathing techniques had even advanced.
Even if Muzan hadn't yet reached the peak of his power, the Corps of that time had nothing to counter him.
The depth of their despair must have been absolute.
He must have cursed those prophecies as much as anyone.
He surely wanted to break that vicious cycle.
But the despair that was Muzan was too overwhelming to shatter.
When nothing else yields an answer, you grab at any straw you can find.
That straw was the Selection Exam.
He might have been missing a few screws, but he wasn't evil.
He remembered the names of every single member of the Corps—those still active, those retired, those fallen in duty, and even those who died in the Exam, hoping to prove themselves.
He admitted he could not wield a sword, yet he carried the names of those who fought to stay and those who fought to leave. How could a man like that be evil?
"A conviction that brooks no doubt is evil. For justice to be true justice, one must never cease doubting their own convictions. But Master, you never stopped doubting."
I had no intention of offering empty comfort.
That wasn't what he needed.
These were simply my thoughts, spoken aloud.
"You doubted and doubted again. The moment a cause was disrupted, you used it as an excuse to stop the practice immediately, didn't you?"
He had reformed the Selection Exam the very instant the necessity for the old way vanished; it couldn't have been something he truly desired.
The one who suffered most from placing those lives on a scale was likely the Master himself.
He was the one who most wanted to let go.
Because he chose the future over the present, he survived—but the vengeful spirits of the children who died in the Exam must have trampled relentlessly upon his shoulders.
The weight must have been unbearable.
Yet he didn't let go.
Even though he could have, even in his position, and even though no one would have blamed him, he chose to carry it all.
"I don't think you're evil. You just made a mistake."
The Master fell silent, and then a faint smile touched his lips.
"Is that so... Then it cannot... be avoided... that I go to hell..."
It was a self-deprecating remark, yet he looked strangely relieved.
I wasn't sure if this was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth.
...
If only.
Just if.
If there had been someone by his side who truly understood him.
Not someone who believed in him unconditionally.
Not someone who admired him without question despite his inability to fight.
Someone who could have told him it was all an illusion.
Someone who could have told him he didn't have to cling to that straw anymore.
If only someone had said that.
Maybe the ending would have been different, even if only by a fraction.
Of course, I didn't mean to disparage the Hashira.
They must have been helpless too.
With no other options, they had no choice but to believe in an uncertain future to slay the despair known as Muzan.
It was bittersweet.
The Master, now wearing a carefree expression, struggled to speak one last time.
"Michikatsu... I'm glad... I saw your face... today after all..."
He slowly raised his hand, and I took it in mine.
"Thank you, Michikatsu... for appearing before me... for meeting with Rengoku Tenjuro... for keeping our promise... for remaining human, no matter your form..."
He gave a final, faint smile.
"Thank you."
A year ago, I had practiced saying goodbye to you.
I never thought I'd have to put that practice into action so soon.
Only a year.
Isn't it... too soon?
I smiled faintly as I looked at him and spoke.
"Thank you for everything, Master."
He closed his eyes with a smile as he bid me farewell.
His entire life had been defined by the pain of a curse and the crushing burden of guilt.
But his final smile was one of absolute relief.
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