Chapter 5: Expelled from the Demon Slayer Corps
"You should commit seppuku!"
"It's your fault the demon escaped!"
"You're a disgrace—a sinner! You shouldn't even be alive!"
"How can the Demon Slayer Corps harbor scum like you?!"
Akira never imagined the nightmare that had haunted him for years would one day become reality.
They pointed at him, venom on their tongues—and for the first time, he saw their faces clearly.
The faces of comrades. Friends. The people he trusted most.
When Akira arrived at the lord's mansion, he saw the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps encircling Tsugikuni Yoriichi. Every word they hurled at him was steeped in contempt.
Yoriichi stood silently, head bowed, not offering a single word in his defense.
Akira rushed forward to shield his master, but the moment the Hashira laid eyes on him, their fury turned toward a new target.
"It was you who let Muzan Kibutsuji escape!"
The Sound Hashira stormed forward and seized Akira by the collar, eyes bloodshot with rage.
"How dare you show your face here? You and your master are nothing but filth! If not for you, Muzan would be dead! The lord would still be alive! You should be executed!"
Yoriichi, who had remained passive until now, moved like lightning. He appeared between them in a flash, hand clamped around the Sound Hashira's wrist, his gaze cold and unreadable.
"What are you doing?" the Hashira snarled, veins bulging on his forehead.
The other Hashira drew their Nichirin Blades, surrounding Yoriichi and Akira in a tense, electrified standoff.
Looking into their hostile, suspicious eyes, Akira felt as though he'd fallen into a world he no longer recognized.
Was this still the Demon Slayer Corps he had sworn his life to?
Had he and his master truly become the villains in everyone's eyes?
Had they committed some unforgivable sin?
"The one who killed the lord was Tsugikuni Michikatsu!" Akira shouted, his voice sharp and unwavering. "What does that have to do with my master?!"
The Sound Hashira sneered. "Michikatsu was his brother. And who brought him into the Corps in the first place? Your master. The one closest to him. You really think that means nothing?"
He shoved Akira back and pointed accusingly. "And you—you're the one who let Muzan go. Don't think we haven't considered the possibility that you were working together. Michikatsu becomes the new Demon King, and you conveniently let the old one escape? Too many coincidences!"
Something inside Akira snapped. His grief, his guilt, his silence—they all burned away in a single breath of fury.
He looked around at the warriors who once fought beside him—and all he saw now was betrayal.
These people wielded the Breathing Techniques Yoriichi had created, and yet they turned on him like jackals.
He had sacrificed everything to defeat Muzan—and now they called him a traitor?
"You don't deserve to judge us," Akira muttered coldly.
He shoved the Sound Hashira aside, sweeping his gaze across the group. "None of you are worthy."
"What did you say, brat?!"
Akira stepped forward, unflinching. "If only you had encountered Muzan first. With your brainless arrogance, you would've made excellent bait. Maybe then, I could've finished him off."
The Sound Hashira's hand flew to his sword. "Say that again. I dare you."
"All that strength—and yet, when Michikatsu came, you vanished like shadows at sunrise. Where were you then? Hiding?"
His voice was steel now.
"And you call yourself the Sound Hashira? My master created the very breathing style you abuse. Aren't you ashamed to speak his name?"
He turned to face the others.
"All of you. Before you demand seppuku from us, look in a mirror. If not for the Breathing Techniques Yoriichi gave you, you would've all died long ago. You should be grateful—not slanderous."
---
"Brother, are we leaving?"
"Yes… let's go."
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know. But we're never coming back."
At the crossroads near the Corps' base, Akira paused to look back one final time at the place he had once called home.
"We'll never return here again."
He turned away.
After everything, there was no place left for him in the Demon Slayer Corps.
In the end, the Hashira relented. None dared cross blades—but the hatred in their eyes was louder than any sentence.
And so, Akira and Yoriichi chose exile—not as fugitives, but as warriors unwelcome in the very world they had fought to protect.
From another path, Yoriichi approached. For the first time, Akira saw sorrow in his master's eyes.
"I'm sorry… I dragged you into this."
His voice was low, trembling with a weight only he could carry.
"My brother became a demon. And I couldn't finish off Muzan when I had the chance. If only I'd been faster—"
"Master," Akira said quietly, "blame me. I wasn't strong enough."
"No." Yoriichi shook his head. "You did everything you could."
In truth, Yoriichi knew. Even if he had been there that day, the outcome may have been the same.
Akira's final attack had been their best hope—and still, it hadn't been enough.
And now, they might never get another chance.
---
"Brother! Master Yoriichi!"
Akito came running to meet them, breathless, blinking back emotion.
"Don't think about all that anymore. Didn't you say you always wanted to see the world, Brother? Now's the time!"
Akira took a deep breath and gave a small nod. "You're right, Akito."
He turned to Yoriichi. "Master, where should we go next?"
Yoriichi looked up at the sun, dazed for a moment, then murmured, "There's a place Shi and I once lived. Let's go there."
---
They traveled deep into the mountains, where the air was quiet and the world untouched.
Yoriichi supported Akira along the path, his steps slow but steady. The light in his face softened with memories.
"My wife… Shi was kind. So very kind," Yoriichi said, smiling faintly.
"You must've been happy living together," Akira replied with a faint smile of his own.
Yoriichi nodded. "We spent ten years in peace here. If not for the demons… I would've stayed with her forever."
At his words, silence fell between them.
Demons… how many lives had they ruined? How many families had they torn apart?
At last, Yoriichi stopped and gestured ahead. "We're here."
A small home stood nestled in the woods, humble and still.
The door creaked open.
A man stepped out, cautious at first—until his eyes found Yoriichi.
Then his face lit up with joy.
"Benefactor!"