Chapter 15: Akito is Dead
Crows have held a unique and somber significance within the Demon Slayer Corps for over a century. They once served as vital messengers, bridging communication between Corps members. But ever since that man appeared, the image of crows has twisted into one of dread.
No longer do they circle high in the skies. Their presence now strikes terror into the hearts of Demon Slayers, who believe it signals they've been marked by a monstrous devil.
For years now, Pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps have fallen one by one. Without fail, a week after each of their deaths, their severed heads would be delivered to the Corps' base—as if someone were proudly announcing their conquests. The message was clear: despair.
The crows had become harbingers of death.
The Corps tried countless methods to hunt down the enemy, but it was as if the killer were a ghost—appearing only before those who feared him the most.
In a remote and vacant house, a middle-aged man sat alone. Beside him lay a Nichirin Blade engraved with the symbol of the sun. Aside from the sword, the room was empty.
This man was the Water Hashira—the last surviving Pillar from the time of the former Oyakata-sama.
The previous leader of the Corps had been slain by Tsugikuni Iwakatsu, and his youngest son had since taken the mantle. Over the years, one Pillar after another had perished. New blood had joined the Corps, but the veterans had all but vanished.
All had fallen to one man.
The night was silent. The Water Hashira meditated quietly, eyes shut, expression calm.
But deep down, he knew—his time was drawing near.
Every comrade from the old days had died at the hands of that monster. Now, it was his turn.
Many had begged him to go into hiding. Even the current Oyakata-sama personally pleaded with him to seek refuge. Protected by the elite swordsmen of the Corps, even the strongest demon wouldn't be able to infiltrate the fortified base.
After all, the location of the base had been moved several times in recent years. With heightened security and secrecy surrounding the Oyakata-sama's residence, it was nearly impossible for enemies to find it.
Despite that, the lord extended an invitation to the Water Hashira to stay in his own home. It was a great honor—meant to save his life.
But he refused.
How laughable, he thought. A Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, cowering in fear of a demon?
He could hide for a while—but not forever.
Was he to be shackled by fear for the rest of his days? Forever hiding in the shadows?
No. That was not the end he would accept.
He chose this secluded place for a reason—to face death on his feet, not on his knees.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Like torches, they locked onto the deep, mysterious night sky outside the window.
A blood-red moon hung high, casting a haunting glow.
In the hazy moonlight, he saw it—a faint silhouette standing atop the full moon, silently watching him.
His heart tightened. He knew.
The demon had found him.
In a flash, he grabbed his Nichirin Blade and burst out of the house like an arrow shot from a bow.
His weathered face twisted with rage and resolve, he roared into the darkness:
"Demon! I'm not afraid of you!"
From the sky, a crow shrieked chillingly:
"Gaa! Gaa! Gaa!"
The scream pierced the night, sending shivers through the air.
As the crimson moon swallowed the sky, darkness surged like a tidal wave, drowning the world in shadows.
The Water Hashira charged forward—but then, his arm, which had held the blade just moments ago, was suddenly... empty.
Behind him, a ghostly figure stood in the same spot he had just vacated, silent and composed.
The demon held a bloodstained blade. Crimson drops slid from its edge, glimmering like a string of broken rubies.
"Ugh..."
The Water Hashira collapsed, clutching his severed arm. Sweat poured down his face like rain.
He had expected defeat—but not this quickly. The gap between them was vast. This wasn't a battle.
It was an execution.
"You were the last," the demon said coldly.
Gritting his teeth, the Hashira stood, trembling.
He didn't bother looking for his sword.
At that moment, he just wanted to face this demon—head-on—and preserve the last sliver of dignity he had left.
"You're stronger than the others... but you still have to die."
The demon stepped forward.
The Hashira stood his ground, until, without warning, his instincts betrayed him.
He turned and ran.
"Tch."
The demon sighed in disappointment.
"I was wrong. You're just like the rest."
The Hashira sprinted with all his might, but the demon followed leisurely, as if mocking his desperation.
Just when he was ready to end the farce, a voice rang out from the heavens—
"Akira!!!"
The name froze him in place. His blade stopped mid-air.
A figure stepped between him and the Water Hashira.
Familiar. Warm. Impossible.
He stared hard, heart pounding. Was it a hallucination?
But there—standing tall—was a man whose presence could never be mistaken.
The aging face, silvering hair…
"Master," Akira whispered. "You've grown old."
Jigoro Kuwajima looked at him with anguish.
"Akira, don't go any further down this path."
"I knew we would meet again, but… I didn't expect it to be so soon."
Akira hesitated. "Are you… alright?"
Kuwajima's expression tightened. His once-trusted disciple now felt like a stranger.
Through gritted teeth, he growled:
"Akira… why did you choose this path? Do you realize how devastated Akito would be if he saw you like this?"
The words hit him like ice water.
The emotion in Akira's eyes dulled into emptiness.
He looked away, voice hollow:
"Master… Akito is dead.