Chapter 17: Master
The black chains represented Akira's life—so long as Yunyi wished it, he could end Akira's existence in an instant.
And Akira had left the choice to Yunyi.
But when the moment finally arrived, Yunyi hesitated.
In that fleeting second of indecision, Akira—now a demon—vanished into shadow and darted toward the Water Hashira.
For Yoriichi, every passing second stretched like an eternity. The moments felt like centuries—each heartbeat a torment.
Time itself seemed to freeze, heavy and unmoving.
Though only a second passed, it felt like an endless abyss.
Yunyi stared at the black chains still bound to his body, face pale, his spirit drained. He stood motionless, powerless—unable to stop the chaos unfolding before him.
As a swordsman, he had dedicated his entire life to slaying demons. Yet here he was, paralyzed, watching helplessly as his former disciple slaughtered a fellow Hashira.
Worse yet, it was he who had trained Akira—the demon now on a rampage.
His role as a mentor, a pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, had become a farce. He had failed to act when it mattered most. Instead, he had watched silently as blood was spilled.
The agonized screams of the Water Hashira echoed like blades in his mind, each cry tearing at his soul.
And then—silence.
The screams faded, and a suffocating stillness blanketed the battlefield.
"Master…"
The voice was soft, familiar—yet twisted, unfamiliar.
Yunyi slowly opened his eyes to see Akira approaching, holding the severed head of the Water Hashira in one hand, step by steady step.
Though Yoriichi had mentally prepared himself for this, the reality still shocked him. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his Nichirin Blade.
"Oh—sorry, Master."
Akira's tone was almost sheepish, his eyes flickering with unease as he noticed Yunyi's reaction. Like a child caught misbehaving, he hastily tossed the head aside, scratched his head, and forced a small, apologetic smile.
"I've gotten used to treating enemies this way over the years. I lost control for a second… please forgive me."
The black chains still wrapped around Yunyi remained. The power to end Akira's life was still in his hands.
Akira sat beneath a tree and closed his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he peeked one eye open, confused.
"…Aren't you going to kill me?"
"…Let's stop here, Akira."
Yunyi closed his eyes in pain.
"From now on, stay by my side. Let me be the one to restrain you."
"Sorry, Master," Akira replied softly. "I can't make that promise."
"Fear will wipe away all rumors," he continued. "You and I have already severed ties with the Demon Slayer Corps. Next… I will go to the Sound Hashira's household and erase his entire bloodline."
Even after brushing death, Akira was still chasing vengeance.
Yunyi's expression turned grim.
"Akira, I said—that's enough!"
"Master, I promise you… once I've finished this, I'll stop."
Akira's tone remained calm. "Don't tell me 'his family is innocent.' From the moment they hurt Akito, everything I do to them is what they deserve. Please, allow me this last moment of selfishness."
Yunyi opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue.
Finally, he asked, "What if I try to stop you?"
"You can kill me, but you won't stop me," Akira replied. "After it's done, I'll return to you. I'll let you do whatever you want then."
"Akira…"
Yunyi's voice trembled with sorrow.
"I know Akito's death shattered you. It breaks me too. But does it really have to be this way? Is there truly no other path?"
"…It's too late for that, Master."
Akira's eyes darkened.
"Akito is dead. I no longer care about justice or blame. If you want to make things right—bring him back. Otherwise… there's no turning back."
"Muzan!!!"
Yunyi clenched his teeth in fury.
His hatred for Muzan Kibutsuji surged higher than ever.
He loathed Muzan—but he loathed himself even more.
If only he'd killed Muzan when he had the chance, none of this would've happened.
What use was his power, if not to protect those who mattered?
He had failed. Completely.
"You don't need to blame yourself," Akira said quietly. "And don't mourn others' choices."
"I chose this path of my own will. This has nothing to do with you. Stop trying to carry it all."
"…Akira," Yunyi whispered. "You were always a good child. I never took you in because of talent. I took you in because of your heart—bright and warm like the sun."
"You didn't fall into darkness when you became a demon. That's why I still believe in you. Please—don't do something you'll regret for the rest of your life, just because you're hurting."
Yunyi looked up at the crimson-haired demon before him and sighed.
"Come with me. If you won't… I'll break your legs and drag you back myself."
"Thank you, Master," Akira murmured as he stood.
"Thank you for giving me this much time."
He turned away.
"I meant what I said. Once I've finished with the Sound Hashira's family, I'll return to you."
And with that, his body dissolved into a flock of black crows, scattering into the sky.
"Akira! Stop!" Yunyi cried out, lunging forward—but it was too late.
The crows vanished into the horizon.
"Master…"
Akira's voice whispered on the wind.
"Please live. Live well."
Yunyi froze.
"If you die—no matter how or why—I'll lose control. I'll paint the world in blood. So please… be the chain that binds me."
Yunyi stood silent, eyes locked on the fading trail of feathers. He didn't understand how Akira had sensed his thoughts. Perhaps it was because they knew each other too well.
Yes, he had thought of seppuku.
His student had become a demon. As a master, it was his duty to end it. But Akira's words—calm, aching, desperate—had stayed his hand.
Still, he had let him go.
"Yunyi… you are still a failure."
He whispered it to himself.
"Akira—remember what I said. If I ever find out you've harmed the innocent… I will find you, no matter where you are, and I will kill you."
Yunyi's grip tightened on the hilt of his Nichirin Blade, resolve gleaming in his eyes.
No one—not even Akira—could doubt his conviction.
"I understand, Master."
Yunyi turned his back, lifting his hand in farewell—just as he had years ago when he and Akira parted ways for a mission.
From far away, Akira saw it and smiled.
In that moment, he felt as though he were back in that warm afternoon.
Akito was still alive, preparing sushi at home. He and his master were heading out on patrol. The sunlight was gentle. The world still made sense.
Yes… those days were really, really good.