Demon Slayer: The Great Swordsman's System, Disciple of Yoriichi

Twenty-five years old.

On its own, that number might represent the prime of a person's life. But Sisho knew that for people like Tojuro, that age was a death sentence.

The Mark.

As a bearer of the Mark who had awakened it through the influence of another, Rengoku Tojuro did not possess the same heaven-sent gift as Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Once a bearer like him reached the age of twenty-five, they would die as a consequence of having opened the Mark. "To borrow life from heaven" was the perfect explanation for it.

He had realized the problem too late. He had assumed Tojuro was celebrating his twenty-second birthday early, like Kagaya Ubuyashiki. He never imagined it was his twenty-fifth. A day that should have been a joyous occasion for his family and the entire Demon Slayer Corps had become a day of parting between the living and the dead.

"Mr. Sisho?" A somewhat childish voice called out. It was the Rengoku family's third son, Tojuro's youngest brother, Rengoku Kijuro. Not yet six years old, young Kijuro had tragically experienced the death of his eldest brother. The moment he saw Sisho, he ran over and burst into tears in his arms.

"Waaaah! Mr. Sisho, my brother… he's gone! Why? Why did big brother Tojuro have to die?!"

Holding the weeping child, Sisho gently patted his back to comfort him. Although he hadn't interacted with the Rengoku family much, Kijuro held him in high regard. After a long while, Kijuro finally calmed down.

"Who is managing the Rengoku family's affairs now?"

"It's father and my second brother, Jojuro."

Sisho nodded, and Kijuro led him into the Rengoku home. In a reception room, Sisho met the previous Flame Hashira, Rengoku Yojuro, and the one who would succeed Tojuro, Rengoku Jojuro.

"So, you've heard the news."

Upon seeing Sisho, Rengoku Yojuro said only a few simple words and then fell silent. He seemed unsettled by Sisho's presence. At first, Sisho thought it was due to Tojuro's death. After all, he was a man in his fifties who had just suffered the pain of losing a son. It was a tragedy for a parent to outlive their child, and even the weathered Yojuro was struggling to cope.

But when Sisho saw Rengoku Jojuro's expression, he realized it wasn't that simple. Jojuro's gaze was filled with anger, even hints of resentment. He was gritting his teeth, looking as if he wanted to tear Sisho to pieces.

"Sisho, perhaps you should—" Yojuro began to say, but Jojuro suddenly stood up and roared at Sisho.

"It's all your fault! It's because of you and your calamity of a master that my brother is dead!" As he spoke, Jojuro reached for his sword, intending to attack.

"Jojuro, sit down!" Seeing his second son's outburst, Yojuro quickly intervened.

"But, Father, it's because—"

"Silence! This is an entirely different matter!"

Cutting Jojuro off, Yojuro ordered him out of the room. "I apologize. Jojuro is too impulsive."

"It's nothing. I think I understand why he's acting this way."

The moment Jojuro had mentioned his "calamity of a master," Sisho knew. The Rengoku family knew that the Mark was the cause of Tojuro's death. And Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the one who brought the Mark to the Demon Slayer Corps, was naturally the target of their hostility. As his disciple, Sisho had also earned Jojuro's hatred.

Sigh~

Yojuro sighed again and waved his hand. "When the doctors determined the cause of death, their conclusion was the Mark." He shared what little he knew with Sisho, then turned his back to him. "That is all I have to say. You should go. I will report to Oyakata-sama after the funeral."

Facing the disciple of the one indirectly responsible for his son's death, even Yojuro didn't want to say any more. The fact that he had remained this civil was already a great effort.

"In that case, I will take my leave."

Leaving the room, Sisho headed for the exit of the Rengoku estate. As he turned a corner, he saw Jojuro, who had been sent out earlier. Jojuro was patting the young Kijuro, but his furious gaze remained fixed on Sisho. It was clear how immense the eighteen-year-old's anger towards Sisho and Yoriichi was.

Returning to his small, familiar house, Sisho didn't see Yoriichi. Michikatsu seemed to notice Sisho's strange mood, but Sisho had no intention of telling him anything. And so, in a somber atmosphere, the Demon Slayer Corps held Tojuro's funeral.

After Yoriichi returned, Amane convened a meeting on behalf of Kagaya Ubuyashiki. All nine Hashira were present, including the five established pillars like Jojuro and four newly appointed ones. Yoriichi and Michikatsu, two figures with sensitive identities, were also in attendance. Sisho had been invited, but he refused.

Through the incident of Tojuro's death, Sisho realized that there were many within the Corps who were dissatisfied with Yoriichi. Jojuro was the first he knew of, but he wouldn't be the last. I hope they have some decency, he thought, and don't forget that the Demon Slayer Corps wouldn't be what it is today without Master Yoriichi's breathing styles.

He brewed himself a pot of tea and sat quietly in the living room, waiting for Yoriichi to return.

Elsewhere, the meeting ended, and Yoriichi and Michikatsu walked home.

"Yoriichi, don't you have anything to say?!" Michikatsu suddenly spoke, his voice filled with agitation. "After learning that all Mark bearers will die at twenty-five, you have nothing to express?"

Yoriichi stopped and slowly turned, a faint smile on his face. Seeing that smile, Michikatsu suddenly flew into a rage.

"What are you smiling about?! You, me, all those other worthless slayers, even your own disciple—we're all going to die at twenty-five! The breathing styles our generation created might even be extinguished because of this!" Michikatsu's chest heaved violently. He grabbed Yoriichi by the collar, shaking him back and forth. "Don't you understand? We have no future! We barely have any time left to train!"

Looking at his brother, who was more agitated than he had ever seen him, Yoriichi said nothing. He gently pried Michikatsu's hands off, walked to the side, and drew his Nichirin Blade. Holding it up towards the sun, he spoke.

"Brother, what kind of people do you think we are?"

"What kind of people?! We are beings of special talent, of course! We are the geniuses who created one breathing style after another!"

Yoriichi shook his head slightly and gave his own answer. "No. We are all just grains of sand in the vastness of history. Even if we die, countless successors will take our place, inherit our legacy, and even surpass us. Death is not such a terrible thing. All we can do is make the most of the present."

Hearing Yoriichi's words, Michikatsu felt as if his mind was about to explode. Yoriichi possessed a talent that everyone envied, yet he had no attachment to his own life. He couldn't understand why a person like this was blessed with such immense power. The thought made Michikatsu want to grind his teeth to dust.

With a flick of his sleeve, he turned and stormed away, heading out of the Corps grounds. "Yoriichi, I am so disappointed in you!"

Watching his brother's retreating figure, Yoriichi's expression remained as calm as ever. He, in turn, couldn't understand why his brother was so obsessed with prolonging his life. After standing there for a while, Yoriichi started walking again.

In that small, remote house, his disciple was waiting for him.

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