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Kokushibo did not know what to think when looking down at a young boy (who was certainly dying soon from overexertion and who knew what else–the boy looked malnourished too).
He had been on a mission, looking for the blue spider lily as always, when the sound of yelling had garnered his attention. He could’ve ignored it, of course, but something demanded his attention.
He stood behind him, watching as the boy smashed the demon with garden tools. He did not seem malnourished. It was…admirable. To ignore the state of your body to go beyond and fight. So young, yet so…promising.
The boy would definitely grow up to be a prodigious, strong swordsman.
If only he lived .
He would die soon after all.
And something tugged on Kokushibo’s being. Something was familiar…as if the boy was family .
…
Of course! How could he not catch it sooner!? The boy was family. It was Kokushibo’s blood that ran through his veins, it was his blood circulating throughout the body, and it was his blood that was…dripping down the boy’s wounds?
Right. Kokushibo had to stop forgetting that.
The boy was going to die.
Kokushibo glanced in the direction of the modest establishment and—was someone in there? That deserved an investigation.
Upper Moon One took a few strides towards the hut, then stopped.
“Nooo…Yui…”
There was a sensation of warmness and wetness, the characteristics of blood. The boy’s blood-stained hands were wrapped around Kokushibo’s ankle. He must’ve fallen, Kokushibo deduced, in his panic. So someone valuable to the boy–his descendant , Kokushibo corrected himself—
So someone valuable to his descendant was in the house, then.
More descendants, perhaps?
Kokushibo glanced down and was immediately startled with the absence of the boy.
His head swiveled in all directions before he looked up once more and found his descendant slowly dragging himself to the house.
It was a desperate attempt.
His descendant was pitifully weak right now, but…could he live on as a demon?
There was another thump. Kokushibo viewed the boy as he tripped and buckled after trying to stand, and then he crawled onwards again.
That wouldn’t do.
Kokushibo crossed the distance in a blink, picking up the boy, and walking over to the house.
His descendant had thrashed around, murmuring someone’s name again and again. His parents? Siblings?
Now that Kokushibo was reminded of that sore topic, was the boy alone after all? Kokushibo couldn’t see any signs of any guidance around the property.
His eyes landed on two graves.
Oh.
So the boy was all alone.
As if hearing his thoughts, his descendant shook his head. “Yui…yui…”
Or maybe not.
—
They finally made it to the house.
An identical boy was there, except with a yukata with colors inverted, laying in a pool of blood.
The boy’s twin.
The descendant in Kokushibo’s grip suddenly wrenched himself out of the grasp, as if a rabid animal. Kokushibo let him.
“Hey, hey! Yuichiro! Don’t die! Don’t leave me!” He rasped, clinging on to his brother. It was the most Kokushibo heard the boy speak all night.
Yuichiro…
Yuichiro, who was evidently missing an arm, looked Kokushibo in the eyes and grimaced.
As Kokushibo looked back at him, he knew they had reached an unspoken understanding.
“Muichiro. Who did you bring here? Who’s he?”
His voice was crueler, meaner.
The older twin, perhaps?
Muichiro turned around, meeting Kokushibo’s gaze dead on for the first time all night. He opened his mouth but Kokushibo beat him to it.
“I am…Kokushibo. I am your ancestor…”
The boys’, Muichiro and Yuichiro ( Michikatsu and Yoriichi ) eyes widened.
They looked like they wanted to argue, but stayed quiet in the end.
There was a shuffle of movement and Yuichiro leaned up to Muichiro to whisper something in his ear.
Then Yuichiro laid his head down and responded no longer. His eyes, once shining in emotion, were dull and unblinking.
“Yuichiro?” The younger twin shook his shoulder, hard. “Yuichiro!” His eyes were glassy, as if tears wanted to flow out but were held in. At least for now. Now did not seem like it would last long.
The boy had squeezed Yuichiro’s hand. And then he bent his head and cried.
“Yuichiro! Yuichiro!” He sobbed.
And as the Upper One watched, Muichiro too weakened.
Kokushibo piped up. “Muichiro…I am sorry for your loss…but you will die soon too…”
It did not make the boy feel better, evidently. Muichiro cried harder. Then he curled up with Yuichiro’s body, staring at the ceiling. As if he had given up.
Kokushibo scooted closer. And then he made a decision. Or an incision, if you wanted to say it differently. He cut a line in his wrist, watching as the blood beaded.
“Unless…”
And then he held his arm over Muichiro and watched as the liquid dripped into Muichiro’s mouth. Muichiro did not respond then either.
As soon as the first drop hit, Muichiro began his transformation.
—
Amane Ubuyashiki took graceful steps, traveling to the Tokitos with her children.
A year had passed. She still longed to recruit the twins, but there was no point if there was no progress with Yuichiro after the subsequent visits.
Muichiro, however…
There was a scream from ahead and Amane rushed towards the sound.
She stared in horror at the scene.
…
Yuichiro was dead, and Muichiro was nowhere to be seen.
—
“Spontaneous does not mean good.” Muzan said in Kokushibo’s mind. The man was not angry. And that was good.
“He is my descendant.” Kokushibo responded, and then Muzan was quiet. How strange. So that meant he accepted Muichiro. That was good.
Currently, Muichiro was resting in the Infinite Castle in one of the rooms Nakime had procured. Nakime had looked at Kokushibo with an unreadable expression when he was teleported in, Muichiro on his back. He did not want to know what kind of expression it was.
It had been a few hours, and Muichiro seemed at peace. For this state of transformation, anyway. The end was more painful, Kokushibo thought. Although he wished the transformation was quicker.
It was fine.
After all, they had all the time in the world.
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