Demon Slayer: After raising Shinobu, I died in front of her.

So this is what death feels like.

Ling Chuanche slowly closed his eyes, his consciousness beginning to fade.

In these final moments of life, those memories that one once desperately tried to hold onto come rushing back like a revolving lantern, so clear they are heartbreaking.

He saw that snowy night.

That was the beginning of his life collapsing.

Blood stained the snow, and my sister lay in a pool of blood, her usually gentle and smiling eyes now staring blankly at the sky.

The little boy knelt in the snow, crying until his voice was hoarse and his hands were frozen, but he couldn't cover the huge wound on his sister's body.

"Che...live on..."

My sister's last words still seem to echo in my ears.

"I survived, sister," Ling Chuanche said silently in his heart. "But, sister, I'm so tired. This world without you is so cold and so long."

The scene shifts, and he sees the man who changed his destiny.

That was his master, the man who always had a stern face and never smiled.

The man stood before him, looking down at him kneeling in the snow, and asked, "Want to become stronger? Want to kill demons?"

He nodded frantically, his head hitting the stone until it was covered in blood.

The man sighed and extended his hand to him: "Then come home with me."

At that moment, Ling Chuanche thought he had grasped salvation.

He saw the days when he wielded his sword under the waterfall, and he saw his master's stern yet caring gaze.

He saw Kanae smilingly handing him a rice ball, he saw Sabito, he saw Sanemi and Giyu arguing in front of him, he saw Kanao looking at him demurely... he saw Shinobu, smiling and calling him "Master," and throwing herself into his arms.

Ling Chuanche's lips curled up slightly, but a tear slid down his cheek.

"I'm sorry... I think I'll have to break my promise."

We promised to go back together, we promised to never be apart, we promised to watch Shinobu and Kanao grow into capable swordsmen...

But he couldn't do it.

His life was about to end here.

A morning breeze swept by, stirring up dust and the smell of blood.

Ling Chuanche felt his body getting colder and colder, a cold that seeped from the very bones, and he couldn't warm it up no matter what he did.

He looked down at his broken body.

His left hand was gone, his right leg was gone, and blood was still bubbling out of the large hole in his chest.

It looks awful.

If I die here like this, becoming a mutilated corpse, to be eaten by wild dogs and pecked in the eyes by crows... wouldn't Master be sad to see this?

Shinobu would cry her eyes out if she saw this, wouldn't she?

That idiot Sanemi will probably blame himself for the rest of his life, right?

"Don't cry..."

Ling Chuanche muttered to himself, his voice so faint that even he couldn't hear it.

"Don't be sad for me... I just... went to see my sister first."

But why does my heart ache so much?

Why is it that even though he died for revenge, his heart was filled with reluctance?

He doesn't want to die.

He really wanted to live.

I want to see the cherry blossoms in spring one more time, I want to eat one more bite of Kanao's overly sweet confectionery, I want to hear Shinobu call me "Master" one more time, I want to see everyone living happily...

But the sun rose.

Golden sunlight shone on the ruins and onto his blood-soaked face.

How warm it is.

Like his sister's hand, like his master's palm, like the home he could never return to.

Ling Chuanche's body began to stiffen, and his consciousness gradually sank into darkness.

In the very end, he seemed to see his sister standing in the light, smiling and reaching out her hand to him.

"elder sister……"

He struggled to raise his only remaining right hand, trying to touch the light, trying to grasp that warmth.

However, his hand fell limply down halfway up.

"Clap."

The Nichirin Blade that had been with him for half his life slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

Three butterfly-shaped peace knots slipped from his arms, their surfaces stained bright red, as if they were bloodstained.

Ling Chuanche lowered his head and rested it on the hilt of his sword.

He looked as if he were asleep, with a lingering, bitter smile on his face.

A gust of wind blew by, swirling up a few fallen leaves that gently covered him.

The world is quiet.

The boy who once swore to slay all evil spirits, the young man who lived for revenge and fought for protection, the "Pillar of the Azure Sea" Ling Chuanche, on whom everyone placed their hopes, closed his eyes forever at this dawn.

He failed to kill Kokushibo.

He failed to exact his revenge.

He couldn't...go home.

All that remained was a horrifying pool of blood and the broken Nichirin Blade.

The sunlight grew stronger, but it could no longer warm that gradually cooling body.

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Chapter 43 The News of Death

Sanemi Shinazugawa ran frantically, his throat dry as if on fire, each breath carrying a heavy, bloody taste, his heart pounding against his ribs with a dull thud, as if it were about to burst out of his chest.

"Master! Master!!"

He screamed inwardly, his legs already numb, mechanically alternating between them driven by an almost desperate instinct.

Hurry up! Hurry up!

Finally, the village, which had been razed to the ground by the aftermath of the battle, came into view.

However, when Sanemi rushed into the ruins, he did not see Toru Ayakawa.

There was only deathly silence.

"Master...?"

Sanemi's steps came to an abrupt halt, leaving two deep marks on the scorched earth.

His eyes widened as he frantically searched through the devastated ruins.

No.

There isn't anywhere.

There was no sign of the master, nor any trace of the evil spirit.

All that remained was a scene of utter devastation and the lingering, nauseating stench of blood in the air.

He staggered, a possibility flashing through his mind, but he immediately dismissed it!

No, no...

Sanemi took a few steps forward, trembling, and his gaze suddenly fixed on the broken walls and ruins not far ahead.

There, lying quietly, was a broken Nichirin sword.

The blade was broken in two, and the once sharp edge was now full of nicks and stained with dried, blackened blood.

Beside the broken sword was a tattered haori (traditional Japanese garment).

That was the master's most treasured haori, but now it was abandoned in the dust like a rag, covered with knife marks and burn marks, and even large patches of bloodstains remained.

Sanemi's breathing stopped, and at that moment, the whole world fell silent.

He staggered forward, his trembling fingers carefully picking up the haori.

Three butterfly-shaped peace knots fell out from under the haori.

"Clap."

The peace knot fell to the ground, covered in dust.

Sanemi knelt on the ground, his hands gripping the tattered haori tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Tears finally broke free, streaming down his dusty and blood-stained face, dripping onto his tattered haori, where they spread out in dark patterns.

"what........"

A piercing scream was forced out of Shinazugawa's throat.

He lowered his head, his forehead hitting the ground heavily, letting out a suppressed and desperate sob.

The wind blew, stirring up the dust on the ground and gently swaying the three butterfly knots, as if they were saying a final goodbye.

Sanemi Shinazugawa knelt there, like a child abandoned by the whole world, crying his heart out.