Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

Lin Yang.

What a terrible name.

This was Rinko's first thought.

The winter sun.

But what followed was even worse, worse than he could ever imagine. A useless sun.

What a terrible name, what a terrible self-introduction, what a terrible body, what a terrible condition. My body is so fragile, almost collapsing. I need to gasp for breath every time I speak, and I'm as weak as Ubuyashiki struggling to stand up and walk.

But then.

Looking at the boy in front of him, Rinko belatedly realized that he actually knew the name. He already knew the name before the boy, who called himself Rinko, uttered those two syllables.

This is the name Tamayo mentioned, this is the boy Tamayo was talking about.

"You are Rinyo, the Rinyo that Tamayo was talking about, the boy she hoped could play in the sunlight."

Rinko spoke, but the boy didn't answer immediately. Instead, he seemed a little confused. He thought for a while before letting out an "ah," as if he had suddenly figured something out.

A faint smile appeared on the boy's calm face, so faint and subtle that it was almost imperceptible, but his voice was noticeably gentler.

[So that doctor's name was Tamayo. Tamayo, what a beautiful name! I never had a chance to ask her before, but now I finally know. I'm so grateful.]

The boy was expressing his gratitude, thanking him for telling him Tamayo's name.

Rinko found it hard to say how he should react to such a person and such gratitude. He wasn't happy, nor was he interested in it at all; he was just calm, and perhaps beneath that calmness lay a hint of disdain.

I dislike it, I'm unhappy about it, and not only that, there might even be some malice involved.

He suddenly became very curious. He wondered what kind of expression the boy would have after learning Tamayo's true colors. Would he be sad, disappointed, desperate, or angry? What would the boy look like when he was angry? What would his expression be like? Would his expression be the same as the boy's?

[So she had such high expectations of me. I was truly flattered, but given how kind Ms. Tamayo was, it's perfectly reasonable for her to have such high expectations of others. It's just a pity, though; I probably hurt her a lot later.]

Rinko listened without trying to interrupt or rushing to speak; she simply listened patiently, observing and watching.

To be honest, it was a very strange experience. To see a face just like his own, to hear a voice just like his own, and to hear the same words spoken. It was as if time had reversed, and everything had gone back to a time long ago, so long that he needed to think for a while before he remembered that he had once loved Tamayo so much, loved her so much, as if Tamayo were a guardian, someone who cared for him, protected him, guided him, and held his hand as he moved forward without ever abandoning him.

But that was so long ago. So much time has passed, so many things have happened to him. He had forgotten them before, and now that he remembers them, it seems to have no meaning.

The boy stood before him, still smiling, so gentle.

"I don't know if she was hurt or not, and I don't know what happened between you two afterward, but did you realize that she wanted to kill you?"

[I don't think so. Ms. Tamayo isn't that kind of person. She wouldn't hurt others, and she wouldn't want to kill me. She's been trying very hard to heal me, always encouraging me to keep going, saying that everything will be alright. She helped me recover, made a lot of medicine for me, and helped me a lot. If it weren't for her, I probably would have died long ago.]

With such certainty and conviction, Rinko looked at the expression on the boy's face, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

too slow.

It felt like the last breath of a person's life.

It's so strange to argue with someone who seems, sounds, and even thinks like his former self. It's as if he's arguing with his past self, but he knows that neither of them can be easily convinced.

"She wants you to be scorched by the sun, burned to ashes by what you call the useless sun, and buried in the snow. Isn't that wanting to kill you?"

After a brief silence, Rin looked at the boy, but the boy didn't speak. Instead, he lowered his head and chuckled softly, his voice low and muffled. This was followed by a few light coughs. His body was too fragile; even a single cough could trigger a chain reaction.

I see, that's what you think.

A meaningless sentence, unconnected to the previous one, with no immediate follow-up. Rinko looked at it and asked.

"Or do you have a better explanation?"

Yes. I do. You see sunlight as a weapon, the sun as the murderer who killed me, her words as a vicious curse, a harbinger of my death in winter. But that's not it. I won't die in the sunlight; the sun isn't something that can burn me. The sun is bright and warm; when it shines on me, it makes me feel comfortable and at ease, it makes me feel warm, not dangerous.

However, the winter sun is truly useless; it's all show and no substance. Its bright, blinding light is reflected off the snow, and the cold snow and glaring reflections make it impossible to see anything around you, yet you feel no warmth whatsoever. The useless sun, just like me.

The boy approached, one step after another, each step slightly difficult, his body swaying slightly.

Only now did Rinko begin to acknowledge that they were indeed remarkably similar: the same voice, the same appearance, the same slender build, the same height. The boy stood hunched over, as if even breathing would break his spine.

Therefore, Rinko felt that he was slightly taller and stronger.

Just as he knew perfectly well that their similarities lay only in appearance, in things that could deceive the eyes and ears, not in their inner selves. His bones were harder, his muscles stronger, his arms more powerful. If he wanted, he could easily snap the other's arms, dismantle his legs, and rip off his head.

The other party won't even realize that any of this is happening.

Because the boy looked so weak, not almost weak, but completely devoid of any radiance, not like a flickering candle in the wind, but like extinguished charcoal ash.

Perhaps it's because he's already dead.

So you're not a ghost.

I am not.

"You are human."

Rinko spoke, uttering a single sentence that laid down a conclusion. It was completely unrelated, yet perfectly reasonable. The moment this most incredible idea was uttered, all logic became clear.

Ghosts have never seen the sun, know the sun, and cannot describe it as warm. The blinding, useless sun of winter can still kill a ghost, but ghosts cannot say that, nor do they understand.

In that instant, Tamayo's expectations became reasonable. What Tamayo wanted was not to witness a demon's endless growth over countless years; what she wanted was her child, the human child she had killed, the boy named Rinyo whom she met after becoming a demon.

Not a ghost.

not him.

So everything sounded reasonable, which is why Tamayo wanted to kill him.

Because Tamayo finally realized that he was a demon, not a human, even if he was a strange demon, an unusual demon, a rare demon, he was still a demon.

It's a man-eating demon, a murderous demon, not a child who can run freely in the sunlight.

I am, but not only. Humanity is a very broad concept, vast, and there are many humans. I am human, but that's not important. What's important is that I am human, but I am also you.

The boy's voice interrupted his thoughts, but Rinko was not angry at the sudden interruption. He looked up at the other person.

"You're not a ghost."

Without a doubt, Rinko offered no explanation or rebuttal, simply stating the conclusion: You are human, I am a demon, we have no relation. All talk of "you" and "me" is nonsense.

I am indeed not, and I could never be. But you are a ghost, and I am a human. Ghosts are humans in disguise. Our relationship doesn't seem too difficult to understand.

The boy tilted his head slightly, straightened up a bit, put his hands behind his back, and had a very gentle, faint smile on his face. He looked so weak, yet so tender, even lighter and fainter than the moonlight.

A bit like Tanjiro.

Rinko had a sudden thought.

A person whose mind is strange, yet who seems to have something to do with him, though he doesn't seem to be telling the truth at all. So familiar, yet so strange.

"But I don't know you, and I don't remember you."

Of course you wouldn't know me, and you wouldn't remember me. You are me, how could you possibly know me? You'll never have the chance to hear me introduce myself, never hear my story. Before today, you didn't even know I existed, and only after that one second did I realize you'd been hiding in my shadow all along.

It was a difficult passage to understand. Rinko didn't quite get it. His head was spinning, and he was confused. He didn't understand, he didn't know, he didn't know, whether it was what the other person was saying or the deeper meaning that seemed to be hidden beneath those words.

He doesn't understand any of it.

"I do not know what you're talking about."

So he spoke calmly, giving the most honest answer.

"What exactly do you want to do?"

That's also what I want to ask you. You're already dead, so why haven't you gone to hell yet, and are you still here?