Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

What is death?

Death is the beginning of another path, another path that connects to the end of life.

What is life?

Life is an endless race on a road where the destination is unknown.

Until you actually reach that point, you can't really stop, you won't stop. Even if you stumble and fall several times, as long as you can get up, you will continue to move forward. Even if you break your bones, are exhausted, or are almost dying, as long as you can breathe and move, you will continue on this path.

For Rinko, there is nothing in this world that is frightening. Death itself is not something that would make him afraid, and darkness is certainly not either.

Running in the dark occupies a large part of his memory. He is always moving forward, running, sprinting through the dark, starting from different points and heading to different destinations, but there are still some similarities.

Ultimately, his motives are the same.

They were running for Muzan, or they received orders to go to a new destination, or they were simply running towards the place where Muzan existed.

Ultimately, everything he has done, everything that sustains him now, the reasons, the justifications, the obsessions—all have remained the same from beginning to end.

This heart is able to continue beating because of Muzan, and it will only beat strongly for Muzan in the future.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"What a cruel person you are, Tamayo. It sends chills down my spine. You said you loved that boy so much, wanted to protect him, wanted him to have the best ending, and then what? You killed him like you killed your own beloved child, with poison, with his trust in you, time and time again."

Muzan's voice was filled with clear anger, deep-seated hatred, and laced with clenched teeth and mockery. Every word was like a sharp thorn, piercing Tamayo's body more painfully than the hand that grabbed her head and pressed it deep into her eye socket.

Yes.

Yes.

This seems to be her life, so ridiculous, so tragic.

For the sake of her child, she agreed to become a ghost, but after becoming a ghost, she lost her mind, killed her child and husband, and destroyed everything she craved and wanted to protect.

She was almost completely despondent, self-destructive, murderous, cannibalistic, waiting for a release, or to find a new way out in her depravity.

Until almost as if heaven had heard her prayers and seen her tears, she met the boy.

At first, it was just a weak, fragile human child, with such poor health and severe injuries that it was unbelievable that it could even survive. But its tenacious life persisted, like a weed growing in a crack in the wall, pushing through the bricks and tiles to continue growing. A drop of water or a ray of sunlight could become its motivation.

The boy was too weak, but that didn't matter. She knew how to treat him, and she was confident that she could slowly heal him. The fragile boy gradually recovered. He was no longer just so weak that he coughed when he breathed and swayed when he walked down the stairs. He could sit there, smile gently at her, and say thank you. His heartbeat became strong, and his breathing became smooth. He would get healthy.

Sooner or later, that child will become healthy, grow up, be able to play in the sunshine, and become a healthy child with a better life. She will witness it, just as she will see the child she never got to see grow up. She will make the boy better.

She will.

She was full of expectations for such a future.

Then, just as the most beautiful glass cannot be displayed on the highest stand, when a gust of wind blows, that beautiful expectation falls and shatters.

Completely shattered.

When Muzan brought the child who had become a demon, renamed Rinko, to her, her heart stopped.

What does that feel like? Utter despair is the ultimate feeling.

Why, why, why does fate always play tricks on her like this? No, it's not fate, it's not fate playing tricks on her, it's Muzan. Why does this man always destroy everything she cherishes so easily?

Her child, her husband, her family, her past life, everything. That child, Rinyo, and then, finally, Rinko.

She naively believed that although she had changed her name, lost her memory, and become a ghost, her childlike nature would not change. Rinko was still that sensible child who would stay by her side, watch her study those medicines, sit quietly beside her, and ask her to teach him everything he needed to know as a ghost. It was like raising a child with her own hands, a ghost's child. Was this right? Was this good? Was the child still the same child?

These questions kept popping into Tamayo's mind: Was this child still the same child? He needed to eat people, yet he didn't like eating people and rarely did. Was it because the kindness that belonged to a child still existed? He liked small things, liked handicrafts, would make gifts for her, and would say she was very good.

Is this good? Is this right? Rinko is still that child, only she has become a demon. If she had taught her carefully and nurtured her properly, Rinko wouldn't have become the kind of demon that people despise and loathe, would she?

But even this small expectation, this almost self-comforting thought, was ultimately destroyed, shattered once again by the hand of Muzan Kibutsuji.

After she had been gone for decades, and after she and Rinko had lost contact for decades, they finally met again after a long time. They chatted and reminisced, as if Rinko was still Rinko and Tamayo was still Tamayo. Decades had not created distance, nor had they diluted the connection between them.

Until she mentioned Muzan.

All the tenderness in those eyes vanished. For a moment, she clearly felt that the boy truly wanted to kill her, because of Muzan, because of Muzan, and always because of that man, Kibutsuji Muzan.

He ruined everything!

It destroyed everything she cherished.

She couldn't protect him before, and she can't hold him back now.

She couldn't find a better answer than to die together with someone else.

Demons are sinful creatures who have killed and harmed too many people. Even after death, they cannot go to heaven. Muzan should go to the deepest part of hell. But if she could, if she could, she hoped that at least Rinko, at least that poor child, could not bear so much guilt, could not carry such deep sins, and could not suffer the burning of hellfire.

"Rinko was a pitiful child. I didn't want to kill him. I wanted him to grow up better. I wasn't the one who did wrong. Muzan, it was you! You ruined his future with your own hands! You turned him into a demon. You caused him, me, and so many families to be torn apart! So many people died tragically! It's all your fault!"

Tamayo had lost sight in one eye; the finger had pierced his eye socket, crushing his eyeball, and the sharp nail, which had almost penetrated his brain, had crushed the eyeball.

But the remaining eye was filled with rage and fury. The tears had all dried up, and all that could come out next was blood—her blood. And her hated enemies would pay the price for the blood she had shed.

But Muzan felt no remorse for these words. On the contrary, he couldn't help but laugh, a laugh filled with anger, dissatisfaction, and sarcasm.

"Is that so? Is this my fault, Tamayo? Think about it carefully. It's not right. You asked me to turn you into a demon, and Rinko herself was willing to become a demon. I didn't force any of you. Whether it's eating people or killing people, I didn't force any of you to kill or eat anyone, did I? It was your own decision, and now you want to blame me? That's too ungrateful, Tamayo."

Muzan's words were like sharp blades, piercing through him word by word.

But Tamayo no longer felt ashamed or remorseful for those shameless words; all she felt now was anger.

She glared at Muzan with her only remaining eye, each word uttered from her open mouth filled with rage ingrained in her very being.

"If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be any ghosts. If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened. You've killed so many people and harmed so many others, yet you want to blame those who were already desperate and had no choice but to fall into the trap of the candy with the razor blade hidden in your hand? What disgusting words! What a shameless existence!"

The only sound in this cramped space was the argument. Muzan was angry because of Tamayo, but he was not panicked or afraid. Those small traps and the medicine that was absorbed deep into his abdomen were not enough to frighten him or kill him.

It's just some petty tricks.

More than anything, he was furious. He was furious that Rinko had fallen so easily because of these poisons, furious that Tamayo had treated him with such ingratitude, furious at these endless, seemingly insane demon slayers, and furious at the Ubuyashiki family, who clung to him like venomous snakes.

But it doesn't matter, everything will end tonight. Tamayo will be devoured by him, the poison will decompose quickly, and those demon slayers will perish here. Then he will find the hidden Nezuko, achieve his goal, become the perfect being, no longer fear the sun, and become the truly most powerful being.

"I know what you're thinking, Muzan. You still think you have a chance. Even after losing Rinko, you still think you can survive. But let me tell you, you're wrong. Tonight is the end, not the end of the Demon Slayer Corps, but the end of your life. You will die here, and I will drag you down to the deepest part of hell!"

There was only a second of silence; no one had time to answer.

But the boy's voice rang out, plunging the space into a deathly silence.

"If my death is so easily decided, I will feel very troubled, Tamayo."

Rinko's voice said this.