A battle between Soul Reapers was, at its absolute core, a battle of spiritual pressure.
Demon Slayer Shiro harbored a nagging suspicion that if Soul Reaper Shiro couldn’t elevate his baseline spiritual pressure to a Captain-level tier, the Transparent World would still struggle to dismantle Kyōka Suigetsu, an ultimate bankai-level illusion capable of thoroughly hijacking all five human senses.
“Well, let’s treat a dead horse as if it’s still alive for now.
If we actually dig deep enough, the Demon Slayer universe isn’t exactly simple either; it possesses a canonical Hell, meaning a Heaven might very well exist out there too.”
As Soul Reaper Shiro recalled various scattered plot points from the original Demon Slayer series, his train of thought grew increasingly active.
Moving forward, even if he actively avoided picking a fight with Aizen, their paths were destined to cross eventually.
Given Aizen’s meticulous, calculating temperament, the moment he caught wind of an anomalous variable like Shiro roaming the Seireitei, he would almost certainly plot from the shadows to drag him into his Hōgyoku modification experiments.
Rather than waiting passively, it was far more pragmatic to launch a preemptive strike–utilizing the ongoing Rukongai disappearances to carefully force Aizen to expose a corner of his tail.
At the very least, it would buy enough leverage to keep Aizen from targeting him immediately.
“I’ll give it my absolute best effort, but mastering the Transparent World is no walk in the park.
Tanjuro, much like Yoriichi Tsugikuni, was born with the ability naturally awakened.
The insights he passes down can only serve as a conceptual blueprint at best.”
Demon Slayer Shiro let out a weary sigh, casting a sweeping glance across the vast expanse of grey fog, silently wishing a prodigious Shiro would materialize to instantly skyrocket their collective learning efficiency.
Regrettably, the shifting fog remained perfectly still, offering no response.
With a definitive shake of his head, Demon Slayer Shiro vanished from the mist-shrouded domain.
In the end, he could only rely on his own hard work.
The Demon Slayer Universe.
Seated cross-legged upon a massive tree stump, Shiro snapped his eyes open.
He watched Nezuko patiently playing with the three younger siblings out in the yard and exhaled a deep, stabilizing breath.
Since the night he had terminated the Ugly Demon, roughly a month and a half had slipped away.
With both himself and Tanjuro guarding the household, even if Muzan Kibutsuji himself marched up the mountain accompanied by the entire upper ranks of the Twelve Kizuki, they wouldn’t manage to scratch a single hair on the Kamado family’s heads.
By now, Shiro had seamlessly mastered every single form and stance of Sun Breathing, comfortably maintaining the standard of Total Concentration: Constant around the clock.
If they actually ended up clashing right now, the progenitor of demons would likely suffer a spectacular existential crisis upon discovering that his subordinates were not only being systematically slaughtered, but were actively resurrected to serve as fresh foot soldiers in his enemy’s vanguard.
*Perhaps it’s finally time to venture out and eradicate the demons whose precise coordinates I already know,* Shiro thought, his expression perfectly serene as he gazed into the far distance.
When it came to the closest member of the Twelve Kizuki to the Kamado residence, it was undoubtedly Rui, nestled deep within Mt.
Natagumo.
Not only did a Lower Moon rank reside there, but the destination practically threw a bundled package of the entire Spider Family right into his lap–an excellent opportunity to enrich the puppet reserves of Death March.
Of course, Shiro hadn’t forgotten his secondary objective: tracking down Genya Shinazugawa within the Demon Slayer Corps.
While the resurrected puppets could flawlessly execute every single bloodline ability and technique they possessed in life, Shiro himself was incapable of directly absorbing or inheriting a Blood Demon Art.
If he could somehow discover a mechanism to integrate a Blood Demon Art into his own biological makeup, every single Shiro across the parallel universes would experience a massive, unprecedented leap in raw power.
Consequently, during dinner that evening, Shiro quietly announced his impending departure to the gathered Kamado family.
“But Shiro, you’re still just a child!
Venturing out into the world entirely on your own is simply far too dangerous,” Kie Kamado interjected, her face instantly washing with deep maternal anxiety.
Although she was profoundly grateful for Shiro’s miraculous ability to cure terminal illnesses, her traditional heart simply couldn’t accept letting a ten-year-old boy traverse the countryside unaccompanied.
“It’s not as if I’m packing my bags tonight, Auntie.
I still have a few remaining matters to settle around here first; it will take about half a month,” Shiro explained smoothly.
Noting the collective drop in morale around the table at the mention of his departure, he offered a reassuring smile.
“But you really don’t need to fret over my safety.
I’ll return before you know it–ten days at the absolute maximum.”
By utilizing Shunpo continuously to cover ground, he could effortlessly circle the entirety of Japan in a matter of days.
Traveling from their mountain to Mt.
Natagumo would likely demand less than an hour of his time.
The primary reason he wanted to secure a half-month buffer was to scour the Asakusa district in Tokyo, hoping to intercept Muzan Kibutsuji’s current location.
Even though the current timeline was running roughly three and a half years earlier of the original canon, establishing a deep, domestic disguise within Tokyo was an endeavor that required a significant amount of time, even for the King of Demons.
If he investigated the city thoroughly right now, there was a very real statistical probability of flushing him out.
“*Cough*…
I may not fully comprehend the scope of your responsibilities, Shiro, but go forth with a clear mind,” Tanjuro interjected, offering a soft, customary cough.
The healthy, vibrant flush returning to his cheeks stood as living proof that he had entirely broken free from the shackles of his terminal illness.
As a practitioner who naturally perceived the Transparent World, Tanjuro could discern the sheer, staggering magnitude of Shiro’s physical constitution with absolute clarity.
It comfortably eclipsed the parameters of the creatures known as “demons” that he had encountered briefly during his youth.
Furthermore, given that Shiro had successfully anchored Total Concentration: Constant, Tanjuro knew that even if he deployed the hidden technique to drastically enhance his own physical output, he would no longer stand as Shiro’s match.
At best, he could utilize his enhanced spatial awareness to read Shiro’s attack trajectories, spinning out the encounter for a brief period.
“Shiro, you absolutely must promise to return exactly when you said you would.
Otherwise, the rest of us are going to be worried out of our minds,” Nezuko pleaded, her fingers tightly pinning a corner of Shiro’s sleeve.
Possessing an incredibly perceptive and sensitive nature, she had more or less picked up on Shiro’s distinct anomaly.
She was terrified that once he stepped off the mountain, he might simply vanish from their lives forever.
She flatly refused to lose a cherished, indispensable member of her family.
“Rest assured, Nezuko.
The very moment my business is concluded, I’ll be right back here,” Shiro comforted her softly, resting a hand gently upon her head to soothe her brimming tears.
Tanjiro caught the scent riding off Shiro’s silhouette; it was entirely clean, confirming that his brother wasn’t spinning a falsehood.
Deducing that Shiro likely wasn’t setting off to commit a reckless, suicidal blunder, Tanjiro eased his posture and returned to consuming his dinner with hearty mouthfuls.
He had absolutely no inkling that the following morning would mark the official dawn of his living nightmare.
The next morning, long before the remaining members of the household had stirred from their sleep, Shiro escorted Tanjiro out into the crisp morning air.
“Tanjiro, tell me…
are you aware that alongside humanity, this world plays host to an entirely separate tier of intelligent organisms?
They venture forth only when the sun dips below the horizon, retreating into the shadows at dawn, sustaining their lifespans exclusively by consuming human flesh.”
Shiro turned his back to the boy, clasping his hands behind him as he channeled the detached, profound aura of a hidden grandmaster.
“The strongest among their ranks can deploy supernatural, bloodline-based phenomena–powers far beyond the capacity of an ordinary mortal to endure.
The world recognizes these entities simply as ‘demons’.”
Tanjiro lowered his head, sinking into a brief, heavy silence before inquiring softly, “So…
Shiro, the real reason you’re preparing to leave is to hunt these demons down, isn’t it?”
Shiro executed a slow pivot, offering a silent, definitive nod to validate Tanjiro’s deduction.
“But if these creatures truly possess the terrifying strength you’re describing, then you’re putting yourself in immense danger!” Tanjiro blurted out, his heavily calloused hands clamping onto Shiro’s shoulders in a desperate bid to dissuade his brother from walking a lethal path.
Tanjiro was, at his core, an extraordinarily gentle and compassionate soul.
In the original timeline, his initial entry into the Demon Slayer Corps hadn’t been triggered by some grand, altruistic philosophy; he simply wanted to restore Nezuko back into a human being.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“I wouldn’t actively hunt demons if I didn’t possess the absolute martial leverage to guarantee my survival.
Tell me, do you still remember the foundational movements of the Hinokami Kagura I taught you?”
Tanjiro nodded automatically.
Technically speaking, he had served as Shiro’s foundational instructor for the ritual, even if his actual teaching capacity at the time had been profoundly unrefined.
“In absolute reality, the underlying essence of that ritual is a breathing technique–the absolute pinnacle and progenitor of all breathing styles.
If you can learn to wield this technique with absolute proficiency, you will naturally become more formidable than the vast majority of demons roaming this earth.”
To provide a tangible demonstration of his statement, Shiro leaned down to scoop up a heavy jagged stone from the soil.
Closing his fingers around the rock, he applied a concentrated burst of pressure.
A fine, powdery stream of crushed sediment spilled smoothly through the gaps of his fingers, drifting down to the grass as if the object he had squeezed weren’t a dense, solid stone, but rather a porous piece of soft foam.
“I need you to fully master this breathing methodology, Tanjiro.
I’m not asking you to immediately surpass the strongest demons out there, but at the absolute bare minimum, you must possess the structural strength necessary to preserve your own life.”