The sky had grown colder, but the fire within Yoriichi Tsugikuni had been reignited.
Banished or not, he knew his purpose had not ended. Though he no longer wore the uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps, he still bore its will. The sword on his back was not for fame, and his breathing was not bound by command.
It was his resolve now—to rid the world of demons, even if the world had turned its back on him.
He walked from village to village, humble and quiet, never seeking praise or shelter. Many had heard of him, few had seen him, but every now and then, a tale would be whispered: of a tall man with a black and red sword, who appeared when the night was darkest and left only silence and safety in his wake.
The people called him the Unseen Flame.
In one such village, Yoriichi found a child crying by a grave.
The boy had lost his family to a demon attack the night before.
Yoriichi sat beside him, placing his sword gently on the ground.
"Grief is a heavy burden. But you can choose what to do with its weight," he said softly.
The boy looked at him, eyes filled with fear and sorrow.
"Can I be strong like you one day?"
Yoriichi nodded slowly.
"Strength is not in the sword, nor in vengeance. It is in protecting. If you walk that path, then yes… you will be stronger than me."
And so he passed on his wisdom, not just through the sword—but through his soul. Every village he entered, he taught a child, spoke to a mother, or saved a life. Quietly. Silently. Like a shadow of the sun.
He was no longer a hero to the world.
But to those he saved, he was hope.
A sun still burning—just beyond the clouds