Disclaimer: I do not own Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice nor do I own Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba.

A/N: Happy 1st anniversary, Sekiro!


The Root: PT 3


Lucidity was the last thing on Muzan's mind as he secured his way to his chambers within his Dimensional Infinity Fortress. Even after hours, the pain never abated.

The fortress in question was impenetrable and had been for so many centuries Muzan himself had forgotten when he had crafted it. The doors, floors, and stairs that occupied its entirety were never the same every day, every week, every month, every year. They were always shifting, making exploration absolutely impossible for any humans and Demons not worth acknowledging. Only his Demon Moons were privy to this place, and they were only invited in… certain circumstances.

Muzan had done everything within his knowledge to ease the malignant pain that crawled in his viscus like an ever-present disease. It was revolting and terrifying, the two quelled only by the overwhelming resentment that had set his soul alight. He was not at fault for the state he was in. Someone else was.

That shinobi, that Anathema. But that thing was not here so someone else had to take the blame.

Kokushibou, then. The Demonized Demon Slayer never mentioned that dragon-masked shinobi so therefore, it was his fault that he was in this miserable state.

"Kokushibou…"

He growled, his voice almost unrecognizable.

In an instant, another humanoid being appeared, kneeling by the Progenitor's side. The new appearance was a man in a purple-and-black-patterned kimono, complete with a black hakama tied up by a white cloth. The ensemble of a samurai during times of peace. He was tall and with long and spiky, black hair tied into a ponytail, pale-skinned with three sets of eyes upon his countenance. All of these traits served to blatantly reveal his inhumanity, the markings etched into two of his eyes indicating his position in the hierarchy of Demons.

Kokushibou, Upper Moon One. Arguably the strongest Demon under his command, and perhaps his greatest investment at the moment.

None of that was on Muzan's mind, only anger. If Kokushibou showed any reaction to why he was summoned, he did not care much for it or did well to hide it.

"Were there more?"

Six eyes blinked in succession.

"I do not follow, Muzan-sa-"

Muzan placed a finger over his mouth in the universal sign for "quiet". Immediately, the samurai Demon stilled.

It took effort to remain composed. He could not afford to be outraged. Not yet.

"…You had warned about the cunning Great Shinobi Owl, and he is dead. You had warned me about the lithe and agile Lady Butterfly, and she is dead. You had warned me about Ashina Isshin, and now he is dead. You had warned me about the resilience of the Ashina, and they have fallen. You had warned about the Tokugawa Shogunate, and they are nothing compared to a single Demon. Now I ask you again, Kokushibou…"

Muzan's head peered out from the blanket.

"Were there any more you did not warn me about?"

"…I still do not follow, Muzan-sama," Kokushibou spoke calmly, in a measured tone, still unsure of why his Lord was acting guarded. Muzan had situated himself underneath a futon that disclosed nothing, not dissimilar to a man in his sickbed. "Every human I told you about were ones I believed could become threats to us, to you if they became Demon Slayers."

There was a pregnant silence as Muzan processed what was said and then delved into his underling's blood to see if he was hiding anything.

"…So you didn't know."

Kokushibou's eyes turned downward from his frown. He continued.

"You did not know about a shinobi that don a dragon mask."

"No."

"…So why didn't you know?" Muzan growled once more.

Without warning, an arm shot out through the blanket cover, straight into four of the Upper Moon One's eyes. Blood was transferred straight into his head, and the arm was retracted back into the bed. Kokushibou stumbled back, the poison of Muzan's blood coursing through his veins along with the memories of what had transpired. It was a sensation both strange and agonizing but for the samurai Demon, it was nothing any more special than finding exceptional talent to convert into Demonhood.

Then, he saw it.

The rampaging Demon at Ashina's castle gates. The vain struggle of the remaining Ashina warriors and Tokugawa's samurais. The battle to the death between Muzan and the dragon-masked shinobi. The various tools made from materials of both occult and sacred origins attached to that Prosthetic. THAT CRIMSON BLADE and the outcome of that supreme Slash…

Kokushibou bore witness to it all.

Upper Moon One recovered quickly. "I do not recognize the shinobi, Muzan-sama. And if I did, he was not even worth remembering… if we ever met in the first place." The four punctured eyes were restored back to how they were earlier. Along with the memories, Muzan's blood also granted more power to the one it was offered and the power extended to regeneration capability. "I do not recognize that Blade either… but if such a sword exists, then it would be imperative to destroy it and any that bear even a smidgen of relation to it. For a sword to do this to you…"

"Say. No. More. Michikatsu."

The Demon's Progenitor was livid at the reminder that he inadvertently used Upper Moon One's former name. Kokushibou immediately went silent.

"…Were there any who followed you here?"

"No. There were not."

"Fine then," Muzan breathed harshly in long intervals, attempting to regain his composure. A great ordeal, due to the severe pain. "Go to the lands of Ashina, Kokushibou. Ignore the Demon that resides in the outskirts for now. Find me… something!"

Muzan was being completely irrational now, Upper Moon One thought.

"Would it not be prudent to inform the other Demon Moons of-"

"NO."

Muzan rose quickly from his beddings. Kokushibou immediately understood why his Lord was being subtle about this affair. The perfect body Kibutsuji Muzan once sported was completely desecrated, barely holding together from the stitched scar that ran from his shoulder down to the groin. Blood was profusely leaking from the grievous wound in the form of crimson mist, seemingly in a constant state of agony. Upper Moon One could understand why Muzan did not want any of those under him or the Demon Slayer Corps to gain knowledge of this.

It would spell disaster if the information of Muzan's current deathlike state was leaked.

"I will not be seen as pathetic by the lesser ones. I will not be seen as anything else but PERFECT and FLAWLESS. None of the others must know of this wretched condition. You know exactly why you alone are the one I can trust with this task. Now go! If that abominable blade could render me into this desolate state, then there must be something or someone that will bring ME OUT OF IT! GO!"

The last five words were thundered, inciting terror and frightening the denizens that were nearby the opening leading to the Dimensional Infinity Fortress, both demons and humans alike.

"…By your leave," Kokushibou acknowledged.


Somehow, in some way, Wolf came to the conclusion that this would not be the last time he saw that Demon.

Hours had passed since the two, Wolf and the Divine Child, departed from Mount Kongou. He had made all his farewells. In the silvergrass field of those fateful nights, Wolf and the Divine Child stopped to take a break. The trip from Mount Kongo to the outside of Ashina was an uneventful one, for the most part. The fire, or at least the one seen from the outside, had died down, yet the smell lingered and carried over from the wind.

It was… strange, he felt.

This was the place where it all began and where it all ended. Now, it was the place where a new journey was going to begin once more.

Wolf went into the field to retrieve the other Mortal Blade left behind by his duel with the revived Isshin. The Ashina patriarch's corporeal vessel had long since vanished, leaving behind only a scabbard for the black Blade which he picked up as well. It would do no good if someone were to abuse its properties for their own gains. He sheathed the black Mortal Blade and strapped it parallel with the crimson one.

"Shinobi?"

He was by the Divine Child's side in an instant. Wolf slid the dragon mask to the side of his head for her to see his face and knelt by her.

"I am here."

"Shinobi of the Dragon…"

"Yes."

The Divine Child giggled at his terseness.

"If it is not impertinent, may I call you by your name?"

Wolf blinked at the question. "…You may call me however you wish."

"I… I wish to know more about you, Shinobi of Lord Kuro. Calling you by titles alone only seems to make us…" She looked sad at his refusal.

"…Ōkami (Wolf)."

"Ōkami…" She whispered. Her eyes trailed to his prosthetic. "Sekiwan (One arm)…" She seemed to be lost in thought as she parsed the three words together and then finally, "…Sekiro. May I call you that?"

He nodded. Almost eagerly as well, he noticed. The Divine Child noticed this small gesture and nodded.

"Then let us depart, Sekiro."

"…Wait."

On his person, Wolf pulled out a bundle and unraveled it, revealing an ohagi. He took time to gaze fondly at it. This was the third, and final, rice ball Lord Kuro had made him and he had no doubt it would be just as tasty, if not tastier than the previous ones. After all, this one had been made with resolve and reluctance to part ways. Such deep emotions did not go unnoticed by him.

He recalled the memory of the first two rice balls his Lord made for him from the Divine Child's rice. He had unwittingly murmured how delicious they were, unaware that his Lord heard him. His upbringing under the late Owl would have labeled this a miserable display unbecoming of a shinobi, but once he saw his Lord's reaction to the unexpected praise, he felt no shame afterward.

Kuro had smiled radiantly and puffed his chest with childlike… with pride, he corrected himself. He could not say it was childlike because Lord Kuro was exactly that: a child. For all the duties and burdens placed upon him as the Divine Heir, he was still a child. Even when he had chosen the path of Immortal Severance and steeled himself for his seemingly inevitable fate, he still remained a child.

A human nearly entirely robbed of his childhood. Much like himself, he had realized; once a starving cub.

'Maybe one day… I'll open up a tea house if I ever have the time,' Lord Kuro had said with an earnest smile. He did not miss the tiny congratulations his liege gave himself afterward either, 'Mm… Mmhm… Hard to make them much better than this. Well done, Kuro.'

It was a child's dream, and yet, his Lord had said them so sincerely that Wolf felt compelled to see that it would come to that. In the end though…

SO MUCH FOR THAT, HUH?

That sinister, hateful voice from before echoed in his mind.

He ignored it in favor of splitting the rice ball into two. He held out the larger piece to the Divine Child, who looked at the offered confection curiously.

"Sekiro, this is the rice I gifted to…" the Divine Child recognized the texture as she took it.

"…He would be happy if you partook in it, too."

She opened her mouth to respond but stopped. After a moment, she released a sigh and smiled, as though she was told a story that was a fond memory of another.

"Yes. Yes, he would."

There could have been another way. There were other paths he could have taken. He could have rid Kuro of the Dragon's Heritage through Purification via the aromatic flower stolen by his father.

'Don't forget, Sekiro. Hesitate, and you lose…'

…No matter. He could not falter now.

This was the path he chose. He would see it through, no matter how long it may take.

Wolf and the Divine Child looked towards the west, their location beyond the horizon. Beyond Japan. It was going to be a long journey. As one, they bit into Kuro's rice ball.

It was time for the Dragon's Homecoming.


A/N: Hoo boy, this is going to be a weird one.

I wonder why I held off on watching Kimetsu no Yaiba until last week, and damn, I regret that I had to hold it off for so long. The anime was just beautiful. Tanjiro is a precious cinnamon roll of a person AND an older brother whom the world does not deserve, Nezuko is just adorable and should never be lewded, Zenitsu was just a joy to watch, Inosuke is best girl, and a majority of the characters are worth remembering. A shame it ended just when it was about to get good… then the movie immediately got the green light. Imagine my joy.

And, given that I was playing Sekiro at the same time I began watching it, I saw the connections between the two as mentioned at the beginning of the story, and I HAD to write a story about them. It did not even have to be a good story. Just a single battle between Sekiro and Michael Jackson, which in the context of Sekiro, Muzan could be treated as a bonus, secret boss like the Demon of Hatred.

Sadly, I have not touched the manga (because I want to see the Infinite Train movie first) except for some entries/chapters relating to Muzan and that Kokushibou guy, so until I've caught up with the current timeline, this will be treated as a relatively short story.

We'll see if I come up with a good story when that time comes.

-DarkAkatsuk1
P a treon. com (slash) DarkAkatsuk1