There was an egg, glowing a radiant crimson, heat radiating off of it like fire.

It was perched upon a pillar, a couple inches elevated from the ground. The surroundings were bathed in a red, eerie glow; and yet the environment held no negative connotation, not even apathy. It was calm, surrine, creatures of varying size would stay within the zygote's vicinity because of the warmth flowing from it. It felt like hot mists against cool skin, or maybe warm waters of the hot springs seeping in and relaxing stiff joints.

A light shone above the egg despite the cave ceiling it was planted underneath; illuminating the glossy mahogany color it saturated. Yet it was not overwhelming, demanding attention. In fact, the spawn was subdued, spiraling battens of blacks playing across the surface like strokes against a canvas aided the effect.

From the way it glowed, how the patterns swirled, how the rich color complemented the heat radiated.

Some could even say it was art.

XXX

The cursed child remembers vividly of the day, of his final day, against the last person who still had meaning in his life. And yet, this person had thrown theirs away for strength, power, everything he had and more. His sibling had left everything, a loving spouse, children who adored him for everything he did, a brother who would go through the most execrable punishments for him and still.

He himself with his frail old frame, stared at his brother, whose teeth were baring and his six eyes staring. Despite the appearance, despite the anger, the malice, the hatred coming off in waves, he still wanted to embrace his unhuman sibling, for at least one time in his final moments.

Tears poured from his seeing but unseeing eyes, blindness long taken over. He had wanted so much, but it was too much to vocalize within the time he had left. He could feel his body weakening by the hour, minute, second. It was near the time of his death and Michikatsu knew of it, and even had the audacity to show up on a time like this.

Yes he was angry, livid even, but he also felt sorrow, sadness and even melancholic at times. These swirling emotions conflicted within his head, his heart; never truly understanding what to do with them since they were so foreign. They were all so much, and he didn't know what to do, so he stood there with an impassive gate, waiting for his sibling to make a move.

And Michikatsu drew his blade, flesh and pink skin grafts were adhered to the sword, eyes staring vacantly from the weapon in an unmoving fashion. It was painful to even witness, even more so when he heard the cold, apathetic voice of his brother. It grated on his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to make himself deaf.

Yoriichi, strongest among all, a child blessed by God, let go of all tranquility, letting all of his bottled up emotions against his own behest, gripping the unfamiliar tsuka of this foriegn blade with as much force as this old body allowed. Gently slipping the cool metal out of the saya with a steady grip, no tremors, no shakes. It was a steady force, like waves against a beach, or the pressure exerted from falling.

And, he remembers his heart giving out.

All motions became stagnant as landed his first attack.

Yoriichi wasn't one for guessing, he just knew, but he believes that he had died right after his attack landed. It wasn't a formal swing, not of a breathing technique he made, but one that would purposely miss the intended target. It was selfish, keeping the last person that knows of him alive despite being his enemy, but he was a slayer no longer, being banished from the core allowed him to forgo his former duties. The lives lost then would bare down on his soul, but at least he knows that his sibling will live on, reach his peak. His pride, love for his elder twin over weighed the guilt that acted almost as a pressure that reeked at the back of his mind.

In sparing his accursed twin's life, he expected to go to some sort of purgatory. He hasn't really done anything wrong in his life; through the years isolated from the guilt bearing down on his mind, he had realized it was as much of his fault as other slayers who had tried to best Kibutsuji. Nobody was expecting him to encounter the demon, nor even the seemingly impossible task of killing him. Yes, he was the only one to survive the interaction, but that did not mean he was weak, worthless. Nor did the fact Michikatsu became a demon, Yoriichi is not his decision maker, he cannot choose what path his brother chooses.

It made him regret cutting ties with Sumiyoshi, knowing that he could have salvaged what was left of his life. Though, despite working through his problems about the demon slayer corp as a whole, his guilt still remained for the fallen still remain. Like when he thought about Uta and his unborn child, or the other Samurai that had died due to his delay, and even the demons he slayed as well.

Yorrichi wondered, what's after death? A question that never really crossed his mind but was important either way. His mind was so focused on the trials and tribulations of life, that he never pondered on what's next. Usually he'd let events take their place, but right now, he is confused.

He was surrounded in a void, nothing visible no matter how hard he tried to look. At first, he assumed that he was in some sort of purgatory, stuck with his own tormenting thoughts and regrets. It was a logical idea and sounded plausible enough to actually exist but…

He felt a pulse, a heart beat. Slow, almost unidentifiable from how long between beats were, and yet it was loud in his ears. The noise distracted him from fabricating any possible theories within his head, and yet; he was pretty sure the most logical explanation to his predicament is.

Reincarnation.

His mother had educated he and his brother about the topic; that when one dies, they could come back in a new form that could be alien from what they once was. But, that begs the question, what has he done to deserve this? Why can he still remember his past life? Why can he still think?

He should be oblivious and ignorant, this form was not human, it was within an egg, akin to that of a reptile or bird, and yet he was able to form thoughts in his head as easy as breathing. Yorrichi cannot fathom why he was reincarnated, he knew it wasn't something for him to understand, but why him of all people?

Maybe because he had wasted his talents in his youth? Maybe if he was stronger, maybe if he trained like Michikatsu did, then he would be accepted and see Uta's face again. And maybe, he could glimpse of the person his sibling was once before.

But to do that, he must escape, see the world and find his purpose, his meaning.

And maybe he would do it right this time.