That pain—one that reached deep into his very soul—made Kibutsuji Muzan writhe in agony.
"You said it yourself—you cannot personally kill any being who is a part of fate's chain. That means… you can't kill me either!"
The Divine Master replied calmly, "That's correct. But causing your soul to suffer—I can still do that."
"I yield!" Muzan shouted at last.
The Divine Master halted the torment that came from within Muzan's body, and the searing pain of the soul vanished instantly.
Muzan glared at him with venomous hatred. The King of Demons himself—brought completely under another's control.
"But I have three conditions," Muzan said coldly. "If you can't agree to them, then no matter how much you torture me, I will never cooperate with you."
The Divine Master's expression was tranquil, confident, as though everything were in his grasp. "Speak. If it is within my power, I will grant it."
"First, you cannot command me or order me to do anything. Second, you must help me with all your strength to overcome sunlight."
The Divine Master agreed to the first two conditions without hesitation.
"The last one," Muzan said, voice low with fury, "is that you will immediately remove that damned fragment of your soul from my body!"
The Divine Master shook his head. "I'm afraid that, for now, I cannot."
"Why not?!" Muzan snapped.
"To separate my soul from your body requires the power of fate itself," the Divine Master explained. "But fate is now in disorder—many souls that should have passed on cannot enter the cycle of reincarnation and instead linger in the living world. Only after Yōsuke Ubuyashiki is slain and fate's balance is restored can this be accomplished."
"Damn it!" Muzan cursed, gnashing his teeth in frustration.
"Do not worry," said the Divine Master. "I will not recklessly use the soul fragment to control you. The piece of my soul within you is also a bond—a mutual constraint between us."
"What do you mean?" Muzan demanded.
"If you die," the Divine Master said evenly, "the fragment of my soul within you will vanish as well. That would cause me great harm. When one's soul becomes incomplete, the body rejects that broken soul until it perishes. So now—it is not only I who restrain you; you also restrain me."
Muzan gave a low, cold laugh. "Quite the elaborate scheme you've woven."
The Divine Master smiled faintly. "I believe that someone who clings to life as much as you do will not lightly place himself in danger."
"Ha! Don't think you understand me," Muzan sneered.
But for now, there was no other choice. His life was held in the Divine Master's hand. He could only compromise—temporarily. And truth be told, cooperation with this being might benefit him, for now.
"So," Muzan asked, "what do you plan to do next? Are you going to join me in killing Yōsuke Ubuyashiki?"
The Divine Master shook his head. "Not yet. The time is not right."
Muzan frowned.
"In the near future," the Divine Master continued, "the transformation drug will appear. If Yōsuke Ubuyashiki chooses to take it himself…"
"…then he'll lose all his power," Muzan finished darkly, "and become nothing more than an ordinary human."
The Divine Master nodded. "Precisely. All we must do now is wait—and see what choice Yōsuke Ubuyashiki makes."
At the Butterfly Mansion, a special visitor arrived that day.
It was the current Mist Hashira—Muichirō Tokitō.
Yōsuke was surprised. Muichirō was uninjured, so his sudden visit was unexpected.
Ever since losing his memory, Muichirō had been emotionally distant—quiet, detached, and cold toward others.
Even when Yōsuke had tried to guide him after the battle against Gyokko, his personality had barely changed.
"Muichirō, what brings you here?" Yōsuke asked.
Muichirō shook his head, a faint confusion in his eyes. "I don't know. It feels as though… something was calling me here."
At that moment, Kokushibō emerged from another room, and their eyes met.
The instant they faced each other, Kokushibō sensed a familiar aura from Muichirō—something achingly nostalgic.
Muichirō, too, felt the same inexplicable pull.
Activating the Transparent World, Kokushibō examined the boy's physical form. After a long silence, he murmured in awe, "So that's it… You are my descendant. Child, what is your name?"
"Muichirō Tokitō."
A trace of melancholy crossed Kokushibō's face. "So the 'Tsugikuni' name has been lost… How regrettable."
He composed himself, then asked gently, "Muichirō, do you have any family left?"
Muichirō shook his head. "No. None."
Kokushibō's expression darkened with sorrow. He beckoned softly for the boy to come closer.
Normally aloof and sharp-tongued, Muichirō surprised everyone by walking over obediently.
With a look of remorse, Kokushibō placed a hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair gently. "Muichirō… forgive me. As your ancestor, I've brought too much misfortune upon your family."
Muichirō froze, eyes wide. The warmth of that gesture—the tenderness of being cared for—felt strangely familiar.
Familiar… yet distant.
He gazed blankly up at Kokushibō's face and asked, "Are you really my ancestor? I lost my memories… I can't recall anything. Not even my parents—I have no image of them at all."
Seeing the confusion and sadness in Muichirō's eyes, Kokushibō's heart twisted painfully.
"You will remember… someday," he said softly.
Ever since overcoming sunlight, Kokushibō's sensitivity to souls had become unusually sharp.
Though invisible to the naked eye, he could feel the presence of a particular soul following him—gentle and radiant like the sun itself.
He knew—it was Yoriichi's soul, silently watching over him.
And now, he sensed three souls surrounding Muichirō.
Recalling his past encounters with Yoriichi's spirit, Kokushibō had learned that only through a powerful, mutual longing could souls manifest to one another.
But since Yoriichi's spirit always appeared of its own will, Kokushibō didn't know how to summon it.
"Yoriichi… can you hear me?" Kokushibō murmured quietly. "Can you help Muichirō speak with those three souls?"
There was no response. Kokushibō sighed, thinking his plea had gone unheard—
when suddenly, the orb of light that represented Yoriichi's soul flickered.
Then, it slowly drifted away from Kokushibō's side—toward Muichirō.
The glowing soul circled him gracefully, spiraling around the three smaller orbs of light that floated near Muichirō's body, weaving and intertwining with them.
And as the orbs touched, the three souls began to shine with the brilliance of the sun—before merging gently into Muichirō's body.