Chapter 32: Who Is Itachi?
『ＲＹＯＮ』
Enjoy~~
Silence enveloped the Tokyo Jujutsu High dormitory, as pale moonlight slipped through the curtains. In that room, Yukihara Ren was fast asleep—but his mind was not there. His soul had crossed the boundaries of time and space, returning him to days when the sun felt warmer and the grass greener.
In the dream, Ren was once again that six-year-old child.
He dragged his feet slowly toward the small wooden house, his body screaming in pain. Every muscle, every bone groaned under the hellish training that the "System" had forced upon his small body.
"I'm back…" he muttered hoarsely as he opened the door.
The moment he stepped inside, the warm scent of miso soup greeted him—along with the face of his mother, Yumi, which was a terrifying blend of worry and anger. She stood there holding a wooden ladle like a Nichirin sword, pointing it toward the window where the sun was beginning to set.
"Ren!" Yumi shouted in a tone that made him jump despite his exhaustion.
"Did you look at the sky? The sun is setting! Were you planning to spend the night with the bears in the forest?! My heart almost stopped from worry, you brat!"
Ren raised his hands in surrender and tried to draw an innocent smile on his mud-covered face.
"Sorry, Mom… I got absorbed in… contemplating nature?"
"Contemplating nature while covered in bruises?" Yumi sighed, her expression shifting from anger to tenderness in an instant.
She stepped closer and wiped the dirt from his cheek with the edge of her sleeve.
"My goodness, look at you… Go take a bath right now. Dinner is already ready."
"Yes, ma'am!" Ren shouted as he ran off, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
After a warm dinner—filled with Yumi's comical scolding about Ren eating too fast—his little sister Sakura approached him. Her eyes sparkled with hope as she held a cute cloth doll.
"Big brother…" she said softly, tugging at the sleeve of his kimono.
"Will you play with me now? You promised you'd be the prince when we play again!"
Ren looked at her. He really wanted to. Truly. But his body felt heavy, and his eyelids weighed tons. Today's training had been so brutal he could barely lift his arm.
Ren smiled—a calm smile that hid so much behind it. He slowly raised his hand, and with a smooth, gentle motion, brought his index and middle fingers together and lightly tapped Sakura's forehead.
"Sorry, Sakura…" he whispered warmly, his eyes filled with deep apology.
"Later, okay?"
Sakura blinked in surprise, touching her forehead—then broke into a wide smile.
"Okay! You promise!"
"I promise. I'm not Itachi…" Ren said with a wry smile.
"Who is Itachi?" Sakura asked curiously. Her innocent curiosity made Ren smile, happy to have such a sweet little sister.
…
In his room in Tokyo, Ren's eyes slowly opened.
There was no old wooden ceiling—only a modern one. No smell of miso soup—only the scent of loneliness.
He felt something cold running down his cheeks. Raising a hand to his face, he realized silent tears had been falling as he slept.
He sat up on the bed and let out a deep sigh that shook his chest, gazing out the window at the first threads of dawn cutting through Tokyo's sky.
"Later, huh?" he muttered brokenly, clenching his grip on the blanket.
"I hope you're all okay… all of you."
---
In the Demon Slayer world, at the Butterfly Mansion.
Inside a pristine white room, cold morning light seeped in. A small girl sat on a hard wooden chair—Yukihara Sakura, only a few years old, yet looking decades older.
In front of her, lying on a medical bed, was her brother's body.
Yukihara Ren.
The youngest Hashira in history. A miracle of the Demon Slayer Corps. He lay there motionless, his chest rising and falling painfully slowly, as if life were clinging to him by a thin thread. His skin was pale as snow, his eyes closed in a sleep that felt eternal.
Two months had passed. Sixty days and nights since that battle.
Sakura was no longer the child who cried after falling down. Her eyes had changed. The innocence once filling them had been replaced by a cold, resolute gaze—filled with something no child should ever know: hatred.
Every night, she closed her eyes and saw the same nightmare.
She saw Ren standing in a field of flowers, smiling at her with that bright smile, opening his arms wide.
"Sakura, come!" he called.
She ran toward him, happiness filling her heart. But just centimeters before she could touch him, a black shadow appeared—a terrifying entity with blood-red eyes emerging from nothingness.
With a sound that tore at the soul, the shadow's hand pierced Ren's chest.
Splash.
Ren's eyes widened, his smile twisting into silent pain before he collapsed lifelessly. The demon dissolved into smoke, its mocking laughter echoing through the air.
"You failed… He wasn't strong enough to protect you."
She always woke up gasping, cold sweat soaking her body, tears drenching her pillow. But in the morning, she wore her mask.
Sakura looked at her sleeping brother and drew a perfectly crafted, terrifyingly fake smile.
"Good morning, big brother," she whispered steadily.
"Mom is crying outside again. Don't worry—I'll go calm her down. I won't let her break."
She stood and walked into the hallway. From the adjacent room came muffled sobs—her mother, Yumi, whose eyes had lost their light since Ren fell.
Sakura clenched her small fists until her knuckles turned white.
"Maybe we underestimated how attached we were to you, big brother—and you died too easily," she thought bitterly.
"But it's fine. I'll become strong. I'll kill every demon in this world so Mom never cries again."
---
On Mount Sagiri, high in the mountains where snow never melted, the old master Urokodaki Sakonji stepped out of his wooden hut.
He had just checked on Nezuko, who remained in her long slumber. It made him sigh sadly—fate had not been kind to these children.
He walked a few steps through the deep snow, stopping at a sight that had become daily routine for the past two months.
Kamado Tanjiro.
The red-haired boy with the scar on his forehead swung his sword amid the blizzard. But this was no ordinary training. There were no spirited shouts, no breaks.
Tanjiro swung his blade with frightening focus, his eyes empty of all but cold determination.
Swish… Swish… Swish…
The sound of the sword cutting through the air was the only thing that could be heard.
Urokodaki remembered Ren. Remembered how that arrogant, clever child used to fill this mountain with life. His laughter, his gentle teasing, and that gesture he always made—tapping Tanjiro's forehead with two fingers.
"You did it, big-forehead!" he would say with a smile whenever Tanjiro succeeded in training.
"Tanjiro…" Urokodaki called quietly.
Tanjiro stopped, but didn't turn right away. Steam rose from his body from the heat of training amid the cold.
"Yes, Urokodaki-san?" Tanjiro replied in an unnaturally calm voice.
Urokodaki looked at his student's back with sorrow. Tanjiro hadn't moved on. He hadn't accepted Ren's "death" as something fleeting. Instead, he embraced his hatred for demons and mixed it with grief to forge endless fuel.
"You're pushing yourself too hard. Ren wouldn't be happy seeing you like this."
Tanjiro tightened his grip on the sword.
"Ren isn't here to give his opinion, Urokodaki-san. And if I want to protect him when he wakes up… if I want to save Nezuko… I have to be stronger. Stronger than any demon."
He'll wake up then…
Urokodaki sighed. In the end, Tanjiro was still Tanjiro. He felt relief seeing that hope still clung to him.
The old man looked up at the gray sky.
"Another gloomy day… after your departure, Ren."
---
At the Butterfly Mansion, in Kocho Shinobu's laboratory.
Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira, stood before a table filled with tubes and colored liquids. She tried to focus on the antidote, but her hand trembled slightly.
"Ara ara… that annoying child," she muttered with her usual smile—one that didn't reach her eyes this time.
"Didn't he say the strong never fall that day?"
She squeezed the vial in her hand until it nearly shattered.
"Wake up, you idiot… I only feel guilt and pain when I see your family now…"
---
Elsewhere, the Wind Hashira trained in one of the designated training grounds.
Sanemi Shinazugawa smashed a wooden training dummy with absolute brutality, shattering it into splinters.
"Tsk! Weak!" Sanemi shouted, spitting blood from his lip where he'd bitten it in rage.
"How dare he fall? He challenged me and said he'd surpass me! Don't die, you bastard Ren! If you die before I beat you, I'll kill you myself!"
(Ren: Huh? Seriously… man, I don't think I'll come back to you guys. Okay, maybe I'll come back for Sakura.)
His rage was obvious, but anyone who truly knew Sanemi would realize his shouting was the only way he could suppress his worry.
---
Beneath a cherry blossom tree, somewhere else.
Tomioka Giyu, the Water Hashira, sat alone as usual, staring at his reflection in a small pond.
"He was… too bright," Giyu thought silently. He remembered how Ren tried to pull him into conversation, how he mocked his isolation.
"Stagnant water rots… that's what he told me. And now, he's the one who stagnated."
("I don't know what to write in this chapter 🙃")
Giyu tossed a stone into the pond, shattering his reflection.
"Don't die. Your family needs you… and I… may have grown used to your annoyance."
---
In a local restaurant.
Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, sat before dozens of empty plates.
"UMAI! (Delicious!)" he shouted loudly—but the enthusiasm was slightly lacking.
He paused, looking at the empty seat across from him.
"Young man! The flame in your heart must not go out!" he said to the empty chair.
"I'll wait for your return so we can eat sweet potatoes together! Your passion reminded me of myself! Don't surrender to the darkness!"
---
In a vast bamboo forest.
Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira, gazed at the clouds.
"What was his name again? That boy who moved like a storm…"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Ren… Yukihara Ren. Yes."
A strange ache pierced his chest—an unfamiliar feeling.
"Why does the sky feel a little narrower? Is it because he died so quickly? Or because I never got my revenge for losing to him…"
He returned his gaze to the clouds, but for the first time, he couldn't forget a name.
---
As for Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira, he was at a temple, rubbing his prayer beads and crying openly, tears flowing like a waterfall.
"Namu Amida Butsu… what a tragedy… a child in the bloom of life, falling on the battlefield…"
He clasped his hands tightly, veins bulging.
"I pray for your soul, my son. Your strength was a blessing, and your fate a trial. May God be with your mother and sister."
---
Days passed—heavy, slow, and painful.
In the Demon Slayer world, everyone waited for a miracle. A miracle where Ren would awaken one day and finish what he started.
In the Jujutsu world, Ren stood before the window, wiping his tears and preparing for a new day—unaware that his memories had ignited flames of resolve in the hearts of those he left behind.
"I'll return…" Ren whispered as he put on his Jujutsu High uniform.
"One day, I'll return and fulfill that promise."
He raised two fingers and tapped the air in front of him, smiling sadly.
"Later… my little one."
---
End of Chapter 32.