Edo Castle – The Shogunate
Oboro sat upright in a formal kimono inside the grand hall, where music and merriment never ceased. Before him on a low table lay exquisite pastries and fine sake.
A troupe of female dancers performed, moving in rhythm with the slow, plucked notes of stringed instruments. To Oboro, their thick white makeup made them look like painted dolls – a style he found entirely unappealing.
Apart from him, the hall was filled with many high-ranking officials and military commanders of the Shogunate. But the center of attention was the man seated at the very front – a direct descendant of Tokugawa, the current ruler of the country.
Oboro watched these powerful men indulging in wine, women, and luxury. He slowly set down his sake cup. As the performance ended and the dancers withdrew, he stood up and bowed politely.
"Please excuse me. My health is still fragile, and I would hate to dampen the festivities."
All eyes turned toward him, each face showing a different expression – some understanding, some indifferent, and a few faintly mocking.
The Tokugawa Lord did not seem displeased, waving a hand to let Oboro leave as he pleased. Everyone here knew that Oboro had been sickly and weak since childhood.
It was common knowledge that just recently, he had been on the verge of death and had barely clung to life.
Among the guests was also a senior relative of Oboro's – the very man responsible for securing his family's influential standing.
His lineage could be traced back to the loyal retainers who helped the Tokugawa clan unify the land and establish the Edo period.
Stepping out into the corridor, the noise and laughter faded behind him, replaced by a cold, aloof expression on Oboro's face.
He was deeply interested in the world's power system and its evolution, but he held absolutely no desire to interfere with politics or rule. In this world, martial power and governing authority were completely separate – quite unlike the interconnected structures he had known in his previous life.
Still, he had made a point to understand the situation thoroughly. The Edo period was defined by closed borders, strict class hierarchy, and cruel, arbitrary laws. It was hardly surprising that rebellions and uprisings were frequent across the country.
Every year, the Shogunate executed nearly two thousand prisoners. That number was deceptively large – it only accounted for criminals within the capital's jurisdiction. Anyone thrown into prison faced brutal torture and punishment; justice was rare, and injustice was rampant.
To make matters worse, the Shogunate's treasury was empty, weighed down by massive debts. Meanwhile, those in power revelled in their status, drunk on privilege and completely out of touch with reality.
From every angle, it was clear that the days of the Shogunate were numbered.
"Still... I have things I need to do. After all, I intend to live for a very long time..."
---
Several days later, Oboro left Edo Castle and began his journey back to the Entertainment District.
He traveled in a palanquin carried by bearers, moving slowly along the roads.
There was still a long time before the main events of this world would unfold. Oboro's plan was simple: use this time to refine his body, nurture his vitality, and extend his lifespan.
Much like Isaac Netero from his previous world, he aimed to live well past one hundred years – perhaps even two hundred.
The methods he used to temper his flesh and blood were beyond the comprehension of anyone in this world.
However, even though he could break many of this world's limitations, there was still a ceiling to what he could achieve. Laws differed between worlds.
In Hunter x Hunter, he could easily live for centuries; here, it might prove much harder. If necessary, he would simply rely on Muzan's blood again to sustain himself.
"Hm?"
Oboro raised an eyebrow, a faint, amused smile appearing on his face.
They were traveling along a major road, and unnoticed until now, a black bird circled high in the sky above them.
It was a Kasugai Crow.
"Am I being targeted already?" Oboro wondered inwardly.
In Ubuyashiki Hisano's eyes, Oboro was a demon now. Even though it was broad daylight, staying inside the enclosed palanquin made him appear all the more suspicious.
But Oboro knew Hisano was a shrewd man. He possessed great wisdom and intellect, which was his greatest weapon since he lacked physical strength.
Oboro had given the Demon Slayer Corps the breathing techniques. Combined with the reports from Ichiei and Tenjuro, Hisano would have realised exactly how dangerous and powerful Oboro was.
"Even knowing that... you still choose to come after me?"
It wasn't difficult for Ubuyashiki to track him down. After all, the clan had deep connections and intelligence networks within the Shogunate.
"So this is the resolve of the Demon Slayer Corps?" Oboro murmured softly.
He found the feeling strangely interesting...
Even without seeing a single swordsman, just sensing the presence of the crow was enough to detect the underlying intent to kill.
They were willing to throw their lives away, even if the odds were impossible. Their determination to eradicate demons was absolute and unshakeable.
In his previous world, most wills he had encountered were individualistic – personal ambitions and desires. Hunter x Hunter was a world that truly celebrated individual strength.
Even large organisations like the Hunter Association were filled with strong-willed people who never truly united as one. Everyone was ultimately selfish in their own way.
If Hunters could have united like the Demon Slayer Corps, Isaac Netero's fate might have been very different.
There were many powerful figures in his past life, but there was never this sense of collective inheritance and shared purpose. Groups like the Phantom Troupe were not bound by heritage or duty – each member had their own motives and thoughts.
It was only the magnetic personality and leadership of Chrollo Lucilfer that drew them together. Deep down, they remained individuals walking toward a shared goal.
Yet here, in this small, lower-level world, Oboro found this rare and beautiful concept of Legacy and Shared Will.
It all came down to history, culture, and circumstance.
Throughout the entire day, Oboro did not step outside the palanquin. Occasionally, the bearers would set it down to rest, and his two handmaidens would pass food and water inside.
Night fell. They were approaching their next resting place.
Then – the Demon Slayer Corps made their move.
At first, shadows flickered along the roadside, accompanied by faint sounds of movement. Chiyoko and Rina, walking beside the palanquin, glanced around nervously, but saw nothing unusual.
They had no guards because Oboro had no need for them. Though they were confident in their master's strength, running into bandits or thieves would still be an annoyance.
Suddenly, they froze. A graceful figure descended from the dark sky like a bird of prey. It was a woman with a long braid. Her haori fluttered around her, shimmering with iridescent colours under the moonlight, as if woven from thousands of gemstones.
Landing lightly on top of the palanquin, her feet touched down with terrifying force. The wooden poles snapped instantly with loud cracks, and the entire carriage crashed heavily to the ground. The bearers were thrown aside, groaning in pain.
At almost the exact same moment, two figures darted out from the darkness, knocking out the bearers and handmaidens before swiftly carrying them away.
In mere seconds, the road was empty. All that remained was the broken palanquin, and the woman standing atop it.
It was the Sound Pillar – Sayuri.
"Well, my Lord... you certainly remain calm," Sayuri sneered, tapping the wood with the tip of her foot. "Or have you simply accepted your fate?"
Without waiting for an answer, light flashed in her hand.
Her slender, whip-like blade pierced straight through the roof and plunged deep inside.
But her grip told her instantly – the blade had hit nothing but air.
"Empty?"
Her eyes widened in shock. It was impossible. She had locked onto his aura moments ago.
The curtains swayed gently. The rustle of fabric came from a few metres away. Sayuri turned sharply, her pupils contracting.
Standing there, watching her with a faint smile, was the man in the black haori.
So fast!
A chill ran down Sayuri's spine.
"Impressive... Is this the power of your shared will? I truly underestimated you all..." Oboro chuckled softly.
Even though he retained barely a trace of Muzan's cells inside him, this Pillar could still sense it clearly.
To attack him meant she had already determined he was no longer purely human. This kind of perception – this instinct – was something almost impossible to train or learn.
Even Oboro himself sometimes overlooked the faint, almost imperceptible aura he gave off unless he focused his attention.
He had no intention of explaining his current state. There was no need, and he saw no point in wasting words.
Looking around, he saw three swordsmen blocking the road ahead, and another three behind him. Among them were Ichiei and Tenjuro.
All seven Pillars.
"I see... so you've gathered everyone. All seven of you at once..."
Oboro laughed softly.
They had mobilised every top combatant in the Demon Slayer Corps, united in their resolve to execute him.
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