Chapter 2 – The Fault Line
It had been a full week since Kyūjō completed the funeral rites for his father.
Now, he sat alone in the main room of the quiet Tachibana residence, holding a handwritten letter—the final keepsake left behind by his father. Though the handwriting was shaky and faint, every word was filled with warmth and hope.
For the past ten years, ever since the memories of his past life resurfaced, Kyūjō had never truly understood what kind of world he had reincarnated into.
At first, he thought he'd been thrown into Japan's Meiji era—a time of rapid change, modernization, and social upheaval at the tail end of the 19th century.
But the more time passed, the more things didn't add up.
History, geography, society—too many things were off. Too many contradictions compared to the world he once knew.
And today, with the words written in his father's farewell letter… everything finally clicked into place.
He finally understood what kind of world he now lived in.
— — —
> "Kyūjō,"
"There's nothing more I can teach you about kenjutsu. You've long surpassed me."
"All I ask is that you continue walking the path of the sword. Carry my will and climb to the very peak."
"But listen carefully to what I'm about to say. This is important."
"In this world, there exist terrifying creatures known as oni—man-eating demons."
"They only appear at night. They have fangs and claws like beasts, monstrous strength, and cannot be harmed by ordinary weapons."
"Only sunlight… and one specific kind of blade called Nichirin can sever their necks and truly kill them."
"These swords are forged by a secretive organization called the Demon Slayer Corps—a group that has battled oni for thousands of years."
"Heh… you might think I'm joking, Kyūjō."
"Honestly, I wish I were. I hope you'll never have to meet one of those monsters yourself…" <
— — —
"Nichirin… Demon Slayer Corps…"
The names echoed in Kyūjō's mind like a bell struck deep in his soul.
Memories from his previous life flickered to the surface.
"So… this is really the world of Kimetsu no Yaiba, huh?" he thought, closing his eyes.
"Looks like I've been dropped right into the middle of it."
— — —
Three months later.
In the courtyard of the now-abandoned Tachibana estate, Kyūjō stood before a large, rounded boulder nearly chest-high.
In his hands was a weathered katana—his father's blade. The curved steel stretched roughly 110 centimeters, its edge catching the sunlight with a glint of lethal beauty.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the stone.
But he didn't swing immediately.
Instead, he slowed his breathing, grounded his stance, and aligned every fiber of his body in perfect harmony.
Although he hadn't yet learned any official Breathing Techniques like those used by the Demon Slayers, he understood how to regulate his body's rhythm—how to draw out maximum power from minimal movement.
In the Kimetsu no Yaiba story, before Tanjiro Kamado could join the Demon Slayer Corps, his master Urokodaki Sakonji gave him one final test:
To cleave a massive boulder in a single strike.
Tanjiro only succeeded after a full year of brutal training—and with the help of two departed spirits, Sabito and Makomo.
Now, this boulder was Kyūjō's self-imposed trial.
If he could slice through it, he would leave the Tachibana estate and begin searching for the Demon Slayer Corps.
If he failed… he'd wait. He wasn't reckless enough to march into the unknown without preparation—especially not against oni.
He had no Breathing Techniques, no Nichirin Blade.
And he had no desire to die again hoping for a third reincarnation.
Who knew if luck would be on his side next time?
That said… if the demon wasn't an Upper Moon or something ridiculous, Kyūjō felt he could still handle it.
His swordsmanship had already reached the level of a Hashira. And with his ability—Kenshin Tōmei, the Sword Heart That Sees Through All Things—he had full confidence in his skill.
"If our physical conditions were equal… I doubt even the Hashira could match me," Kyūjō thought calmly.
But there was one flaw.
He still didn't possess the raw strength, stamina, or explosiveness granted by Breathing Techniques.
And that made all the difference.
— — —
Kyūjō had first perceived the Fault Line—Kūkaku no Sen—six months ago, right after reaching the stage of Kenshin Tōmei.
But seeing it wasn't enough.
The fault line was the structural weak point within an object—a hidden line running through the balance of tension and fragility.
If the object moved, so too would the end of the fault. It was always shifting.
But this boulder was still.
The issue wasn't locating the line.
It was breaking through it.
Even with perfect perception, Kyūjō's strength hadn't been enough to cut along the fault. That's when he realized he had two options:
One—learn a Breathing Technique. Strengthen his body, enhance his strikes, and push through the weakness with raw power.
But if he couldn't find the Demon Slayer Corps… that route was as good as dead.
Which left the second option.
To deepen his understanding of the Fault Line.
To evolve Kenshin Tōmei until he could see not just the fault itself—but the true weakness within the weakness.
Like an architect who could pinpoint the exact spot where a structure would collapse—not from outside damage, but from the first internal crack.
That's what he needed.
To make the boulder collapse… from within.
Kyūjō stared at the stone before him.
"I need to destroy this from the deepest point... from the core that supports the entire structure."
But of course, saying it was easier than doing it.
— — —
Three more months passed.
The vibrating hum of a katana echoed through the silent courtyard.
Then came the sound of stone crumbling apart.
The boulder had split—reduced to a dozen scattered chunks.
Kyūjō let out a long breath.
His face was pale, drenched in sweat. His head throbbed like a blade had been driven through his skull.
But still, he calmly returned the katana to its sheath.
His eyes lingered on the shattered stone.
Raising one hand to his temple, he muttered,
"…This should count as a success, right?"
"That technique's insanely destructive… but it drained me like hell."
"It honestly feels like my brain's about to explode."
— — —
A week later.
Tachibana Kyūjō left the town where he had lived for fourteen years.
On his back was a large wooden box—similar in style to the one Kamado Tanjiro carried—and a long cloth-wrapped bundle: his father's katana.
He had sold the old Tachibana estate.
And about that… Kyūjō felt the need to clarify.
It wasn't because he was unfilial.
But the truth was… the Tachibana family had gone completely bankrupt.
Years of his father's illness had drained all their savings.
To give him a proper burial, Kyūjō had gone deep into debt—using the estate as collateral.
And after six more months of training and surviving on his own…
He had nothing left.
Now, Kyūjō was just one more wanderer in an unfamiliar world.
No better off than the Kamado family had been… right before their tragedy.
— — —
As the sun dipped below the hills in the distance, he gazed toward the horizon and murmured,
"…They say the Demon Slayer Corps pays pretty well, huh?"
"In that case… I'd better find them soon."
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