Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

Chapter 288 Heart

"Rinko, is that what you think?"

The sound came from not far away, from the man lying on the ground, the man bathed in sunlight, covered in wounds and tightly wrapped in bandages, who could have died at any moment without anyone finding it strange.

Even so, Ubuyashiki refused to just lie there and die quietly. Instead, she spoke again, in that gentle voice, as light as the wind and as soft as fluffy bread.

Rinko frowned slightly.

A very obvious expression of emotion.

Unhappy.

But to be honest, beneath such a simple and straightforward expression...

That reason.

He was a little confused, not because he disliked it, no, he didn't dislike Ubuyashiki.

It's not because of dissatisfaction; it's different, seemingly more complicated, yet also quite simple—a pure simplicity. It's not a simple emotion, but a feeling that seems harder to describe in words.

Almost a subtle kind of fear?

After eliminating all the words he could think of, Rinko thought of this word for the first time in a long time. It was a very simple word that he had learned a long, long time ago. He had always understood it, but he had never truly grasped its meaning. This was because he was not afraid most of the time. His fear of everything stemmed from his appreciation for what he already possessed and his reluctance to lose it. He wanted to obtain something but was afraid of not getting it, hence his fear.

Fear is a biological instinct, but Rinko mostly doesn't understand this emotion, nor does she possess this instinct.

He is not afraid of death.

Living things are born to die. He is not afraid of death, nor does he care about living. If you have to say, he just wants to die in a way that is useful.

So it couldn't be fear, and he crossed that word out as well.

"So what is this?" Rinko asked herself.

It seems to feel out of place.

A strange contrast, something I'm not used to.

Not adaptable.

he thinks.

He didn't hate it, he didn't hate any of it, he didn't hate Ubuyashiki talking to him, he didn't hate Ubuyashiki's voice, he didn't even hate these comments that sounded almost offensive to him, but it was also hard to consider all of it as something he liked.

But if you say you don't like it, Rinko feels that's not quite right either.

How can I describe this moment?

How can I describe this feeling?

Rinko pondered.

There is no answer.

But I have memories.

He recalled a scene from many years ago, a cold winter, but the surroundings were not cold, but damp and warm. What was it? He recalled, speculated, and belatedly realized.

It's a hot spring.

Many years ago, one winter, he had a similar feeling of unease, different yet similar.

The hot spring was very hot, almost scalding to the body temperature of a ghost, but it wasn't uncomfortable or painful, just strange. The water was cold, the snow was cold, the ghost was cold, but the hot spring was hot, with steam rising and blurring the boundaries of the world. The falling snow melted before it even touched the skin, and was actually still cold when it landed on the face.

It was like a dream.

That's unrealistic and strange.

Contrast.

Soaking in that water, his body temperature rose—a ghost's body temperature shouldn't be that high. He lost his mind because of that change, his consciousness became blurred, and he almost seemed 'sick.' In that instant, he was almost like a human.

Soft, fragile, and warm.

But that can't be true.

Only that feeling of dizziness was real—a blurry, vertigo, and an unfamiliar sensation.

I'm not used to it, I'm not used to it, I feel uncomfortable.

The scenes in my memory overlap with everything before my eyes; they are different, yet similar.

Just like everything right in front of me.

The voice was so gentle, so pure and calm, it almost sounded like a silent expression of goodwill.

It was as if he encountered a cat on the roof, but the cat did not avoid him or ignore him. Instead, it took a step and walked towards him along the route the cat originally intended to take. It did not drive him away, show its claws, or reveal its sharp teeth.

What he was about to encounter was not even a test, not a wary look, not a wet nose, but simply soft paw pads.

The cat approached him, its paws stepping on his legs, the weight pressing heavily on his shoulders, affecting his heart.

I don't understand what you're saying.

Rinko spoke up during a pause in his thoughts, after the Ubuyashiki had fallen silent and his mind had briefly stopped. He hoped to find a clue to unravel the mystery.

Ubuyashiki is like the cat that puts its paw on his leg.

Even though he didn't come over, he didn't leave either. It wasn't a test, nothing. His voice replaced the soft fur that brushed against him, and his words became weight, from his fingers to his blood, from his ears to his heart.

When Rinko began to realize this, just like when facing that cat, he stepped back, maintaining a subtle sense of distance, like another cat asserting its territory.

He used to remove the cat from his lap, but now he denies Ubuyashiki's words.

"How should I put it? I think Rinko actually possesses a lot."

But sound is invisible, weightless, intangible, unstoppable, and inescapable. What surprised Rinko even more was that he felt he wanted to keep listening.

"Go on."

So that's how he answered.

If thought could produce sound, if ideas could travel through the air, this room would be incredibly noisy right now.

"Rinko, in your own life, you've gained so much, possessed so much—experiences of growth, things you've been through, friends you've made, humanity—so much. But you were just too busy running, running in one direction, leaving them all behind somewhere, or perhaps you were running too fast and let go of their hands. You were busy covering your ears, closing your eyes, running endlessly in that darkness, so you couldn't hear anything, you couldn't see anything. Even when you stopped briefly, you only felt, 'Ah, so you have nothing after all…'"

The brief pause, for a slow breath, showed how critically ill he was.

Lin Guang thought.

Perhaps I won't live much longer.

Will Muzan be able to find this man in time, or will Ubuyashiki die in front of him first?

Lin Guang thought.

Humans are truly pitiful. When a disease reaches its terminal stage, there is no cure. All they can do is wait for death to approach step by step, enduring pain with fear and despair every minute and every second. They cannot eat because they are sick, they are hungry because they cannot eat, and they have no strength to recover because they are hungry.

sad.

"But actually, you already have a lot. You just need to let go, open your eyes, listen, and see. You will realize that they are all there. They are beside you, in your heart."

absurd.

nonsense.

What nonsense.

Rinko sat there quietly, but after hearing those words and realizing what Ubuyashiki was talking about, those words had already popped into his head.

He just hasn't said those words out loud yet.

“You have a lot. Rinko. It’s not that you have nothing, and it’s not that you only have one path to choose.”

It's starting to get a little annoying.

Lin Guang thought.

Because they were at a loss.

He realized he wasn't good at dealing with this. He couldn't sense any malice in these seemingly harmless remarks because they didn't exist. It was just a gentle voice, a flat narration, and even the words weren't particularly harsh. Yet, these words still made him so uncomfortable.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his breathing became heavier—a slight but enough expression to convey the extra, heavier breath in the quiet space.

I hope it was malicious.

If it were just accusations and reprimands, that would be fine, as they are baseless malice, provocations, and offenses.

He can break the opponent's hands and feet, crush every bone, take out the opponent's heart, and rip out that disrespectful tongue.

But that's not it.

Rinko simply sat there.

He realized it belatedly.

Suddenly, in a heavy breath, as air filled my lungs and my chest expanded to its limit, a dull, throbbing pain came from my lungs and pressed against my heart.

He realized it.

I understand what this feeling is all about.

Just like a ghost whose body temperature is too low to adapt to the heat of a hot spring, forcing it to adapt will only burn its brain.

same.

The tranquil heart in my chest could not bear such profound kindness. There was no wariness, no reprimand, no harsh criticism, and it could not even be called an opinion; it was simply a story, simply an explanation.

This is too difficult to understand.

He had seen so much malice in the world, yet when faced with the utterly harmless calm of Ubuyashiki, he found it hard to even breathe.

This is so contradictory.

The heart of a demon cannot comprehend human emotions, nor can it bear human feelings.

It cracks and heals in silence, again and again.

Each time it cracks, fragments fall off; each time it heals, new flesh grows.