HxH: I Will Be Supreme

Muzan met with Kokushibo and Doma once again.

But this time, something was terrifyingly wrong. Neither demon responded when he asked about their recent activities. As for Oboro, there was no trace of him to be found anywhere. The two Upper Moons acted as if they had never heard of the man who had so effortlessly dominated them both. When Muzan pressed them about Oboro, Kokushibo and Doma stared at him blankly, as though hearing the name for the first time.

This revelation sent a chill through Muzan's immortal heart.

Should he mobilize all twelve Demon Moons to hunt for this mysterious figure? The thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it immediately. Such a move would be catastrophic. The Demon Slayer Corps remained a constant threat. If he lost his Upper Moons in a futile search, his entire operation would crumble. His quest to find the blue spider lily and conquer the sun itself would come to a grinding halt.

Even more troubling was what had happened to Gyokko. Based on their encounter, it was clear that Oboro knew exactly who Muzan was. The demon king found himself facing an opponent whose true strength was unknown, whose allegiances were unclear, and whose existence posed a threat that could destroy him or prove invaluable as an ally.

"I've observed the Demon Slayer Corps' new breathing techniques," Muzan said, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence as he changed the subject. His crimson eyes narrowed with calculated menace. "Compared to their traditional forms, these new methods strengthen the human body far more significantly." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "They've grown bold in recent weeks. The Upper Moons are not irreplaceable, and my patience has limits. What happened with Gyokko, allowing two Hashira to escape, will not be tolerated again."

"Yes, Master Muzan," Kokushibo responded, bowing deeply. His six eyes reflected perfect understanding.

The demon king's message rang crystal clear through the Infinity Castle. It was time for the Upper Moons to launch a devastating counterattack against the Demon Slayer Corps. The swordsmen had grown too confident and comfortable in their recent victories. They needed to be reminded of their place in the natural order: as prey.

"How peculiar," Doma mused from his position, tilting his head with his eternally serene smile. "I have the strangest sensation that I've forgotten something important, but I can't quite recall why I'm here with Kokushibo-san in the first place." His rainbow eyes sparkled with genuine confusion, a rare display of uncertainty from the normally composed Upper Moon Two.

"Leave! Both of you," Muzan commanded coldly, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

The two Upper Moons departed without another word, their forms dissolving into the dimensional maze of the fortress.

Once alone, Muzan's composure finally cracked. His razor-sharp nails carved deep gouges into the wooden table before him as his mind raced with dark possibilities. He could still feel it, that moment when Oboro looked directly into his soul through their blood connection and that overwhelming presence that made even the demon king feel small and vulnerable.

Just as with Gyokko, neither Doma nor Kokushibo retained any memory of their encounter with this mysterious figure. The erasure was too clean and precise to be coincidental. This man, this force, was deliberately concealing his actions, but for what purpose?

"What does he want?" Muzan whispered to the empty chamber, his voice barely audible even to him.

Initially, Muzan had assumed that Oboro had aligned himself with the Demon Slayer Corps. After all, this enigmatic figure had taught them revolutionary breathing techniques that surpassed anything they had developed in centuries of warfare. Yet, the evidence contradicted this simple explanation: Gyokko, Doma, and Kokushibo had all returned unharmed from their encounters. Had Oboro truly opposed demonkind, three of his most powerful subordinates would have been reduced to ash.

Kokushibo's strength, in particular, was something Muzan deeply respected. The fact that such a warrior returned alive spoke volumes about either Oboro's restraint or his true intentions.

The uncertainty gnawed at him like acid. Until he could guarantee his own absolute safety, the wisest course was to keep his distance from Oboro while gathering intelligence from the shogunate's vast network. He would have to move carefully, staying in the shadows and avoiding detection at all costs.

While Muzan wrestled with paranoia and doubt in his fortress, Oboro sat calmly in his private chambers, studying a portrait held delicately between his fingers.

Though rendered in simple ink strokes, the artwork captured an otherworldly beauty that seemed to radiate from the parchment itself. The subject's features were refined to an almost supernatural degree, but it was the eyes that truly commanded attention, those unmistakably inhuman orbs that marked their owner as something far beyond mortal.

"Is this him?" Oboro asked, extending the portrait toward an elderly man who had traveled from distant provinces to answer his summons.

The old retainer's face turned pale the moment he caught a glimpse of the drawing. "Yes, my lord," he confirmed with a trembling nod. "That is definitely him."

The man in the portrait was Muzan Kibutsuji, one of the daimyo serving under the current shogunate.

Over the centuries, Muzan had covered his tracks expertly, erasing nearly every trace of his true identity to prevent the Demon Slayer Corps from locating him. However, the appearance of Kokushibo and Doma provided Oboro with the key he needed. In his position in the government, he had access to intelligence networks that could trace connections invisible to others.

After ascending to daimyo status, Muzan had lived in careful seclusion. Few had ever seen his true face, and even within the shogunate's inner circles, information about him remained scarce and heavily guarded. Maintaining the facade of a legitimate lord, though, required certain appearances and unavoidable interactions with other members of the ruling class.

There were always breadcrumbs to follow for those who knew where to look.

Oboro methodically combed through administrative records from multiple districts, cross-referencing unusual patterns and suspicious gaps in documentation. Through this analysis, he identified the daimyo Muzan based on his secretive behavior and the strange circumstances of his rise to power.

The portrait itself was Oboro's own creation, drawn from memory after their brief yet intense encounter via Gyokko's blood connection.

"Thank you for your service," Oboro said to the old man. "Chiyoko will see you out safely."

After the retainer departed with his escort, Oboro casually tossed the portrait into the nearby brazier. The flames consumed the ink and parchment hungrily, reducing Muzan's likeness to ash and smoke.

The demon king's position made perfect strategic sense when viewed objectively. In order to effectively search for the blue spider lily while simultaneously suppressing the Demon Slayer Corps and infiltrating various academic institutions, one needed both noble status and significant political power without drawing excessive attention from rivals or enemies. Within the current governmental structure, the daimyo class provided this balance of influence and relative anonymity.

Despite their centuries of leadership within the Demon Slayer Corps, the Ubuyashiki clan lacked comparable reach into the shogunate's machinery. Their power remained largely confined to their traditional networks of swordsmen and supporters.

Furthermore, the Ubuyashiki family had likely sensed Muzan's presence within the government, yet their cautious nature prevented them from acting openly. They understood the risks of attracting attention from such a deeply embedded enemy.

In this complex game of shadows, status inequality created blind spots that even the most dedicated demon slayers could not overcome. However, Oboro's authority transcended Muzan's carefully constructed position.

His influence within the shogunate operated on a different level entirely, making concealment from his scrutiny nearly impossible.

"The inheritance system," Oboro mused with quiet amusement. "How wonderfully predictable."

Muzan had inherited his daimyo position through manipulation and the strategic elimination of the previous holder. For both Muzan and the Demon Slayer Corps, the shogunate was nothing more than a useful tool, a means to an end that neither side wanted disrupted by their ancient war.

Dragging the government directly into their conflict would be catastrophic for everyone involved. The Demon Slayer Corps had always operated under Ubuyashiki's leadership, maintaining their independence and inherited mission across generations. If secular authorities seized control, that precious autonomy would vanish overnight. The accumulated wisdom and unwavering will of countless swordsmen would be corrupted by political maneuvering and bureaucratic compromise.

The human cost would be staggering as well.

For Muzan, governmental scrutiny posed an even more existential threat. He had spent centuries carefully controlling the number of demons to avoid detection and maintain his supremacy. If the shogunate turned its full attention toward hunting demons, the resulting pressure would force him to create vast numbers of new demons to defend himself. Such rapid expansion would inevitably lead to chaos and rebellion within his ranks, the exact scenario he feared most.

Once he lost control over his subordinates, rival demons would emerge to challenge his authority as the demon king. His entire power structure would collapse.

Therefore, in this carefully balanced world, power was concentrated within two opposing forces: the demons and the human swordsmen who hunted them. The secular government was merely background scenery, useful but ultimately irrelevant to the real struggle.

"But precisely because you all hold this narrow perspective," Oboro murmured to himself, "the overall power system remains fundamentally limited. The size of the soil determines the harvest yield."

His philosophical musings were interrupted by approaching footsteps. Chiyoko had returned, but she wasn't alone. Daisuke Hayado from the magistrate's office stood respectfully at the doorway, his normally composed demeanor replaced by obvious agitation.

"What has happened?" Oboro asked, though his calm tone suggested he already suspected the nature of the crisis.

"My lord, there has been a significant incident in Edo," Hayado reported, quickly advancing to kneel in formal supplication. His voice carried the weight of momentous news.

"Explain."

"That person is dead," Hayado managed, swallowing hard before continuing.

The person he referenced was undoubtedly the true head of the Tokugawa family: the current shogun.

"How did he die?" Oboro inquired with detached curiosity. When Oboro had last visited Edo Castle, the ruler had appeared to be in robust health. Natural death seemed highly unlikely, which meant

"He was murdered during the night," Hayado reported in a barely audible whisper. "Based on eyewitness descriptions, the assassin strongly resembles Zechuan, the boy who escaped from Youguo." He paused, gathering courage for the most damning revelation. "Someone managed to sketch the murderer's appearance, and it matches the descriptions provided by Youguo survivors almost perfectly."

This connection explained why Hayado had sought out Oboro personally. The implications were staggering.

"I see. Yes, I understand," Oboro replied with remarkable composure, showing no surprise at this dramatic turn of events.

For a demon, killing an ordinary human, even one as highly placed as the shogun, required minimal effort. However, until now, Muzan had strictly controlled his subordinates, forbidding attacks on high-ranking government officials to avoid triggering massive institutional changes that could expose or threaten his position.

But now

"The game begins in earnest," Oboro whispered, a knowing smile playing across his features as the full scope of Muzan's desperation became clear.