HxH: I Will Be Supreme

Chapter 330: Chapter 330: Sequelae



He was a gentle yet powerful person.

This is how Tanjiro Kamado knows of Oboro—through stories passed down by the elders and whispered around hearth fires on cold mountain nights. The tales paint him as a figure who once walked among their ancestors with kindness in his heart and terrible strength in his hands, somewhere between legend and reality.

This knowledge runs deeper than the Sun Breathing techniques they've inherited. Unlike those ancient forms, which stretch back so far into history that their origins have blurred into myth, the stories of Oboro remain vivid and immediate. When the elders speak of him, their voices carry the weight of living memory rather than distant folklore.

At first, young Tanjiro knew only that Sun Breathing was a "treasure" passed down through generations—something precious that must be learned, protected, and continued. The Kagura dance is sacred, its movements carrying the hopes and responsibilities of all who came before.

It must not be lost. This truth had been hammered into him since childhood.

But as he grew older and stronger, strange visions began emerging from the depths of his soul memory. They were fragments of scenes that felt both foreign and familiar, like looking through windows into someone else's dreams. He gradually began to understand that what he practiced was more than just a breathing technique—it was power and promise, responsibility and remembrance.

He saw flashes of a samurai wearing the same Hanafuda earrings. The fabric of his haori caught the sunlight as he moved with impossible grace. The man's face remained unclear, but Tanjiro could feel the weight of his presence and the terrible burden he carried. This figure appeared in moments of violence and triumph, always fighting and protecting something precious.

Then came other visions: a warm hand touching his head and gentle fingers ruffling his hair. A blurry figure in a black haori spoke words that echoed across generations. The face was unclear in these memories, too. But, unlike the distant samurai, this presence felt achingly warm and familiar. Safe.

Tanjiro didn't know the first samurai; his father had never spoken of such things, preferring to focus on practical matters and daily survival. But he recognized the second person from family stories that stretched back only a few generations. That was Oboro, the man who had helped their clan survive when survival seemed impossible.

The first memory felt ancient, worn smooth by the passage of countless years. The second memory was sharp and immediate, close enough to the present that some of the older villagers still carried stories their grandparents had told them.

These hazy fragments began with an elder of the Kamado clan who had met Oboro in his youth, when the world was different and demons were multiplying in the shadows.

No matter what Tanjiro knew, no matter what memories flickered through his mind, the thing standing before him now was definitely not that man.

The stench hit him like a physical blow.

Oboro was definitely not the person in front of him!

The smell was beyond description—putrid and overwhelming, as if death itself had taken root and begun to fester. Through Tanjiro's enhanced vision, the figure seemed to seep black miasma, polluting everything it touched. Dark vapors rose from his skin like smoke from a funeral pyre, and the very air around him writhed with corruption.

"Your reaction comes from a man named Tanjiro Kamado, your ancestor," said the creature wearing Oboro's face with casual interest. "And from another man—Yoriichi Tsugikuni, who despised demons with every fiber of his being. You carry the blood of the Sun Breathing lineage, forever bound to conflict with demonkind. Demons brought Tanjiro Kamado and Yoriichi Tsugikuni together, and they will ensure your descendants bear the mission of eradicating demons from this world in the near future."

His smile was gentle, almost fond. "This was the original path.

"But now, everything has changed."

"Eri!" Tanjiro called sharply, not taking his eyes off the demon.

His wife understood immediately. She had lived on this mountain long enough to recognize the tone that meant serious danger. Without a word, she disappeared into the house and barred the door behind her. The sound of wood sliding against wood echoed through the clearing.

Everyone knew demons feared sunlight and burned to ash the moment dawn touched their skin. Yet this creature stood casually in the bright afternoon sun as if it were nothing more than a gentle breeze. The impossibility of it made Tanjiro's mind reel.

"I used demon blood to transform myself into something new," the creature explained. "Originally, you wouldn't have been able to detect my true nature. After all, having conquered sunlight, I'm no different from humans in most ways. I can walk freely under the sun, which means my body is no longer corrupted but an entirely new species."

His expression grew thoughtful, almost admiring. "But I underestimated the will of your Kamado clan and the beliefs you've held for generations. That power allows you to see through to my true origin, no matter what form I take."

His gentle smile never wavered. "Yes, in the end, I am still a demon."

"No..." Tanjiro's eyes began to turn red, not with rage, but with profound sadness.

He understood what the creature was telling him. It was admitting its identity in the cruelest way possible—by revealing that the legendary Oboro, whom his family had revered for generations, had become the very thing they were sworn to destroy.

The pain didn't feel entirely like his own emotions. Instead, it seemed to well up from somewhere deep inside, as if the grief of his ancestors was flowing through his blood and making itself known.

"No matter how much the world changes, your clan always responds the same way," Oboro observed with what sounded like genuine fondness. He watched Tanjiro's expression shift through anguish, wariness, and pain before finally settling into acceptance.

Oboro chuckled softly. "As I expected. Even knowing what I am, you've chosen to accept it."

"Why?" Tanjiro asked in a whisper.

There was no question about Oboro's power—that much was obvious just from standing near him. The air itself seemed to thicken with potential violence, like standing at the edge of an avalanche, waiting to fall. Unless he had wanted this transformation and chosen it willingly, no outside force could have been strong enough to change him against his will.

According to everything Tanjiro had been told, Oboro should have died over a century ago. Yet here he stood, young, vital, and terrifyingly alive.

"I wanted to remain in this world for a while longer," Oboro said simply.

Silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Tanjiro stared at the ground, clenching his fists as he struggled with the revelation. When he finally looked up, his face was calm but resolute.

"I'm sorry," he said formally, bowing his head. "I cannot invite you into our home."

The meaning was clear. As much as it pained him and as much as he respected Oboro's past, Tanjiro couldn't welcome a demon into his home. He could speak with the creature and treat him with the courtesy owed to someone who had helped his family survive. But as a husband, his first responsibility was to ensure his wife's safety.

If this had been Kamado Tanjuro or the future Tanjiro Kamado, their response might have been different under normal circumstances. The traditional Kamado temperament was to judge demons by their actions rather than their nature—as long as they caused no harm, they could be treated with compassion and understanding.

Tamayo had been proof of that possibility. Despite losing his entire family to Muzan's cruelty, Tanjiro had been able to see the humanity in demons who chose a different path.

But the world had changed since then. From the end of the Edo period to the present day, Oboro's interventions increased demonic influence throughout society. These changes were subtle yet profound, affecting how people thought about demons and their place in the world.

More importantly, this Tanjiro faced responsibilities his ancestor hadn't. He was a husband first and a demon slayer second. His wife's safety took precedence over everything else, even family honor.

Oboro knew that Tanjiro had killed demons before, probably quite a few of them. In the chaos of recent years, as inheritors transformed humans into demons at an accelerated pace and Muzan created new horrors to compete with the Demon Slayer Corps, the number of demons increased exponentially. During that era of war, the fact that the town at the foot of Mount Kumotori remained peaceful meant that the Kamado clan had been busy.

After Tanjiro finished speaking, he bowed deeply to Oboro in apology.

"It's perfectly fine," Oboro replied, waving away the gesture. "Are you willing to speak with me here?"

Relief flickered across Tanjiro's features. "Yes."

They sat together on wooden stumps in the clearing outside the house, two silhouetted figures against the afternoon sun. Their conversation lasted less than an hour and touched on safe topics: the continuation of the Kamado clan over the past century, their struggles and victories, and the changes in the world around them.

When Oboro finally rose to leave, Tanjiro watched him go, feeling a mix of emotions. The demon hadn't asked for anything dangerous and hadn't even hinted at wanting to enter the house. He simply wanted to know how the family he'd once helped had fared in his absence.

Tanjiro was the fifth-generation descendant of the legendary demon slayer who shared his name. Unlike his predecessors, he'd trained with his grandfather's guidance rather than learning from his father alone. The reduced side effects of the more refined Sun Breathing techniques allowed each generation to live longer and created a more stable inheritance pattern.

The descendants grew stronger with each passing generation, their breathing techniques becoming more refined and powerful.

In just over a century, however, six generations had somehow managed to flourish. Mathematically speaking, some family members must have lived very short lives, perhaps dying shortly after having children. Their bloodlines continued, but their personal stories were tragically brief.

This wasn't related to Sun Breathing complications or the dangerous environment that Oboro helped create. If members of the Kamado clan had ventured down from the mountain to involve themselves in worldly affairs, Oboro certainly would have heard about it.

There was only one logical explanation for such short lifespans.

When Oboro met this generation's Tanjiro, he understood immediately. This man, and possibly the two generations that followed, were forcing evolutionary leaps in their breathing methods. While Oboro's techniques could extend lifespan to some degree, the breathing methods he had taught were already at their natural limit.

From what Oboro could observe, Tanjiro had been trying to improve Sun Breathing through his own research. Given his special connection to Oboro's memory, Tanjiro had probably thrown himself into the work with obsessive dedication.

However, true breathing mastery went far beyond technique alone. No matter how gifted he might be, Tanjiro couldn't achieve breakthrough improvements through exploration alone.

When something went wrong with advanced internal breathwork, the consequences could be fatal.

However, this was the Kamado clan. Their efforts across several generations hadn't been wasted.

At least Tanjiro had achieved something remarkable—what could only be called "circulation mastery."

Oboro could see breath energy flowing through every meridian and blood vessel in Tanjiro's body. It formed intricate patterns of small circulation cycles that pulsed with life force.

Most impressive was that these circulation routes weren't the ones Oboro had originally taught. They were pathways that the Kamado clan had discovered and mapped through their own research and experimentation.

This achievement surpassed what the Demon Slayer Corps had even accomplished at their peak.

Oboro could feel it—he wasn't far from the harvest now. Soon, he would be able to claim the kind of power he had been seeking: something that transcended mere breathing techniques and approached true metaphysical mastery.

This was why he had climbed Mount Kumotori. It was the first "seed" he had planted in this world, and it was nearly ready to bear fruit.

Otherwise, there would have been no reason to visit Tanjiro.

"I formed a bond..." Oboro murmured to himself as he descended the mountain path.

As he walked, he found himself thinking about the earnest young man who had looked at him with complex emotions: respect, sadness, acceptance, and something deeper. It felt almost like familial love.

Bonds were one of the unique treasures of the Demon Slayer world—connections that could transcend death itself and influence people across generations.

Oboro hadn't realized that his intervention would create such a powerful bond with Tanjiro or have such a profound impact on the boy's descendants. The connection had been unintentional, but its consequences were undeniable.

Without this bond, the ancient Tanjiro would have lived peacefully. He wouldn't have felt compelled to push the boundaries of his breathing techniques. He wouldn't have passed down warnings and expectations to his children.

"I thought I had everything under control, but I miscalculated," Oboro admitted to the empty mountain air. "As expected, even I can't predict everything. The world is too complex and full of variables."

Especially the human heart and human emotions."

The power of the soul seemed limitless in many ways, yet there were still things beyond its reach. Predicting the future with perfect accuracy was one of them. Hearts and minds were too chaotic and prone to unexpected changes.

He had wanted to use the Kamado bloodline to advance his understanding of breathing techniques. However, he didn't want Tanjiro to sacrifice his life for that research. This should have been a gradual project spanning many generations, allowing wisdom to crystallize slowly and safely over time. There were countless ways to guide such development without requiring such radical dedication.

Instead, Tanjiro died during the decade Oboro had planned as the "end of the world"—a time of maximum chaos designed to force rapid evolution in the power systems of this reality.

From the time he left the Hunter x Hunter world until now, Oboro had never regretted any of his actions. He had his goals and ambitions and a carefully planned path toward greater power.

However, when he thought about the young man sitting peacefully outside his mountain home, Oboro felt an unexpected stab of pain in his chest.

Thinking of Tanjiro brought back memories of Netero, Rita, Fant, and all the other people from his past who had trusted him, cared for him, and believed in him. People he had left behind in pursuit of something greater.

"The aftermath of leaving the Hunter world..." he murmured self-mockingly. "This sentiment isn't like you at all."

But even as he criticized himself, Oboro couldn't quite bring himself to regret the sadness. Maybe some connections were worth preserving, even if they complicated his plans. Maybe there were things more valuable than power, even for someone who had traveled between worlds in search of ultimate strength.

The mountain path stretched ahead of him, leading back toward a world waiting for his next move. But, for the first time in years, Oboro found himself wondering if his carefully laid plans were worth the price they demanded from others.

Behind him, smoke rose from the Kamado family's hearth, carrying the scent of a simple meal and the warmth of human connection. It was a small thing, barely noticeable against the vast scope of his ambitions.

Yet, somehow, it felt like the most important thing in the world.


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