Demon Slayer : LEveLing uP

Kill me!? What's that supposed to mean!? Where am I!? What's happening!?

"Look at you, all pathetic," he said with a mocking laugh. "You don't even know who you are."

Wait, how can he hear my thoughts!? How is he answering them?

"That's because, once again, I am you," he replied, suddenly disappearing from where he stood. Before I could even process what was happening, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I was thrown backward at a speed I couldn't control, and with a loud crash, my back hit a wall. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my entire body, and I was sure I might have broken some bones.

Instead of hitting the ground, I found myself in water again. The place was quickly filling up, and the rain was pouring harder, showing no signs of stopping.

I floated in the water, not drowning but gasping for air. I knew it wasn't just because of being in the water; it felt different. As I tried to steady myself, I suddenly started coughing violently, and blood came out of my mouth, turning the water around me a dark red. The sharp, metallic taste was unsettling as I fought to breathe through the pain.

'Why!? Why is this happening to me!? I just don't get it.'

Struggling to keep my head above the rising water, my inner self continued to taunt me mercilessly.

"You see, Ishida, you're just a shadow of what you could have been. A ghost stuck with your failures, always trying to make things right but never quite getting there."

His voice echoed, each word like a heavy weight pulling me deeper into despair.

"You couldn't save your family, Ishida. You watched them slip away from your life, unable to do anything. Even now, their faces haunt you, don't they? The fear in their eyes, silently begging you to do something, anything."

The water was freezing, chilling me to the bone, each drop reminding me of the tears I couldn't stop. My own thoughts only made the pain worse.

"I failed them," I realized, the thought cutting through me like a knife. "I stood there, helpless, and I didn't do enough. Maybe I never could."

The voice inside me got louder, relentless in its accusations.

"Akira trusted you, believed in you, and what did you do? You let him down. You promised to protect him, but your promises were as empty as this world."

My heart ached with every beat, each one reminding me of the laughter we shared, the bond that had turned into a painful memory.

"And that child, the innocent life you watched slip away. Their cries for help haunt your thoughts, echoing your failures, don't they?"

My mind spiraled, the weight of guilt bearing down hard on me.

"I couldn't save them," I admitted to myself, the bitter truth suffocating. "I'm just a fool, thinking I could make a difference."

"You've always been running, Ishida. Running from who you are, from what you've done. But there's no escaping from yourself, is there?"

The water rose higher, every ripple reflecting the turmoil inside me.

"I can't run," I thought, accepting my own truth with a heavy heart. "No matter how far I go, I'm always here, stuck in my own failures."

The rain continued its relentless downpour, drowning out the world with its cold, unyielding rhythm.

"I'm not enough," I whispered, barely audible over the storm. "I never was."

I closed my eyes, hoping to escape it all, as if shutting them could make everything disappear. If only it were that simple.

As I squeezed my eyes shut, seeking refuge in the darkness behind my eyelids, a gentle warmth began to spread through the cold water around me. It was faint at first, but unmistakable—a flicker of light cutting through the void.

Slowly, the warmth grew, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Along with it came a familiar scent, like fresh rain mixed with the nostalgic aroma of home-cooked meals.

Suddenly, the storm's relentless roar faded away, replaced by the gentle sound of laughter and distant voices.

[Switching to Third Person Perspective]

"Ishida , Ishida !" Called a familiar voice, as Ishida broke from his thoughts, "You're not doing it right," Yuzu teased, giving Ishida a playful nudge as she continued to work her hands through the soil. "Honestly, Ishida, it's like you're trying to wrestle the plants into submission."

Ishida shot her a mock glare, his hands covered in dirt. "Hey, I'm just giving them a little encouragement. They need to know who's boss."

Yuzu laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, if you keep that up, they'll probably run away before they even sprout."

Ichiro, working nearby, glanced over with a warm smile. "Don't worry, Ishida. You'll get the hang of it. Just remember, these plants are a lot like you—tough but needing a bit of care."

"Yeah, yeah," Ishida replied, grinning as he tried to follow Ichiro's advice. "I guess they just need a gentle touch."

Yorichi approached with a basket of vibrant vegetables, her expression full of pride. "You kids are doing great. Look how healthy everything's coming along."

Ishida looked up, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Do you think anyone will notice my special touch?"

Yuzu smirked, "Oh, I'm sure they will. They'll know exactly which ones you planted."

Ichiro chuckled, giving Ishida a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't listen to her. The best part is that we're all doing this together. That's what makes it special."

Yorichi nodded, her gaze full of warmth. "Exactly. It's the family effort that counts. Every plant grows a little better with the love we put into it."

Ishida felt a swell of gratitude as he looked around at his family, the sun casting a golden glow over the garden. "Yeah, I guess it is pretty nice working with all of you."

The memory faded...

He was beginning to find a rhythm in the work. He moved confidently down the rows of plants, but in his haste, he accidentally pulled up a young sprout along with the weeds.

"Oops," he muttered, quickly trying to replant it.

Yuzu noticed and couldn't resist teasing him. "Ishida, you've done it again! Are you trying to invent a new gardening technique?"

Ishida's shoulders slumped, frustration evident in his expression. "I thought I was doing better," he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Ichiro walked over, offering a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's okay, Ishida. Everyone makes mistakes. What's important is that you recognize them and learn from them."

"But what if I keep messing up?" Ishida asked, looking between Ichiro and Yuzu.

Ichiro crouched down beside him, his tone gentle but firm. "The only real mistake is giving up. As long as you keep trying and improving, you're doing just fine."

Yorichi, who had been watching from a distance, joined them and placed a comforting hand on Ishida's shoulder. "Your brother is right, Ishida. Mistakes are just part of learning. It's how we grow stronger and wiser."

Ishida looked up at his family, the warmth of their support easing his frustration. "Alright, I'll keep trying," he said, determination returning to his voice.

The scene began to dissolve, with the golden light of the garden giving way to an even brighter, almost heavenly glow. As Ishida blinked and opened his eyes, the shattered, rainy place was replaced by a radiant, eternal light.

"Ishida!"

'Huh, that voice...' Hearing the familiar voice, Ishida looked around, trying to find its source, and finally, he saw who it was.

"Mom..." he whispered, unable to move, just staring in surprise. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, he saw another familiar face beside his mother—it was Ichiro, his big brother.

"I-Ichi... Ichiro," Ishida stammered, his voice trembling with disbelief. Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks as he took in the sight of his brother standing there with their mother.

Yuzu's voice broke through the emotional haze with a teasing tone. "Hey, I'm here too, you know. What's with all the tears, Ishida? You look like you've been caught in the rain again."

Despite the tears, a small chuckle escaped Ishida's lips, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Even now, you haven't changed, Yuzu."

They stood together, Ishida facing his family in this ethereal glow, enveloped in the warmth of their presence.