Sanemi gritted his teeth and forced his heavily wounded body forward, step by step, toward Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
His Nichirin Blade was already battered beyond recognition, its surface covered in cracks, with even the tip broken off, yet he still raised it high, his bloodstained face full of unyielding resolve.
"Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clear Storm Wind Tree!"
Emerald-green sword light, carrying the last of Sanemi's strength, transformed into a fierce tornado-like blade and roared toward Yoriichi!
Wherever the slash passed, the ground was gouged open into a deep trench, sending shattered stones flying.
At the same time, Gyomei moved as well.
"Stone Breathing, Fifth Form: Arcs of Justice!"
His Nichirin flail and giant axe swung out at once, two torrents wrapped in the heavy force of Stone Breathing crashing head-on toward Yoriichi like two moving mountains.
This was the last of Gyomei's strength.
Blood sprayed from the wounds on his arms, the chain gave a mournful cry, yet he did not hesitate in the slightest.
The two attacks came from left and right, one swift and one heavy, timed together flawlessly.
And yet—
Yoriichi stood where he was, barely making any large movement at all.
He simply bent slightly, slid one step back, and placed a hand on the hilt at his waist in a drawing stance.
Then—slash!
No one could even see when Yoriichi drew his blade.
A pale golden slash had already been released. It first collided with Sanemi's tornado blade—the wind attack was split down the middle as if it were made of paper, vanishing into nothing.
Without losing momentum, the slash continued onward toward Gyomei's stone torrent.
Boom!
The recoil blasted Gyomei backward, slamming him hard into the wall behind him.
Blood burst from his mouth, and his Nichirin flail flew from his grasp.
Sanemi was grazed by the slash and sent crashing to the ground as if struck by a giant hammer, left without even the strength to stand again.
With a single strike, Yoriichi had neutralized both of their all-out attacks at once. He had not even needed a second slash.
Draw, strike, sheath—the whole motion flowed like water, easy and effortless, as though the casual attack he unleashed was already a limit ordinary swordsmen could never reach in their entire lives.
Lying on the ground, Sanemi stared at Yoriichi with bloodshot eyes, his nails digging deep into his palms.
He was unwilling to accept it.
He had fought with everything he had, yet he still could not even force his opponent to use one extra strike.
Leaning against the wall, Gyomei gasped for breath. Since joining the Demon Slayer Corps, he had never encountered an opponent as despair-inducing as this.
Yoriichi looked at the two who had lost their ability to fight.
There was no mockery in his calm eyes.
"A splendid attack," he said. "I never imagined that, even hundreds of years later, I would still see swordsmen with such remarkable will and strength. Slaying demons is a dangerous and grueling task. That you have all persevered for centuries with such tenacity is something worthy of respect."
As he spoke, Yoriichi paused and looked past Gyomei and Sanemi toward the figures behind them—those who were equally battered and bloodied, yet still refused to fall.
"All of you are extraordinary. I admire you. If only I had been as outstanding as you back then."
It was a strange thing to say, but no one had the mental energy left to think about what it meant, because Yoriichi raised his blade once more.
But just as his sword had barely risen, a blue-green light suddenly appeared from within the Infinite Castle behind him, like dawn tearing through the darkness.
Everyone's gaze turned in that direction at once.
Then a figure appeared before them in an instant.
Shinichi gripped his Nichirin Blade, blue-green light flowing along its edge.
"Shinichi!" Shinobu was the first to cry out, her voice filled with uncontrollable joy.
During the fight against Yoriichi, she had been terribly worried about Shinichi's safety. S
he had truly feared that he would fall at the hands of such an overwhelming opponent.
Now, seeing him appear unharmed before her, the excitement in her heart could no longer be hidden.
Shinobu struggled to sit up from the rubble, but her injuries were too severe and she lacked the strength.
She could only lie half-reclined on the ground, her violet eyes fixed tightly on that figure, the rims of her eyes slightly red.
Not far away, Obanai said nothing loudly. He simply tightened his grip on his broken Nichirin Blade.
"Kaburamaru, we're going to have to fight with everything we've got. We can't let Shinichi face him alone."
The snake around his neck seemed to sense its master's resolve, its dispirited tongue finally flicking out again.
Half-kneeling on the ground, Sanemi looked at Shinichi's figure and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"I knew you weren't dead. You're tougher than steel you bastard!"
"Mm! Shinichi!"
Kyojuro's voice was still as loud and spirited as ever.
Though blood still stained the corner of his mouth, he cast Shinichi a firm, encouraging look with those flame-burning eyes.
Gyomei turned and "looked" in Shinichi's direction, a relieved smile appearing on his blood-soaked face.
Shinichi's gaze swept over everyone—from Shinobu to Sanemi, from Obanai to Kyojuro, from the barely breathing Tokito brothers in the distant rubble to Sabito, and finally Gyomei.
Every one of them was covered in wounds.
Every one of them was utterly exhausted. Yet not a single one had retreated.
These were the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. His comrades.
"Sorry… I couldn't make it back in time," Shinichi said, guilt in his voice.
"That's enough with the apologies!" Sanemi snapped through gritted teeth.
Using his broken Nichirin Blade to brace himself against the ground, he forced himself to stand.
"Right now, let's take down this monster together!"
Sanemi bluntly cut Shinichi off, but the faint concern in his tone still made Shinichi smile.
Unable to stop himself, he glanced once more into Shinobu's eyes.
The tenderness in them warmed his heart, and the beautiful memories from the illusion surfaced before him again.
Only then did Shinichi look toward that figure—Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
Yoriichi stood with his sword planted before him, calmly watching Shinichi.
There was no killing intent in him.
From the moment Shinichi appeared until now, he had shown no sign of attacking. He had simply been waiting.
"You've come," Yoriichi finally said when Shinichi turned to face him. "Faster than I expected."
Shinichi did not answer. He only tightened his grip on his Nichirin Blade and stepped in front of the others, placing himself between Yoriichi and his companions.
"Shinichi, be careful," Gyomei's voice came from behind him, heavier than ever before. "He is the swordsman of legend. His strength... far surpasses Kokushibo's. In fact, he may even be stronger than Muzan."
Shinichi nodded.
Gyomei did not need to remind him. He had already experienced Yoriichi's power firsthand.
Even when he had unintentionally "joined forces" with Kokushibo, the outcome had still been the same: utter defeat, dragged into Shokyu's illusion.
If Yoriichi had truly intended to kill him, he would have died long ago.
And yet now, standing before this opponent once again, Shinichi felt no fear at all.
Instead, there was only a strange feeling.
He looked at Yoriichi, into those calm eyes, and felt as though something was hidden there.
Not malice, but… expectation?
"Are you ready?" Yoriichi's voice sounded again, cutting off Shinichi's thoughts.
It was a strange question. Shinichi did not understand what it meant. But he knew one thing—he could not retreat from this battle.
Shinichi took a deep breath.
The blue-green glow on his Nichirin Blade grew brighter and brighter.
He slightly turned his head and looked once more toward Shinobu in the rubble behind him.
"Come, senpai."
Shinichi tightened his grip on the blade and slowly raised it, the tip pointing toward Yoriichi.
His voice was calm, but resolute.
"It's an honor to cross swords with you again."