The Demon Slayer Corps had never seen such unity—seven elite swordsmen, the first of their kind, walking as one. From the hills of Kyushu to the borders of Edo, the shadows had grown too bold. Fourteen powerful demons were reported gathering under the cover of darkness.
The Mission letter was clear: "Eliminate them all."
Each of the seven slayers would face two.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni
Michikatsu Tsugikuni
Kazuyoshi Iwamoto
Shin Kaminari
Enjuro Rengoku
Yusuke Mizuhara
Takeshi Hayate
The battle began beneath a blood-red sky.
Seven Blades. Fourteen Demons. One Purpose.
Blades clashed and roared like thunder. Each demon was a nightmare of flesh and fangs, and yet the Hashira prototypes moved like gods among men.
Enjuro's flames swept through the battlefield, carving blazing arcs through his foes with unrelenting resolve.
Yusuke fought like a river unbound—his Water Breathing weaving through demon claws with graceful fury.
Takeshi unleashed storm after storm with Wind Breathing, feral and unpredictable, carving gusts sharp enough to shred skin.
Kazuyoshi, the stone wall, stood unshaken. His strikes were few but devastating—he crushed the will of his enemies as surely as their bones.
Kaminari became lightning incarnate, a blur of yellow-white death tearing across the battlefield with deafening speed.
And Michikatsu fought valiantly with Moon Breathing, his newly forged style emanating elegance and deadly precision. But amidst his duel, one of his two opponents revealed a hidden form—tentacles and scales bursting forth in a frenzy of cursed power.
Michikatsu staggered, blade slipping. A claw slashed toward his chest.
But it never landed.
Yoriichi was there.
With a single, effortless motion, Yoriichi cut down the demon's arm mid-air, then followed with a clean horizontal slice that bisected the beast in one instant. The demon disintegrated into ash before it could scream.
Michikatsu collapsed to one knee, stunned—not just by his brush with death, but by his brother's mercy.
"You… Why?" he asked, still panting.
Yoriichi only smiled, kneeling beside him.
"Because you are my brother, Michikatsu. Always will be."
No judgment. No gloating. Just kindness. That quiet compassion burned Michikatsu more than any flame.
And from afar, the remaining five Hashira stared in silent respect.
The battle was over.
The legend had only just begun.