Chapter 42 – Transparency World, Selflessness, and the Mirror Reversal
Even as a demon, one thing about the Kokushibo standing before Hikaru was clear—
He hadn't completely lost his sense of self.
He hadn't truly forgotten the man he once was.
Hikaru had never imagined that his actions so far would draw the attention of the second-strongest demon after Muzan himself.
A being impossible to defeat.
He knew it all too well.
With his current strength, there was no realistic way he could overcome Kokushibo—Upper Moon One, the very first demon to receive Muzan's blood, who had survived for centuries.
And yet…
Even so, Hikaru never once considered giving up.
His desire to live.
His fear of death.
All of it reminded him of a simple truth—at the end of the day, he was still just a human.
And humans… always had their own ways to survive.
Hikaru lunged forward!
His blade rose high—!
The drawn steel caught the moonlight, invisible currents swirling around it like coiled wind, slicing straight toward Kokushibo.
In an instant, Kokushibo raised his own blade to meet the strike. All six of his eyes narrowed, the pupils rotating sharply.
Anger?
Or perhaps… insult?
Was he offended by the sudden attack?
But Hikaru didn't stop.
He twisted his wrist, dragging his blade along Kokushibo's own—scraping past the countless eyes embedded in the steel. Sparks scattered, tracing lines of light through the night air.
"Fool."
Kokushibo's voice was flat, but the power behind it was undeniable. A single flick of his wrist sent Hikaru reeling back, his palms numb from the bone-rattling force.
Then—the moonlight flared once more along Kokushibo's crimson Nichirin blade.
Moon Breathing.
A technique he had developed back when he was still human.
Kokushibo wasn't just the first Upper Moon. He had once been among the very first swordsmen to master a Breathing Style.
The arc of his sword approached—slow, almost lazy, yet to Hikaru it felt as though there was nowhere to run.
But then…
"Transparency is selflessness. In selflessness, there is neither self nor other. All movement begins before thought."
Hikaru's voice rang out calmly.
Kokushibo's eyes narrowed—a faint shadow of the past flickered in his mind.
Yoriichi.
The younger brother who had always been beyond his reach.
Words like these… Yoriichi himself had once spoken them.
For just a moment, Kokushibo's movements stalled.
Hikaru seized the opening, leaping back. The demon's blade swept through empty air, carving a deep scar into the earth.
Dust and leaves swirled.
The night wind howled between them.
Hikaru straightened again.
Words could unsettle the heart.
He knew his Illusory Reflection technique would do little against Kokushibo.
But if Kokushibo still clung to his human memories…
If those memories still held weight…
Then maybe—just maybe—his obsession could be turned into a weakness.
"…It seems you know quite a bit."
Kokushibo's gravelly voice broke the silence.
Flat as ever.
But Hikaru could hear it—the faint ripple beneath his tone.
His heart was stirring.
And sometimes… the best attack was one aimed at the heart.
"I know… far more than you think," Hikaru replied, lowering his stance.
To survive—
He didn't care if what he was doing was honorable or not.
There was only one thing that mattered: staying alive.
He knew what he wanted.
He knew what he had to do.
As long as he kept moving forward… that was enough.
"…In that case…"
The wind shifted.
Kokushibo's six eyes sharpened.
"I'll break your bones one by one… and ask you directly."
The breeze became a storm.
One swing—his sword surged forward, a wave of moonlight that could not be avoided.
"…Figures," Hikaru said suddenly. "Even in his final breath, when your brother Yoriichi was already an old man—you still couldn't block even a single strike."
The slash froze.
The blade hung a hair's breadth from Hikaru's body.
Hikaru ducked, sprang forward, and unleashed a slash that was almost invisible.
The air split apart.
The wind itself seemed to tear.
Hikaru's sword shot forward!
But—
Kokushibo caught the blade again.
And then he spoke.
"…I see it."
His tone was calm once more.
His posture—cold and unshaken.
At that moment, Hikaru's battle instincts screamed. He retreated as fast as his legs would carry him.
And right after—
A slash swept in from the side, gouging the ground and cleaving it apart for more than ten meters.
Hikaru's eyes flicked to the long wound carved into the earth.
His face tightened.
"Tricks like that won't work," Kokushibo said. "Without true strength… everything is meaningless."
"…Is that so?" Hikaru let out a faint smirk.
"I don't believe that."
"…You claim I couldn't block Yoriichi's last strike… but I've already touched that realm."
Kokushibo's voice was steady.
But deep down, he knew—Hikaru had stirred something buried within him.
The memory burned again.
Standing before Yoriichi in his old age—
When his brother's body was frail, when time had eroded his strength—
And still, he had been unable to block even a single cut.
One strike from that aged Yoriichi's blade.
It was a wound that had never healed.
And now… Hikaru had reopened it.
Transparency—
His obsession.
His vow.
He had to prove he wasn't weaker than Yoriichi.
Kokushibo stepped forward.
The moonlight above seemed to shiver.
Beneath that step—an unspoken fear lurked.
His blade fell. Inevitable.
Hikaru twisted, raising his sword.
But in that instant—the slash changed!
Moon shadows layered upon each other.
Light split into dozens of crescent moons.
And each one—
Targeted Hikaru's weakest points.
"Moon Breathing: First Form – Dark Moon, Evening Palace."
Hikaru staggered back.
But the cuts danced across his body, scattering blood into the night air.
The pain was sharp.
More than pain—it felt like his body was being torn apart.
Before he could even draw another breath, Kokushibo was already beside him.
Another slash.
Parried.
Blades clashed, ringing with a high, grating note.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Hikaru forced himself backward.
From any angle I attack, he blocks.
From any angle I defend, he breaks through.
He shifted into a zigzag retreat, the wind roaring with each movement.
Forward.
Back.
His sword flashed again and again.
But Kokushibo… never stopped.
And every strike—
Honed in on the natural gaps of the human body.
"…So this is… the Transparency World?"
Hikaru muttered.
He was afraid.
But beneath that fear—his vision was becoming clearer.
This was what he'd been chasing all along.
The realm Yoriichi had called the true pinnacle of a swordsman.
The Transparency World.
Another clash.
Hikaru's body swayed, blood dripping from his arms and shoulders.
His hands trembled.
His focus blurred.
And yet—
His gaze grew sharper.
"…Enough."
Kokushibo spoke.
Cold. Flat.
He wanted to prove he wasn't weaker than Yoriichi.
But now…
He was bored.
And he was ready to end it.
He raised his sword.
Before him—Hikaru stood torn, bloodied, and exhausted.
This slash…
Would end everything.
And then, the blade fell.
But—within that crimson moonlight—
Something stopped it.
The strike bounced away.
Kokushibo's body was pushed back.
His six eyes widened.
"…You can see it too…?"
Hikaru's voice was faint.
His face pale. His body drenched in blood.
But he smiled.
"Void Breathing: First Form – Mirror Reversal."
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