Kyoto.
Inside a villa.
"Crack—!!"
The sudden sound of a test tube shattering abruptly broke the silence in the room.
Blue liquid spread across the floor, then was absorbed by the carpet.
In front of the bookshelf.
A well-dressed man in a suit was clutching his eye socket, veins bulging on his forehead, bending over and gasping for breath.
He held a book in one hand, seemingly flipping through something; combined with the liquid stain on his left index finger, it looked like he was experimenting.
"Hoo…"
"Hoo…"
His breathing grew more rapid.
The man's skin was as pale as a corpse, and the hideous veins on his forehead, not content with the narrow area, began to spread to other places.
Cheeks, neck, spine…
Through the gaps in his fingers, his plum-red eyes were vaguely visible.
His vertical pupils, like those of a feline creature, were originally as dazzling as gems.
But at this moment, all of this was destroyed by his grotesque posture.
Pain spread wantonly through his body like a venomous snake, and the burning agony of the sunlight was like a flame that penetrated his soul, making every nerve in him tremble.
Forcing out a few words through gritted teeth, Kibutsuji Muzan seemed to return to that day four hundred years ago.
That man… pointed his Nichirin blade at him, his expression like he was looking at trash.
"Tsugikuni… Yoriichi!!!"
Boom!
The bookshelf exploded into splinters with a roar.
Amidst the flying dust and shredded paper.
His unwilling, painful, and somewhat unbelievable words echoed in layers throughout the room:
"Four hundred years…!"
"You're still alive?!!!"
"Nakime!!"
The last sound was filled with ferocity; almost as soon as his words fell, a strange biwa sound rang out from somewhere unknown.
"Clang—!"
Like a divine disappearance, Kibutsuji Muzan instantly vanished from his spot.
…
…
Infinite Castle.
This place was illuminated by countless warm lights, yet it could not dispel the pervasive oppression and fear in the air.
As soon as Kibutsuji Muzan appeared, he involuntarily knelt on the ground.
The excruciating pain from his limbs and Mukuro constantly reminded him that the wounds from the four-hundred-year-old slash had still not healed.
Four hundred years!
The scars caused by Sun Breathing had tormented him for four hundred years!
He had thought these would fade with time.
He never expected that at the moment Retsu called him…
At the moment he saw Tsugikuni Yoriichi…
At the moment he heard that man's voice.
Countless waves of pain, like a tsunami, destroyed his spirit!!
Like a searing hot iron, and even more like towering magma, they left an indelible mark on his seven hearts!
At this moment, Kibutsuji Muzan felt only difficulty breathing, his aura extremely weak.
He clutched his chest, his fingers piercing through it, tearing flesh and blood, attempting to counter mental pain with physical pain.
It took him a long time to finally get up from the ground.
Beside him, Nakime sat upright, her black hair draped over her front like Sadako.
She dared not raise her head, fearing she would see Muzan-sama's predicament and then be annihilated.
But even so, the waves of fear and pain transmitted through her bloodline caused large amounts of fresh blood to spill from the corners of her mouth.
Her protruding single eye even shed obvious bloody tears, which, as she bowed her head, soaked her clothes.
Soon, the enraged Muzan finally recovered.
But at this moment, the surrounding environment also severely deteriorated as he realised his loss of composure.
Countless wooden dust particles erupted with his roar:
"Nakime!"
"Go and call Kokushibou for me!"
Gulp—
Barely swallowing the blood in her mouth, wind sweeping over her body, Nakime, under Muzan's oppressive gaze, gently raised her biwa and plucked a string.
"Clang!"
Another crisp pluck of a string.
Instantly, a door appeared out of thin air within the Infinite Castle.
Whoosh.
The door slowly opened, revealing a figure kneeling inside.
At his waist hung a uchigatana made of flesh and blood, on which countless terrifying eyes grew.
He wore a purple snake-patterned haori, resembling a samurai, with a high red ponytail above the dark red, grotesque markings on his forehead.
He showed no reaction to the changes in his surroundings, only steadily raised his head.
Facing Muzan, he slowly opened his six red-sclera, gold-pupiled eyes, which almost covered his entire face and were slightly tilted with his nose bridge as the centre.
Nakime, facing the two, her breathing hitched.
Until she could no longer bear the dual torment of mind and body…
Her head lolled, and she directly fainted.
"…."
The atmosphere was silent for a while.
One eye unconsciously swept over the bowed, unconscious Nakime, swept over the surrounding environment that had been destroyed into dust…
Realising that the matter seemed extremely important, Kokushibou slowly spoke: "Muzan-sama…"
Perhaps it was from not speaking for too long, or something else.
After he finished speaking, he said no more, seemingly waiting for Kibutsuji Muzan's response.
He noticed Muzan's rapidly regenerating flesh and blood.
He also felt the terrifying killing intent and some fearful scent that had previously permeated this place—under Touhou Sekigan, everything was clear.
The scent originated from Muzan…
At this thought, Kokushibou's mind suddenly froze.
At this moment, Muzan's pair of blood-red pupils looked down from above, glaring fiercely at Kokushibou as if looking at an ant.
His tone was extremely gloomy:
"Kokushibou…"
"Your younger brother…"
Hearing the words "younger brother," a ripple suddenly appeared in Kokushibou's calm eyes, like a lake's surface ruffled by the wind.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi's aged, somewhat detestable appearance gradually emerged in Kokushibou's mind.
Muzan continued to speak, having moved behind Kokushibou at some point, his chilling voice coming from above his head:
"He is indeed dead… right?"
Kokushibou was silent for a few seconds, then slightly lowered his head.
His high ponytail swayed gently with the sudden movement.
He said respectfully in an extremely steady voice:
"He is indeed dead."
"Your subordinate, three hundred years ago…"
"Personally cut him in half at the waist…"
"Then…" Kibutsuji Muzan suddenly pressed on his shoulder, a mountain-like pressure almost forcing Kokushibou into the ground.
Squeak~
The floor cracked. Kokushibou dared not resist.
Muzan's resentful voice continued to ring out:
"Who was it that appeared beside Rui?"
Rui?
Kokushibou's brain raced, and in an instant, he knew the identity of the demon Muzan-sama was referring to—Lower Rank Five.
Seemingly aware of Kokushibou's thoughts, Muzan slowly released his right hand.
A piece of memory, along the connection between their bloodlines, was sent into Kokushibou's mind.
Instantly!
Kokushibou violently spat out a mouthful of blood! A blood mist dispersed!
He bent over, gasping for breath, the flesh-and-blood nichirin blade at his waist trembling violently, and the bewilderment in his pupils was instantly replaced by a hint of dread!
—What was that??
Reflected in his vision was the scene of a coming slash.
That slash not only decapitated "himself" but also directly cut the nearby mountain in half!
Like a giant's sword sweeping across…
Wait!
In his lingering vision, Kokushibou seemed to have seen something else.
He focused his mind to recall.
The next second, amidst the flickering flames, he glimpsed a familiar face capable of making him feel jealousy, anger, and resentment.
Immediately… his thoughts froze .