Why?
The question was a silent scream in Tanjiro's soul.
Why is this happening? Why are you torturing me like this?
The air in the Infinity Castle was cold and still, thick with the smell of blood. The cheerful, kind-hearted boy known as Kamado Tanjiro was gone, replaced by a figure trembling with pure, unadulterated rage. He had always believed in maintaining a calm heart, even in the face of death. Anger was a useless emotion in battle; it clouded judgment and wasted energy. He had built his entire strength on that principle, pushing past his limits time and time again.
That strength had filled him with a quiet confidence. He was confident he could save his sister, Nezuko, and bring her back from the darkness of being a demon. He was confident that, alongside his comrades in the Demon Slayer Corps, he could finally defeat Muzan Kibutsuji and end his reign of terror.
But that confidence was now a pile of dust and ashes. The world he had imagined, a world where hard work and a good heart could overcome any tragedy, was a lie.
His optimism had begun to die on the day he learned of the Mugen Train. His senior, Giyu Tomioka, and his master, Sakonji Urokodaki, were both dead. Then came the battle in the Yoshiwara District, a bloodbath that claimed the lives of three more Hashira: Kyojuro Rengoku, Muichiro Tokito, and Tengen Uzui. They had only survived because Kagaya Ubuyashiki appeared at the last moment, sacrificing what little life he had left to unleash a power that held the demons at bay.
All of it, every last drop of blood and every tear shed, led back to one source: Muzan. He, and the hypocritical clan of priests who had foolishly created the Demon King in the first place, were the cause of all this suffering. If it weren't for them, none of this would have happened. His sister would still be human.
Buzz.
A strange, humming sound pulled Tanjiro from his spiraling thoughts. In the next instant, a wave of demonic energy washed over him, and Nezuko was in his face. He threw himself back just as her claws sliced through the air where his head had been, leaving a deep gash across his forehead. A fraction of a second slower, and his brains would be splattered on the floor.
"Nezuko… please…" Tanjiro gasped, his voice cracking. He wanted to believe that the sound of his voice, the voice of the older brother who had protected her all her life, could break through the demonic curse. He desperately clung to the hope that their bond was strong enough to bring her back.
But as his desperate plea left his lips, he saw her eyes flash with something that looked like cunning. While his attention was on her, she moved.
Thump. Thump.
Two sickening sounds echoed behind him. Zenitsu and Inosuke, already bleeding and disarmed, were struck again and thrown across the room like broken dolls, leaving trails of blood in their wake. They didn't even have the strength left to scream.
"No—!"
That was the final straw. A guttural roar tore from Tanjiro's lungs as he launched himself forward, his Nichirin Sword a black streak aimed directly at Nezuko. He finally had to admit the truth, a truth so painful it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. The Kamado Nezuko standing before him had lost herself completely. Her earlier hesitation, her familiar voice—it was all a disguise, a cruel trick to lower his guard.
The real Nezuko, his kind, precious little sister, was already dead. This was just a demon wearing her face.
In that moment of crushing realization, Tanjiro felt as if he had aged a hundred years. The light in his eyes dimmed, and the last of his hope died. There was no going back.
As despair washed over him, an intense, searing heat suddenly surged from his blade. The black steel of his sword glowed and then erupted into a brilliant, fiery red. Boiling waves of heat radiated from his body as the Demon Slayer Mark on his forehead burned like a brand.
From across the room, Akaza watched with keen interest. "So," he murmured to himself, "this is it. The Crimson Red Blade, the Mark, the Transparent World... the ultimate power of the Demon Slayers that Tsukihiko-sama warned us about." He let out a low chuckle. To force a boy to unlock his greatest power only to make him face his own sister... The cruelty was exquisite.
A single word escaped Nezuko's lips, clear and sharp in the tense air. "Good."
It was a declaration. The game was over. She moved, a blur of motion too fast to follow. Genya, who was clutching his severed arm, let out a final, choked cry as her hand pierced through his chest. She had kept him alive as a distraction, a toy to torment Tanjiro with. Now that Tanjiro was finally ready to fight seriously, he was no longer needed. For the demon wearing Nezuko's face, completing her master's task was all that mattered. Everything else was worthless.
With a final, mournful cry, Tanjiro raised his burning sword. His opening stance was not of the Water Breathing his master had taught him. It was the dance of his ancestors, the ritual his father had performed every year.
The Hinokami Kagura.
He didn't know if it was the legendary Sun Breathing, lost to time. He didn't care. As he faced the demon that was treating his friends like insects to be crushed, there was only one thing left to do. He had to kill the sister he had sworn to protect. He had to sacrifice his own heart for the sake of the world.
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