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'Stop, Hakuji. Please... it's enough.'
"Let go of my hand! Who are you??"
'Please stop. Come with me to the other side.'
"I can't! I have to kill them! I have to become stronger—eliminate anyone who stands in my way!"
'Why? Why do you want to become stronger?'
"To protect—!"
The word died in his throat. Memories—long buried, deliberately forgotten—surged through him like a dam breaking.
"That's right... I remember now. My name is Hakuji. Not Akaza."
The demon's fractured identity reassembled itself, piece by painful piece.
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His childhood had been a study in loss. Relatives died one by one until only his father remained—and his father was dying too, illness eating him alive from the inside out.
Medicine cost money. More money than a poor boy could ever hope to earn honestly.
So Hakuji stole. Not for greed—for survival. For the one person left who mattered.
He learned quickly: weakness meant capture. Weakness meant punishment. Weakness meant watching his father die while he rotted in a cell.
So he trained. Between thefts, he honed his body into something capable of escaping consequences. He was caught repeatedly, punished repeatedly—but always released due to his age.
Then came the day a neighbor delivered news that shattered what remained of his world.
His father had hanged himself.
Not from illness. From shame. From the unbearable weight of knowing his son had become a criminal to save him. From believing he'd ruined his child's future.
His father's final act of love had been removing himself from the equation—hoping Hakuji could start fresh without that burden.
Shortly after, the authorities exiled Hakuji from Edo entirely. Cast out, alone, he wandered—and the truth crystallized with brutal clarity.
This world had killed his father. A world where the rich did whatever they pleased while the poor weren't even permitted to survive. That was the real crime.
Rage consumed him. He beat seven grown men unconscious with his bare hands, venting grief and hatred through violence.
That's when Keizo found him.
The old martial artist recognized talent immediately—saw past the anger to the raw potential underneath. After defeating Hakuji easily, Keizo brought him to the Soryu Dojo.
The place was empty except for them. No other students.
Keizo explained with a self-deprecating smile: his lack of skill had made his wife and daughter suffer tremendously. His wife had drowned herself not long ago. Now he worked odd jobs to maintain the dojo and support his remaining family.
He asked Hakuji to care for his daughter, Koyuki, while he was away.
Hakuji refused initially. "I'm a criminal. I'm not suited for something like that."
Keizo grinned. "I already dealt with the criminal version of you. You're fine now!"
Then Hakuji met Koyuki.
Seeing her—frail, sickly, mirroring his father's suffering—triggered something protective in him. He couldn't let her story end like his father's.
So he stayed. And in caring for her, his gentler nature resurfaced. Koyuki fell in love with him gradually, though Hakuji—convinced he was irredeemable—never noticed.
The nearby kenjutsu dojo constantly harassed them, preventing Soryu from recruiting students. But through daily life with Koyuki and Keizo, Hakuji slowly transformed back into who he'd been before tragedy warped him—someone who fought to protect, not destroy.
One day, Keizo called him to his room.
"Would you inherit my dojo? And... would you marry Koyuki? She's loved you for a long time."
Hakuji agreed. And made a vow: he'd protect them both, even if it cost his life.
Shortly after, he took Koyuki to see fireworks—something her weak constitution had never allowed before.
Beneath the cascading lights, she asked if he'd marry her.
Hakuji's response came without hesitation: "I'll become stronger than anyone. I'll protect you forever."
Days later, Hakuji visited his father's grave to share the good news about his upcoming marriage.
But returning to the dojo, dread seized him—irrational, overwhelming.
The neighbors confirmed his worst fears.
Keizo and Koyuki were dead. Poisoned.
Investigation revealed the truth: the rival kenjutsu school had always coveted Soryu's land. Unable to defeat Keizo or Hakuji in combat, they'd resorted to poisoning the well.
Something inside Hakuji shattered beyond repair.
He walked into that dojo alone and killed sixty-seven people with his bare hands. Only one survived—a maid who'd gone insane from witnessing the massacre.
Afterward, Hakuji wandered aimlessly—until he encountered him.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
The Demon King saw potential in Hakuji's strength. After defeating him effortlessly, Muzan forcibly transformed him into a demon.
Gradually, Hakuji lost everything—his memories, his humanity, his purpose. Only one drive remained: become stronger.
Later, he ascended to Upper Rank Three. Took the name Akaza. And swore never to devour women.
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Understanding flooded through him now. Why he'd been so angry. Why weakness disgusted him so viscerally.
And why he could never reach the place where his loved ones waited.
He'd drag these three down to hell with him. Giyu, Kyojuro, Tanjiro—
Tanjiro's eyes snapped open. Through blurred vision, he saw Akaza's head regenerating.
'I passed out... during combat! His head's coming back! I have to—I HAVE TO cut it off again!'
He tore himself free from the wall, gripped his blade, and charged.
"Destructive Death: Annihilation Form—"
"No matter how many times it takes—I'll sever his neck! Together with Tomioka-san and Kyojuro-nii, we'll defeat Akaza!"
But his body betrayed him. The blade slipped from exhausted fingers.
"No! The sword—it slipped!"
Akaza's technique activated. No weapon left—Tanjiro threw a punch at the demon's face instead.
That single punch triggered buried memories. Why had he hated the weak so intensely? Because they never fought fair, never faced him head-on—
'Akaza's using the same technique he used against Kyojuro-nii and Kaido-nii before! I have to get them out of range!'
Tanjiro spun, grabbed both collapsed Hashira around their waists, and dragged them backward.
Akaza watched the trio retreat. And finally understood who he needed to defeat.
Not them.
Tanjiro looked back—and saw Akaza smiling.
"Thank you," the demon mouthed.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Light flashed. Akaza's own technique struck his body, obliterating what remained.
His battle had ended the moment Tanjiro severed his head with honor—fighting face-to-face, no tricks, no deception.
He'd lost. Accepted it. And chose this end.
Tanjiro stared in shock, not understanding why Akaza had thanked him, why he'd destroyed himself.
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The transformation continued.
Hakuji—no longer Akaza—saw his father and Master Keizo. Both smiled with approval.
Then Muzan appeared, forcing regeneration, commanding him to fight again—
"No... stop... don't regenerate... I lost... I lost fairly!"
His body refused to obey. Flesh knitted back together against his will. He raised his fist to strike himself again—
And Koyuki appeared, cradling his face in her hands.
"Hakuji... thank you. You've done enough."
Gradually, the demon dissolved. Hakuji's human form emerged—young, unburdened, whole. He embraced Koyuki and wept.
"I'm sorry... I couldn't protect you... I was never there when you needed me... I broke my promise..."
Koyuki smiled through tears. "Welcome home, my love."
Tanjiro watched the demon's body fade completely. His heightened senses detected sorrow mingling with reunion—grief and joy intertwined.
"Finally... it's over... I need to... help the others..."
He took one step and collapsed, his head cratering the floor.
"TANJIRO!"
"Kamado-kun!"
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"CAW! Tanjiro Kamado, Giyu Tomioka, and Kyojuro Rengoku have defeated Upper Rank Three! All three fighters unconscious from exhaustion!"
The announcement reverberated through the Infinity Castle.
"Knew you could do it, Tanjiro. Guess I'd better pick up the pace." Kaido grinned beneath his mask, genuine pride warming his chest. He turned to the Kocho sisters, Kanao, and Inosuke. "Let's move!"
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Elsewhere in the Castle.
"Akaza's presence... vanished?"
Kokushibo stood motionless, his six eyes unblinking.
"Defeated... You sought to surpass me... to reach a higher domain... yet you abandoned the path yourself. Pathetic weakness."
SLASH!
A single draw cut devastated the surrounding architecture. Dozens of pillars collapsed simultaneously.
"Mm? Someone approaches... This feeling... familiar... My descendant?"
THUD!
Footsteps echoed behind him. Kokushibo turned.
A young boy with long black hair stood there—very young, almost childlike. But the aura radiating from him carried that unmistakable familiarity.
Muichiro Tokito.
He'd been traveling with Gyomei when the Castle shifted violently. A wall materialized from nowhere, striking him with enough force to send him flying through several dimensions of the labyrinthine structure.
Now he'd landed here—directly before the demon whose presence crushed the air itself.
Muichiro's body trembled involuntarily. Every instinct screamed danger. His muscles locked up, refusing combat.
"Upper Rank One... Kokushibo."
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