Disclaimer: Demon Slayer is not mine. This fanfic is a translation.
Enjoy Reading!
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—Location: Infinity Castle—
"...Kokushibo... what happened?"
Muzan sat on the wooden chair in his comfortable Japanese-style room. Warm lights filled the entire space and were a contrast to the cold voice that spoke.
Muzan propped his head down and rested his elbows on his knees.
Sweat accumulated on his tightly clenched hands, and his pale skin looked even paler.
Anxiety and impatience made him restless.
It had been four to five hours since he sent Kokushibo to Tokyo!
As the strongest Upper Moon demon who absorbed most of his blood, Muzan also felt the huge emotional fluctuations coming from Kokushibo.
He hadn't felt such turmoil from the man for hundreds of years.
The last time it happened was when Kokushibo claimed to have seen the old man Yoriichi.
"Did you meet him... did you see him...?"
"Is it really... that man...!?"
Muzan muttered to himself as his pupils contracted and his body trembled violently. He hides his expression in the shadows as he crosses his hands to rest his mouth.
If you look closely, Muzan's fingertips were shaking uncontrollably.
Muzan knew Kokushibo would be no match against that guy.
Maybe he wouldn't even last one strike.
Muzan remembered that day over three hundred years ago, when Kokushibo returned from his meeting with his brother; Kokushibo's neck was only hanging by a thread, like Nearly Headless Nick from Harry Potter.
But Kokushibo is also Muzan's most powerful enforcer!
It is the reason why Muzan asked him to go!
Snap.
Muzan suddenly stood up, and he reached out to pull off his tie around his neck.
It speaks to his mind state that he struggled to get the tie off as Muzan decided to do something he wouldn't normally do.
He concentrated as his brows furrowed. Slowly, his pupils morphed into different patterns as the whites of his eyes became scarlet, like the blooming flower of a red spider lily.
He successfully connected his vision to Kokushibo.
He came into the view of the action between two fighters in the pitch-black street and sparks flying from the collision of their swords.
Just as Muzan was readying himself to take in his surroundings.
A dazzling flame burst out from the corner of his view.
He subconsciously moved his eyes to see the spectacle...
...and promptly regretted it!
)—Sun Breathing Twelfth Form—(
)—Enbu!—(
Fire... is the only thing that filled his visions. The blade spewed flames and cut across his arm, evaporating the blood as it went for his neck.
It burns. It burns! IT Burns!IT BURNS! IT BURNS!!!
"Kah!?"
Muzan expelled himself from the vision as he heaved and panted; his heart felt like it was being gripped hard. He barely even saw Kokushibo's action trying to cut off his arm.
Muzan touched his neck repeatedly to make sure his neck was still intact.
"Cough, Cough, Cough!"
He tried to take a deep breath, hold it, and exhale to calm down, but the adrenaline from seeing that accursed technique in front of his eyes again wouldn't let him.
The scene he saw was short, but the impact was great.
Muzan is a man afraid of death. In his long lifetime, he has seen many things and learned a lot. His weak human body was turned into this demon body so he could research the true path to immortality.
He despised change and admired stability.
Apotheosis.
The state of perfection.
It is his dream to achieve such height, such majesty, such divinity.
That dream is now being threatened by this... this...
"...monster."
Muzan gritted his teeth as he stood there, trying to recover his trembling body from the trauma of his past.
Muzan doesn't care about the state of Kokushibo anymore.
In his heart, Kokushibo had already perished from that fight, and his connection with his strongest servant had been cut off.
This turmoil was felt by Nakime, who was sitting on her high platform.
Nakime supported the biwa in her hands barely from the pressure exerted by Muzan's angry tantrum.
"Puah..." A mouthful of blood spurted out from the mouth, staining the recently cleaned spot on the tatami.
She reached out her sleeve, her hand trembling, and silently wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth.
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"Huff... huff..."
Kokushibo clutched his right arm as he fixed his eyes on Tanjuro; his clothes had been torn to shreds. Transparent World was still active as Kokushibo observed the rhythm of his opponent's breathing.
"Sun Breathing..."
He was stunned.
His golden pupils mirrored the flames wrapped around Tanjuro's blade.
Supreme combat awareness.
A sneaky counterattack.
Tanjuro had accurately judged and seized the perfect moment when Kokushibo showed his flaw.
He was able to execute his Sun Breathing technique without any drawbacks and injure his opponent to such an extent with his own strength.
Kokushibo has felt it before. The familiar heat and swordplay, he couldn't believe someone was capable of the Breathing Style until he experienced it for himself again.
His right arm was cut off between his middle and index fingers, leaving him only his thumb and his index fingers still attached.
The wound did not heal immediately.
'This... man...'
"Why!"
'...why is he so much like you!'
Bang!
Kokushibo stabbed his sword into the ground as anxiety surged in his heart. He gritted his teeth as he scowled.
His six eyes glared fiercely, fixated on Tanjuro's ahead. His brows furrowed as he refused to accept the reality before him.
When he first saw Tanjuro, Kokushibo could tell that the man was extremely weak in body and only had Yoriichi's similarities in appearance only.
Now...
Kokushibo recalled every clash they'd had until now.
The subtle adjustment made by Tanjuro and the perfect execution of the Sun breathing technique.
Back in his own era, there wasn't a single living swordsman who could learn, let alone master, the Sun Breathing Style.
They had no choice but to settle for second best and develop other breathing techniques based on the principle of Sun Breathing.
—All of them are poor imitations of the original.
Even his Moon Breathing.
"Cough..."
Kokushibo spat out a mouthful of blood. He refuses it.
He refuses to believe that someone other than Yoriichi could learn and master the Sun Breathing.
'Only you...'
'Yoriichi...'
'Only you are special...'
The excruciating pain from his injuries barely registered in his mind as he cursed this existence in front of him.
His vision was blurry as he fixatedly glared at Tanjuro, who raised Kusabimaru in caution as he slowly made his way toward Kokushibo.
The figure of Tanjuro gradually overlapped with another. That distinct memory in his mind. Readjusting his posture and breathing.
Leaving Kokushibo stunned.