By the time Michikatsu landed again, Yuko finally saw the markings appearing on his cheeks.
Aside from the markings under his cheekbones, the ones on his forehead looked very much like Yoriichi's.
Before she could speak, Michikatsu swung his Nichirin blade and rushed forward.
Yuko struggled to block it.
With his marks awakened, Michikatsu's physical abilities had increased—he had already surpassed her in strength again.
He knocked her back with a single strike. Through the reflection on his blade, Michikatsu finally saw the marks on his own face.
He had never experienced anything like this before—his whole body felt brimming with power.
Good!
His state right now was incredible.
Yuko fell back step by step under his relentless assault, on the verge of defeat.
Feeling the surge of overwhelming power, Michikatsu roared inwardly.
Yoriichi!
I'm getting closer to you!
Yuko kept her composure as she defended, pale breath slipping from between her lips. Her cool voice sounded faintly:
"Snow Breathing, Third Form: Frost Sky Dance!"
Unlike the defensive First Form or the deceptive Second Form, the Third Form—Frost Sky Dance—was a sword technique as fierce as a blizzard.
It swept toward Michikatsu like a storm of snow and wind.
"What?!"
The excitement in Michikatsu's heart froze at the sheer intensity of the technique. The blizzard-like strikes hammered against him one after another.
Why?
He was clearly stronger and faster…
"Brother."
Yuko suddenly lifted her gaze.
Michikatsu looked toward the voice, only to see a faint sadness on her face—he didn't know when it had appeared.
For a moment, her expression overlapped with the calm, ever-serene face of his younger twin brother in his memory.
"Experience the pain of defeat."
Defeat?
Anger surged across Michikatsu's face.
Other than Yoriichi, he would never lose to anyone!
"Moon Breathing, Third Form: Loathsome Moon, Chains!"
Two crescent-shaped slashes filled with countless tiny moon blades shot toward Yuko.
Yuko ignored the anger on his face. Her raised white Nichirin blade glimmered brilliantly under the sunlight.
"Snow Breathing, Fourth Form: Warm Snow."
Specks of mottled snow suddenly drifted down through the air, easily passing through the fierce twin crescent strikes and landing gently on Michikatsu—on his shoulders, on his face.
Michikatsu's eyes widened slightly.
Warm.
No… the heat was from the blood flowing out.
Countless tiny cuts had appeared over his body, each one shallow but burning.
…
Michikatsu lay sprawled on the ground in a large X shape, staring blankly up at the cloudless sky.
"Cough… cough…"
Yuko suppressed the pain in her lungs and sheathed her blade.
She was far less composed than Michikatsu imagined—her lungs were affecting her badly. She had swung only a few times, yet her whole body felt drained.
Her breathing couldn't keep up with her exertion.
It felt like sprinting five thousand meters with all her strength, only for someone to clamp a hand over her mouth and nose when she tried to breathe—an unbearable pain that made her vision blur for a moment.
Enduring the discomfort, Yuko moved to her brother's side and knelt down.
Even after twenty years, she still wasn't used to this kneeling posture.
"Brother," Yuko murmured.
Michikatsu continued staring expressionlessly at the clear sky, as if he hadn't heard her.
He had lost.
Lost with nothing to say.
Yuko understood exactly what was going through his mind.
Had Michikatsu never lost before?
Since joining the Demon Slayer Corps, nearly every spar between him and Yoriichi had ended in Yoriichi's victory.
But aside from Yoriichi, he had never lost to anyone else.
Yoriichi's talent was suffocating—no matter how hard Michikatsu pushed himself, he couldn't even see his brother's shadow ahead.
Even so, Michikatsu still forced himself forward, step by step.
He cared so much about the back of the person ahead of him, yet he had never once turned around to look at the one behind.
So she had forced her way into his field of vision—from behind.
Defeated by the sister he nearly overlooked, the weak one.
Michikatsu's mindset was undergoing an earth-shaking shift.
Yuko lowered her head, deliberately entering his line of sight.
"Brother, what is your dream?"
Dream?
Of course it was to become the strongest warrior in the nation.
…Was it?
It used to be.
But at some point, it had changed—now he only wanted to surpass Yoriichi.
People who had never felt jealousy were simply fortunate enough to have never encountered someone blessed as though by the gods—radiant and blinding like the sun.
Before Michikatsu could answer, Yuko lifted her head, looking forward as she continued on her own:
"My dream is to surpass both my elder brothers and become the strongest swordsman."
Hearing that, Michikatsu's eyes finally moved—glancing toward her.
You?
His first instinct was to think so—but the next second, he remembered she had already defeated him. Where did he get the courage to mock her?
He mocked himself inwardly, when Yukos slightly forlorn voice sounded again:
"It should have been like that."
She paused, coughing twice. "Cough… cough…"
This lung condition—always showing up when she didn't need it, and refusing to appear when she wanted to fake it. Annoying to no end.
"I was injured by a demon, leaving a permanent flaw in my lungs. I may never be able to advance again," Yuko said quietly.
"Brother, you're not like me. You're far more talented, far stronger."
Finally, Michikatsu reacted, letting out a bitter laugh. "Strong?"
Yuko explained gently, "Being lucky enough to win this once was only because you've never seen the Breath of Snow, while I know Moon Breathing inside and out."
"All thanks to your careful instruction over the years."
Something in Michikatsu's expression shifted, though he still didn't respond much.
But no matter what, the fact remained—he had lost to Yuko.
Seeing that her setup was nearly complete, Yuko spoke softly:
"So, I want to entrust my dream to you, Brother."
Michikatsu froze.
Her dream?
To become the strongest swordsman?
Yuko's words contained great risk.
When marks resonate, countless strong warriors break through their limits. With Michikatsu's talent, awakening his mark was only a matter of time.
But—
Once a slayer awakens their mark, they won't live past twenty-five.
Yuko had seen rumors online before—some said Michikatsu became a demon because he feared death.
But Yuko didn't think so.
He didn't become a demon because he feared death.
He became one because with the mark awakened, he wouldn't have enough time left to chase Yoriichi.
And without awakening it, he could no longer improve.
His daily training made it obvious—his heart was always, always chasing Yoriichi.
As long as his jealousy remained—as long as he refused to stop—
Then his becoming a demon was inevitable.
There was only one true way to solve this problem:
End Kibutsuji Muzan in their generation.
Yuko hadn't read the manga, but she knew Yoriichi had once fought Muzan in his youth.
That scene—Yoriichi charging in with his blade, shouting "What is the value of a life to you?"—was something she had watched countless times.
But even Yoriichi hadn't managed to kill Muzan.
He definitely had the strength to defeat him—but Muzan's monstrous regeneration made it impossible for Yoriichi to finish the job. He could only injure him.
And demons were terrifyingly good at escaping.
Broken limbs meant nothing to them.
With the difficulty of that condition, Yuko came up with a method that wasn't really a method:
Awaken the last shreds of Michikatsu's dignity— the dignity trampled raw by his younger brother.
"I want to surpass both of my elder brothers and become the strongest swordsman."
The key wasn't "becoming the strongest."
It was surpassing both older brothers.
Let Michikatsu know:
He, too, was someone others chased.
There is only one sun.
And the moon, too, is one of a kind.
---
+40 Chapters
(Currently at Chapter 54 on Ko-Fi.)
https:// ko-fi.com/rabi08