Chapter 143: Upper Rank Six, Dead
Akira clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the swirling dome of crimson blades. "Tsk. It's like trying to crack open a tortoise shell." He shifted his grip on his Nichirin blade, his muscles coiling with electric tension as he sought a blind spot in Gyutaro's relentless defense.
Thunder Breathing, Eighth Form: Boyu Rika!
Sparks showered the dimly lit corridor as steel clashed against hardened blood. Through the chaotic storm of strikes, Akira's Super Vision tracked the exact flight paths of the sickles. He unleashed a dense, blinding flurry of thrusts, the lightning-infused strikes forcibly altering the trajectory of the crimson blades. The sheer kinetic force tore a narrow opening through the defensive shell, just wide enough for a human to slip past.
Gyutaro's eyes widened in shock. His control over his Blood Demon Art was instantaneous, and he immediately commanded the sickles to snap shut like a bear trap. But against Akira's speed, a fraction of a second was a fatal delay.
Thunder Breathing, Ninth Form: Divine Punishment!
Akira did not even need to push his heart to its absolute limits this time. His baseline strength and speed had skyrocketed since his brutal encounter with Gyokko. The resulting burst of acceleration was a localized thunderstorm. Gyutaro registered nothing but a blinding, incandescent flash of white light searing across his retinas. The world abruptly tilted. Gravity vanished, replaced by a dizzying tumble. As his vision stabilized on the wooden floorboards, Gyutaro found himself staring at his own headless, emaciated body. Akira stood calmly behind the collapsing corpse, slowly lowering his crackling blade.
A deafening chain of explosions rattled the walls from the outer corridor, accompanied by the muffled, panicked screams of fleeing patrons. Gyutaro's severed head let out a raspy, fading breath. "Sister..."
Just moments before that fatal strike, Daki had barely cleared the distance of two rooms when her severed obi sashes violently snapped back to her body. The moment the fabric reattached, a sinister transformation overtook her. Her flowing black hair bleached into a stark, ghostly white. Hideous, pulsing vascular patterns crawled across her pale skin, twisting her seductive beauty into something feral and deeply demonic.
The humiliation of being chased through the district like a beaten dog boiled over into pure, unadulterated fury. Now fully armed, Daki whipped around to face Tengen Uzui. She wanted to stall him, yes, but more than that, she wanted to tear this flashy nuisance to shreds. He simply did not exude the same suffocating aura of death that Akira did.
Akira's earlier, imperceptible strike had instilled a primal, freezing terror in her very bones. But Tengen? During their brief chase, the Sound Hashira had not projected that same overwhelming dread. In her twisted arrogance, she believed that as an Upper Rank, she could easily turn the tables and mount his head on a pike.
Blood Demon Art: Eight-Layered Obi Slash!
Eight razor-sharp fabric blades erupted from her back, crisscrossing the narrow hallway in a lethal, inescapable grid. The sweeping attack chewed through the wooden walls and tatami mats, leaving Tengen absolutely no room to evade.
Tengen did not even flinch. Dodging was never part of his flashy repertoire anyway.
Throughout their brief sprint, Tengen's trained senses had already measured Daki's physical parameters. Sure, compared to a normal human, her speed and strength were monstrous. But measured against the terrifying legends of the Upper Ranks? Tengen found her severely lacking.
Up until now, the Demon Slayer Corps' entire database on the Upper Ranks came directly from Akira's after-action reports. Every Hashira knew exactly how absurdly powerful Akira was, yet he had been pushed to the brink of death twice by these elite demons. The second encounter had nearly claimed his life before the sun rose. Because of this, the Hashira had subconsciously elevated the Upper Ranks to an almost mythical, untouchable status, approaching them with extreme, paranoid caution.
Yet, staring down Daki's incoming assault, Tengen felt utterly underwhelmed. Even for Upper Rank Six, her combat prowess felt incredibly hollow. She projected a threat level only marginally higher than the Lower Ranks he had slaughtered in the past. Gyutaro, on the other hand, had reacted to Akira's blinding speed, intercepted their combined attacks, and physically thrown Daki out of harm's way. That emaciated monster actually felt worthy of the Upper Rank title.
Sound Breathing, Fourth Form: Constant Resounding Slashes!
Tengen spun his massive twin cleavers in a devastating arc, releasing a barrage of his custom anti-demon explosives. A localized shockwave ripped through the corridor. The deafening blast shredded the incoming obi sashes into useless ribbons, filling the air with thick smoke and pulverized wood. The sheer concussive force caused Daki to freeze, her mind blanking for a crucial fraction of a second.
Before she could even command her fabric to regenerate, a massive shadow burst through the billowing dust cloud. Tengen loomed directly over her.
Sound Breathing, First Form: Roar!
Daki threw her hands up in a desperate, panicked block. Another explosive blast shattered her forearms into bloody mist. Tengen's heavy Nichirin cleaver followed the shockwave without missing a beat, slicing cleanly through her neck. The immense air pressure from the explosion sent her severed head spinning wildly into the air.
Tengen casually rested his heavy blades against his shoulders, watching the crumbling ashes begin to flake away from her collapsing body. "Man," he muttered, shaking his head. "This Upper Rank is way weaker than I expected. Not flashy at all."
"Who are you calling weak, you ugly brute?!" Daki's severed head shrieked from the floorboards, tears streaming down her face as she began to throw a massive, undignified tantrum. "I've killed several Hashira! I am Upper Rank Six! I am strong!"
Tengen stared at the wailing, sobbing head in absolute disbelief. A literal demon of the highest echelon was crying like a spoiled brat who had dropped her candy. Speechless, he let out a long sigh, retrieved the specialized glass syringe provided by Lady Tamayo, and quickly extracted a sample of her demon blood before she could fully turn to ash. Weak or not, she was still an Upper Rank. Her blood would be very useful to Tamayo's ongoing cure research. Ever since the demon doctor had allied with the Corps, her relentless dedication had thoroughly earned the respect of the Hashira.
Down the hall, Akira finished drawing a vial of dark, viscous blood from Gyutaro's crumbling remains. He secured the container in his uniform and followed the trail of blasted wood and scorch marks until he found Tengen standing amidst the wreckage.
"Mission complete," Akira said, his voice calm and steady. "Let's get out of here." He raised an arm, allowing his Kasugai Crow, Ink Shadow, to land briefly. He relayed a quick message, instructing the bird to summon the nearby Kakushi cleanup crews to handle the structural damage and memory wiping. With their duties fulfilled, the two Hashira vanished into the night.
The cool night breeze offered a welcome relief as they left the neon glow of the Yoshiwara Entertainment District behind. Tengen glanced over at his companion. "You know, I really feel like the strength of that Upper Six wasn't quite up to par. Is there just a massive gap in power between the Upper Ranks?"
Tengen asked the question partly out of genuine tactical curiosity, but mostly as a desperate attempt to distract Akira. The oppressive, heavy silence radiating from the younger slayer during their walk was giving the Sound Hashira a very bad premonition.
Akira kept his gaze fixed on the dirt path ahead. "From what I've seen, there is a monumental gap in raw power between the bottom three and the top three. If we're talking about pure combat strength, Upper Ranks Four, Five, and Six working together probably couldn't even scratch Akaza. And that's not even factoring in Upper Two or Upper One."
He paused, adjusting his grip on his scabbard. "As for this Upper Six duo, the brother I fought was a bit weaker than Gyokko, but the margin wasn't huge. The real danger lies in their gimmick. Because they share a life link and won't die unless both heads are severed simultaneously, they are a nightmare for any solo fighter. If any Hashira in the Corps encountered them alone, it would be extremely troublesome."
Tengen nodded slowly, absorbing the grim tactical assessment. Daki's individual combat prowess might have been pathetic for an Upper Rank, but she was still a step above a Lower Rank. While she wouldn't pose a lethal threat to a Hashira in a one-on-one fight, pairing her with Gyutaro's lethal poison and their shared decapitation requirement created a deadly trap. Tengen knew that if he had walked into that fight completely alone, even he might have fallen to their combined assault. Taking them down solo would have been nearly impossible.
Desperate to keep the heavy atmosphere at bay, Tengen rapidly shifted topics. He brought up everything from the finer points of refining Breathing Techniques to the delicate art of managing emotional disputes between multiple romantic partners. He was practically racking his brain to keep a steady stream of conversation flowing.
Akira humored him, perfectly willing to chat away the tedious hours of their journey back. Unfortunately, when it came to actual relationship advice, the flashy Sound Hashira was surprisingly useless. Tengen's relationship with his three wives had originated from a strict shinobi arranged marriage orchestrated by his clan. Genuine romantic feelings had only blossomed much later, built entirely on shared survival and proximity. He had no idea how to handle the complex, organic romance Akira was currently juggling.
After nearly two full days of travel through the countryside, the grand gates of the Uzui estate finally came into view. As they stepped through the courtyard, the conversation inevitably stalled, crashing headfirst into the one subject Tengen had been actively avoiding for the past forty-eight hours.
The garish, horrifyingly applied courtesan makeup still plastered across Akira's face.
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