"Water Breathing… Ultimate Technique, Eleventh Form: Dead Calm."
Giyu Tomioka softly repeated the words, and a faint understanding stirred within him. Recently, he had already begun to sense sothing along those lines, but it had always been vague and unclear. Now, after hearing Soma explain it so plainly, the hazy idea in his mind suddenly beca much clearer.
Giyu wasn't the only one affected. Beside him, Makomo narrowed her beautiful eyes slightly, deep in thought as well.
Soma didn't disturb either of them and simply continued drinking quietly.
…
After everyone finished eating, they rested briefly before resuming their training. Kie Kamado, Hanako, Takeo, and several Kakushi ca over to clean up the dishes.
At that mont, Giyu seed to realize sothing. His figure suddenly darted toward the distant forest at great speed.
Seeing this, Soma smiled faintly.
…
Tokyo.
The wind tonight was fierce, yet the bright moon still hung high in the sky.
BOOM!
A violent explosion shattered the silence of the night as flas shot into the sky.
Several buildings collapsed almost at the sa ti as rubble flew everywhere and thick smoke rolled through the streets. A few Demon Slayer swordsn vanished within the flas before they could even scream.
Hairo stood atop a rooftop, his military coat flapping wildly in the wind. One gloved hand rested lightly on the detonator while the shadow of his wolf-headed military cap concealed most of his face, leaving only one eye visible—glowing with feverish excitent. Watching the burning ruins collapse, the corners of his mouth slowly twisted upward.
"Scared enough to wet your pants yet?"
With a light push of his foot, Hairo leapt onto another rooftop nearby and looked down at the two Demon Slayers who had barely survived.
The swordsn had only just recovered from the shockwave when they heard his voice. The mont they saw the "Lower Three" engraved in his eyes, they understood they were facing one of the Twelve Kizuki. Even with their full squad intact, they wouldn't have stood a chance—much less now.
Even so, despite the fear in their hearts, the two tightened their grips on their swords and charged forward with a shout.
"Then enjoy a beautiful fireworks show."
Hairo sneered at the approaching swordsn and pressed the button in his hand.
BOOM!
A massive explosion erupted directly in their path. The two swordsn were blown apart instantly, flesh and blood scattering through the air.
"What a beautiful rain of blood and fireworks."
Hairo stretched out his tongue and licked the blood splattered near his lips, his face filled with excitent and obsession.
"The power of explosives is incredible. Even a Hashira would die if caught in one of these."
"If I kill a few more Hashira, Lord Muzan will grant more blood… and I'll beco even stronger."
But just as he finished speaking, Hairo suddenly looked up.
A figure was rapidly approaching, like a blazing fla racing through the darkness.
The man's crimson hair danced wildly as he ran, and the fla-patterned haori on his shoulders fluttered loudly in the wind.
He arrived quickly and stopped in place.
Looking at the bloody scene before him and the destruction caused by the explosions, the man's sharp eyes beneath his thick brows burned like fire itself.
"…I was too late."
His voice was filled with guilt as he stared at the carnage.
"Shinjuro Rengoku!"
The instant Hairo saw the man's face, he blurted the na out.
He could never forget the humiliation he had suffered at this man's hands back when he had still been an ordinary demon, long before becoming one of the Twelve Kizuki.
At that mont, Kyojuro Rengoku also looked toward Hairo. He hadn't expected a demon to suddenly ntion his father's na.
"Father…"
The word escaped him softly.
For so long, he had longed for his father's acknowledgnt, believing that if he worked hard enough, that day would eventually co.
But all of that had been shattered not long ago.
His father had died at the hands of Upper Rank Three, Akaza.
Kyojuro had once believed that his father, lost in alcohol, had long abandoned his duty as the Fla Hashira.
But in the end, Shinjuro Rengoku had fought Akaza, Upper Rank Three, until his very last breath, proving that he had never forgotten.
Even in death, his father had continued fighting.
And Kyojuro… had misunderstood him all along.
He still didn't know what had caused his father to lose his spirit in the past, but now he understood one thing clearly—his father had never truly changed. He had only stopped walking forward for a ti.
And now, Kyojuro would never again have the chance to earn his father's acknowledgnt.
"…Father."
Kyojuro slowly raised his head, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he looked into the dark night sky.
"Born within the flas… burning for one's convictions."
The mont the words fell, he moved.
"First Form: Unknowing Fire!"
Blazing heat erupted from the blade. Kyojuro's figure transford into a streak of scorching light, charging toward Hairo at a speed almost impossible to follow with the naked eye.
The sword split the air with a sharp scream as it went straight for Hairo's neck.
The attack ca so fast that Hairo barely had ti to react.
But the instant the blade descended, Kyojuro sensed sothing wrong.
There was no feeling of flesh being cut, no resistance from bone.
Instead, it felt as though his sword had plunged into a bottomless swamp of darkness. So invisible force wrapped around the blade, dragging it deeper and deeper as though trying to swallow it whole.
"What?!"
Kyojuro's pupils shrank as he instinctively pulled back and retreated.
As he withdrew, the corner of his eye caught sight of his blade.
A thin layer of black mist clung to the sword, slowly fading away.
"How does it feel to cut a shadow?"
Hairo had sohow appeared farther away, tilting his head as he looked at Kyojuro.
"My Blood Demon Art—Shadow Manipulation. As long as I attach my shadow to my neck before you strike , your blade will never touch my flesh."
He raised a hand, and the shadows at his fingertips wriggled like living creatures.
"Your blade sinks into my shadow like it's trapped in a swamp. The deeper it cuts, the deeper it sinks. And in the end… you cut nothing at all."
Kyojuro tightened his grip on his sword, his gaze becoming even sharper.
"I see now. An impressive Blood Demon Art."
He lowered himself into stance once more as flas ignited across his blade again.
The smile on Hairo's face slowly faded. He reached into his coat and pulled out a Nambu Type A revolver, aiming it directly at Kyojuro.
At the sa ti, his shadow silently spread across the ground like a black carpet, rapidly extending toward Kyojuro's feet.
Sensing the danger beneath him, Kyojuro imdiately leapt backward.
But the shadows moved far faster than he expected. Black tendrils burst upward from the ground like living creatures and wrapped around his ankles.
"This is—"
Kyojuro swung his sword and severed the shadows binding his legs, but once again the blade carried that sa heavy, swamp-like resistance.
More shadows surged in from all directions like swarms of black snakes, trying to coil around his limbs.
Kyojuro continuously swung his sword, flas roaring across the blade as he cut through every shadow that approached.
The severed fragnts drifted through the air with faint sigh-like sounds before slowly fading away.
"As expected of a Hashira," Hairo praised. "Your reaction speed is incredible. You truly are a powerful swordsman."
Then his expression suddenly twisted into sothing savage.
"But you don't rember at all, do you?!"
Kyojuro remained unmoved as he rapidly closed the distance between them.
"You… don't rember at all, do you?!"
Hairo's voice suddenly rose, his eyes burning with a tangled mix of fury, humiliation, and hatred.
"Shinjuro Rengoku! Do you rember forcing into despair back then?"
"Do you rember making run like a stray dog?! That humiliation… that terror…"
Yet instead of firing at Kyojuro imdiately, Hairo slowly pressed the gun against his own temple.
BANG!
The gunshot echoed through the night.
Even Kyojuro's eyes narrowed slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected Hairo to do sothing like that.
Blood burst from the bullet hole in Hairo's temple.
But soon, shadows flowed from the wound and filled the hole. Hairo's head slowly straightened again, and the smile on his face beca even more crazed.
"I shoot myself in the head every single day," Hairo said softly, smoke still curling from the barrel of the gun. "To remind myself never to be driven into a corner again. Never to be as pathetic as I was that day."
As he spoke, he raised the gun toward the charging Kyojuro once more, mockery filling his eyes.
"Powerful swordsman… the tis have changed."
"This is no longer the era of samurai."
...
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