Ishida's body trembled as he forced himself to rise, using his sword as leverage. Every muscle screamed in protest, his vision blurring at the edges from sheer exhaustion.
'Is this... is this how strong an Upper Moon truly is?' he thought, watching Doma's wounds slowly but steadily close. 'Even as a Hashira, even with all these breathing forms at my disposal... he'll simply regenerate. No matter what I do.'
His jaw clenched, frustration and desperation warring within him.
'No... that's probably the difference between a human and a demon like him. The fundamental gap that can't be bridged by skill alone.'
But then, a thought cut through the fog of exhaustion.
'But I'm not a mere human, am I?'
His hand moved to his side, fingers touching what appeared to be empty air. The system inventory responded to his will, and a small vial materialized in his palm—a crystalline bottle filled with glowing azure liquid.
He'd obtained it months ago during a system-generated mission, a reward for clearing a particularly difficult mission. Unlike the standard healing potions that restored HP, this was something different—a Stamina Recovery drink. The system had described it as working like a concentrated energy drink, bypassing normal physical limitations to restore vitality and reduce fatigue. He'd been saving it, waiting for a moment when he truly needed it.
This was that moment.
Without hesitation, Ishida uncorked the vial and drank its contents in one swift motion. The liquid burned going down, but it was a good burn—like fire racing through his veins, driving back the exhaustion.
[Fatigue: 94/100 → 50/100 → 10/100]
The effect was immediate and dramatic. The trembling in his limbs ceased. His vision cleared. His breathing steadied. It wasn't a complete recovery—his wounds still ached, his HP remained dangerously low—but the crushing exhaustion that had been dragging him down lifted like a fog burning away under the morning sun.
Doma paused in his approach, his rainbow eyes narrowing as he observed the sudden change.
"What did you just drink?" the demon asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "Some kind of medicine? A stimulant, perhaps?" He tilted his head, studying Ishida with renewed interest. "How fascinating. I've never seen a demon slayer carry such things. Most of you rely purely on your breathing techniques to push past your limits."
Ishida didn't respond, instead rolling his shoulders and adjusting his grip on his sword. His body still carried the damage from their battle—the cuts, the bruises, the internal strain—but the crippling fatigue that had been threatening to drag him into unconsciousness was gone.
"You're full of surprises, Moon Hashira," Doma continued, his smile returning though his eyes remained calculating. "First that purifying technique, and now this. You're more prepared than I gave you credit for."
The demon's wounds had closed further, though traces of the purifying energy still lingered, slowing his regeneration to a crawl compared to his usual speed. His fans were destroyed, leaving him to rely solely on his Blood Demon Art.
"But tell me," Doma said, taking another step forward, "how long will that medicine last? An hour? Ten minutes? Or perhaps..." his smile widened, "...only a few moments?"
Ishida's mind raced, calculating his options with renewed clarity. The elixir had bought him time, given him a second wind, but Doma was right—it wasn't permanent. Continues fight would again take it back to the same high as last time. Also, he has only one of those potions with him.
With the fact that the Instant Healing Skill he had given by system, only worked on HP recovery, which means , even if he used that, it won't bring his Fatigue down by a lot.
'I need to make this count,' he thought, his breathing pattern shifting into a combat-ready rhythm. 'No more holding back. No more testing. This is it.'
The moonlight around his blade began to gather once more, though it flickered—his body still remembered the strain of the Thirteenth Form, even if the fatigue had been temporarily suppressed.
Doma noticed the gathering energy and laughed, the sound echoing through the devastated forest. "You're going to use that technique again? After it nearly tore you apart the first time? How wonderfully reckless!"
From their hiding spot, Sakura gripped Kazuki's arm tightly. "Did you see that? He just... recovered somehow. What was that?"
"I don't know," Kazuki whispered back, his eyes wide. "But he's not done yet. He's still fighting."
Ishida's eyes locked onto Doma, determination burning through the pain and exhaustion.
"Let's finish this," he said quietly.
The demon's smile turned predatory. "Yes. Let's."
The air between them seemed to crystallize with tension. But something had changed in Ishida—not just his restored stamina, but his entire demeanor. The desperate edge was gone, replaced by a calm, almost meditative focus.
His breathing shifted into a perfect rhythm. Not the heavy, strained breathing of before, but something more refined—each breath precisely measured, each exhale perfectly timed. His movements became economical, no wasted motion, no excess energy spent.
'Every technique costs stamina. Every unnecessary movement is wasted energy,' Ishida thought, his mind crystal clear. 'I need to fight like I have nothing left, even though I do. Precision over power. Efficiency over spectacle.'
[Fatigue: 10/100]
Doma moved first, his body blurring as he closed the distance. Without his fans, he relied purely on his physical abilities and Blood Demon Art, but those alone were formidable enough.
"Freezing Cloud!" Ice particles materialized around his hands, forming razor-sharp claws.
Ishida's response was minimal—a slight shift of his feet, a precise angle of his blade. Doma's strike passed within inches of his face, and Ishida's counter came not as a powerful slash, but as a surgical cut aimed at the demon's extended wrist.
[Fatigue: 11/100]
The moonlight along his blade was subdued now, concentrated rather than explosive. The cut wasn't deep, but it was precise, targeting tendons and joints.
Doma pulled back, surprised by the shift in tactics. "Oh? You're being more careful now. How smart."
Ishida didn't respond, his focus absolute. He took a single step forward—not a charge, not a rush, but a measured advance. His breathing remained perfectly controlled.
'Don't chase. Don't overcommit. Make him come to me, then punish his aggression.'
The demon seemed to recognize the change in strategy. His smile flickered, becoming more calculating.
"Crystalline Divine Child!" The massive ice statue reformed, its hands sweeping toward Ishida.
But this time, Ishida didn't meet the attack head-on with overwhelming force. Instead, he moved with fluid precision, his enhanced agility allowing him to slip between the statue's fingers. His blade flickered out twice—once, twice—each strike targeting the joints of the construct rather than trying to destroy it outright.
[Fatigue: 13/100]
The statue's hand seized up, its movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated. Not destroyed, but crippled. Efficient.
From their hiding spot, Kazuki leaned forward, his eyes wide. "What is he doing? He's barely using any power in his strikes."
"He's conserving energy," Sakura whispered, realization dawning. "He's fighting completely differently than before. Every movement is calculated."
She was right. Where before Ishida had fought with explosive power and devastating techniques, now he moved like water—finding the path of least resistance, exploiting weaknesses rather than overwhelming them with force.
Doma launched another assault, ice forming into deadly projectiles. "Winter Icicles!"
"Moon Breathing, Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing."
Ishida's defensive technique manifested, but not as the overwhelming dome of before. Instead, it was compact, precise, covering only the exact space needed. The icicles shattered against it, and the moment the barrage ended, the technique dissolved.
[Fatigue: 16/100]
'Three percent for a full defensive technique,' Ishida calculated. 'Acceptable. But I can do better.'
He was learning, adapting in real-time. Each technique refined, each movement optimized. His breathing never wavered, maintaining that perfect rhythm that kept his body operating at peak efficiency.
Doma's expression shifted, genuine intrigue replacing his usual playful demeanor. "Fascinating. You're treating this like a marathon rather than a sprint now. But tell me—" ice began forming around him in elaborate patterns, "—how long can you maintain such perfect control?"
The demon's body language changed, becoming more serious. He was done playing.
"Let's test those limits, shall we?"
The ice around Doma erupted outward in a massive wave, far larger than any of his previous attacks. It wasn't just an assault—it was an attempt to overwhelm through sheer scale, to force Ishida into using his more costly techniques.
But Ishida's eyes tracked the attack with perfect clarity, his breathing unwavering. He could see the gaps in the formation, the weaknesses in the structure.
"Moon Breathing, Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail."
His movement was serpentine, following the dragon-like pattern, but refined. Where before he would have used raw power to smash through obstacles, now he threaded through them, his blade striking only when it would have maximum effect with minimum effort.
[Fatigue: 21/100]
Each strike targeted the structural weak points in Doma's ice formations, causing them to collapse not from overwhelming force but from surgical precision. It was like watching a master craftsman dismantle a complex mechanism—no wasted motion, no unnecessary force.
"Moon Breathing, Third Form: Loathsome Moon, Chains."
The chained crescents that formed weren't the massive, room-filling attacks from before. Instead, they were compact, interconnected strikes that created a defensive perimeter while simultaneously pressuring Doma, forcing the demon to maintain distance.
[Fatigue: 24/100]
Doma found himself being pushed back—not by overwhelming power, but by relentless, efficient pressure. Every time he tried to mount an offensive, Ishida's minimal but precise counters disrupted his rhythm. Every attempt to create distance was met with just enough forward pressure to prevent him from establishing his preferred range.
"You've changed your entire approach," Doma observed, his smile strained now. "This is... problematic."
For the first time, the Upper Moon seemed genuinely concerned. Not about losing—he was still far from that—but about the implications of Ishida's adaptation.
'He's learning mid-battle,' Doma thought. 'Not just adapting his tactics, but fundamentally changing his combat philosophy. If he keeps this up...'
Ishida's blade gleamed with controlled moonlight, his breathing still perfect, his movements still economical. His HP remained was still enough hig, his body still carried its wounds, but his fatigue was climbing at a manageable pace.
'I can maintain this,' Ishida thought, his focus unwavering. 'Not forever. But long enough.'
The question was: long enough for what?
[HP : 1510/1920]
[Fatigue: 24/100]