"Demonification"
Thirty minutes passed. In that time, the battle raged for thousands of strikes. Aoki and Tengen Uzui, their stamina waning, found themselves on the defensive.
During that time, they'd severed Gyutaro and Daki's heads at least ten times, only to see them nonchalantly reattach their heads and continue fighting.
Their prolonged clash had reduced the surrounding area to ruins, with countless bodies scattered amidst the debris and bloodstains everywhere.
"What's wrong? Where's that initial ferocity? Aren't you Hashira? Aren't you strong? Come on! Cut off my head and kill me!"
Gyutaro sneered, watching Aoki and Tengen Uzui, panting and sweating profusely.
He'd been ugly his whole life, hating beautiful things—except his sister.
Aoki and Tengen Uzui, while not the epitome of handsomeness, were undeniably attractive.
He hated them, from the moment he saw them.
Gasping for breath, Aoki showed unprecedented exhaustion. Fighting an Upper Moon kept his nerves constantly taut.
Maintaining that tension for half an hour while expending immense energy had pushed him to his limit.
Tengen Uzui, while not as visibly strained due to his superior physique, was still suffering from the intense exertion.
"What do we do, Aoki?" Tengen Uzui asked.
"Seriously? You're the senior; why are you asking me?" Aoki retorted, his mind racing, searching for a solution.
Gyutaro attacked again, forcing Aoki to fight and strategize simultaneously.
A small mistake, born from his divided attention, was instantly exploited. Gyutaro sent Tengen Uzui flying, then swung his sickles at Aoki.
Gyutaro's attack was too fast, and Aoki's stamina was depleted. Before he could react, the sickle was upon him, leaving no time to escape with the Flying Thunder God technique.
Just then, a figure appeared before Aoki, blocking Gyutaro's attack.
A cry of pain echoed, blood splattered. Aoki recognized the figure—Shinobu Kocho—and his expression shifted from stunned silence to furious rage, his killing intent palpable, even momentarily unsettling Gyutaro.
"Damn it!" Aoki roared, activating his Susanoo, unleashing a powerful punch that sent Gyutaro flying. He then caught the person who had shielded him.
It was Shinobu Kocho.
Shinobu Kocho, having been battling Daki, had periodically checked on Aoki and Tengen Uzui. Seeing Aoki's perilous situation, she'd rushed to his aid, taking the blow for him.
"Shinobu," Aoki said, examining her wounds.
Fortunately, the sickle had only inflicted a shallow wound to her abdomen, not life-threatening.
However, when Aoki used his Sharingan to examine the poison in the wound, a terrifying aura emanated from him.
"What's happening?" Tanjiro stared at Aoki. "What's that smell? I've never smelled it on Aoki-senpai before. It's chilling."
Sensing the aura, Tengen Uzui's hairs stood on end, his gaze wary.
Gently placing Shinobu Kocho in a safe place, Aoki rejoined the battle.
Shinobu Kocho, a physician, had no medicine on hand and could only rely on breathing techniques to slow the poison's spread.
But Shinobu Kocho's injury didn't affect Aoki and Tengen Uzui as much as it did Tanjiro.
He and Shinobu Kocho had been able to suppress Daki, but now, alone, he was likely to be killed by her.
Just as he felt the pressure mounting, the wooden box on his back began to stir.
Nezuko burst out, kicking the box open.
But unlike before, Nezuko was drenched in sweat, her eyes cat-like, her expression fierce.
Looking at Daki, Nezuko sensed a familiar aura.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
Muzan Kibutsuji was the demon king, strengthening his demons with his blood.
The Upper Moons of the Twelve Kizuki were the strongest demons, inheriting his most potent blood, making their aura closer to his own than other demons.
Daki, though only Upper Moon Six, possessed the strongest concentration of Muzan Kibutsuji's blood Nezuko had encountered.
Looking at Daki, Nezuko was suddenly overwhelmed by a memory from years ago: her mother, brother, sister—all her family—slaughtered by a figure in a suit, blood splattering everywhere. Nezuko's pupils dilated.
Her body rapidly matured to that of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old, small horns sprouting from her forehead, willow-like patterns appearing on her limbs. The bamboo mouthpiece fell from her mouth.
Tanjiro clearly sensed a drastic change in Nezuko's aura and demeanor, the pressure she exerted far exceeding anything he'd felt before.
Nezuko was now, for all intents and purposes, a demon—or rather, closer to a true demon than ever before.
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