Akaza sat on the ground in a strangely casual posture. His arms had vanished, reduced to stumps of squirming flesh that stubbornly refused to regenerate. No matter how much he focused or tried to call upon his demonic healing, the wounds remained stubbornly open.
Too strong. He's become even stronger…
Out of the three Upper Moons, Akaza was ironically the least injured. Kokushibou had taken the worst of it—half his body reduced to ashes, hanging on to life by a thread. Douma had been cut clean in half and lay immobilized. Compared to them, Akaza's injuries seemed minor. Only his arms were gone.
But that wasn't the right way to measure the outcome of a battle.
The three Upper Moons had entirely different fighting styles, which determined how much of their strength they could still wield after being wounded.
Douma's Blood Demon Art relied heavily on long-range attacks. Though losing his lower body was severe, he retained a terrifying resistance. Against ordinary Hashira-level swordsmen, he could still put up a fight, maybe even defeat two or three if caught off guard.
Kokushibou was worse off. He was a swordsman—a master swordsman. His dominant right hand had been lost along with the entire right half of his body. With that gone, many of his sword techniques became unusable. Still, his Blood Demon Art granted him some minimal means to fight back.
But Akaza… he had lost nearly all his combat potential.
He was a close-combat martial artist. His entire body was a weapon, but his fists—his hands—were his foundation. Without them, he was left with only his legs. While his kicks were still dangerous, maintaining balance was nearly impossible, especially in his condition. He hadn't yet mastered the Transparent World, so he couldn't compensate by controlling his muscles as Kokushibou could.
The only remaining advantage was that he could still run.
But even that was limited. His speed had dropped considerably due to the severity of his wounds. He could probably escape from average Demon Slayer swordsmen, but not from Hashira.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps.
Two people were approaching quickly. Their steps were light, steady, and precise. Akaza immediately recognized them as skilled fighters—no, masters.
He gritted his teeth and tried to stand. He had to get away from here.
"Water Breathing – Third Form: Flowing Dance!"
A cascade of water burst forward like a roaring river, blocking Akaza's escape. The graceful, flowing slash carved into the ground, forming a wall of water in his path.
Akaza paused and stared. There was no longer any point in trying to flee.
He turned toward his opponents—Tomioka Giyuu and Tanjirou Kamado.
Despite his grievous injuries, Akaza remained vigilant. Both Tanjirou and Giyuu were stronger than before, their breathing techniques refined to near perfection. Even though Akaza was clearly weakened, neither of them let their guard down. One misstep could still mean death.
Akaza didn't attack.
Instead, he sat down again.
His voice was calm. "I want to tell you a story."
---
Once upon a time, there was a boy born in Edo. Because he was born with small fangs, he was called "the child of the devil." His name was Komaji.
Komaji grew up in poverty. His family members died one after another, and soon only his father remained. But even his father was seriously ill. With no one else to rely on, Komaji did everything he could to get medicine. But back then, medicine wasn't something a poor child could afford.
Desperate to save his father, Komaji resorted to stealing.
He told himself that as long as he became strong enough, he could evade capture and keep buying medicine. So he trained, honed his body, and lived a life of crime. Years passed like this—each day a struggle for survival.
Then, one day, his father hanged himself.
His father believed he had become a burden. He couldn't bear the thought that Komaji had become a criminal because of him. That loss shattered Komaji's world.
Filled with rage and despair, Komaji lashed out at the world. He attacked innocent passersby in a blind fury—until a man stopped him.
His name was Keizo.
Keizo recognized Komaji's martial potential and brought him to his dojo. There were no other disciples—only Keizo and his sick daughter, Koyuki. Keizo worked full time and asked Komaji to take care of Koyuki.
Komaji hesitated. "I'm a sinner. I'm not worthy of taking care of others."
But Keizo only smiled. "I've already punished you for your crimes. That's enough."
Komaji stayed. Day by day, he cared for Koyuki. Her gentle, kind nature softened him. She didn't see a criminal—only a boy who tried his best. Slowly, Komaji fell in love. Koyuki did too.
By the time Komaji turned eighteen, the dojo still hadn't gained a single student. Meanwhile, the neighboring dojo grew jealous and constantly caused trouble.
One night, Keizo approached him.
"I want you to inherit this dojo," he said. "And I want you to marry Koyuki."
Komaji was stunned. But when he looked into Koyuki's eyes, he saw her love and trust—and he agreed.
At a fireworks festival, Komaji held Koyuki's hand and promised, "I will become stronger than anyone, and I will protect you for the rest of my life."
He later returned to his old home to visit his father's grave. "I'm getting married," he whispered. "I've finally found happiness."
But when he returned to the dojo...
It was too late.
Keizo and Koyuki were dead—poisoned.
The jealous rival dojo had taken everything from him again.
Komaji lost his mind. He stormed the rival dojo, slaughtered everyone with his bare hands, and vanished from the city. He was no longer a man. He was worse than a demon.
---
"Until I met Kibutsuji Muzan," Akaza said, his voice trembling. "He made me into a true demon. I forgot my past… and changed my name to Akaza."
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"I didn't want power. I only wanted to protect Koyuki. How… how could I forget that?"
He gritted his teeth and wept.
Tanjirou was silent for a moment, his heart shaken. Even Tomioka Giyuu's normally blank expression flickered with emotion. They had heard many stories, many tragedies—but this…
"I understand your pain," Tanjirou said quietly. "But it doesn't change the fact that you've taken lives. Your past doesn't erase your sins."
His voice grew firmer. "You hurt others. That can't be undone."
Despite his sympathy, Tanjirou's resolve remained strong. Whether it was Gyuutarou, Rui, or Akaza—every demon had a painful past. But that didn't mean they could be forgiven.
His Nichirin Blade ignited with red flame, glowing as if bathed in blood.
Akaza looked up, eyes filled with sorrow. "I should have gone to Koyuki long ago. She waited… for so long. Will she blame me?"
His expression softened. In that moment, he wasn't a demon. He was a man remembering someone he loved.
"You must kill Muzan," he said.
Akaza—no, Komaji—hadn't chosen to become a demon. Muzan had forced his blood into him.
Tanjirou's eyes flashed with determination. "We will. I swear it."
Komaji gave a small, grateful nod.
Then he closed his eyes.
Tanjirou stepped forward, flame dancing along the blade.
One swift strike.
Akaza's head flew into the air, and his body collapsed. In the rising embers, Komaji saw them—Keizo, Koyuki, and his father. They were smiling, waiting for him.
His father frowned slightly, as if scolding him. But behind that frown was love.
"I'm sorry… everyone…"
The flames danced one last time.
The dust had finally settled.
Akaza, the Upper Rank Three, was no more.
Øóffer going on for diamond tier
pàtreøn (Gk31)