Tonight's moonlight was destined to be anything but peaceful. Flames licked at the wisteria logs, sending plumes of pale purple smoke spiraling upward—and within that haze, a silhouette appeared, an incarnation of absolute despair.
The words that drifted from that figure felt like the gavel of a death sentence, each syllable slamming against Izumi Kiyokazu's heart.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die!
Seeing that Kiyokazu had not answered his question, Kokushibo asked again. This time, however, his voice was tinged with a microscopic, yet sharp, hint of impatience.
"I shall ask you once more. Sun Breathing... where did you learn it?"
Beneath that steady, aristocratic tone lay a murderous intent as deep as an abyss, accompanied by an indescribable fury—the kind born from the violation of an absolute taboo.
Hearing that voice again, Kiyokazu felt as though his heart had stopped beating entirely. It was a point of pure, concentrated malice. The hatred was nearly tangible, crashing down upon him like a collapsing mountain, making it almost impossible to breathe.
His body, already pushed far beyond its limits, began to tremble uncontrollably. This wasn't a conscious fear on Kiyokazu's part, but the primal scream of his cells in the face of a predator.
The very air seemed to stagnate and congeal the moment that figure appeared. Even drawing breath became a Herculean task. The half of his body covered in Doma's ice radiated a bone-chilling cold, but compared to the freezing aura emanating from the newcomer, Kiyokazu would have preferred to be frozen solid by Doma.
In the presence of Kokushibo, a deeper, more profound shudder vibrated through his very soul.
Kiyokazu could feel it—he was being watched.
Following the direction of that gaze, he painfully shifted his eyes. In the next instant, an image was burned into his retinas that he would never forget for as long as he lived.
Under the ghastly pallor of the moonlight, a tall, cold figure clad in a purple samurai kimono stood silently beneath a tree engulfed in flames. The smoke from the burning wisteria seemed to possess a will of its own, swirling and parting before him as if it lacked the courage to even touch his skin.
The night wind ruffled the hair on his forehead, but it could not stir the frozen, deathly chill that clung to his person. Six crimson eyes, like six blood-red moons, stared fixately at Kiyokazu, harboring a storm of suppressed, turbulent emotions.
Upper Rank One: Kokushibo.
Simply being subjected to that gaze made Kiyokazu feel as though invisible blades were flaying his skin. Those eyes seemed intent on piercing through his flesh and bone, dissecting his very being to peer at the shadow of Yoriichi Tsugikuni hidden within.
Under the pressure of that gaze, Sun Breathing began to circulate faster as a reflexive instinct. Kiyokazu knew his body was screaming for help.
"Cough... cough... Lord Kokushibo, have you come... have you come to rescue me?"
Fortunately, while Kiyokazu was paralyzed by shock, Doma—still pinned to the ground with a Nichirin Sword through his heart and being steadily corroded by wisteria smoke—managed to force out a voice. Surprisingly, despite such grievous injuries, Doma still wore a smile and even had the leisure to greet Kokushibo playfully.
However, Kokushibo didn't even spare Doma a glance. From the moment Kiyokazu entered his field of vision, those six eyes reflected only one person.
Seeing that Kokushibo was ignoring him, Doma spoke again in a helpless, almost whiny tone:
"Lord Kokushibo, could you please... cough... help me pull this Nichirin Sword out? Having it pinned through me is really hindering my regeneration. And it hurts quite a bit... Ah!"
Before Doma could finish, Kokushibo had already reached down and yanked the glowing red blade free. Holding the Nichirin Sword, Kokushibo felt a familiar heat—a warmth he had only ever experienced from Yoriichi Tsugikuni's blade. His mind became a chaotic mess.
There were no two leaves in the world that were exactly alike, and yet... this sensation was identical to the one etched into his memories.
Even though centuries had passed—even though the faces of his parents, his wife, his children, and his companions had long since faded into a blur—Kokushibo remembered everything about Yoriichi Tsugikuni. He could never forget that brother with the disgusting smile, the one who could so effortlessly obtain everything others spent their lives pursuing.
The aura on this blade was no different from Yoriichi's.
His hand gripping the sword began to tremble. The emotions he thought he had under control finally broke through their restraints.
Just then, two voices roared out from the distance simultaneously:
"Wind Breathing, Seventh Form: Gale - Sudden Tengu Wind!"
A violent green tornado descended from the sky with a roar. The sheer force of the technique was so great that it scattered the surrounding wisteria smoke in all directions.
"Stone Breathing, Second Form: Upper Smash!"
Following the green whirlwind was a massive axe-strike that carried the weight of a falling meteor.
Just by the sound, Kiyokazu could guess that these were the Wind and Stone Hashira of this era. However, their arrival brought him no joy; instead, he felt only a bitter, gnawing worry. Even the Hashira of the Taisho era, hailed as the strongest generation, were largely walking toward their deaths if they faced Kokushibo without manifesting their Marks.
Even together, these two might not survive a single exchange with the Upper Rank One.
And the reality was exactly as Kiyokazu feared. As the two attacks crashed toward him, Kokushibo didn't even bother to dodge. He stood his ground, his gaze never once wavering from Kiyokazu.
"Moon Breathing, First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."
There was no prolonged clash, no suspense. The moment the tiny, crescent moon-blades materialized, the battle was decided.
The cold, desolate moonlight spilled forth as a massive, sweeping arc-shaped slash manifested out of thin air. Its range was so vast it easily engulfed both of the incoming attackers.
Amidst a spray of blood, the Wind and Stone Hashira were instantly rendered combat-ineffective.
"A gathering of Hashira after all this time... how nostalgic," Kokushibo said. "Do not move. Your entrails will spill out if you do. Just stay there and watch as Sun Breathing is erased from this world forever."
Kiyokazu watched as Kokushibo took one step after another toward him. Paradoxically, his mind began to find a way through the crisis.
His heart was racing with tension, and under the extreme strain of Sun Breathing, his body temperature successfully surged past 39 degrees Celsius.
As the distinct patterns of the Sun Breathing Mark began to surface on his skin, Izumi Kiyokazu stood up. He looked directly at Kokushibo, and tears began to fall from his eyes, seemingly beyond his control.
"How pitiful you are... Elder Brother..."
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Demon Slayer: Starting by Snatching Daki(175 Chapter- Ongoing)
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