Chapter 112: The Final Curtain of Tsugikuni Michikatsu!
"Moon Breathing: Fourteenth Form – Ferocious Change, Heavenly Full Moon!"
Beneath Kokushibo's slash, two massive, wheel-shaped arcs of moonlight spun forward, tearing through everything in their path. Riding atop that tidal wave of blades were countless smaller crescent moons, swarming like a storm of silver fangs.
"Sun Breathing: Great Sun Halo Head Dance!"
"ROOOAR—"
A thunderous dragon's roar echoed across the battlefield.
A blazing dragon of fire surged into existence.
Though it was only a shadow, its head, horns, eyes, scales, and claws were so vivid they felt real—so real that anyone who saw it would instinctively feel fear crawl up their spine.
"Explo—"
"Khuk—khuk— This is unbelievable… you're really just a human."
His attack was broken through.
His entire body was scorched, burned by searing flames. Yet his gaze remained unshaken. Somewhere between life and death, he had already cast everything else aside.
Right now, there was only one thing he wanted.
To defeat the heir of his younger brother's Breathing Technique standing before him.
From the very beginning, he had always lived beneath the shadow of his younger brother—Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
Always.
Even in the final moments of Yoriichi's life, he had still possessed the power to kill him.
That was the demon in his heart.
His nightmare.
For hundreds of years, he had never been able to forget it.
And now, a new heir of Sun Breathing had appeared—one who even knew everything about him.
As the successor of "Tsugikuni Yoriichi" and "Sun Breathing," defeating this man was Kokushibo's only purpose now.
Perhaps he would never be able to surpass his younger brother, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
But now, did this successor intend to surpass him as well?
"BOOM—"
At that moment, an aura erupted from Kokushibo's body, soaring straight into the heavens.
In this instant, he wagered everything.
Even the immortal life he possessed no longer mattered. All he wanted was to defeat the person in front of him.
What came after that… he didn't care anymore.
"Moon Breathing: Sixteenth Form – Moonbow, Half Moon!"
He swung his broken blade.
Even though his sword was shattered, its sharpness was still enough to split mountains and shatter stone.
From the sky, massive blades of wind crashed down, pulverizing the ground. Along with them came a downpour of countless crescent moons, slicing through everything in their wake.
"Sun Breathing: Eleventh Form – Dragon Sun Halo Head Dance!"
A flurry of blazing strikes erupted like a dancing fire dragon, exploding across the battlefield.
"Hah—!"
The gap in strength between them was real.
And it wasn't small.
"Click—"
But just as Kokushibo crashed to the ground, his body drenched in blood, the Nichirin Blade in Yukinoshita Akira's hands snapped cleanly in half at the middle.
A Nichirin Blade was never a sacred, priceless treasure.
It was merely a tool made to kill demons.
And under a clash this intense, it had finally reached its limit.
"Bzzz—"
By coincidence, the broken half of Akira's blade fell right in front of Kokushibo.
When Kokushibo saw his own reflection in the cracked steel, his pupils shrank.
Buried memories surged to the surface.
The past began to flicker before his eyes, spinning like a revolving lantern.
To survive, he had betrayed his comrades and joined the demons.
To become stronger, to surpass his younger brother, he had chosen to submit to the source of all evil—Muzan Kibutsuji—and for hundreds of years, he had lived as nothing more than Muzan's tool.
Was everything he had done truly right?
For centuries, he had honed himself day after day, raising his swordsmanship as high as he possibly could.
And yet, in the end, he was defeated by a successor who was barely in his teens or early twenties.
Was something called "talent" really that unreasonable?
His younger brother from the past—
And now, his younger brother's heir standing before him—
Both left Kokushibo's mind in utter chaos.
"Step—"
"I will use his strongest sword technique. Back then, with this very move, he nearly killed Muzan Kibutsuji."
"…Thank you."
Slowly, Kokushibo lifted his head.
His gaze was calm.
Different from before, now that death was approaching, he felt no fear.
What filled his heart instead was relief and peace, as if a long, heavy burden had finally been set down.
From beginning to end, everything had been nothing more than his own unwillingness and jealousy.
"Sun Breathing: Thirteenth Form—"
A series of techniques flowed in sequence, from the First Form all the way to the Twelfth Form, linking together into a single, endlessly repeating cycle.
That was the Thirteenth Form.
Long ago, this technique had nearly killed Muzan Kibutsuji.
Today, it was Kokushibo's turn.
"Crackle—"
"Swish—Swish—Swish—"
As Akira's blade danced through Kokushibo's body, a small bundle slipped out from Kokushibo's chest and fell to the ground.
In the very next instant, the dance of the sun began.
In the blink of an eye, the Kokushibo who had been standing there was reduced to nothing more than a heap of minced flesh.
In this state, there was no other possibility for him—
Only death.
[Ding]
[You have obtained 5% Template Inheritance Rate!]
Thus, Upper Rank One: Kokushibo, had fallen.
Without thinking, Akira picked up the small bundle from the ground.
After all, anything Kokushibo had carried with him all this time had to hold some kind of meaning.
The moment he opened it, Akira froze.
Inside was a flute, split cleanly into two.
That flute was a gift Tsugikuni Michikatsu had once given to his younger brother, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
A present from an older brother to his little brother.
Back then, Yoriichi had always cherished that flute, because it was something his older brother had given him.
On the night Yoriichi nearly killed Kokushibo, in the surge of his fear, Kokushibo had split Yoriichi's body in half with a single slash.
The flute had been on Yoriichi's body at the time.
And so, it too had been cut in two.
Only now did Kokushibo realize that for all those decades, his younger brother had truly kept and treasured the flute he had given him.
He remembered their relationship from long ago.
He remembered how Yoriichi had once said he would protect the flute the same way he would protect his older brother.
In the end, for the younger brother he had hated his entire life—
Kokushibo shed tears.
And that flute eventually fell into his hands.
For hundreds of years, he had always carried it with him.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
His younger brother.
Someone he had envied his entire life.
And someone he had remembered his entire life.
"Rest in peace…"
Because he had inherited Tsugikuni Yoriichi's memories, Akira naturally understood how Yoriichi had felt about his older brother.
From beginning to end, Yoriichi had never blamed him.
Not for causing the Demon Slayer Corps to isolate and eventually expel him.
Not for choosing to become a demon.
That was the kindness of Tsugikuni Yoriichi's heart.
In Yoriichi's eyes, because he had failed to kill Muzan Kibutsuji, because Muzan had survived, every tragedy that followed was his own responsibility.
In the world of Demon Slayer, whether it was Tsugikuni Yoriichi, the protagonist's group, or the Pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps—
When they faced danger, they all blamed themselves.
Not a single one of them blamed others.
Perhaps…
That was the true difference between a protagonist and an antagonist.
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