"Sanemi actually lost!"
The faces of the remaining Hashira were once again masked with shock. They had initially thought that for a boy his age, defeating a Lower Moon and a non-poison-using Shinobu was already legendary.
They hadn't expected him to defeat Sanemi Shinazugawa. Among the nine Hashira, Sanemi's combat ranking was consistently near the top. Although he hadn't used his Nichirin Sword in this bout, Goku was also fighting bare-handed, making it a perfectly fair contest.
"Again!"
The Wind Hashira scrambled to his feet and lunged at Goku once more. He still had more powerful techniques up his sleeve.
"Wind Breathing, Fifth Form: Cold Winter Wind!"
"Okay, let's go again!" Goku accepted happily. He was thrilled that his opponent was willing to keep sparring. He had set out on this journey specifically to fight strong masters, elevate his own strength, and learn new techniques.
"Wind Breathing, Seventh Form: Gale - Sudden Gusts!"
Goku leaped into the air, using his hand as a blade, and attempted to mimic the exact form Sanemi had used moments ago.
"What?!"
The watching Hashira couldn't believe their eyes. Not only was Goku using Wind Breathing, but the power behind his execution was actually greater than Sanemi's. When the techniques clashed, the Wind Hashira was sent spiraling backward. The forms were identical, but the person wielding them was different, and thus, the output was on another level.
The only person not surprised was Mita. He had seen Goku master Water Breathing in a single glance; he knew exactly how terrifying the boy's talent was.
'Wind Breathing is much more explosive than Water Breathing,' Goku thought as he landed, gaining a deeper understanding. Breathing Styles enhanced human physiology, but different styles prioritized different physical attributes, leading to distinct tactical effects.
"I don't believe this!" Sanemi stood up yet again, rushing at Goku.
Goku met him without hesitation. The two became a blur in the center of the courtyard. Sanemi unleashed every Breathing Form in his arsenal, pushing his body to its absolute limit. Yet, time and again, he was knocked back—usually by the very same Wind Breathing forms he had just demonstrated.
Finally, his stamina spent, Sanemi lay flat on the ground, staring up at the passing clouds with a look of total existential dread. He was the Wind Hashira, yet he had been systematically dismantled by a twelve-year-old boy using his own style.
"He's so strong..."
The other Hashira looked at Goku, who stood there without so much as a ruffled hair or a heavy breath. Their internal assessments shifted rapidly. They each calculated whether they could beat him.
The answer was a resounding no. Even Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira, felt he lacked the certainty of victory. After such an intense battle, Goku hadn't even broken his breathing rhythm. This meant he hadn't been using his full power—not even close.
Furthermore, while Sanemi had been defeated, he wasn't seriously injured; he was just exhausted. To fight someone at full strength and deplete their energy without hurting them required a massive gulf in ability. It was the same way a Hashira could toy with a low-rank slayer without causing harm.
"Would you all like to spar with me together?"
Having mastered all the Wind Breathing forms from Sanemi, Goku felt he had gained a lot. He turned to the remaining eight Hashira and made the request with utmost politeness.
"You want to fight all of us at once?"
The Hashira felt Goku was being a bit too arrogant. He was strong, yes, but fighting the remaining eight together was suicide. They were the most powerful generation of Hashira in history; they believed that together, they could even surround and kill Muzan Kibutsuji.
"Oyakata-sama has arrived!"
Two high-pitched, youthful voices rang out from the entrance. In an instant, the loose atmosphere vanished. The Hashira snapped into a perfect line and dropped to one knee, their faces filled with genuine, deep-seated reverence. Even the shell-shocked Sanemi scrambled up to kneel.
Goku looked toward the entrance, curious. Uncle Mita had said the leader, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, was in poor health and lacked combat ability. For such a man to command this level of respect from these warriors, he had to be someone special.
A man walked out, looking so frail a gust of wind might knock him over. The upper half of his face was covered by a horrific purple growth, nearly disfiguring him. He was blind, relying on two twin girls to guide his steps. Yet, his aura was incredibly gentle, like a warm spring breeze.
"Good morning, everyone," he said, a peaceful smile on his lips.
The Hashira and Mita greeted their Master in unison. Tanjiro, his head pressed down by Mita, followed suit. But Goku suddenly blurred, appearing right in front of Kagaya. He tilted his head, studying the man closely.
"Old man, you're the Master? You have a very powerful curse on you!"
During his year at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had taught Goku about Dark Arts, specifically the nature of curses. Dumbledore hadn't taught him how to *use* Dark Magic—fearing it would twist his pure heart—but he had taught him how to identify, defend against, and break it.
Goku recognized the mark on Kagaya's face immediately. It wasn't a disease; it was an ancient, terrifying curse.
"What?" The nine Hashira looked at Goku in confusion. Curse? They had always believed it was a hereditary illness.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki stiffened slightly. He turned his sightless eyes toward the direction of Goku's voice. "You must be Goku-san. You can see the curse on my body?"
He had heard everything about Goku from Mita—about his strength and his magic-like powers. But he hadn't expected the boy to see through the generational curse of the Ubuyashiki family with a single glance.