Almost the moment Yuko's strength gave out, Kokushibo—still with the Nichirin blade embedded in his neck—wrenched himself free and retreated at high speed.
His eyes were wide, veins bulging across his cheeks and neck as he forcibly tore the blade out. His neck, severed two-thirds through, left his head nearly dangling.
One hand held his head in place as he gasped for breath. Just a little more—if he had been two seconds slower, he would already be dead.
He had been caught completely off guard by that sudden sword form.
The combined movements of Snow Breathing and Sun Breathing—the setup, the breathing shift, the lift of the blade—were nearly identical.
There were techniques that borrowed from or improved upon others, but no one had ever blended multiple Breathing Styles together so seamlessly.
One technique was from one style, while the very next would be from an entirely different one.
Switching breathing styles mid-battle was nearly impossible. Even among Demon Slayers who mastered multiple styles, none could freely alternate them in combat—not even Kokushibou himself.
That wasn't a matter of skill. It was a matter of physical constitution.
In the entire Demon Slayer Corps, only Yuko had that gift.
Even the most unique style—Sun Breathing—she could at least force herself to use. As for the other styles, every door was open to her.
Mastering all Breathing Styles, including Sun and Moon, within only three years… it was a talent Kokushibo unconsciously overlooked.
To him, only Yoriichi's Sun Breathing mattered. Yet Yuko kept shattering his expectations.
If Yoriichi had always been unreachable from the beginning, then Yuko was the one who quietly followed behind—only for one to look back and realize she had somehow moved ahead.
The burning pain of the bright red blade made regeneration almost impossible—but fortunately the heat was fading.
Kokushibo angrily slashed through Yuko's Nichirin sword.
An unowned Nichirin blade, after all, was nothing more than scrap metal.
The flesh of Kokushibou's neck slowly writhed as it regenerated. Gripping the demon blade—which was also slowly repairing itself—he walked toward Yuko.
"Cough… urgh…"
Yuko knelt in misery, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood. Her vision blurred; her ears rang; her mind felt empty.
No… her body had reached its limit.
A pair of blurry feet appeared before her.
So I didn't cut him down after all…
The thought had barely formed when the owner of those feet bent down and grabbed her throat, lifting her clean off the ground.
Yuko instinctively grasped his arm with both hands, as if trying to ease her own breathing.
She could no longer see his face—only struggle faintly out of pure reflex.
"Kh…!" Blood trickled from her compressed throat, sliding down to Kokushibou's fingers.
Her arms rested weakly on his. Seeing Yuko—covered in blood, exhausted beyond measure—did nothing to lessen Kokushibo's fury.
His fingers tightened. Yuko hung there like a dying goldfish pulled from water, blood bubbling up from her lips.
Through the haze of consciousness, a gentle voice seemed to whisper beside his ear:
"Brother, you don't need to prove yourself to anyone. I've always been proud of you."
Kokushibo's grip loosened slightly—unconsciously.
"Let go of Miss Yuko!"
A sharp shout rang out. Kokushibo turned—one of the Demon Slayers who had fled earlier charged toward him, raising a Nichirin blade in trembling fury.
With the Transparent World, Kokushibo saw clearly: this woman—Namiko—was outwardly brave but inwardly weak. Her attempt to mask fear with shouting was useless.
She had sent off the kasugai crow to report back, but worry for Yuko had pushed her to return despite terror.
Maybe Yuko had already defeated the demon.
She had prayed for that.
But the moment she crossed the threshold, she saw Yuko about to be eaten.
Facing a towering, terrifying demon nearly two meters tall, every cell in Namiko's body screamed in panic.
Run!
Run!
That's not an enemy you can fight.
Even if you flee, Miss Yuko won't blame you.
But she couldn't. This was her mission—how could she abandon Yuko to face the consequences alone?
Yuko, drifting in and out of consciousness, heard the shout. She painfully turned her head.
A blurred figure charged with a blade. Yuko opened her mouth and managed only a whisper softer than a mosquito:
"…run…"
Yuko had never felt this weak. Her entire body felt like molten lead; nothing felt like it belonged to her. Her awareness was fading.
Kokushibo stood calmly, unmoving. As Namiko closed the distance, a sliver of hope rose in her.
From here… she could land a hit!
"Water Breath—"
…
Suddenly her vision tilted sideways. Namiko stared blankly ahead, her field of view now parallel with the ground.
Yuko's eyes widened slightly. Her fingers curled weakly, trying to break free.
But she had no strength left.
Still holding Yuko with one hand, Kokushibo casually swung his demon blade with the other. The small branchlike protrusions on the blade hooked onto the back of Namiko's uniform collar and dragged her into the house behind him.
"L-let me go!"
Namiko's terrified cry reached Yuko's ears. Relief flickered through Yuko—she was alive—but a deeper dread followed.
Inside the house, Kokushibo tossed Namiko aside. She rolled several times before desperately trying to crawl away.
Yuko strained to shift her gaze—and saw Namiko clearly.
Blood poured from all four of Namiko's limbs. It looked like her tendons had been severed. Terrified, she crawled using her elbows and knees.
Yuko forced out words: "You… what are you planning?"
Kokushibo didn't respond. He knew that speaking with Yuko only invited frustration.
She always said things that stabbed straight through one's heart.
His fingers tightened around her throat again, his nails piercing her skin like blades.
"Mmh—!"
Yuko's brow furrowed deeply. She felt her life draining rapidly.
Her own death didn't matter.
But Namiko…
Kokushibo noticed her glance toward Namiko. "You still have the mind to worry about someone else now?"
He hesitated—debating whether or not to kill her.
At his words, Yuko refocused her gaze. She looked straight at him—not with hatred, but with pity.
Yuko managed to speak: "Mi–Michikatsu… cough… one day… for the sins you've committed…"
Her voice suddenly stopped. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. Her mouth hung open, unable to form sound.
Her body—
Something had entered it.
---
Currently at chapter 129 for advance chapters
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