"Hold on," Mitsuru said, his eyes fixed on Gyutaro. "I'm grabbing a Nichirin Blade. Won't be long."
He turned to Uzui, who was also focused on Gyutaro. "Two things—these demons probably need to be killed simultaneously to truly die. And those sickles are poisoned."
"Simultaneous kill, poison sickles," Uzui repeated, his grin widening despite the grim information. The Sound Hashira seemed energized by the challenge rather than daunted. "Got it. Now hurry back—I want to see what you can do with proper steel!"
Mitsuru's body blurred toward Tanjiro, his enhanced speed carrying him across the rooftop in seconds.
"Tanjiro," Mitsuru crouched beside the injured boy. "I need your blade."
"Mitsuru-san—" Tanjiro tried to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at his injury. His face was pale but his eyes held that stubborn determination that seemed to define him. "I can still—"
"You can barely stand. Let me borrow it." Mitsuru's tone left no room for argument.
Tanjiro hesitated, and Mitsuru could see the internal struggle playing across the boy's face. Tanjiro obviously wanted to fight and Mitsuru may have even let him but for now he wanted to enjoy fighting together with Uzui. Tanjiro slowly unsheathed his Nichirin Blade, the black steel gleaming in the firelight, still carrying traces of flame from his earlier techniques.
"Please," Tanjiro said quietly, his eyes meeting Mitsuru's with surprising intensity. "Be careful."
"Always." Mitsuru wrapped his fingers around the hilt, testing the weight. Different from his broken sword—slightly heavier, the balance point shifted forward—but good. Very good. "Focus on recovering. This will be over soon."
That familiar thrill coursed through him as he straightened—finally, a weapon that could actually end this fight.
---
The battlefield had erupted into chaos by the time Mitsuru returned.
Uzui engaged Gyutaro the moment Mitsuru moved from his place. The Sound Hashira's twin blades—connected by a thick chain—moved in devastating arcs.
"Sound Breathing – Fourth Form: Constant Resounding Slashes!"
Explosions erupted wherever the blades struck, the bombs attached to his weapons detonating on impact with thunderous force. The cascading blasts tore through the rooftop, sending tiles and wooden beams flying. Each explosion was precisely timed, creating overlapping shockwaves that prevented Gyutaro from finding stable footing.
But Gyutaro was fast—faster than anything Uzui had fought before. His blood sickles deflected most strikes with minimal effort, the crystallized weapons proving remarkably durable against even Nichirin steel. What few hits did land simply regenerated within seconds.
"Is that all a Hashira can do?" the demon taunted, his yellow eyes gleaming with malicious amusement, clearly enjoying himself despite the ferocity of Uzui's assault.
"I'm just getting started!" shot back, his chains whirling.
Mitsuru observed for a moment, analyzing. Uzui was incredibly skilled—his attacks were coordinated, explosive, designed to overwhelm. But Gyutaro's regeneration was keeping pace, and worse, the demon was learning the Hashira's patterns. It was clear this would be a war of attrition.
Time to even the odds.
Mitsuru launched himself into the fray without warning. One moment he wasn't there, the next his borrowed Nichirin Blade was slicing toward Gyutaro's exposed side.
The demon barely blocked with one scythe, his reflexes sharp enough to react even to Mitsuru's sudden appearance. The impact of Nichirin steel against crystallized blood sent sparks flying, and the force of the blow sent Gyutaro skidding backward across the rooftop, his feet carving furrows through the tiles.
"You're back! With a real blade this time! Now this is getting fun!" Gyutaro's grin widened. His entire demeanor shifted, excitement replacing the casual cruelty he'd displayed moments before.
"Thought you'd like that," Mitsuru replied, already moving into his next attack.
The Hashira shot him a quick glance. "Nice timing. Let's tear this bastard apart!"
"My thoughts exactly."
They moved as one—Mitsuru and Uzui fighting with an improvised coordination that shouldn't have been possible for their first time fighting together. Uzui attacked high, forcing Gyutaro to defend his upper body. Mitsuru came in low, seeking legs, torso, any opening. Where Uzui was explosive and loud, all thunder and overwhelming force, Mitsuru was precise and flowing. Opposite approaches that complemented perfectly.
Gyutaro found himself on the defensive for the first time in the fight.
"Blood Demon Art: Flying Blood Sickles!"
Dozens of crystallized blood projectiles filled the air, spinning with enough force to tear through flesh and bone. Mitsuru's blade destroyed the ones aimed at him with minimal wasted motion. Uzui used explosive strikes to detonate clusters mid-flight.
"Not enough!" Gyutaro pressed forward, his sickles becoming crimson blurs.
But now there were two opponents with Nichirin steel. Every attack blocked against one left an opening for the other. Cuts accumulated faster than he could heal, shallow wounds that individually meant nothing but collectively spoke to shifting momentum.
"You're slowing down!" Uzui's blades found purchase on Gyutaro's arm, carving deep enough to expose bone.
"Am I?" The demon's grin turned savage.
His killing intent spiked, making the air feel thick and difficult to breathe.
"Blood Demon Art: Rotating Circular Slashes!"
Both of Gyutaro's hands transformed into high-speed spinning vortexes of blood, the tornadoes expanding rapidly, threatening to engulf both fighters in poisoned death.
"Back!" Uzui shouted.
But Mitsuru moved forward and to the side, his enhanced perception showing him gaps in the technique—milliseconds between rotations where the structure was vulnerable. His blade lashed out at the base of the blood tornado, disrupting it at its source. The carefully maintained rotation collapsed on one side.
"What—" Gyutaro's surprise was genuine, his eyes widening as his own technique fell apart.
Uzui didn't waste the opening. "Sound Breathing – First Form: Roar!"
He detonated explosions behind himself, propelling forward at tremendous speed. His twin blades carved deep into Gyutaro's exposed shoulder, Nichirin steel cutting through demon flesh and scraping bone.
"GAH!" Genuine pain crossed the demon's face.
---
In the distance, the other battle was surprisingly one-sided.
Zenitsu was in his unconscious state, having passed out from fear the moment he'd seen Daki. But his body moved with lethal precision, golden lightning crackling around him.
"Thunder Breathing – First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"
His blade was a streak of light, moving so fast it seemed to be everywhere at once. Each strike came from impossible angles, driven by unconscious instinct honed through years of brutal training. The sleeping Zenitsu was obviously faster, more precise than when awake.
Daki's sashes whipped out to intercept, the obi strips moving like serpents through the air, but Zenitsu carved through obi after obi, his Nichirin steel severing them with clean cuts.
"Damn brat!" Daki snarled, regenerating as fast as he could cut.
Then Inosuke crashed in from above, having somehow climbed three buildings just to get the height advantage for his entrance.
"Beast Breathing – Fifth Fang: Crazy Cutting!"
His dual blades moved in wild, unpredictable patterns. No formal technique, just pure savage instinct that made him nearly impossible to read.
"Get away from me!" Daki shrieked.
But the real problem for Daki emerged from the smoke and flames.
Nezuko in her adult form. Her body grown—no longer the small demon girl but an adult form, tall and powerful. Her horn had extended from her forehead, her demonic markings spread across her skin, and her eyes burned with protective fury. This was the form she'd used against Daki before, the transformation that had shocked even the Upper Moon.
She moved with speed that rivaled Zenitsu's lightning-enhanced technique, her legs propelling her across the rooftops fast enough to leave afterimages. Her strength was proportional to her speed—each step shattered rooftops with audible cracks. Her claws raked through Daki's defenses like they were paper.
"No! Not you again!" Daki's voice held genuine fear. "Brother! Brother, help me!"
But Gyutaro couldn't help. He had his own problems.
Nezuko's kick sent Daki crashing through a building. Before the demon could recover, Nezuko was already there, claws tearing through sashes faster than they could regenerate.
Zenitsu blurred past in a streak of golden lightning. "Thunder Breathing – First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!" The technique took Daki's arm clean off.
Inosuke came from her blind spot, somehow having predicted where she'd be despite his bestial fighting style containing no formal strategy. Both his blades carved into her torso simultaneously, creating an X-shaped wound that split her midsection open. "Beast Breathing – Second Fang: Slice!"
"This isn't fair!" Daki shrieked. "Three against one!"
"Beast Breathing – Second Fang: Slice!" Inosuke repeated his technique.
"Thunder Breathing – First Form: Thunderclap and Flash – Sixfold!" Zenitsu blurred six times in rapid succession, each strike coming from a different vector, creating a cage of lightning and steel that Daki couldn't escape.
Nezuko's roar shook the air, her claws coming down with devastating force.
Daki was being overwhelmed, pushed past her limits by opponents who individually she could have stood a chance but together formed an unstoppable force.
---
Mitsuru felt his stamina draining with each exchange. His breathing was growing labored, his muscles burning with accumulated fatigue.
The Repetitive Action state had already taxed him earlier. Total Concentration Constant was sustainable, but maintaining peak performance in a prolonged fight against an Upper Moon was exhausting in ways normal combat wasn't.
Gyutaro wasn't tiring. Wasn't slowing. Every injury healed. That was the cruel reality of fighting Upper Moons—they had effectively infinite stamina.
But Mitsuru had one more card to play. The technique he'd struggled with for weeks.
Selfless State.
Five minutes. That would have to be enough. That was his limit, the maximum time he could maintain the technique before exhaustion forced him out of it.
"Uzui," he called during a brief lull in the fighting. "I'm going in. Cover me."
"What are you planning?"
"Something stupid." Mitsuru's grin was sharp. "When you see an opening, take it."
"That's a terrible plan!"
"It's the only one we've got!"
Before Uzui could argue, Mitsuru charged.
And as he moved, he let everything drain away. The excitement. The thrill. The rush of adrenaline that had been singing through his veins. The satisfaction of a good exchange, the anticipation of the next strike. Every emotion that made fighting enjoyable—gone.
His mind became still water. His intent disappeared. His intent disappeared. His fighting spirit vanished into void.
Selfless State—activated.
The change was immediate.
Gyutaro's eyes widened. "What—I can't read him!"
His sickles lashed out in a flurry of strikes, each one aimed at where Mitsuru should have been based on his trajectory and momentum. But Mitsuru's body wasn't where the demon expected, wasn't where any rational analysis would have placed him. No killing intent to track, no subtle tells to exploit, no predictable pattern to counter. The Nichirin Blade slipped through his guard, carving across his ribs.
"Bastard!"
Another strike from the opposite side, the blade seemingly teleporting from right to left. Then from above, dropping from an angle that should have been impossible without a jump Gyutaro would have seen. Then a thrust that forced Gyutaro to block with both sickles simultaneously—
And that was the opening Uzui needed. The Sound Hashira's blade crashed into the opening.
"Sound Breathing – Fifth Form: String Performance!"
The explosion consumed both demon and Hashira. When smoke cleared, Gyutaro bore a massive wound healing slower than before, his left arm hanging by threads.
"You!" Gyutaro's eyes fixed on Mitsuru. "What did you do?!"
Mitsuru didn't answer. In Selfless State, there were no words, no thoughts to form speech. There was only action and reaction, stimulus and response, the pure flow of combat without the contamination of conscious thought.
He attacked again. His blade traced patterns that seemed random but weren't. Each strike flowed with no wasted movement, without hesitation, without the delays that came from thought.
Gyutaro tried to counter, but fighting someone with no intent was like fighting a ghost.
"Brother!" Daki's scream echoed. "I'm coming!"
But she couldn't. The three had her completely pinned.
Gyutaro realized he was in real trouble.
"Blood Demon Art: Rotating Circular Slashes – Splatter Blood Sickles!"
He unleashed everything. Blood tornados from both arms, projectile sickles filling the air, poison mist spreading. A desperate all-out assault to kill both opponents.
Uzui gritted his teeth, preparing to push through—
But Mitsuru was already there. His body moved through the chaos like water, Selfless State allowing him to navigate the impossible. The blade intercepted sickles, deflected the tornado's edge, found the single path through devastation.
And in that path, directly in front of Gyutaro who had committed everything to his final attack and left himself exposed—
Uzui appeared, propelled by a final explosive blast.
"Now!" Mitsuru's voice cut through—the first sound he'd made since entering Selfless State.
"SOUND BREATHING – FIRST FORM: ROAR!"
Point-blank explosion. Gyutaro's head separated from his body, Nichirin steel enhanced by explosive force driving through his neck.
"BROTHER!" Daki's scream reached fever pitch—
Zenitsu blurred with golden lightning, his blade flashing from the right. "Thunder Breathing – First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"
Inosuke's beast fangs struck from the left simultaneously, both blades carving in from opposite angles. "Beast Breathing – Tenth Fang: Whirling Fangs!"
Nezuko's claws came from above with devastating force.
Three attacks, perfectly timed by unconscious coordination, striking as one.
Daki's head tumbled free, landing beside her brother's on the shattered rooftop, their eyes meeting in the moment before death.
Everything was still. The world seemed to hold its breath.
Both demon bodies began disintegrating, crumbling into ash.
Mitsuru let Selfless State drop. Exhaustion hit like a physical blow, but he forced himself to keep standing. Four minutes, forty seconds. Close enough.
Uzui swayed, he had gotten hit despite his caution so the poison was overwhelming his resistance. His breathing labored, skin taking unhealthy pallor.
"Did we..."
"Yeah. We got them."
"Good." Uzui's legs gave out. Mitsuru caught him, lowering him carefully.
"Stay with me."
"The poison's quite strong."
"You're too flashy to die here."
Despite everything, Uzui managed a weak laugh. "Damn right..."
In the distance, Inosuke was trying to take credit for everything. Nezuko had shrunk back to her normal form, swaying with exhaustion. Zenitsu was still unconscious but somehow looked proud.
Tanjiro was struggling to reach them, calling out to make sure everyone was okay.
Mitsuru stood in the center, borrowed blade in hand, watching the last traces of Upper Moon Six scatter. His heart raced—not from danger now, but from aftermath. That incredible high of surviving impossible odds.
They'd done it.
Upper Moon Six was dead.
He started to relax, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
Then he felt it.
A surge of malicious intent so overwhelming it made his enhanced senses scream danger.
His eyes snapped to where Gyutaro's disintegrating body lay.
The demon's remains—already crumbling to ash—were glowing with sickly light. Blood that had pooled around the corpse began crystallizing, spreading outward in geometric patterns across the rooftops.
Oh no.
"EVERYONE GET BACK!" Mitsuru shouted.
But it was too late.
Gyutaro's final technique—the last desperate act of a dying demon who knew he'd lost but refused to let his sister's killers survive. If he was going to die, he'd drag them all into death with him.
The blood across multiple rooftops flashed simultaneously.
Then the entire district block erupted.
Not with explosion—with cutting force. Massive circular blades of crystallized blood materialized from every blood pattern, spinning at incredible speeds. They tore through buildings like they were paper, carved through stone and wood with equal ease.
The rooftop beneath Mitsuru's feet disintegrated.
He saw Uzui falling, too poisoned to save himself. Saw Tanjiro trying to reach them. Saw Zenitsu's unconscious body tumbling through the air. Saw Inosuke grabbing for purchase on crumbling tiles. Saw Nezuko desperately reaching for her brother.
Buildings collapsed inward like houses of cards, their support structures severed by the spinning blades. The circular blades expanded outward in waves, destroying everything in a radius that encompassed the entire battlefield.
Gyutaro's laughter—weak, fading, but triumphant—echoed through the destruction.
"If I die... you all... die with me..."