With Doma's declaration of war, the already-chaotic battlefield plunged into outright madness.
That towering ice Buddha was not merely visually sacred and oppressive.
Unlike Inosuke's deliberately restrained Blood Demon Art, Doma's Lotus Bodhisattva was pure, unfiltered malice toward Breath-style swordsmen.
Every breath of white mist it exhaled, every drifting ice crystal it released, was a lethal weapon.
A poison-cold miasma capable of killing lung alveoli instantly.
"Cough—! Cough, cough, cough!!!"
Shinazugawa Sanemi, the closest to the center and just about to coordinate an attack with Rengoku, suddenly clutched his mouth and nose. Thick black blood mixed with crushed ice sprayed violently through his fingers.
"DON'T BREATHE!!!"
Sanemi roared, his voice already roughened by a throat flash-frozen from the inside.
"EVERYONE FALL BACK!!! THIS ICE FOG IS POISONOUS!!!
If it gets into your lungs, they'll rot instantly!!!
GET OUT—NOW!!!"
Rengoku, Giyu, and Zenitsu's expressions changed instantly.
They were forced to interrupt their Breathing Techniques and retreat to the perimeter.
But—
At the very center of this frozen hell.
At the place closest to Doma.
The boy who had just moments ago shielded Akaza from a killing blow—
Zzzzt…
The blue markings on Inosuke's cheeks slowly faded.
His seven-colored eyes dulled, returning to three hues.
That eerie silver-red hair reverted to its original black-and-blue gradient.
He turned back into a human.
Back into a human whose chest had been torn open, ribs shattered, body mangled beyond recognition—without time to heal.
"Haa…"
The instant the demonification ended, the regenerative force vanished.
Agonizing pain flooded his entire body—enough to drive anyone insane.
Instinctively, he opened his mouth, desperate to breathe.
To draw in oxygen.
To dull the pain.
But what he inhaled was not oxygen.
It was Doma's lethal, poisonous ice crystals.
Even his Ice Spirit physique was useless.
He could resist cold—
but not poison.
"Kh—…"
Inosuke's body froze.
The ribs Kokushibo had shattered, the lungs that had been sliced open, were instantly packed full of microscopic ice shards.
Fragile alveoli died on the spot under the extreme cold.
"Hurts…"
So painful.
Far worse than losing limbs.
As if ten thousand rusted knives were boring down his airway, shredding his organs from the inside.
Blood poured from his mouth, nose—
even from his eyes.
Before it could drip, it froze on his face into crimson icicles.
Inosuke struggled to lift his head.
With eyes already dim and fading, he looked at the figure standing before him—
the one preparing to fight Kokushibo to the death.
The man who always smiled while calling him "son."
The father who rushed here recklessly to save him.
Inosuke opened his mouth, trying to speak.
"Dad…
It's cold…"
His body swayed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Thud.
He collapsed lifelessly into the freezing pool of blood.
His fingers twitched once—then went still.
His chest stopped rising.
His heart—
stopped beating.
Silence.
The entire battlefield seemed to be frozen by an invisible hand pressing pause.
The smile on Doma's face froze.
The golden fan pointing at Kokushibo halted midair.
He heard it.
The sound of a body hitting blood-soaked ground.
So soft.
Yet to his ears, louder than thunder by ten thousand times.
Doma stiffly turned his head.
He saw Inosuke—pale as paper, blood pouring from all seven orifices.
Saw the son who had stopped breathing because he inhaled his Blood Demon Art.
The golden fan slipped from Doma's hand and clattered to the ground.
The usual mockery and madness vanished from those seven-colored eyes.
In their place—
fear.
Collapse.
"Inosuke…?"
Doma's voice trembled, filled with fragile, careful hope.
"Why aren't you getting up?
Daddy's here… Daddy came to save you…"
No response.
Only rapidly fading body heat.
"…Was it me?"
Doma stared at his own hands.
"Did I kill him?
Did I… poison him by accident… while trying to save him?"
Pain.
So much pain.
"No—!!!!!!!"
A scream tore from Doma's throat—so shrill it barely sounded human.
"NOT ME!!! NOT ME!!!!"
He clutched his head violently, fingernails digging into his scalp, blood streaming down.
"It's YOU!!! KOKUSHIBO!!!!
YOU KILLED HIM!!!"
Boom!!!
Doma snapped.
To prevent Inosuke's body from being damaged further—
to keep the remaining Demon Slayer swordsmen alive so they could still kill Kokushibo—
Doma did something utterly insane.
"TAKE IT BACK!!!
TAKE IT ALL BACK!!!"
He spread his arms wide, cells screaming as he forcibly reversed his Blood Demon Art.
The poisonous ice mist already dispersed across the battlefield was violently sucked back into his body!
"Inosuke!!! WAKE UP!!!"
Doma dropped to his knees beside him, frantically wiping the blood from his face.
Huge tears fell onto Inosuke's pallid cheeks.
"Don't sleep…"
Nearby—
Akaza stared at Inosuke's fallen body, his golden eyes turning blood-red.
"INOSUKE!!!"
In his memories, the boy who called him Third Uncle shattered.
"KOKUSHIBO!!!"
Zenitsu howled as he looked at the unmoving body.
"AAAAAAHHH!!! BIG BROTHER!!!"
He ignored the poison fog entirely and charged forward with his sword.
Rengoku.
Giyu.
Sanemi.
The three Hashira stared at the dead boy—
and the Upper Rank Two sobbing over him.
Shock and fury reached their breaking point.
"Kill him!!!"
"No matter the cost!!!"
At this moment, there were no sides.
Only a group of lunatics who had lost someone precious—
Launching a suicidal assault on the strongest swordsman alive.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
From above, sharp air-rending sounds pierced the lingering ice fog.
Three figures slammed down with overwhelming presence.
"Sound Breathing · Fourth Form · Constant Resounding Slashes!!"
Boom!!!
Explosive sound waves cleared the battlefield center.
A tall, flamboyantly dressed man landed, dual blades spinning—creating a safe zone.
Uzui Tengen.
"Serpent Breathing · Third Form · Coil Crush!!"
A massive white serpent phantom rose, its venomous blade path sealing Kokushibo's retreat.
Iguro Obanai.
"Mist Breathing · Fourth Form · Shifting Flow Slash."
A hazy yet lightning-fast strike—
A boy with an expressionless face appeared silently at the very front of the battlefield.
Tokito Muichiro.
The moment they landed, the hellscape before them froze them in place.
They saw Inosuke lying in blood, lifeless.
Saw Rengoku and the others fighting like demons.
Saw Doma crying like a child.
"Hey—hey—HEY!!!
You're kidding, right?!"
Uzui stared at Inosuke's body, disbelief twisting his usually confident face.
"That flashy kid… is dead?!
Don't joke with me!!
The God of Festivals hasn't approved your exit yet, bastard!!!"
Iguro's mismatched pupils shrank violently, Kaburamaru hissing around his neck.
"Dead? Here?
Who did this?!"
Muichiro said nothing.
He simply looked at Inosuke.
In his mind, the boy who called him Seaweed Head overlapped with the cold corpse before him.
The voice that recruited him as a little brother.
The voice that helped him regain his memories.
It would never speak again.
"Unforgivable."
Muichiro's voice was soft—
and freezing.
Mist-like teal markings bloomed across his cheeks.
Mark — Unleashed.
"Die."
His figure vanished.
When he reappeared, it was above Kokushibo's head.
"Mist Breathing · Fifth Form · Sea of Clouds and Haze!!"
Boom!!!
With the addition of these three, the battlefield descended into absolute chaos.
Akaza's fists.
Rengoku's flames.
Sanemi's wind.
Giyu's flowing water.
Zenitsu's lightning.
Uzui's explosions.
Iguro's serpents.
Muichiro's mist.
Eight completely different forces bound Kokushibo like eight chains.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Even Kokushibo—
faced with these suicidal madmen—
began to feel pressure.
This was a hunt.
They did not defend.
Even if it meant losing limbs, they only cared about carving wounds into him.
Akaza shattered his ribs.
Rengoku sliced off strands of his hair.
But the greatest threat—
Was the boy who arrived last.
Tokito Muichiro.
Shhk!
Muichiro's blade grazed Kokushibo's neck, carving a thin line of blood.
Kokushibo retreated instantly, six eyes locking onto Muichiro.
That familiar feeling—
a tremor deep in his bloodline.
"That technique…
That age…"
Kokushibo stared at the marked Muichiro, fascination momentarily overwhelming his rage.
"You."
While parrying the assault, he fixed Muichiro with an urgent gaze.
"State your name.
Are you my descendant?
That sword art—
Tell me your name!!"
"SHUT UP!!!"
Muichiro ignored him completely.
Only killing intent filled his eyes.
"I don't want to know your name—
and I don't want you to know mine!!
Go keep Inosuke company in hell!!!"
"Mist Breathing · Seventh Form · Obscuring Clouds!!"
Muichiro vanished into the fog.
The others charged simultaneously.
Slash!
Slash!
Over a dozen wounds bloomed across Kokushibo's body.
Though he regenerated instantly, to a warrior—
to Upper Rank One—
this was unprecedented humiliation.
"Won't tell me…
Descendant or genius—either way…"
Kokushibo's emotions churned violently.
His samurai pride trampled.
Doma and Akaza—subordinates—challenging him with rank battles.
The Demon Slayers—throwing themselves at him like moths to flame.
Tanjiro, who reminded him of Yoriichi.
Muichiro, who stirred his blood.
Chaos.
Disorder.
Madness.
All of it battered the warrior's heart he had guarded for centuries.
"…Enough."
Kokushibo's voice suddenly calmed.
"If you all wish to die so badly—"
BOOOOOOM!!!!!
An aura hundreds of times more terrifying erupted from his body.
His purple kimono exploded apart.
From his shoulders, torso, thighs—every part of his body—
twisted blades burst forth, growing like thorns.
He became a living meat grinder.
He didn't need to swing.
Just moving—
just existing—
would shred everything around him.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
The attackers were instantly blown back by omnidirectional blade storms.
Muichiro's cheek was cut.
Sanemi's chest erupted in blood again.
Half of Akaza's body was shredded.
True despair arrived.
Infinity Castle
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
Muzan clutched his head and screamed.
Through Kokushibo's vision—
he saw it clearly.
Inosuke lying motionless in blood.
Chest no longer rising.
Body completely overtaken by Doma's poison.
"He's dead!!!
He's DEAD!!!!"
Muzan's pupils shook violently, his entire body trembling.
"It's over…
Everything is over!!!"
If Inosuke was dead—
No one could approach Ubuyashiki.
No one could extract the Blue Spider Lily's location.
A thousand years of obsession—
severed in an instant—
because of one mistake by Doma.
"DOMA!!! YOU USELESS PIECE OF TRASH!!!!"
"What do I do?! What do I do?!"
Muzan paced frantically, cold sweat soaking his clothes.
"Final battle?
No—what if he's not completely dead yet?!
Bring Inosuke back to Infinity Castle? Give him more blood?
No!! Doma's uncontrollable now—he won't bring him back!
And Doma's poison is special—irreversible!
Blood might not cure it—
it could even accelerate death!"
"Who can save him?!
Who, at a time like this… can drag him back from the brink of death?!"
All five of Muzan's brains went into overdrive.
Then—
A lightning bolt struck his thoughts.
A white-haired man, scarred all over.
Wind Hashira — Shinazugawa Sanemi.
"That Wind Hashira—
he was beaten to the brink of death by Inosuke before…
So why is he still alive and fighting now?!"
"A DOCTOR!!!"
Muzan snapped his head up, eyes blazing.
"The Demon Slayer Corps has doctors!!!
And one with absurdly high medical skill—
someone who can even revive the dead!!!"
"Only they can save Inosuke!!!
He must live!!! He MUST live!!!
The Blue Spider Lily… is more important than anything!!!"
Muzan immediately connected mentally to the still-rampaging Doma.
His voice was urgent, trembling—
almost pleading.
"DOMA!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!
CALM DOWN!!!
INOSUKE MIGHT STILL BE SAVED!!!"
Paradise Cult
Doma—still sobbing over his son's body—froze.
"The Demon Slayers have a doctor!!
The Wind Hashira surviving proves it!!
Find that doctor!!!
Only she can neutralize your poison!!!
GO!!!"
Doma froze.
In his chaotic seven-colored eyes, clarity returned.
"A doctor…
Right… detox… doctor…"
He ignored Kokushibo entirely.
Scooping up Inosuke's icy body, he pressed his ear to his chest.
"There's still… something… very faint…
There's still hope!!!"
Doma snapped his head up and looked at Zenitsu nearby—
The yellow-haired boy desperately fighting Kokushibo.
"HEY!!!"
Doma appeared instantly, grabbing Zenitsu by the collar and yanking him out of the battlefield.
"WHERE IS THE DEMON SLAYER DOCTOR?!
TELL ME!!! WHERE IS THE WOMAN WHO CAN DETOXIFY POISON?!"
Zenitsu stared at Doma's distorted face.
He was completely berserk—
couldn't process a word.
"ANSWER ME!!!"
Doma roared.
The shout jolted Zenitsu awake.
He pointed shakily toward the rear of the battlefield.
"B-Behind!!!
Miss Shinobu—Butterfly Shinobu—
she's taking Aunt Kotoha that way!!
I handed Aunt Kotoha to her…"
"Shinobu Kocho?"
Doma's pupils shrank.
That name felt familiar.
Inosuke had mentioned it before.
Ah… right.
The Insect Hashira—
the woman whose sister he killed.
The woman who hated him to the bone.
Who swore to kill him.
"Hahahahahaha!!"
Doma laughed—bitter, twisted.
"So it's her…
So the only one who can save my son…
…is the woman who hates me most?"
...
"Fine."
Doma hugged Inosuke tightly, his gaze utterly steady.
He lowered his head and kissed Inosuke's frozen forehead.
"Hold on, Inosuke.
Daddy's taking you…
to beg for a cure."
Boom!
Clutching Inosuke, Doma transformed into a streak of light and launched himself in the direction Zenitsu indicated—
The fastest sprint of his life.
In the air, he caught the scent of Kotoha.
And the scent of wisteria.
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