Facing Kokushibo, whose overwhelming presence seemed capable of crushing the very air itself, Tanjiro instinctively swallowed.
The difference between them was simply too great.
It was not a gap that could be bridged through determination alone.
Even if he somehow awakened a Crimson Nichirin Blade at this very moment, it would not be enough to overcome the First Upper Rank.
Kokushibo was a monster who had perfected Moon Breathing over centuries.
Against such an opponent…
Tanjiro understood how insignificant he still was.
Behind him stood Inosuke, Zenitsu, and Nezuko.
The four of them together would fare little better than fighting individually.
Their combined strength was still nowhere near enough.
Kokushibo, naturally, had no intention of waiting for them to recover.
He calmly drew his flesh-forged katana.
His breathing changed.
Moon Breathing, Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing.
A single slash.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
The crescent-shaped blades and countless moon-shaped arcs surged forward.
Boom!
Tanjiro barely managed to raise his Nichirin Blade.
The impact blasted him backward.
His arms trembled violently.
His muscles screamed in protest.
Zenitsu, who had only just awakened from his dream moments earlier, was struck by the aftermath and finally became fully conscious.
Seeing the battlefield before him
His face immediately turned pale.
"W-W-W-We're fighting Upper Rank One?!"
His soul nearly left his body.
Fortunately for Inosuke, his extraordinary instincts allowed him to evade the attack before it reached him.
The self-proclaimed King of the Mountains rolled across the ground and sprang back onto his feet.
Meanwhile, Tanjiro forced himself upright.
His breathing was ragged.
His sword arm refused to stop shaking.
He knew he needed time.
Even a few seconds would help.
"Kokushibo-senpai…"
Tanjiro called out.
The title caused Kokushibo's six eyes to shift toward him.
"I've already found my answer."
His voice, though strained, remained resolute.
"Protecting the weak is justice."
"Oppressing the weak is evil."
To Tanjiro's surprise…
Kokushibo did not attack again.
Instead…
He nodded once.
"An acceptable answer."
Silence followed.
Then Kokushibo calmly asked another question.
"Then allow me to ask you this."
"If someone commits evil without intending to…"
"Is it still evil?"
Tanjiro answered almost immediately.
"Yes."
"So long as innocent people are harmed…"
"It is still evil."
Kokushibo nodded thoughtfully.
Then another question followed.
"And what of unintended kindness?"
"If someone unknowingly brings happiness to another…"
"Is that also good?"
Tanjiro hesitated.
Before he could answer…
Kokushibo began speaking.
"There once lived a brother and sister."
"They were born into poverty."
"They possessed nothing."
"They were despised by society."
"They survived only by enduring endless cruelty."
His voice remained calm.
He narrated the tragedy of Gyutaro and Ume.
How they had suffered.
How humanity had rejected them.
How desperation had consumed them.
And finally…
How they had become demons.
When the story ended, Kokushibo looked directly into Tanjiro's eyes.
"Those wounded by humans…"
"Become demons."
"Those wounded by demons…"
"Become Hashira."
"So tell me."
"Is the sorrow of demons…"
"Also born from humanity?"
Tanjiro froze.
His breathing became uneven.
His thoughts spiraled.
The world around him seemed to blur.
For a brief moment…
It almost felt as though invisible chains had bound him to a chair while countless questions assaulted his mind.
His conviction began to waver.
"Inosuke!"
Zenitsu shouted.
"T-Tanjiro looks weird!"
Inosuke immediately misunderstood the situation.
"That six-eyed guy cursed him!"
With an enraged roar, he charged toward Kokushibo.
His twin serrated Nichirin Blades crossed in a wild assault.
Kokushibo scarcely moved.
Clang.
One effortless motion deflected both blades.
"Inosuke…"
"You've grown considerably."
There was genuine approval in his voice.
Still…
Praise did not mean mercy.
Kokushibo caught both swords between his own blade.
Then
Boom!
One kick sent Inosuke flying backward.
He crashed through several broken train seats before finally coming to a stop.
Kokushibo deliberately held back.
After all…
Someone else had already taken responsibility for guiding the boy.
There was little reason to strike harder than necessary.
Nearby…
Zenitsu, despite trembling uncontrollably, stepped in front of Nezuko.
His legs shook violently.
His face was pale with terror.
Yet…
He still spread his arms protectively.
If one ignored his frightened expression…
He actually looked rather dependable.
Kokushibo paid him no attention whatsoever.
Instead…
He returned his gaze to Tanjiro.
Meanwhile, Tanjiro's thoughts raced through every experience of his life.
He remembered demons who slaughtered innocent families.
He remembered demons who regretted their sins.
He remembered Rui.
Kyogai.
The Spider Family.
Susamaru.
Yahaba.
Even Akaza.
Every encounter blurred together.
He understood one undeniable truth.
No one had the right to casually preach kindness to those who had only known suffering.
Even someone as compassionate as Tanjiro had moments when hatred threatened to consume him.
Seeing Tanjiro hesitate, Kokushibo continued.
"If demons vanished today…"
"Would humans stop devouring one another?"
He slowly approached.
"Every human carries a demon within their heart."
His footsteps echoed quietly.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Finally…
He stood before Tanjiro.
Then he gently rested one hand atop the young swordsman's head.
There was no mockery in the gesture.
Nor was it affection.
It was merely…
Observation.
Zenitsu.
Nezuko.
Inosuke.
All three wanted to intervene.
But their injuries prevented them from moving.
They could only watch helplessly.
Kokushibo's hand slowly descended toward Tanjiro's left ear.
His fingers gently touched the familiar Hanafuda earrings.
The instant he felt them…
His body instinctively stiffened.
Even after centuries…
The memory engraved within his very soul still remained.
For the briefest moment…
His hand trembled.
Tanjiro noticed nothing.
He was still trapped within his own thoughts.
Quietly, Kokushibo removed one of the earrings.
He examined it silently.
Then spoke in a low voice.
"Do you truly believe…"
"You are worthy of carrying these?"
The question was directed toward Tanjiro.
Yet…
It also seemed directed toward someone long gone.
"Yoriichi…"
"Your successor still has much to learn."
Kokushibo carefully stored the Hanafuda earring inside his sleeve.
"I will return it."
"When you discover the conviction you truly wish to uphold."
Those were his words.
Whether he genuinely intended to return it…
Only he himself knew.
Perhaps…
He simply wished to keep it close.
Perhaps…
It reminded him of someone he could never forget.
Far away…
If Muzan Kibutsuji ever learned that Kokushibo had voluntarily taken possession of Yoriichi's earrings…
His expression would undoubtedly become quite entertaining.
Fortunately…
Muzan was unaware of that little detail.
For now.
Tanjiro simply watched in silence.
He made no attempt to reclaim the earring.
Not because he had given up…
But because his mind was still searching desperately for an answer.
Kokushibo likewise made no attempt to persuade Tanjiro to become a demon.
Unlike Muzan…
He understood Tanjiro's potential all too well.
Someone capable of surpassing his own limits again and again would never be easily controlled after receiving demon blood.
Leaving him within the Demon Slayer Corps…
Was far more interesting.
While the philosophical exchange continued on one battlefield…
Another battle had already erupted nearby.
Moko finally encountered someone whose love of combat rivaled his own.
Akaza.
The moment their eyes met…
Both warriors smiled.
No introductions were necessary.
No conversation was needed.
Everything would be decided through battle.
Their fists collided.
Boom!
Shockwaves rippled across the battlefield.
Akaza laughed loudly.
"Excellent!"
"It's been a long time since I've met an opponent like this!"
Moko answered with another savage punch.
Unlike ordinary demons, Moko had reached his current strength through relentless survival.
After consuming countless rivals of his own kind and enduring repeated metamorphoses, his body had evolved into something extraordinary.
His chosen human host had also spent years mastering martial arts before becoming a demon.
As a result…
His raw physical strength had reached a level remarkably close to Akaza's.
The only clear difference lay in experience.
Akaza had spent centuries refining his martial arts through endless life-and-death battles.
That gulf could not be closed overnight.
Akaza smiled.
His stance shifted.
Destructive Death: Disorder!
An overwhelming barrage of punches exploded forward.
Moko struggled to defend.
Then
Boom!
Akaza's kick struck directly against Moko's chest.
Thanks to his Compass Needle, Akaza had instinctively identified the location of Moko's true vital core.
Realizing his weak point had been exposed…
Moko immediately abandoned defense.
His eyes flashed crimson.
Blood Demon Art: Riot!
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