Chapter 84 84: Self-Created Sword Technique!

Why was I not informed the moment they appeared?

Muzan Kibutsuji's expression remained composed, but the fury beneath it had already begun to curdle.

By the time he noticed Daki and Gyutaro's violent emotions, it was too late. The battle had already begun, and the Demon Slayer he had ordered every Upper Rank to hunt was standing right in front of them.

Summoning reinforcements now would not arrive in time.

Those two were already lost.

Muzan's eyes darkened.

He turned toward the woman seated behind him, her long black hair hanging down like a curtain. She held a biwa in her arms, her face pale and still, save for the single massive eye set where two should have been.

"Nakime," Muzan said. "Gather every Upper Rank immediately. Surround that Demon Slayer and kill him."

Nakime lowered her head.

"As you command, Lord Muzan."

Her fingers plucked the strings.

A sharp note rang through the Infinity Castle.

In the next breath, the endless fortress began to shift. Floors tilted, doors slid open where walls had been, corridors folded into impossible angles, and distant rooms were dragged closer by the sound of the biwa.

Muzan stood in the center of it all, his gaze never leaving the battle unfolding through Gyutaro and Daki's senses.

This time, he would watch every moment.

And if possible, he would not allow that boy to leave alive.

...

On the outskirts of Yoshiwara, blood-red slashes tore through the night.

Tanjirou held Asuramaru in one hand, his movements calm and precise as he cut down every incoming attack. The blood sickles curved through the air from impossible angles, twisting, circling, coming back even after being avoided.

But none of them reached him.

His wrist moved.

The sword flashed.

One blood slash after another broke apart into harmless droplets, scattering across the street like rain.

Tanjirou did not stop advancing.

His eyes remained locked on Gyutaro.

Is he the main body?

Or do both siblings need to be decapitated at the same time?

The questions flashed through his mind, but he pushed them aside. Hesitation had no place in battle. If he did not know the answer yet, then he would cut until he found it.

He closed the distance in one burst.

"Hinokami Kagura: False Rainbow!"

Gyutaro's sickly yellow eyes sharpened. His twin blood sickles thrust straight for Tanjirou's neck.

But the edge struck only an afterimage.

Tanjirou's body vanished from Gyutaro's sight, leaving behind a flickering illusion born from footwork and heat.

He appeared above and behind him.

Both hands closed around Asuramaru's hilt.

"Hinokami Kagura: Fire Wheel!"

Tanjirou flipped in midair, bringing the flaming sword down toward Gyutaro's neck with all his strength.

Behind me.

Gyutaro twisted around, his sickles rising to intercept.

Too late.

Daki moved first.

Several sashes burst from behind her, cutting across the street from every direction. They did not stop Tanjirou's strike, but they dragged against it, slowing the arc by the smallest fraction.

That fraction was enough.

Gyutaro met the slash with his sickles.

Fire and blood collided.

The impact forced both sides apart.

Tanjirou landed several steps away, a thin line of blood opening across his left forearm.

Gyutaro retreated as well.

A brutal wound had been carved into the side of his neck. The cut was deep enough to show the flesh beneath, yet the wound closed at a crawl, the torn tissue struggling to knit together.

Gyutaro's expression tightened.

So that's it.

A wound from that sword is difficult to heal. There's something else mixed in too. Not poison. Something harder to sense. Something eating into the body from the inside...

The memories Muzan had forced into them resurfaced one by one.

The strange sword.

The suppressed regeneration.

The mysterious state that made the Demon Slayer's strength surge explosively.

Gyutaro's grip tightened around his sickles.

The more he analyzed, the colder his heart became.

This boy had not even entered that special state yet.

And they were already being pushed back.

Beside him, Daki snarled, her face twisted with anger and humiliation.

"Brother! Let's kill him together!"

Gyutaro did not answer right away.

His sister was loud, proud, and foolish. That was nothing new.

But even he could see the truth now.

They could not win.

Not against this Demon Slayer.

Not against that sword.

Escape was nearly impossible as well. The boy's speed, his senses, and that strange weapon made any retreat a gamble. Still, if there was one thing Gyutaro had to do, it was make sure Daki survived.

He glanced at her.

Then his voice turned low.

"You go first. Leave him to me."

Daki froze.

"What? Brother, I—"

Gyutaro's glare cut her off.

"Go."

Daki bit back the rest of her words. Fear and unwillingness flashed across her face, but she obeyed. Her sashes whipped behind her as she turned and fled toward the outskirts of Yoshiwara.

Tanjirou shifted, preparing to chase.

Then he saw the direction Daki had chosen.

His gaze steadied.

Sanemi was waiting there.

Tanjirou turned back to Gyutaro and raised his sword.

"I am the Sun Hashira, Tanjirou Kamado," he said, his voice clear in the night. "I will slay you here."

Gyutaro's mouth twisted into a bitter grin.

"Then try."

His sickles danced.

Countless blood-colored arcs burst outward, filling the street in a storm of slicing crimson. At the same time, Gyutaro retreated, creating as much distance as he could.

He was no longer trying to win.

He only needed to delay.

Every second bought Daki more time.

Tanjirou saw through it, but his expression did not waver.

With his free hand, he drew the Nichirin sword at his waist.

Water surged along its edge.

"Water Breathing: Third Form, Flowing Dance!"

His steps changed.

Tanjirou moved like water spilling across stone, weaving through the crimson net with both swords in hand. His body curved and slipped through gaps too narrow for most swordsmen to see, while fire and water cut in alternating flashes.

Blood slashes were severed.

The space between him and Gyutaro disappeared.

His twin swords fell.

Gyutaro crossed his sickles in front of him.

"Blood Demon Art: Rampant Arcs!"

The sickles spun violently.

Blood threads spread around him in an instant, layering over one another until they formed a bloody barrier, sharp and dense as a spider's web.

Tanjirou's swords struck it head-on.

The collision threw him back.

Gyutaro's arms trembled from the impact. When the spinning finally stopped, his eyes twitched.

One of his blood sickles had been cut apart.

It reformed quickly from fresh blood, but that did nothing to ease the chill crawling through him.

Hey, hey, hey...

This guy is a monster.

The best way would be to knock that sword out of his hand.

But saying that was easy.

Doing it against Tanjirou Kamado was another matter.

Gyutaro lifted his gaze again.

Tanjirou had already taken a new stance.

Both swords were raised.

Even the ordinary Nichirin sword in his left hand had begun to burn with a brilliant flame.

At the same time, the scar on Tanjirou's forehead spread outward.

A flame-like pattern emerged.

The Slayer Mark.

Heat surged through his blood. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, each beat pushing his body beyond its previous limits.

The flames on both swords flared.

Tanjirou lowered his center of gravity, and the heat behind him gathered into the shape of a massive dragon. It was fiercer and larger than anything he had conjured before, its burning body coiling around him as if waiting to devour the night itself.

"Hinokami Kagura, Esoteric Art..."

Gyutaro's pupils shrank.

One glance was enough.

I can't block this.

If that reaches me, my head will be cut off.

Ume has already gone far enough.

Then I can die here.

For a moment, that thought almost settled over him.

Then rage tore it apart.

"Are you kidding me?!"

Gyutaro roared and swung both sickles with everything he had.

Blood arcs exploded outward in layers, dozens, then hundreds, slashing across the street in a final desperate storm.

Tanjirou moved.

"Purgatory Dragon!"

His footwork resembled Constant Flux, but the rhythm had changed.

Each twist of his body fed the flames.

Each rotation of his swords made the fire dragon grow larger.

The dragon coiled tighter around him, then swallowed him whole.

In that instant, Tanjirou ceased to look like a boy wielding two swords.

He became the dragon itself.

A blazing shape tore through the storm of blood, claws bared, body burning, unstoppable beneath the night sky.

Gyutaro's blood slashes vanished within the flames.

The dragon reached him.

Tanjirou spun once.

Both swords swept across Gyutaro's neck.

Then he drifted past and landed lightly on the road behind him.

For one suspended breath, Gyutaro remained standing.

Then his head slid from his shoulders.

His body dropped to the ground.

This time, it did not immediately recover. The wounds left by Asuramaru burned through his flesh, and his limbs refused to obey him. His regeneration had slowed to a pitiful crawl.

Inside the sword, Asuramaru stared in rare silence.

When did Tanjirou create his own form?

Why have I never seen this before?

The move carried traces of Kyojuro Rengoku's Flame Breathing secret art, yet it was not the same. It was Hinokami Kagura. It was Tanjirou's footwork. It was a sword technique shaped by everything he had experienced up to now.

And its power was undeniable.

It might even rival Water Melody.

Asuramaru clicked his tongue inwardly.

As expected of the protagonist.

...

At the edge of Yoshiwara, Daki sprinted through the darkened street, her breath ragged with fury and fear.

Just a little farther.

Once she left the district, she could hide, recover, and wait for her brother. As long as Gyutaro survived, everything would be fine. It had always been that way.

Then the wind changed.

A figure stood ahead of her.

White hair. Scars. A sword in one hand.

Sanemi Shinazugawa blocked the road, his eyes sharp and feral under the moonlight.

Daki's face twisted.

"You—"

Sanemi moved first.

"Wind Breathing: First Form..."

The ground cracked beneath his feet as he shot forward, his body twisting into a violent cutting gale.

"Dust Whirlwind Cutter!"

.....

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