Chapter 89 89: The Great Battle Is About to Begin

"Get lost!"

Akaza's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles creaked.

Being near Douma for even one more second made his blood boil.

Fortunately, before the tension could snap completely, Kokushibo stepped forward.

"Akaza," he said, his voice low and steady. "You have overstepped."

The condescension in that single sentence made the veins on Akaza's forehead bulge. His gaze snapped toward Kokushibo, burning with open fury.

"One day," Akaza growled, "I'll kill you."

Kokushibo gave him only the faintest glance.

"Then I wish you luck."

Silence settled over the forest for a moment.

Gyokko swayed nearby, his twisted body moving inside his vase as his many small arms danced with grotesque excitement.

"Kihihi... Since I was the one who discovered this place first, allow me to lead the way."

The four demons began moving.

Kaigaku followed at the rear, his head lowered, not daring to make a sound.

Every figure ahead of him was a monster among monsters. Any one of them could kill him with a glance if he annoyed them.

And Kaigaku understood one thing very clearly.

He was only alive because Muzan had a use for him.

...

At the same time, inside the Swordsmith Village, Asuramaru sensed them.

From within the sword, his perception spread through the surrounding mountains and caught five demon auras approaching from the forest.

One of them was familiar.

Akaza.

The other two were far stronger than ordinary Upper Moons. Their presence was deep, cold, and oppressive, like ancient monsters crawling out from the pit of night.

Kokushibo and Douma.

No doubt about it.

The remaining two auras should belong to Gyokko and the newly turned Kaigaku. Compared to the others, Kaigaku's presence was much weaker. Honestly, he might not even be stronger than Daki.

Asuramaru sorted through the situation in an instant.

Five Upper Moons had come at once.

Even so, he did not panic.

With their current lineup, even Muzan himself would not be able to trample them easily. A handful of Upper Moons was dangerous, yes, but not hopeless.

Still, a warning was necessary.

"Tanjirou," Asuramaru said. "Five Upper Moons are coming straight through the forest ahead."

"Five Upper Moons?!"

Tanjirou's shocked voice immediately drew the attention of everyone nearby.

But there was no time for questions.

Several figures emerged from the darkness beneath the trees.

The one in front wore a samurai's attire, with a sword at his waist and long red hair falling over his shoulders. Six eyes stared from his face, each one calm and unsettling.

Kokushibo.

Behind him walked Douma, his rainbow-colored eyes bright beneath his cult leader's crown-like hat, a folding fan resting lightly in his hand.

Akaza was there as well, his body marked with blue patterns, his gaze already burning with battle intent.

Gyokko drifted near the back in his vase, hideous and gleeful.

And behind them stood Kaigaku.

The moment Zenitsu saw him, his whole body went rigid.

His hand tightened around his sword. Veins rose across his forehead, and his breathing sharpened until it sounded almost like a hiss.

Inosuke noticed the change and turned his boar mask toward him.

"Hey. What's wrong with you?"

Zenitsu did not answer.

His eyes were fixed on Kaigaku, almost splitting with rage.

If Gramps saw Kaigaku like this, he would never forgive himself.

He might even choose death to atone.

Across from them, Kokushibo's six eyes settled on Tanjirou.

From that moment on, nobody else existed in his vision.

The boy before him wore the Hanafuda earrings. His body carried the breath of the sun. And in his hand rested a sword that Muzan feared enough to summon every Upper Moon.

Was this boy the reincarnation of Yoriichi?

Or was he carrying the ghost of that man?

Kokushibo's long-still heart stirred.

"Your name is Tanjirou Kamado, is it not?"

Tanjirou met his gaze directly.

"Yes!"

The answer was so straightforward that several people present were briefly left speechless.

Kokushibo seemed to have more to say.

But Muzan's voice pulsed through his blood, impatient and cold.

The words on Kokushibo's tongue faded.

Instead, he placed his hand on his sword.

"Then allow me to test your Sun Breathing myself."

The instant he finished speaking, his figure vanished.

In the next breath, he appeared directly before Tanjirou.

"Moon Breathing, First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."

His sword left its sheath in a horizontal arc.

The slash was fast, clean, and terrifyingly sharp. Along with the sword pressure came countless crescent moons of varying sizes, each one slicing through the night with lethal precision.

So fast!

Tanjirou drew Asuramaru at once and gripped the sword with both hands.

"Hinokami Kagura: Burning Sun!"

He swung in a fierce circular slash.

Flames bloomed from the edge of the sword, bright and hot, cutting through the darkness with a warmth that felt almost sacred.

Kokushibo's eyes narrowed.

It truly was Sun Breathing.

Their swords collided.

For a single instant, fire and moonlight clashed in the forest.

Then Kokushibo retreated several steps.

A deep notch had been carved into his flesh-forged sword. If he had not shifted his strength at the last moment, the weapon might have been severed outright.

Kokushibo lowered his gaze to the damaged edge.

"You can cut through my sword so easily?"

As he spoke, the blade in his hand slowly regenerated.

His eyes returned to Tanjirou.

"You possess Sun Breathing. Yet compared to Yoriichi, your swordsmanship is still far behind."

His voice remained calm, but every word carried weight.

"However, your physical strength is unprecedented. It even exceeds that of most demons."

His six eyes shifted toward the sword in Tanjirou's hand.

"Is that the work of the sword you carry?"

Tanjirou did not answer.

Not far away, Douma stared at Asuramaru with glittering rainbow eyes.

"Oh? Is there a god living inside that sword? If so, does that mean Heaven and Hell are real too?"

"Shut your mouth!"

Akaza cut him off with a furious shout, then glared at Tanjirou.

"Come, Kamado Tanjirou! Let's finish the fight we failed to settle last time!"

Douma laughed behind his fan.

"My, my. Are you in such a hurry, Akaza-dono?"

From the Infinity Castle, Muzan watched the scene unfold, rage building beneath his skin until it nearly burst.

His command struck through their blood.

"Stop wasting time. Kill that Demon Slayer now."

Douma's smile never changed.

"Master Muzan, when have I ever disappointed you? Allow me to kill the boy myself."

He lifted his folding fan, and frost gathered in the air.

"Blood Demon Art: Crystalline Divine Child."

An ice doll identical to Douma formed atop his fan. It was only a few dozen centimeters tall, delicate and beautiful, almost harmless at first glance.

Then another appeared.

And another.

Soon, several miniature Doumas stood before him, smiling with the same empty cheer.

"Don't be fooled by their size," Douma said lightly. "The Blood Demon Arts they use are just as strong as mine."

Beside him, Akaza lowered into his stance.

"Destructive Death: Compass Needle."

A snowflake-like pattern opened beneath his feet, glowing beneath the night.

The top three Upper Moons had all taken aim at Tanjirou.

This time, they intended to kill him no matter the cost.

Even Tanjirou felt the pressure descend like a mountain.

Gyokko also seemed eager to join the attack, but before he could move, several figures arrived from the village.

Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

Mitsuri Kanroji.

The three Hashira moved into position, their Nichirin swords drawn.

Their strength now was nothing like before. After surviving battle after battle and standing near Tanjirou's growing presence, they were no longer the same Hashira Muzan's demons remembered.

Kokushibo did not look back.

"Gyokko. Kaigaku. Kill those three Hashira as quickly as possible."

Gyokko's two mouths stretched into ugly smiles, his tongues sliding over sharp teeth.

"Three Hashira? Wonderful. What sort of art would suit their deaths?"

Kaigaku, however, stiffened.

A Hashira.

Facing one was already enough to make his confidence waver. Facing several in this battlefield felt like being pushed toward a cliff with a sword at his back.

Then Zenitsu stepped forward.

This time, he was not crying. He was not shaking. He was not hiding behind anyone.

There was only anger on his face.

He pointed his sword straight at Kaigaku.

"Leave that demon to me."

.....

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