Takeo needed to stall for time and wait for reinforcements.

But how?

Wolf Breathing was ineffective against this enemy. Even the extreme speed granted by [Overclocking] couldn't keep up with the opponent's attack speed.

Shockwaves and charged strikes were useless.

There was only one thing left that Takeo could think of.

Hinokami Kagura—the Dance of the Fire God.

Wait… Fire God? The Sun? Sun Breathing?

Suddenly, a flash of realization hit Takeo.

Could the Hinokami Kagura—the Fire God's Dance—be the Sun Breathing that the demon had mentioned?

His eyes lit up with sudden clarity.

He took a deep breath, switching his breathing technique mid-battle. The flame that now wrapped around him wasn't from Wolf Breathing, but from Hinokami Kagura.

The flames flowed along his limbs and into the blade. Then, with a burst of heat, Takeo charged once more toward Upper Rank One!

Hinokami Kagura—

With flames roaring around him, Takeo spun tightly on the spot. The fire clinging to his Nichirin blade burned hotter and stronger with each rotation.

It was the same move he had once used against the Shadow Demon.

—Scorching Sun Wheel!!

Two different flames fused into a fiery wheel, spinning into a vortex that engulfed Upper Rank One.

Yet, even when faced with Takeo's Hinokami Kagura, Upper Rank One remained motionless. No emotion flickered in any of his six eyes. Calmly, he swung his sword.

Moon Breathing, Third Form – Loathsome Moon Chains: Eclipse.

Two swift, razor-sharp slashes tore through the space where cold moonlight clashed with scorching flame.

The crescent blades severed the vortex of fire, and more crescent slashes rose into the air, forming perfect arcs that cleaved through the flames from both sides—then turned toward Takeo.

But this time, Takeo didn't retreat.

Hinokami Kagura – Crimson Mirror Flame!

Two blazing slashes, infused with a radiant crimson light, lashed out at Upper Rank One's neck from both sides.

Takeo's body was shredded by the incoming moonlight. Deep wounds tore across his sides, nearly splitting him in half. But even so, he didn't stop. Both flaming blades struck Upper Rank One's neck simultaneously!

Direct hit!

Takeo felt the blades connect. His heart raced with the sensation of landing a blow—but he didn't ease up. Gritting his teeth, he pressed down with all his might.

There was definitely the sensation of making contact—but none of the familiar feeling of cutting into flesh.

Upper Rank One's neck is too hard!

If he wanted to sever it, he'd need more than precision.

He had to use everything he had—every last ounce of strength.

"Ahhh—!"

Takeo roared, blood and moonlight flying through the air as he gripped his flaming blade with both hands. There was no hesitation, no fear—his eyes locked solely on his opponent's vital point.

Cut it off.

I must sever it!

With ferocious determination in his gaze, Takeo poured every ounce of strength into his blade.

But he never got the chance to finish the strike.

Moon Breathing, Fifth Form – Moon Spirit Calamitous Eddy

Until now, Upper Rank One hadn't truly swung his sword. This time, when he did, the force behind the slash was overwhelming—enough to bisect Takeo completely.

Sensing the sheer lethality of the technique, Takeo had no choice but to abandon his attempt to decapitate Upper Rank One.

He retreated instantly—but because he had been so focused on severing the demon's head, his reaction was half a beat too slow.

Blood burst into the air.

Takeo's left arm was sliced clean off, spinning through the moonlight.

"!"

Mid-air, Takeo twisted his body and bit down on the severed limb. Then, without missing a beat, he retreated, slamming the arm back into place against the bleeding stump.

Tiny granulations rapidly knit together. The wound closed in seconds—but the full recovery would take more time.

"…Your regenerative ability is impressive," Upper Rank One remarked, a hint of genuine surprise flickering in his voice.

Although Takeo wasn't a demon who could devour others of his kind to gain their abilities or become stronger, his regenerative powers were on par with those of demons.

Still, his recovery was nowhere near as fast.

At the very least, judging by the way he had to retrieve and reattach his severed arm manually, it was clear he couldn't instantly regenerate a new limb.

Compared to the Upper Moons, or even the Lower Moons, his recovery speed was far inferior.

But… what if he became a demon?

Upper Rank One — Kokushibo — found himself once again entertaining the idea of persuading this boy to become one of them.

He had been born into a samurai family. Now, as a retainer of Muzan Kibutsuji, he bore the responsibility of cultivating powerful new forces for his master. As a samurai, this was both his duty and his honor.

In the past, Kokushibo would have simply posed the question directly—offering the choice: to become a demon or die.

But Takeo was different.

He wielded Sun Breathing.

"Where did you learn the Breathing of the Sun?" Kokushibo asked, eyes narrowed.

Sun Breathing—the technique once used by the founder of all Breathing Techniques, Yoriichi Tsugikuni—was the origin of every form of swordsmanship used in the Demon Slayer Corps.

Once, Muzan Kibutsuji had been cut into thousands of pieces by that breath alone and was forced to flee, narrowly escaping death.

Ever since, Muzan hadn't dared to show himself during Yoriichi's lifetime.

After Yoriichi's death, to ensure that no one like him would ever arise again, Muzan and Kokushibo had worked together to eradicate every known heir of Sun Breathing.

Impossible!

Logically speaking, Sun Breathing should have been lost to time—no one should be able to wield it anymore.

So where did this young man in front of him learn it?

This was why Kokushibo hadn't killed him the moment they met.

He wanted answers—he needed to know the origin of this Sun Breathing. He had to ensure it wouldn't spread, that no other swordsman would master it again.

Takeo didn't answer.

He focused on steadying his breathing, monitoring the recovery of his severed arm while rapidly analyzing how to overcome his opponent.

Upper Rank One was far too powerful. In both strength and speed, he was several times stronger than Takeo.

What unsettled Takeo the most was the feeling that every one of his moves was being read—anticipated.

It was as if, in front of this opponent, he was no more than an amateur. His swordsmanship, his instincts, his timing—everything felt insignificant under those six cold, golden-red eyes.

Are all the Upper Moons this powerful?

If that was true… then how strong is Muzan Kibutsuji?

The realization hit him hard.

His previous desire for revenge against Muzan suddenly felt childish—naive, even laughable.

If he were to confront Muzan now, it wouldn't be a heroic battle.

It would be a slaughter.

He would be killed in an instant.

He wasn't strong enough.

Not yet.

I absolutely can't take him on alone—I need to find a way to buy time… until Kyojuro arrives!

Takeo didn't charge in recklessly. Instead, he gripped his blades tightly with both hands and stared calmly at Kokushibo. His gaze dropped to the demon's sword before he asked:

"You were once a swordsman of the Demon Slayer Corps, weren't you? Why did you become a demon?"

"Why…" Kokushibo actually paused to consider the question seriously before answering, "To… become stronger."

"Become stronger? And then what? Was that all—just to become stronger?"

Takeo pressed further.

There had to be a reason for seeking strength.

To protect others, to stand at the summit of the world, even for glory or riches—those are all goals, motivations. They give meaning to strength.

So why did Kokushibo want power? Is becoming what he is now—this so-called 'strongest'—truly what he desired?

These were the questions behind Takeo's words.

Kokushibo fell silent for a moment. He had no immediate answer. At last, he spoke:

"There's no need to discuss such meaningless things… Where did you learn Sun Breathing? Answer me."

"What if I don't answer?"

Takeo tightened his grip on his swords.

At that moment, Kokushibo's gaze finally shifted away from Takeo. All six of his eyes turned toward the injured Demon Slayers deeper within the warehouse.

The instant Kokushibo looked away, Takeo's instincts screamed at him—something was wrong.

Swoosh~!

What came next confirmed his fears.

Kokushibo's long sword swung in a single arc, unleashing a barrage of crescent-shaped slashes that tore through the floor. The force of the attack cracked the ground and surged forward, heading straight for the wounded members of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Of the five corps members, three were unconscious, while the remaining two were paralyzed—both from the earlier effects of the demon's blood and the overwhelming pressure radiating from Kokushibo.

They couldn't run. They couldn't even raise their swords. They were sitting ducks.

If Kokushibo's attack landed, at least two of them would be reduced to shredded flesh.

But in the end, the slashes never reached them.

Because Takeo had moved.

The very moment Kokushibo shifted his focus, Takeo reacted. By the time the crescent blades reached the wounded team members, Takeo was already standing between them and death.

His twin Nichirin swords crossed in front of him, body braced, he blocked the full force of the strike.

He stood tall like a true Pillar—an unyielding shield guarding the lives behind him.

_________

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