Takeo didn't manage to block all of Kokushibo's attacks.

The situation had been too urgent, and Kokushibo's strength far exceeded expectations. In the end, Takeo could only deflect part of the assault.

As for the rest…

He took it head-on with his body!

Urgh—!

His haori and Demon Slayer Corps uniform were shredded, revealing torn flesh beneath. Skin had been peeled back, and even his internal organs were faintly visible through the mess.

"Haah.. haah.."

Takeo stood firm. Blood pooled at his feet, but he didn't waver. Still, the severity of his wounds left him dazed.

This was probably the worst injury he'd suffered in a long time—so bad that his vision dimmed and dizziness washed over him.

His breathing grew erratic, but he forced himself to steady it.

Kokushibo, standing before him, didn't immediately press the attack. Instead, he spoke again:

"You've just become a Hashira, haven't you? Yet you were able to read my intent in an instant and react to my speed. Impressive."

His voice remained low and deliberate, as calm as ever.

But the moment he finished speaking, he resumed his assault.

Noticing that Takeo's injuries were healing quickly, Kokushibo unleashed an even more powerful technique.

A massive crescent slash surged forth from his unsheathed blade, and within that arc nested smaller crescent blades, like layered crescents within a larger moon. These slashes came from two sides at once, aiming once again for the Demon Slayer Corps members behind Takeo.

Two directions.

Two equally powerful attacks.

If Takeo focused on one, he'd inevitably fail to defend against the other.

His pupils trembled. He gritted his teeth, eyes locked on the trajectory of both slashes. For a split second, he couldn't decide.

Should I handle the left first? Then the right?

Or the reverse?

No—both attacks were equally fast. No matter which side he chose, someone on the other would die.

Takeo couldn't protect everyone.

His teeth clenched as a wave of bitter frustration surged within him.

It's happening again… again!

He was going to watch someone die right in front of him again… Damn it!

The memory of his former comrades dying flashed across his mind, and for a moment, Takeo's thoughts went blank.

And in that empty space—he saw Muichiro.

…

"It seems your Breathing Technique still isn't complete."

That night, when Muichiro left, he had said that to Takeo, who was seeing him off.

Takeo had stroked his two swords and nodded slightly. "Yeah."

Because after the Fifth Form of Wolf Breathing, it was no longer a simple extension of Wind Breathing.

The Sixth Form, Flame Wolf, incorporated elements of the Hinokami Kagura.

The Seventh and Eighth Forms both contained the [Shock Wave] technique inherited from 2B—they weren't purely Breathing Techniques anymore.

So, from an outsider's perspective, Takeo's Wolf Breathing appeared chaotic and unpredictable.

Muichiro had noticed this. He'd realized it during their sparring match after the Hashira Meeting.

And in their subsequent battles, he had exploited the gaps within Takeo's breathing rhythm—Takeo's most obvious weakness.

"…"

Muichiro tilted his head and looked up at the sky, as if lost in thought. After a moment, he said to Takeo:

"…Why don't you try reorganizing your Breathing Technique?"

"Re…organize? Recreate it?"

"No, it's hard to explain… it's more of a feeling. Anyway… just forget it for now."

Muichiro said vaguely.

Takeo looked even more confused. "Forget it? Forget Wolf Breathing?"

"Yeah, forget it. That's how 'Mirage' came to be, anyway."

Muichiro's Eighth Form of Mist Breathing—Mirage. An attack that used mist to create visual illusions, completely disorienting the enemy.

Within that mist, Takeo's senses and instincts had failed him. Everything he could see was an illusion. Muichiro's figure had become even more ethereal and dreamlike—so much so that Takeo had been slashed across the back before realizing it.

Even his sense of smell couldn't detect Muichiro's position.

That was the move Muichiro had recently created.

And now, Muichiro had told him that the key to creating that move was… to forget?

Come to think of it, Muichiro did seem rather forgetful…

At the time, Takeo had thought it was a bit ridiculous, but he kept Muichiro's advice in mind.

After all, this man was likely the most gifted swordsman in the Demon Slayer Corps, and any guidance he gave was worth considering.

Takeo never forgot it.

…

Forget.

As his thoughts spun rapidly, Takeo let go of everything—his forms, his training, his techniques. He cleared his mind and allowed his body to move purely on instinct, guided only by the sudden flash of inspiration.

His blade turned, and his body rushed toward one of Kokushibo's incoming slashes.

As for the other—Swoosh!

Takeo swung his sword.

With only a brief charge, the [Shock Wave] this time unleashed a slash more powerful than any of the previous Seven Forms!

The slash was a single strike, but the resulting blade energy extended several meters.

The shock wave tore through the roof of the warehouse and shattered the crescent-shaped attack that had been aimed at the Demon Slayer Corps members behind him.

At the same time, Takeo's other sword completely blocked Kokushibo's remaining slash.

"Urggg!"

The price he paid was a chunk of flesh torn from his arm.

"Hmm?"

Takeo's sudden outburst made Kokushibo let out a confused sound.

He couldn't understand where that shock wave had come from. It didn't seem to incorporate any known Breathing Technique. Instead, it felt like… some other kind of power altogether.

"What… was that?" Kokushibo asked, perplexed.

"Haah.." Takeo didn't respond.

The force that had erupted from the instinctive twist of his body and the flash of inspiration in his breathing had left him drained. His lungs burned, as if he had inhaled a mouthful of crushed chili peppers.

His right hand, already wounded by Kokushibo's previous blow, had lost strength. He no longer had the energy to speak.

Yamada and Sakura, protected by his efforts, were in tears upon witnessing the scene. Yamada shouted:

"Lord Kamado! Don't worry about us—please, just escape!"

"Yes! You're far more important than we are! Please, stay alive!" Sakura cried from the side.

Compared to them—mere team members at most—any Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps was an irreplaceable existence.

They shouldn't die here just to protect others like them. Ordinary members of the Corps were meant to be the shields for the Hashira, allowing them to focus on fighting the Twelve Kizuki.

Not the other way around.

Yamada and Sakura both believed that.

But Takeo simply raised his dual Nichirin swords, returned to a battle stance, and stared straight at the infuriating six-eyed monster in front of him.

Kokushibo looked somewhat surprised by this.

"…You're not planning to run?"

He knew that, with Takeo's speed, if the boy focused on escaping, he might just be able to get away.

"Haahh... heh~ urg.."

But Takeo only grinned, a twisted, defiant smile on his face.

"I.. I once swore to myself," he said, "Haah.. that I would never ..again let anyone die in front of me. So… I won't run. As long as I'm still standing—no one dies before I do."

"Because I'm the Wolf Hashira. The Wolf Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Takeo launched himself toward Kokushibo once more—faster than before.

The best defense was offense. Rather than standing still and waiting to be attacked, it was better to strike first, to keep the enemy too busy to retaliate.

"…Your courage is commendable," Kokushibo said quietly.

But facing Takeo's renewed charge, he didn't bother to dodge. He simply raised his sword.

"But courage alone… is not enough."

In the blink of an eye—or perhaps not even that—countless crescent-shaped blades materialized, swarming together and slicing through the air in a dense, terrifying wave.

And that "place"—was exactly where Takeo stood.

Moon Breathing, Sixth Form – Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon - Incessan

There was no time to dodge—and even if there was, it wouldn't matter. There was no point in dodging.

Takeo once again activated his Breathing Technique, strengthening his entire body. Relying on his physical resilience and rapid regeneration, he withstood the barrage of slashes. Then, gripping the hilts of his twin blades tightly, he brought them together—both tips aimed directly at Kokushibo's throat.

Wolf Breathing, Second Form – Lone Wolf's Last Stand!

Though it was still technically the second form, this time the technique was infused with [Charged Attack].

Thanks to the brief "epiphany" earlier, Takeo had finally begun to understand how to reshape his own Breathing Technique.

The Hinokami Kagura might have been powerful—but it wasn't meant for him.

If it were, his Nichirin swords wouldn't be green-gray. They would have taken on the color of flames, the mark of one who truly inherited the God of Fire Kagura.

What truly belonged to him was Wolf Breathing—a style forged by his own hands, perfectly tailored to his body and fighting instincts. And only what fits you best… can become your strongest weapon.

So now, at this moment, Takeo unleashed his evolved form of Wolf Breathing—no longer a patchwork, but a technique wholly his own.

Thwack—!

The piercing thrust, sharper and more concentrated than any slash, tore through the space between them—backed by the force of a charged strike.

Takeo's blade pierced straight through Kokushibo's throat.

But the moment it landed—Kokushibo's counterattack arrived.

The invisible crescent blade swept toward Takeo's hands. He had no time to shift his attack to Kokushibo's neck—instead, he tried to pull his swords free to avoid losing his combat ability altogether.

But what happened next shocked him—

He couldn't withdraw his blades!

Kokushibo had tensed the muscles in his neck, trapping the swords in place.

It was only a brief misjudgment on Takeo's part, but the consequences were potentially fatal.

The crescent slash was nearly upon him. Letting go of the swords now would be too late!

At that critical moment—

Flame Breathing, First Form—

A scorching path of fire blazed across the ground. From within those flames, a young man with hair burning like fire itself appeared beside Takeo in an instant.

—Unknowing Fire!

A swift and fierce slash cleaved through the incoming crescent blade, intercepting it just in time.

The strike not only gave Takeo a brief moment to breathe, but also bought him the opportunity to sever Kokushibo's head.

Unfortunately, just as Takeo adjusted his stance to follow through, Kokushibo's figure vanished from the spot—and when he reappeared, he was already several meters away from the two.

Tch. He got away?

Takeo clicked his tongue, then turned to glance at the figure now standing beside him.

The figure showed his usual refreshing smile and said loudly:

"Sorry! I'm late!"

"No." Meeting Kyojuro's gaze, Takeo smiled, which was rare: "You came at the right time."

_________

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