It was midnight on the third day, around three or four in the morning.
The frantic flapping of a crow's wings broke the silence. Almost by reflex, Rengoku Mujuro snapped awake instantly. Demon Slayers always possessed a heightened sensitivity to the specific sound of a Kasugai Crow's approach.
"Lord Rengoku! Lord Rengoku! Something terrible has happened!"
Upon spotting the shock of flame-red hair, the crow—named Chouchoumaru—let out a choked, sobbing report: "Lord Minami Nao! On her way to Yoshiwara, she encountered the Upper Rank Three demon! She's at her limit! Please... you must go save her!"
Before the crow had even finished its sentence, Mujuro was already gripping his Nichirin Sword and charging outside.
"Chouchoumaru! Direction!"
"Please, follow me!"
The exchange happened with lightning speed. Within mere breaths, Mujuro had flung open the door. But before vanishing into the night, he looked back at Izumi Kiyokazu, his expression grim and heavy with command.
"Light the wisteria incense, then wait for my—No! Kiyokazu, I need you to come with me! If the Sound Hashira's injuries are severe and she needs to be carried back, I cannot do it alone! I'm counting on you!"
Mujuro lowered his head, his voice tinged with a desperate plea. Kiyokazu didn't hesitate for a single second. He grabbed his Nichirin Sword and stepped out the door.
Ume and Gyutaro were awake by now. Watching Kiyokazu head out, Ume wanted to say something, but her throat tightened. Ultimately, she only managed four words: "Come back safely!"
Gyutaro said nothing, simply offering a solemn nod of acknowledgment.
Kiyokazu gave Ume a reassuring look, then turned and sprinted after Mujuro.
The night wind whipped against his face, carrying the sticky, scorching heat of midsummer. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the air tonight felt suffocatingly oppressive.
Upper Rank Three...
A hundred years from now, even the generation hailed as the strongest Hashira would have little chance of victory against Akaza. And now, Mujuro—who wasn't even a Hashira yet—was going to fight him?
This was, in all likelihood, a suicide mission.
Kiyokazu didn't even know why he was following. If he didn't know the gap in power, it would be one thing, but knowing that death was almost certain, what was he even hoping to achieve? He could have just refused. Given Mujuro's character, he would never have forced him. Even if Mujuro died there, he wouldn't have blamed Kiyokazu.
So why am I following him?!
Damn it! Damn it!
His hands wouldn't stop shaking. His breathing was becoming ragged. He wasn't Yoriichi Tsugikuni; he was just an ordinary person who had inherited a Breathing Style. Right now, he wasn't even on the level of Tanjiro during the Final Selection. Going there meant he'd likely die before he could even register a single move.
And yet, his legs refused to stop.
To hell with it... this isn't an anime, and I'm no protagonist. I'm going to die. I'm really going to die!
"I won't let you die. That is all. Umu!"
Mujuro seemed to sense the fluctuations in Kiyokazu's emotions. He saw the deathly pallor of the boy's face and his trembling hands. He wanted to offer comfort, but there was no time.
Mujuro's voice sliced through the night wind like a sharp blade. His flame-like hair flared out behind him, radiating a heat as intense as the midday sun.
"Fear is our instinct! But since we have chosen to move forward, we must give it everything we have! Stay behind me. Watch my back. Even if I die, you will not be left alone on this path!"
Before his voice had even faded, he accelerated abruptly, his red hair carving a resolute arc of light through the darkness.
Kiyokazu's pounding heart felt as though it had been seized by those short words, then suddenly released. He took a deep, shaky breath, suppressing the tide of emotions within him. Since he had come to this world, he had to face this eventually. If he didn't even have this much courage, he might as well die here.
He forced himself to stay calm. His pace quickened, his eyes locked onto the fiery silhouette ahead of him. His heart was still racing, but his mind was gradually settling into a cold clarity. The moment his hand gripped the hilt of the Nichirin Sword at his waist, his tension miraculously dissipated; the rough texture of the handle felt strangely warm.
Two men and one crow pierced through the deepening shadows at the edge of Yoshiwara, arrowing toward the location Chouchoumaru indicated.
Ominous battle spirit and the overwhelming stench of blood already saturated the air there. From the horizon not far off came the muffled roar of thunder-like explosions and the rhythmic vibration of the earth. Even from a distance, the sheer intensity of the combat was vivid.
Mujuro's eyes burned with a literal fire. All stray thoughts had been purged from his mind, replaced by a single, crystal-clear intent: Faster! Just a little bit faster! If I can just get there in time, I can save a Hashira!
As the trees finally cleared, a landscape of scorched, ruined earth entered Kiyokazu's vision. Shattered trees lay scattered in every direction, the ground was pitted with deep craters and charred marks, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of gore.
At the center of the battlefield, the Sound Hashira, Minami Nao, was covered in wounds. Her silver hair was matted with blood, and the haori that symbolized her status was shredded beyond recognition. A hideous hole in her left abdomen was gushing blood, staining the earth beneath her feet a dark, muddy red.
She was down on one knee, clearly at the end of her tether. She couldn't even stand; she was using her Nichirin Sword as a crutch just to keep herself from collapsing. Even without getting closer, Kiyokazu could tell from her ragged, gasping breath—the kind of breath that rattled with the agony of damaged lungs—that she had reached her limit.
Akaza stood a short distance away, a dissatisfied smile playing on his lips.
"If this is all you have, then you are still too weak, Minami Nao! You are strong—the strongest woman I have ever seen. So... become a demon!"
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