"Don't aim for his neck! That's not something we can cut through right now! Aim for his limbs!"
During his previous exchange with Akaza, Izumi Kiyowa had already gone out of his way to test the hardness of various parts of the demon's body. With his swordsmanship completely surpassing Akaza's, Kiyowa had managed to gather every scrap of intelligence he could during their earlier clash.
"Left wrist! Right shin! And the left ankle! Focus your attacks on those three spots, Mr. Rengoku!"
Kiyowa made no effort to lower his voice or hide his words. Hearing this, both Akaza and Nan Niyi looked at him with expressions as if they were staring at a monster.
It wasn't that Kiyowa was wrong—on the contrary, he was terrifyingly accurate!
But it was that absolute accuracy that made the situation feel so uncanny. These specific spots were the wounds the Roaring Hashira had managed to inflict on Akaza earlier, during the peak of his momentum. While those wounds were partly the result of Akaza's reckless fighting style and the fact that he was holding back, the Roaring Hashira had indeed made those three points his primary targets for subsequent strikes.
Demons could regenerate their bodies, but through years of relentless combat, the Demon Slayer Corps had long since discovered a trait of that regeneration: the "vulnerability period." A demon's regenerated body parts remained brittle and weak for a short time after appearing. Attacking these spots during this window yielded twice the results for half the effort.
The moment his Nichirin Blade was pressed down by Kiyowa's force, Rengoku Mujuro instantly shifted his target. He didn't have a single shred of vanity or desire for personal glory; under Kiyowa's direction, he poured every ounce of his strength into a fierce assault on Akaza's three regeneration points!
Guided by Kiyowa's lead, the tip of Rengoku's blade transformed. What was once a Raging Flame Tiger became a flexible, shifting Fire Dragon. The angles of his strikes were exaggerated to a near-impossible degree; with every swing and retraction, the blade truly seemed to become a soaring dragon.
Every strike anticipated Akaza's positioning, and every withdrawal caused Akaza's counterattacks to hit nothing but air!
This absolute suppression of skill left Akaza in an incredibly stifling position. In the hundreds of years since he had become a demon, this was the first time he had been beaten to such a humiliating degree.
And yet, Akaza felt no anger. On the contrary, he felt his excitement reach its absolute zenith!
This kind of fair, head-on confrontation—the feeling of being defeated by peak martial artistry—was truly intoxicating!
What warmed Akaza's heart even more was that even as Kiyowa attacked, he shouted out the parts he intended to strike beforehand, making no attempt to deceive him. At that moment, Akaza was convinced: his opponent was a pure martial artist just like him, one who only wanted to crush him in a fair and honorable way!
Ah! What an opponent! Someone to remember for a lifetime!
In that case, he had to treat his opponent to his strongest technique. To hold back in a fight like this would not only be an insult to his enemy but a disgrace to himself!
With that thought, Akaza took a deep breath. Beneath his feet, a snowflake-shaped Compass Needle manifested!
"Final Form: Blue Silver Chaotic Afterglow!"
The moment the words left his mouth, his entire aura shifted violently. His muscles tightened to the breaking point; he was like a bowstring drawn to its absolute limit, ready to tear everything before him to shreds the instant he let go!
But right then, Kiyowa's voice rang out, laced with an anger that sounded like he had been deeply insulted. He roared:
"You bastard! Are you mocking me?! Why are you shouting out the names of fireworks in the middle of a fight like this?!"
Hearing Kiyowa's words, Akaza froze. The aura he had built up instantly stagnated.
The names of fireworks?
Names of fireworks...
Ever since he could remember, he had never seen a single human firework display. So... why would his techniques be named after fireworks?
In that exact moment, the Fighting Spirit he had condensed to its peak began to wither away completely.
"Koyuki?"
A name suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Whose name was that?
Why... why did his heart ache so much that he couldn't even breathe the moment he thought of those two syllables? Why did tears start falling uncontrollably at the mere thought of that name?
No, that wasn't right! How could he be thinking about such things right now?
The man across from him had misunderstood him. This was his ultimate show of respect, his final technique. He wasn't mocking him at all—he had to explain himself.
Kiyowa, seeing the flash of confusion and struggle in Akaza's eyes, faked another roar of fury:
"Ever since the start of this fight, you've been spouting the names of fireworks! Does mocking your enemies give you that much joy? Using such despicable tricks to disturb your opponent's mind in battle—do you even call yourself a true martial artist?! Are you really that terrified of fighting us fairly and honorably?!"
Hearing Kiyowa's accusations, the veins on Akaza's forehead pulsed. Where did this brat get such a misunderstanding?!
How dared he say such things?
On what basis did he claim his technique names were nothing but despicable tricks to mess with his head? His techniques were clearly named after... they were named after...
What Koyuki loved...
In the next instant, the name "Koyuki" took over Akaza's entire consciousness!
Those two words were like a clap of thunder, exploding in the depths of memories that had been hollow for centuries. There was no context, no images—only a surging, overwhelming wave of sorrow so intense it felt as if it would tear his soul apart.
For the first time, Akaza's stalwart posture faltered. He instinctively clutched his chest; there, where his heart should be, came a series of suffocating, agonizing pangs.
Tears spilled from his eyes uncontrollably, sliding down his blue-tattooed cheeks. He stared blankly at the tear marks on the back of his hand, his eyes filled with confusion and bitterness.
"Why... am I crying?!"
Akaza felt as if his skull was about to split open. Those two words had completely derailed his consciousness. He tried to grab onto something within the chaotic mess of his memories, but he found nothing but an endless void and that bone-piercing pain.
It was as if someone had brutally gouged out the most important part of his life, leaving behind only a bloody, unhealable wound.
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Demon Slayer: Starting by Snatching Daki(103 Chapter- Ongoing)
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