For the hundreds of years since becoming a demon, Akaza had pursued the martial path, seeking strength as if it were the sole meaning of existence. But only now did he begin to wonder: once he became strong, what exactly was he seeking?
If the day ever came when he was truly peerless, would he find everything he ever wanted behind that strength, or merely a hollow, empty self?
He loathed the weak. He hated underhanded tactics. He detested any victory that wasn't won through a fair, head-on confrontation.
He enjoyed inviting powerful warriors to join his ranks as demons. Yet, Lord Muzan had always emphasized that demons were not to congregate. Even if those strong men did become demons, it was impossible for them to spar with him every day.
So, why did he keep inviting them?
It felt... it felt as though he wanted to protect a certain dojo that didn't have many people. If there were more people, that dojo wouldn't be bullied anymore...
No, that wasn't right! These ideals were surely just for Lord Muzan's sake.
But Lord Muzan had never said such things. In fact, Muzan had scolded him many times for his refusal to kill or eat women and children.
Yet, Akaza never changed. Why did he hold onto these seemingly random principles? What was the source of this conviction?
He didn't know...
But at this moment, that inexplicable grief and those tears—the feeling that he had lost something far more precious than the pursuit of martial arts—sent his long-held convictions crumbling.
"What... what have I forgotten? And that name... what does it represent?!"
His thoughts had fallen into utter chaos from the moment Izumi Kiyowa spoke his first word. Akaza's Fighting Spirit vanished instantly. Even as he watched Rengoku Mujuro's attack closing in, he made no move to resist.
And this was exactly what Izumi Kiyowa had been waiting for!
Although Kiyowa knew Akaza's entire backstory, he couldn't possibly reveal it here; there would be no way to explain how he knew. Fortunately, Akaza's love for Koyuki was so profound that even after becoming a demon, even after centuries had passed, he still instinctively used the names of the fireworks Koyuki had wanted to see as the names of his techniques.
It was this fact that gave Kiyowa the perfect opening to "pick a fight."
After all, shouting "firework names" in the heat of battle was objectively insulting. By framing it as an affront to his warrior's pride, Kiyowa could trigger Akaza's memories without raising suspicion. Even with Muzan watching, nothing would seem amiss!
It was a massive gamble!
Kiyowa was betting that deep within the memories Kibutsuji Muzan had suppressed, there were still obsessions that could never be fully erased.
Looking at Akaza's soul-shaken state, Kiyowa knew he had won.
Akaza clutched his head as if it were about to split open, his entire body trembling. The blue tattoos on his face looked even more grotesque as they contorted with his agony. Fragmented images, like jagged shards of glass, repeatedly sliced through his sorrowful consciousness.
A sweltering summer day... freshly dried futons... a body so light it felt impossible to believe... a warm palm... and the slender silhouette of a figure in a light-colored kimono...
"We promised... we'd go see them together..."
But the memory cut off there.
Suddenly, a roar that nearly shattered his eardrums erupted, instantly suppressing the memories in Akaza's mind:
"Akaza!"
The voice was one Akaza knew all too well. It was Lord Muzan!
Lord Muzan was watching him!
The moment Muzan's voice rang out, Akaza's dissipated Fighting Spirit surged back to life. But it was already too late.
Rengoku Mujuro's attack was already upon him. Under Kiyowa's constant guidance and refinement, the fire dragon let out a roar that sounded almost supernatural!
No—on closer inspection, it wasn't a roar at all. It was the explosive boom of the blade's impact, a "sharp ringing" produced when the temperature of the Nichirin Blade reached its absolute limit!
The crimson blade swung with such speed it formed an impenetrable wall of heat. Amidst the synchronized roars of Rengoku Mujuro and Izumi Kiyowa, Akaza had no time to defend. The three parts of his body that had just finished regenerating were instantly torn asunder!
The glowing red blade seemed to come alive, hungrily tearing through Akaza's flesh!
Splurch!
His left wrist, right ankle, and left shin were severed simultaneously!
The searing pain brought Akaza back to his senses, pulling him out of the haze of Muzan's reprimand and his own fragmented memories. But before he could react, the strange, intense heat clinging to the Nichirin Blade began to eat away at his wounds like maggots on a bone, drastically slowing his regeneration.
Yet, Akaza felt no hatred for Kiyowa's opportunistic strike. In fact, he felt a flicker of guilt.
His opponent had done nothing wrong; he had fought fairly and won. It was Akaza who had dishonored the duel by losing focus in the middle of a fight.
The memories in his head still refused to let him go, even if Muzan's roar had pushed them back.
But it was over. When a demon loses three of its four limbs, the outcome of the battle is decided.
Still, Akaza didn't believe he would die. He had felt the power of Rengoku Mujuro's slashes. To be honest, if it weren't for that suddenly reddened blade, Rengoku wouldn't even have been able to cut through his regenerated flesh, let alone his neck, which was several times harder than the rest of his body.
Even if he stood perfectly still and let Rengoku hack at his neck, the man wouldn't be able to finish the job.
Kiyowa seemed to realize this as well. Without a moment's hesitation, he adjusted his stance. In a fluid motion, he grabbed Rengoku Mujuro's hair, pulling the man's head back to gain leverage, and then used that momentum to deliver a powerful kick to Akaza's chest.
Before Akaza could recover, Rengoku followed up with a kick of his own, sending Akaza flying straight over the edge of the cliff.
Below the cliff was a churning, rapid river, its waters glinting with a cold, metallic light under the moon.
Akaza felt his body plummeting through the air. The intense sensation of weightlessness took hold, and the freezing night wind cut across his face like knives.
The agonizing pain of his severed limbs... the lingering burn of the crimson blade...
None of that physical pain compared to the void in his heart—the inexplicable feeling that he had lost something he could never replace.
At that same moment, in a certain mansion far away, Kibutsuji Muzan looked up, his expression icy and dark.
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Demon Slayer: Starting by Snatching Daki(103 Chapter- Ongoing)
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