That question—even Kokushibo himself did not know exactly whom it was directed toward.
Was it for the boy he had never met?
Was this interrogation, laced with such heavy jealousy and loathing, meant for the youth? Or was it meant for himself?
Kokushibo didn't know. But in that moment, the aura surrounding him began to boil. Gone was his usual composed demeanor, replaced by something sharp and chaotic, like the shadow of a moon being torn apart by a violent gale.
Muzan, meanwhile, stared fixately at Kokushibo. The Upper Rank's uncharacteristic loss of composure only served to validate his worst fears: that was indeed Sun Breathing.
Could that brat eventually grow into a monster like that man?!
Will I even have a second chance to narrowly escape with my life this time?!
It certainly didn't seem likely.
That boy was different from Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Within him, there was none of Yoriichi's hesitation or internal conflict. If he truly were to become a second Yoriichi, Muzan knew with absolute certainty that he would die at the boy's hands.
No... stay calm. The power that brat is currently displaying is negligible compared to that man.
Muzan had investigated everything regarding Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Kokushibo had told him that things like the Demon Slayer Mark and the Bright Red Blade were gifts Yoriichi was born with.
The brat currently fighting Doma, however, clearly lacked that innate, God-given talent. Yoriichi's strength was absolute in every dimension—a perfect, flawless physical vessel that the boy could never hope to achieve in a lifetime. Therefore, it was impossible for him to become a second Yoriichi!
Reassured by this thought, Muzan suppressed the terror etched into his very cells. His voice turned cold to the extreme.
"It seems your previous assurances, Kokushibo, were nothing more than useless prattle. Now that another user of Sun Breathing has appeared... what do you intend to do?"
As Muzan posed the question, Kokushibo's six crimson eyes trembled violently. In his mind's eye, the silhouette of the youth swinging his Nichirin Sword—Izumi Kiyokazu—perfectly overlapped with the loathsome figure from his memories.
Those sword techniques, youthful yet as fierce as a blazing sun; that scorching breath exhaled with every rhythmic lungful... it felt as though he had been dragged back across four centuries of time and space, pinned to the spot once more, forced to look upon his own body—a body he had made so hideous all for the sake of power.
Shame.
What utter, absolute shame!
He had cast aside his humanity, his dignity as a samurai, and everything he once was. Yet, when he encountered the sun's fading afterglow, he was still as weak and fragile as he had been back then.
Even now, hundreds of years after that sun had finally set, was he still unable to escape its shadow? Could a mere clumsy imitator, a thief who had stolen the sun's lingering light, cause him to lose his composure so completely?
No.
He would never allow this to happen again.
Aside from you... I will never lose to anyone else ever again!
Kokushibo forcibly crushed the complex emotions roiling within him—feelings so intense they threatened to tear his soul apart. Those flickering images of the boy eventually distilled into a singular, pure point of murderous intent.
I hate you, Yoriichi Tsugikuni!
Your disgusting smile, your attitude of remaining indifferent to everything no matter the circumstances... it truly sickens me to my core.
Nothing of yours should be permitted to remain in this world.
When he looked up again, the struggle and chaos in Kokushibo's eyes had vanished. In its place was a chilling cold that felt compressed to its absolute limit.
"A tormented soul," Kokushibo murmured, his voice regaining its usual eerie calm. Yet beneath that stillness was a depth of hatred that even surprised Muzan. "This matter is a failure of my own oversight. To atone for such a sin..."
He slowly rested his hand on the hilt of Kyokuseibo. A piercing, oppressive pressure radiated from him, causing the very air of the Infinity Castle to freeze.
"Please allow me to go personally. I will use this blade to confirm it for myself. I will sever that boy's head with my own hands, and I will personally erase Sun Breathing from this world once more!"
The absolute, venomous hatred laced within Kokushibo's words left Muzan momentarily stunned.
Back then, even after being hacked to pieces, Muzan's feelings toward Yoriichi had been more fear than resentment. Why did Kokushibo, Yoriichi's own flesh and blood, harbor a hatred of this magnitude?
Muzan didn't understand it, and frankly, he didn't care to think about it. As long as Kokushibo returned with the boy's head, nothing else mattered.
As for himself?
He wasn't going.
Sun Breathing caused a qualitative change in the Breathing Styles of those around it; this had been proven during Yoriichi's era. The Hashira of the Sengoku period had nearly all manifested Marks and Bright Red Blades. If those types of warriors ganged up on him, they truly stood a chance of dragging him out until dawn.
He refused to take that risk, not even for a fraction of a percentage of a chance.
Even if Kokushibo failed, Muzan would not put himself in danger. At most, he would simply go into hiding and stay hidden until the boy died of old age. Just like he had handled Yoriichi. After all, human lives were fleeting.
Muzan looked at Kokushibo, a cruel, satisfied smile finally spreading across his distorted face. His own fear needed the boy's head to be stilled, and Kokushibo's obsession with Sun Breathing was the perfect tool to claim it.
"Very well," Muzan's voice slithered out, venomous as a viper's tongue. "Do not disappoint me a second time, Kokushibo!"
Kokushibo did not respond. Nakime, watching nearby, felt an indescribable tension. Though her time with them was relatively short, she knew that Kokushibo was someone who placed immense value on hierarchy and etiquette. He had never before failed to acknowledge Muzan's words.
The current Kokushibo was clearly in a state where he had lost all sense of reason. She decided it was best not to draw any attention to herself.
However, Muzan's voice suddenly directed itself toward her, making her jump.
"Nakime, what is your maximum teleportation range?"
"Lord Muzan, this location is too far from Yoshiwara. Even knowing the coordinates, I can only transport Lord Kokushibo to a point approximately two hundred kilometers away from the target."
Muzan frowned, his tone becoming impatient. "I will give you only five minutes. Absorb this blood!"
In the next heartbeat, a jagged flesh-spine shot from Muzan's wrist and pierced Nakime's neck. As Muzan's blood flooded into her, Nakime's entire body began to convulse. The terrifying influx of power made her feel as though her physical form was about to burst.
Three minutes later, a sharp note rang out from the biwa, and the space around Kokushibo began to warp and distort.
A wooden door materialized beneath his feet. As the door swung open, Kokushibo's figure vanished from within the Infinity Castle.
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Demon Slayer: Starting by Snatching Daki(103 Chapter- Ongoing)
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