Chapter 115: Akaza
The lingering, prickling sensation of being watched had haunted Tanjuro since the afternoon. Trusting his instincts, the group pushed the carriage relentlessly forward, halting only for the briefest moments to answer nature's call. As dusk bled into a pitch-black night, they refused to make camp. Instead, they maintained a steady, cautious pace under the moonlight. Akira had sent his crow, Ink Shadow, scouting ahead to locate a nearby squad of Kakushi, allowing them to smoothly swap out the exhausted driver without losing precious momentum.
Demons possessing specialized tracking abilities were exceedingly rare, and even those few were bound by strict limitations of distance and time. If such creatures could hunt with absolute impunity, the Demon Slayer Corps would have been eradicated centuries ago. Still, uncertainty hung heavy in the air. Without knowing exactly what kind of monster might be snapping at their heels, their only logical countermeasure was to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as humanly possible.
Inside the carriage, the constant rattling and swaying eventually took its toll on the younger children. Their boundless energy drained away, leaving them slumped against Kie and Tanjuro in deep, exhausted slumber. Only Tanjiro and Nezuko fought the heavy pull of sleep. The two eldest siblings forced their eyes open, determined to share the burden of the long night with their parents, even as their small heads bobbed with fatigue. To keep themselves awake, they struck up a quiet, polite conversation with Tamayo.
Shielded from the true, blood-soaked horrors of the night, the Kamado siblings treated Tamayo and Yushiro with the same warm hospitality they would offer any human guest. To them, the elegant doctor and her scowling assistant were simply fellow travelers. Even Chachamaru was nothing more than a remarkably well-behaved calico cat, though Nezuko pouted slightly whenever the feline deftly sidestepped her attempts to pet its fur. This innocent, entirely unprejudiced warmth slowly chipped away at Yushiro's usual hostility. For once, the abrasive demon refrained from snapping at the humans sharing his space.
That fragile peace lasted right up until Tanjiro, with absolute sincerity, politely inquired about Tamayo's age.
Yushiro's eyes widened in sheer outrage. His fangs bared, a furious lecture already rising in his throat, but before he could erupt, a heavy hand clamped down firmly onto his shoulder. Akira pinned the enraged demon in place with a calm, warning squeeze, forcing Yushiro to swallow his tirade. The youth could do nothing but glare daggers at the utterly bewildered Kamado siblings, who blinked back at him, completely oblivious to the grave taboo they had just breached.
Before Tanjiro could apologize for whatever offense he had unknowingly caused, the atmosphere inside the carriage shifted. Tanjuro stiffened. The ailing patriarch slowly turned his head, his hollow eyes peering into the oppressive darkness trailing behind their wagon.
"Something is catching up," Tanjuro murmured. His voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it carried a crushing weight. "And it is moving very fast."
The grim reality settled over the cabin. They had been marked.
Whatever had kept the pursuing demons at bay during the daylight hours no longer mattered. Realizing their prey was on the verge of slipping away entirely, the hunters had abandoned all caution. Even from this considerable distance, Tanjuro's finely tuned senses picked up the sheer, suffocating malice radiating from the approaching entity. A bitter frown touched his lips. In his prime, he might have stood a chance, but with his lungs failing and his body ravaged by illness, he knew he could not protect his family from a monster of this caliber.
"Leave it to me," Akira stated smoothly, his voice a steady anchor against the rising panic. He drew his Nichirin Blade from its sheath, the metal whispering a deadly promise in the confined space. "Kanae, look after them."
Without waiting for a reply, Akira vaulted out the back of the moving carriage. His boots hit the dirt road with a heavy crunch, sliding slightly before he anchored his stance. He rolled his shoulders, his sharp gaze piercing the gloom as he locked onto the monstrous presence hurtling toward him.
The figure burst through the treeline, moving with the terrifying velocity of a fired cannonball. Short pink hair whipped in the wind, framing a pale face marked by complex, dark green tribal tattoos. But it was the eyes that commanded absolute dread. Etched into the golden irises were the kanji for Upper Rank and Three. Akaza. The Upper Moon held his arm outstretched, casually dangling a grotesque, whimpering lesser demon by the scruff of its neck like a helpless chick. This pathetic creature was undoubtedly the bloodhound that had kept them on the Kamado family's trail.
The moment Akira laid eyes on the Upper Rank, Akaza's predatory gaze snapped onto him. The demon's golden eyes narrowed, calculating the trajectory. By tracing the faint clouds of dust kicked up by the wheels and noting the swordsman's sudden drop onto the road, Akaza instantly pinpointed the invisible carriage's exact location. He had no idea what sort of trickery the humans were using to mask the vehicle from his sight, nor did he care. Such cowardly tactics meant nothing in the face of absolute martial supremacy.
A vast stretch of darkened road still separated them. Akaza could not yet make out the fine details of the swordsman's face, and the distance was too great for his Compass Needle to lock onto the human's fighting spirit. Yet, a primal, thrilling instinct flared within the demon's chest. Every fiber of his being screamed that the man standing calmly in the dirt was a warrior of the highest caliber. A feral grin split Akaza's face. His blood boiled with sudden, intoxicating excitement, and his leg muscles bulged as he accelerated, tearing up the earth with every explosive stride.
Akira watched the demon close the gap, his breathing falling into a deep, rhythmic cycle. Oxygen flooded his cells, supercharging his muscles with crackling kinetic energy. The moment Akaza crossed the invisible threshold of his striking range, Akira vanished.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash."
A blinding streak of golden lightning tore through the darkness. The sheer velocity of the draw was so staggering that even Akaza's enhanced kinetic vision struggled to trace the arc of the blade.
But Akira's killing intent was not directed at the Upper Rank. Because the strike lacked direct hostility toward him, Akaza's innate danger sense only flared at the absolute last microsecond when the crackling aura brushed past his shoulder. Driven by centuries of combat instinct, Akaza threw a devastating counter-punch at the golden blur.
His fist struck nothing but empty air.
Akaza skidded to a halt, his bare feet carving deep trenches into the dirt road. He blinked, looking down at his left hand. The lesser demon he had been carrying by the neck was now missing its head, its grotesque body already crumbling into a shower of gray ash.
The Upper Moon merely chuckled, casually tossing the disintegrating corpse into the brush. It did not matter. He already knew the precise direction the invisible carriage was fleeing. Once he battered this swordsman into a bloody pulp, he could easily run down the remaining prey on foot. Akaza slowly turned to face his opponent, his golden eyes burning with manic delight.
"Truly surprising speed..." Akaza murmured, tilting his head as he finally got a clear look at the swordsman. Recognition sparked in his eyes. "That face... Oh, I remember now! You are the one who slaughtered Gyokko, aren't you? I am Akaza. Tell me your name, human! Your strength makes me want to carve it into my memory!"
"Remember me, and then what?" Akira replied, his tone dry and entirely unimpressed.
If the battle-crazed demon wanted to stand around and chat, Akira was more than happy to oblige. His primary objective was not to slay an Upper Moon tonight, but to buy time. He cast a subtle glance toward the eastern horizon. The inky blackness of the sky was just beginning to thin, hinting at the approaching dawn. With the tracking demon reduced to ash and Yushiro's Blood Demon Art cloaking the carriage, all Akira had to do was stall until the sun crested the mountains. Once the deadly rays of sunlight bathed the forest, the Kamado family would be permanently out of danger.
"And then?" Akaza threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the quiet woods. "And then, of course, I will fight you! We will clash until our bones break, and then, I will kill you!"
The demon dropped into a low, predatory martial arts stance.
"Technique Deployment: Destructive Death - Compass Needle."
A brilliant, ethereal blue shockwave pulsed outward from Akaza's feet. A massive, glowing formation resembling a twelve-pointed snowflake materialized in the dirt, locking the demon directly in its center.
"You possess the fastest draw I have encountered in over a century! Judging by that explosive speed, you must be the new Sound Hashira! Tell me your name!" Akaza roared, his voice booming like thunder as he launched himself forward. The earth shattered beneath his heels as he closed the distance in a heartbeat, fully intending to drag the swordsman into a brutal, close-quarters brawl.
Beneath his manic excitement, Akaza felt a twinge of genuine confusion. Every single Hashira he had slaughtered in the past had always charged him head-on, desperate to close the gap and sever his neck. This man was entirely different. Ever since decapitating the tracking demon, Akira had deliberately maintained a wide, calculated distance, showing absolutely zero intention of launching a active strike. It was baffling. But if the human refused to step into the killing zone, Akaza would simply bring the killing zone to him.
Akaza possessed absolute confidence in his technique. With the Compass Needle active, his senses were elevated to a supernatural extreme. Unless this swordsman had somehow unlocked the supreme territory of the Transparent World, raw speed meant nothing. The Compass Needle acted as an infallible radar, instantly detecting the fighting spirit behind any incoming attack. It locked onto the opponent's killing intent, guiding Akaza's body to react automatically. As long as he protected his neck, his demonic regeneration would effortlessly handle the rest.
Akira understood this mechanic perfectly. He had only managed to execute the tracking demon because his killing intent had entirely bypassed Akaza, causing the Compass Needle's automated defense to trigger half a second too late. Engaging a martial arts master of Akaza's caliber in a close-quarters slugfest while his radar was fully active was nothing short of suicidal. Decapitation was completely off the table for now.
Thus, as the Upper Moon closed in like a raging typhoon, Akira refused to hold his ground. He pivoted sharply on his heel, smoothly evading Akaza's initial, devastating charge. As the demon whipped his arm around for a devastating backhand, Akira brought the flat of his Nichirin Blade up in a flawless parry. The metallic ring of the impact echoed sharply. Instead of resisting the tremendous kinetic force, Akira allowed the blow to launch him backward, gracefully flipping through the air to widen the gap once more.
"You possess such exquisite martial arts, yet you do not even dare to face me head-on?" Akaza sneered, his excitement souring into visible annoyance as he spun around to face the retreating swordsman. "Coward! Destructive Death - Air Type!"
If the human refused to fight up close, Akaza would simply crush him from afar. It was a flawless strategy. By forcing the swordsman onto the defensive with ranged strikes, Akaza remained utterly invincible. Without stepping into melee range, the human could never hope to reach his neck.
Akaza unleashed a flurry of rapid punches into the empty space before him. Though his movements appeared almost casual, the sheer force behind his fists compressed the very atmosphere, firing invisible, high-velocity shockwaves that tore through the air like artillery shells.
Akira kept his eyes locked on the subtle shifts in the demon's shoulders, anticipating the trajectory of the invisible blasts. He danced through the bombardment, swaying and weaving past the lethal air cannons. When dodging proved impossible, he angled his blade to deflect the brunt of the kinetic impact. Even with his masterful parries, the tremendous concussive force traveling down the steel left his wrists throbbing with a dull, stinging numbness.
"You bastard! Fight me with everything you have!" Akaza roared, his patience entirely shattered by Akira's relentless evasion. The Upper Moon's aura flared with violent, suffocating pressure. "Destructive Death - Disorder!"
The demon's arms blurred into a chaotic frenzy. The frequency of his strikes multiplied exponentially, transforming the scattered air cannons into a devastating, localized hurricane of concussive force. Hundreds of invisible shockwaves rained down upon Akira's position, threatening to pulverize him into a bloody mist.
Akira exhaled a long, steady breath, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. Golden sparks began to arc wildly across his haori.
"Thunder Breathing, Eighth Form: Boyu Rika."
It was a custom technique, a defensive marvel he had carefully engineered in his mind for this exact scenario. Now, it was finally being unleashed against the very monster it was designed to counter.
"That is it! Yes! This is how a true battle should be!" Akaza howled with manic laughter, his annoyance instantly evaporating into pure, unadulterated ecstasy. "Hahaha! Tell me your name!"
The Upper Moon pushed his demonic physique to the absolute limit, his fists flying so fast they generated a continuous sonic boom. In response, Akira accelerated his defensive strikes, his blade weaving a brilliant, impenetrable dome of golden lightning to shred the incoming shockwaves. The sheer kinetic energy clashing between the human and the demon tore the earth apart, engulfing the battlefield in a towering, violent whirlwind of shattered rock and flying dust.
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