Demon Slayer : Heir to the Moon

This was it. This was the strike that would finish him. A part of me—a lingering echo of the boy I once knew—hoped I could talk to him one last time, plead with him. But the demonic malice in his eyes, the way he'd taken Yuki's life—it solidified the truth. He didn't remember me. So, I had to do what I must. I wouldn't hesitate. Here it goes.

My blade, humming with the new vibrant energy, surged forward. As it reached his neck, I thought I had him. But at the last split second, a flicker of his old agility—or perhaps a desperate demonic instinct—made Ichiro duck slightly. My blade cut through his mouth, a sickening crunch of bone and flesh, missing his neck by a mere inch.

Ichiro fell back, a guttural scream tearing from his ruined face. "Ah, it feels like burning!" he yelled, his voice stretched and distorted. I heard it in agonizing slow motion, every syllable echoing in my hyper-aware mind. Burning? I remembered Tanjiro saying that when he used Hinokami Kagura on demons, they felt a searing, burning sensation. Maybe that's why.

Ichiro struggled to regenerate his half-cut face. Before, he'd healed so fast, so easily, like water flowing back into a disturbed pool. Now, it was a painful, sluggish process, his flesh bubbling and reforming with difficulty. It seemed this Hinokami Kagura-based attack weakened a demon's regeneration ability. Fine, I'd use it again.

Normally, that move would drain me, leave me gasping, but right now, I felt limitless. My body overflowed with raw, unbridled energy—an endless well of power.

"What is wrong with you? Just die already, you scumbag!" Ichiro shouted, his voice raw with pain and frustration, his eyes blazing with fear and fury.

I used Ghost Step, closing the distance in an instant, appearing before him like a phantom. He defended with both spears, one in each hand, a desperate flurry of parries and blocks. He yelled, grunting with effort, deflecting my relentless strikes. His movements, once impossibly fast, now felt sluggish, predictable. He couldn't go any faster.

I spotted an opening—a fleeting gap in his defense—and aimed to cut him in half. But then, the fiery spear in his left hand extended, lashing out like a whip. Its sudden reach caught me off guard, forcing me to back off. He still had tricks left, a desperate demon fighting for survival.

"Blood Demon Art: Crimson Spear Shower," Ichiro declared, his voice strained but laced with power, unleashing his technique again. This time, there were hundreds more spears than before—a shimmering, terrifying multitude. I counted 456 burning spears, filling the sky. He'd poured everything into this, a final gamble to overwhelm me.

But it didn't matter. This time, I'd be faster. I'd finish him.

"Shadow Breathing: Seventh Form – Lunar Eclipse Dance," I murmured, my voice a low hum of determination, a silent promise to the falling rain.

I danced toward the 456 descending spears, a dark blur against the chaos of rain and fire. It felt like flying, gliding effortlessly through the storm. My blade sliced through them with smooth, clean motions. I danced amidst the fire, a solitary figure destroying an entire legion. Each cut was perfect, effortless, the dying sizzle of extinguished flames whispering in the air. The space around me crackled with the chilling energy.

In seconds, I'd shattered every spear, their flames snuffed out with a sharp hiss, steam curling into the rain-soaked air. I surged toward Ichiro, a dark tide of vengeance, my blade humming with the mark's icy power. He scrambled to flee, claws scraping mud, his eyes wide with primal terror, but he was too slow, trembling like a cornered beast. In my range, I was a storm—unstoppable.

My blade touched his neck, cold steel meeting flesh, perfectly aligned this time.

"I am sorry, my friend," I said, my voice heavy with sadness, a farewell to the boy he'd been, as I sliced through his neck in one clean motion.

His head fell, hitting the wet ground with a soft thud. In that instant, his eyes softened, a flicker of humanity returning. "Forgive me, Ryo," he whispered, weak and faint, tears—human tears—dripping from his severed head, mixing with the rain. He'd regained his memories as he died, Muzan's curse lifting at the end.

His body and head turned to ash, dissolving into the stormy night. But before he vanished, his voice, clearer now, said, "It was Upper Moon One that night."

My head spun, the world tilting. The adrenaline power—it all drained away. I collapsed into the mud, the rain cold and harsh against my skin. My senses snapped back, and every muscle screamed in agony. Shattered ribs, burning lungs, exhausted limbs—the pain was overwhelming, like a thousand blades.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, blurring the already rain-soaked world. They weren't just from the physical torment that wracked my broken body, but from a far deeper, more agonizing wound. Yuki was gone. Her warmth, her laughter, the gentle hope she represented—all extinguished. The future we'd barely dared to dream of, shattered into a million pieces scattered across the muddy ground. And Ichiro... my brother, twisted into a monster, only to find peace in death, leaving me with another gaping hole in my soul. The pain of losing them both, so cruelly, so completely, was a crushing weight.

But through that overwhelming grief, a single, cold, unyielding resolve solidified within me. The last words Ichiro had whispered echoed in my mind—"Upper Moon One." Now I knew. I finally knew who had taken everything from me that night. It wasn't just any demon, it was Kokushibo—my ancestor though I hate to admit it now. The monster who had butchered my family, who had turned my friend into this very demon, who had now stolen Yuki. My soul burned with a singular, terrifying purpose. I looked up at the stormy sky, the rain washing over my face, and made a silent, unbreakable vow. I would hunt him down. I would drag Kokushibo to hell, not just any hell, but the deepest, most agonizing part of hell. I would be the one who killed that monster.

My body gave out. My vision blurred, fading to black. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Ghost, his spectral form shimmering in the rain. That bastard finally showed up. I closed my eyes, relief and resentment mixing in my last thought. Then, nothing.

To Be Continued...