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I split off another sliver of attention and, following the location Kiriya had described, took control of a nearby demon. It clambered up the high ground in an awkward, lurching crawl.
Tanjiro and the others came into view exactly where expected. The one with black hair and pointed ears had to be Kaigaku.
Those three had always been close. They fought with the kind of seamless coordination that only came from real friendship, and so far, not one of them was hurt.
I watched a little longer from the side. This Upper Rank had been forcibly elevated by Muzan's blood — not earned. That kind was never as strong as the ones who'd clawed their way up on their own merits. It might take some time, but taking care of him wasn't going to be a problem.
I shifted my focus to the other side. After bidding farewell to Obanai and the others, I dragged that cumbersome body and kept running toward Doma's location.
Nakime seemed to have transferred the entire space he occupied. Before I could even get a clear look, the smell hit me , that lotus scent I hadn't encountered in so long, still pungent enough to turn my stomach.
Guided by Kiriya's crow, I moved to a high vantage point and peered down alongside the bird.
Doma had raised massive walls of ice around himself, deliberately reshaping the terrain. He'd boxed in the Hashira, cut off their angles, made it impossible for them to combine and surround him. I had to give him credit , he knew the traditional Breathing Styles well, understood their range and rhythm, and had engineered the terrain to strangle them.
I read the battle. Doma's Blood Demon Art worked by damaging the organs from the inside, which made it invisible and relentless. Kyojuro was at the front, Flame Breathing's wide, sweeping style giving him the best coverage against attacks that couldn't be seen coming.
This was the plan they'd discussed. No one fights an Upper Rank alone. If you encounter one by yourself, you preserve your strength and stall until backup arrives.
Shinobu was clearly injured. Under cover from Giyu and Sabito, she reached into her clothes, pulled out a medicine vial, uncorked it with her teeth, and poured it into her mouth. She was breathing hard.
She must have been the first one to find Doma.
I watched her say something to Giyu as he rotated back, then take a second vial from a small case. The poison. The one she and Tamayo had developed together.
Then Kanao arrived.
A few quick hand signals passed between them. A handful of words. The formation shifted.
Doma was cautious, but he hadn't figured out what they were doing yet. They used that gap. Everyone moved to cover Kanao, pushing her forward, giving her the opening to close the distance and reach his flank with the poison.
One lapse. That was all it took. Doma didn't stop her in time, and the poison went in.
He reacted immediately, spinning and swinging his iron fan at Kanao. She was fast. She took some damage — unavoidable — but she was already pulling back before the blow fully landed.
The outcome was decided.
I didn't know the details of how that poison had been developed, but I knew they'd used my blood as one of the base materials. Doma might keep fighting for a while yet. But there was no coming back from this.
I turned my attention to Kokushibo's side.
The contrast was immediate. Doma's battle had been a long, grinding stalemate. This one was chaos , rubble and shattered stone everywhere, the air thick with the aftermath of impacts.
Gyutaro and Akaza were working in sync, one holding range and one pressing close, absorbing most of the pressure between them. But Breathing Styles against a demon's regeneration was always going to be a grind. Kokushibo's range was the real problem. He could reach people standing far back while still shutting down anyone who got close. He was also trying to absorb Gyutaro and Akaza , drain their strength, feed his own. Muzan's gift, probably. Vicious.
Akaza caught it in time and pulled Gyutaro back before he stepped into it.
Gyomei and the others were all carrying wounds. They'd worked out what Kokushibo was trying to do. The plan shifted: Gyomei and Sanemi moved up to absorb the damage, while Akaza and Gyutaro held the flanks. Ritsu and Muichiro swung wide to circle behind him, setting up pressure from multiple directions.
I was watching intently when I noticed the extra figure below.
He was almost flat against the ground, crawling, doing everything he could not to be seen.
Everyone had noticed him. I was sure of it.
Kokushibo threw a feint and slashed toward that direction. Gyutaro intercepted it instantly, yanking the demon's attention back to the immediate fight.
I understood what Genya was going for. I still couldn't quite believe his nerve.
There was a broken blade fragment in that direction, flesh still writhing along its edge , part of Kokushibo's body. Genya crept toward it, picked it up off the ground, and swallowed it whole.
Watching him go down raw like that, I felt a phantom ache in my own throat. I genuinely wondered if his stomach ever gave him trouble, with the things he put into it.
He was easy to overlook, this kid. His ability was easy to overlook. He couldn't turn the tide of a battle like this on his own. But he threw everything he had into creating one brief moment, a single instant where Kokushibo's momentum stuttered.
No one wasted it.
The momentum flipped. Kokushibo's movements grew wilder, more desperate. He started losing his human shape, body warping into something monstrous, horns jutting from a form that no longer looked like anything that had once been a person.
Ugly. I watched him through the demon's borrowed eyes and found I couldn't remember what he'd looked like as a man anymore.
If he appeared before Yoriichi and Takehime now, would they even recognize him?
The only thing I knew for certain was that no one would be waiting for him on the other side.
A roar tore through the space, raw and ragged , the sound of something dying and refusing to accept it.
Ritsu dropped her guard and charged. The original Breathing Style flowed through her like it had always lived there, her blade technique flawless, her posture almost identical to Yoriichi's.
Kokushibo watched her come. His movements stalled.
What was he thinking? Was he seeing that phantom again , the one he'd spent his whole life chasing?
Muichiro came in from the other side. Two blades crossed in the air and bit into his neck from opposite directions at once.
One cut. Done.
The headless body held its place for a moment. Those six eyes eased shut, slowly, like something exhausted finally letting go. The head hit the ground. No sound after that.
The crow beside me erupted into delighted cawing, relaying the news: Doma and Kaigaku were both dead.
Below, the fighters had been at it for a long time. As Kokushibo's body faded and dissolved, they dropped where they stood, sitting in the rubble, too tired to do anything else.
Except Sanemi and Ritsu.
Those two had no business still being upright, but there they were. Wounds unattended, swords planted in the ground as makeshift crutches, they pushed themselves up and made straight for Genya, who was tucked into a corner trying very hard not to be noticed.
They tore into him. Sanemi and Ritsu, who agreed on almost nothing, stood shoulder to shoulder and absolutely buried him. No trace of victory in either of them.
"You little idiot," one of them said, "what do you think you're doing here? You were supposed to find somewhere safe and stay there. When we get back, I'm breaking your legs."
"Eat, eat, eat," the other snapped, "you'll just shove anything in your mouth, won't you? Was that something you could even eat? What if you'd gotten sick?"
Genya was still half-demonized, his face doing something complicated. His mouth pressed into a tight line. He didn't talk back. He just stood there and took it.
He'd probably catch it again later from both of them once they were home. A proper combined scolding, maybe worse.
I laughed anyway.
It was good. It was really good.
Everyone was going home.
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