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Chapter 6 - The Transparent World

Chapter 6 – The Transparent World

Tachibana Kyūjō stood his ground, sword in hand, eyes unblinking as the demon drew near.

He paid no mind to Rokuro's taunts. Not a word passed his lips.

That silence only deepened the demon's irritation.

With a sigh and a furrowed brow, Rokuro muttered, almost bored, "Pathetic little human… Today, I'll show you just how weak your kind truly is."

Then his body began to shift.

Rokuro's skin darkened, charred like coal, while his muscles swelled with raw, unnatural strength. The very air around him twisted from the force radiating off his body.

In Kyūjō's perception—within the realm of Kenshin Tōmei, the Sword's Heart—the threads that once revealed every gap and weak point in his enemy suddenly blurred and broke.

His inner sight grew hazy.

As if Rokuro's spiritual energy had crossed into another dimension.

The demon gave no warning.

With a thunderous step, Rokuro slammed his foot into the earth. The ground cracked, spreading shockwaves through the forest.

Then he vanished.

No—he moved.

A blur of shadow shot forward like a black arrow loosed from a divine bow.

In an instant, he was right in front of Kyūjō.

His coal-black fist rose high, crashing down toward Kyūjō's skull with the force of lightning splitting open the heavens.

Kyūjō twisted to the right on pure reflex, barely dodging in time—guided not by thought, but by the sharpened instinct Kenshin Tōmei had granted him.

Rokuro's fist struck the massive tree behind.

The trunk exploded.

Splinters rained down as the tree cracked and split in two, falling with a rumble that made the forest tremble.

Kyūjō shuddered.

"His speed and power… they've increased dramatically. Like Armament Haki from One Piece…" he thought, instinctively comparing this strength to those of the worlds he'd studied before.

But here, in this world, it had a different name—Blood Demon Art.

A cursed power born of demonic blood, bending the body into something unnatural.

Kyūjō was forced onto the defensive.

He used the tight terrain and the density of the trees to evade and retreat, buying fragments of time.

"I can see the openings—but my body can't catch up."

One kick from Rokuro shattered a tree as thick as a grown man's embrace. Kyūjō's throat dried. His muscles clenched.

"If that hits me even once… I'm done."

Then, through the foliage—a figure broke through.

Heavy footsteps crashed into the earth, and a familiar voice called out.

Fujiwara Naoto, a Mizunoto-ranked member of the Demon Slayer Corps, had arrived—holding not one, but two Nichirin Blades.

He shouted toward Kyūjō, voice hoarse and desperate.

"Your sword can't kill him, swordsman! You need a Nichirin Blade to slay a demon!"

But Kyūjō didn't look back.

His eyes never left Rokuro, who now stood with his back turned.

He couldn't afford even a second of distraction.

Of course he knew about Nichirin Blades.

He knew how to kill a demon.

But… that wasn't the issue.

"I don't have the strength to sever his neck."

The only technique he could rely on—the one he'd once used to split a boulder in his family's garden—required absolute focus. Total harmony between breath, body, and blade.

And that technique...

He couldn't perform it with a foreign sword.

To Kyūjō, a blade wasn't just a tool.

It was an extension of his soul.

Naoto, for all his good intentions, had just become another variable.

Rokuro turned his head and grinned. "You want the demon slayer's sword?"

Kyūjō said nothing.

Instead, he listened.

Felt.

Something shifted.

A subtle tension in the air. A vibration. The tightening of muscle in Rokuro's left leg.

"He's going to attack the demon slayer!"

Without hesitation, Kyūjō moved first.

His sword slashed toward the back of Rokuro's left knee—a vital tendon.

"If I cut this, he won't be able to launch the attack!"

But Rokuro twisted.

With inhuman instincts and speed, the demon spun, readjusting his balance, and countered with a sweeping kick from his right leg.

Kyūjō raised his blade, bracing it along his ribs to absorb the hit.

It wasn't enough.

His body was hurled through the air like a ragdoll.

He slammed into the earth with a sickening thud. His chest convulsed. Blood gushed from his lips.

But he rose.

One knee on the ground. Sword digging into the dirt to prop himself up.

His ribs were broken. Breath ragged.

Yet his eyes still burned.

He managed a bitter smile.

"Careless…"

Two broken ribs. That was enough to throw off the entire rhythm of his body.

He wouldn't be able to release his strongest technique now.

But through the haze of pain—through the agonizing throb of each heartbeat—an old memory surfaced.

— — —

A scene from a manga he'd once read in another life.

Kimetsu no Yaiba.

It told of Kamado Tanjurō—father of the protagonist.

A frail man. Sickly. Weak.

And yet, with a single swing of his axe, he'd decapitated a monstrous bear nearly three meters tall—a beast that had already slaughtered six people.

How did he do it?

How could such a fragile body produce such overwhelming force?

There was only one answer.

The Transparent World.

A state in which one could control every muscle, every drop of blood within their body with perfect precision.

Where unnecessary noise faded.

Where irrelevant senses were silenced.

In that clarity—a new world unfolded.

A world where the inner workings of an enemy's body became visible. Where their weaknesses shone like beacons.

Where movement slowed.

"That's how the manga described it."

— — —

And now…

Kyūjō stood at the edge of that same revelation.

He bit down on his lip, face twisted with clarity—and frustration.

"It's too similar to Kenshin Tōmei."

Seeing anatomy.

Detecting gaps.

Accelerating perception.

"Damn it. Could the art passed down by my family… be another form of the Transparent World?"

But there was a key difference.

Kenshin Tōmei, passed through generations of the Tachibana clan, was attained by honing the five senses to such extremes that a sixth was awakened.

A sense that could perceive life and death—not just in living things, but in the world itself.

The Transparent World, on the other hand, was reached by those born with already extraordinary senses.

Through total bodily control, one unlocked every neural pathway. Not a single movement wasted. Not a single drop of strength lost.

Every muscle. Every vessel. All aligned.

And the result—

A transparent world.

If he could reach it…

If he could combine them…

"Why not?"

"Why shouldn't I have both?"

Kyūjō clenched his fist.

He almost laughed—at himself.

He'd been walking a narrow road all this time, thinking there was only one way forward.

But if those with five sharpened senses could master their body…

Then what of someone with a sixth?

Hadn't the power always been inside him?

— — —

Rokuro stepped forward with a casual, arrogant stride.

"You know," he sneered, "humans really are pathetic."

He raised one hand, pointing lazily at Kyūjō.

"A wound like yours? I'll heal it in seconds."

"I won't kill you right away. We have plenty of time. I want you to watch—while I eat you slowly. Maybe I'll start with your fingers. Or your feet. What do you think?"

Kyūjō said nothing.

He simply stood.

Adjusting his breath.

Balancing his stance.

Centering everything into one singular focus—his own body.

And then—

A voice thundered from the forest, filled with fury.

"You filthy demon!" shouted Naoto, voice cracked and shaking.

"You think I'm just some bystander?! I'm a Demon Slayer!"

"As long as Fujiwara Naoto lives—I won't let you devour a single human!"

His final words rang through the trees.

And beneath the fractured moonlight that filtered between the leaves… tears began to roll down his cheeks.

— — —

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