"Hmmmm—ahhh!"
Muzan Kibutsuji let out a distorted scream, abruptly severing his connection with Kokushibo. His body collapsed to its knees on the platform, one hand clawing at his neck.
The result of completely sharing Kokushibo's senses was disastrous—he had actually felt the searing pain of his neck being severed. For a brief moment, he was convinced his own head had been cut off.
Hide!
I have to hide!
It was the same instinct that had once kept him alive after that fateful encounter with Tsugikuni Yoriichi. Back then, he had survived only by vanishing, burrowing into the shadows until Yoriichi finally succumbed to old age.
If I cannot defeat him… then I will avoid him forever!
Muzan's mind raced. His five brains strained in unison, rapidly sketching escape routes.
"Move the Infinite Castle… relocate it far from danger—Hiroshima, Nagasaki, anywhere," he muttered feverishly.
But then, the words he had just overheard from that man rang in his head again.
"I can defeat death."
Had anyone else said it, Muzan would have scoffed. Yet Kokushibo himself, the warrior who knew Yoriichi best, had been shaken to the core. Even he had accepted that the one before him was indeed the real Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
Cold sweat drenched Muzan's fine robes.
Yoriichi has returned.
Even if I hide again… what is the point?
Even if he outlived him a second time, what guarantee was there that he wouldn't stumble into Yoriichi's blade the moment he dared set foot outside?
No. This time, he couldn't rely on running.
I must obtain the Blue Spider Lily.
Only by completing his evolution into a perfect being—immune to sunlight, immune to death—could he be freed from this terror.
His pale lips twisted into a snarl.
"The demons must stop wasting themselves on trivial hunts," he hissed. "Their only task now… is to scour the earth for the Blue Spider Lily. And… destroy the Swordsmith Village. If Yoriichi is reborn, then crippling the Demon Slayer Corps' lifeline will buy me time."
For a long while he remained crouched, trembling, his complexion ashen. Finally, rage burned through the paralysis of fear.
He needed to release this festering dread. He needed someone to crush beneath his fury.
His voice thundered through the chamber:
"Nakime!"
The Infinite Castle quaked as the Biwa Demon rushed to answer.
Meanwhile – Kokushibo's Battlefield
Kokushibo staggered. His six eyes rolled in disarray; his vision was warped, tilting sideways. His head was still attached to his body, but barely—only a strip of flesh connected it to his neck.
The sudden descent of Muzan's will, followed by the shocking appearance of "Tsugikuni Yoriichi," had left him utterly defenseless.
By the time he regained his focus, the blade of that man had already cleaved through nearly the entirety of his neck.
Although Kokushibo retreated immediately, it was obviously too late.
After jealousy and anger, what feeling comes to mind again?
Of course—it was fear.
The result of almost being beheaded with a single blow immediately reminded Kokushibo of that night under the blood-red moon, when he crossed swords with the elderly Tsugikuni Yoriichi. But the situation before him now was utterly different from that long-past memory.
Back then, Yoriichi's final slash had carried the weight of a man already at the end of his life. His body had remained standing, but the flame of life had already gone out.
Now, Kokushibo was facing the still young Tsugikuni Yoriichi—reborn in front of his very eyes.
His six eyes widened as his hand instinctively reached for the scar carved across his neck. The flesh felt rough and charred beneath his touch. Beneath that burned layer, granulation tissue squirmed frantically, trying to repair the wound—only to blacken into charcoal the instant it emerged.
Fear began to pulse more strongly through all six of his eyes.
The same wound.
The same place.
The same terror.
Although Kokushibo wanted to deny it, his instincts screamed that the man before him was the true Yoriichi. And as the old fear surged back, it threatened to drown him completely.
If it were any other enemy, Kokushibo would have fought to the last breath—even to the point of death.
But against Yoriichi…
He feared not only death itself, but the shame of once again being left behind by the younger brother he had never surpassed.
Perhaps it was Muzan Kibutsuji's influence across centuries, gnawing at his will. Perhaps it was simply the raw instinct of survival. But at this moment, Kokushibo's only thought was—
Run.
And so Hayashi witnessed a grotesque sight:
Kokushibo, his head hanging by nothing more than a strip of skin, turned and fled. His immense speed made his body rise and fall as he moved, his nearly severed head snapping back and forth against his shoulder like a macabre puppet.
Hayashi, who prided himself on knowing the flow of the "original story" and having seen countless things since his transmigration, found himself speechless.
What was this?
In Hogwarts, there was Nearly Headless Nick.
Here before him—was it Nearly Headless Kokushibo?
Suppressing the absurd thought, Hayashi did not give chase.
He knew well that his earlier strike had only succeeded thanks to Muzan's "remote login"—a lapse of attention that let him land the perfect cut. In truth, Kokushibo had already surpassed the demon's old weakness of dying from simple beheading. The only sure way to destroy him would be the rising sun.
As for showing Kokushibo his own twisted reflection, that too would be meaningless. In the original tale, Kokushibo had despised his "ugly" form because it reminded him of the unreachable Yoriichi. But now, with Hayashi himself standing right before him, Kokushibo would take such scars as nothing more than the cost of his endless pursuit.
And so, whether Kokushibo chose to fight or to run, Hayashi had achieved what he set out to do.
He had successfully delivered a terrifying "surprise" to both Kokushibo and Muzan Kibutsuji.
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