Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
The name echoed in Kokushibo's mind like a phantom, a ghost that had haunted him for centuries. In the long history of the Demon Slayer Corps, no name carried more weight. Yoriichi was a shooting star who burned brighter than any other, creating the very Breathing Styles that gave humanity a fighting chance. He was the only man to have ever pushed the Demon King, Muzan Kibutsuji, to the brink of death.
And he was the source of all of Kokushibo's suffering.
His twin brother, Michikatsu Tsugikuni, had once joined the Demon Slayer Corps to walk beside him. But he could never escape the shadow of Yoriichi's genius. While Yoriichi created Sun Breathing, Michikatsu could only create an imperfect imitation: Moon Breathing. While Yoriichi was born with the Demon Slayer Mark and lived past the age of twenty-five, Michikatsu watched in terror as every other swordsman who awakened the Mark died young, their power burning them out from the inside.
That endless pursuit of a goal he could never reach, that suffocating envy, had rotted him from the inside out. He had abandoned his dignity as a samurai, betrayed the Demon Slayer Corps, and murdered their leader. He had accepted Muzan's blood and thrown away his humanity, all for the power to one day surpass the brother he could never defeat.
He became Kokushibo, Upper Rank One of the Twelve Kizikui. The Six-Eyed Demon Swordsman.
And now, this priestess dared to speak that name to him. A cold, delayed realization washed over Kokushibo as he stared at Chinami.
"Yoriichi… I personally…"
His mind flashed back through the centuries, to a moonlit night sixty years after he had become a demon. He had met his brother again. The handsome twin of his youth was now an old man, his face covered in wrinkles, while he remained frozen in his prime. During that bitter reunion, Kokushibo could only ask one question, over and over again: "Why? Why did you awaken the Mark but not die?"
Then, the old man moved. With a speed that defied his age, Yoriichi swung his blade for a final, fatal blow. But just as the fiery sword was about to connect, he died, standing on his feet, his life extinguished by old age. In a fit of rage and spite, Kokushibo had cut his brother's lifeless body in half. Their bond, and his obsession, had ended completely at that moment.
Or so he thought.
"What… do you mean!?" Kokushibo snarled, his six eyes locking onto Chinami, glowing with a terrifying light. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. His transformation into a demon had been timed perfectly, just after Yoriichi had nearly killed Muzan. Was that a coincidence? And why was Chinami saying this now? The Priest Clan had created Muzan; would they really let their creation run rampant without a contingency?
Was it possible that Yoriichi wasn't some child of destiny, but another one of their creations? A weapon designed to kill a demon? Did they possess a method to turn a demon back into a human, and had they used it on his brother? No… it was impossible. Yoriichi was dead. He died of old age, and he had sliced the body himself.
"It seems you already understand," a profound smile formed on Chinami's lips, hidden beneath her mask.
Thump. Thump.
As if time itself had frozen, a set of footsteps echoed through the silence. From the shadows, a tall man with a red, high ponytail and wearing traditional samurai attire walked out. A Nichirin sword, glowing with the fierce intensity of a raging fire, hung at his waist.
"No… no, this… this is impossible…"
Kokushibo's entire body felt as if it had been struck by lightning. He couldn't begin to comprehend what he was seeing.
"Since Muzan Kibutsuji was created by us, did you really think we wouldn't pay attention to the destined nemesis that appeared during his reign?" Chinami's voice grew colder with every word. "Muzan never dreamed… that the man he thought had died centuries ago had already returned in another way."
She cast a dismissive glance at Kokushibo, and then at the dense crowd of demons armed with firearms behind him. "As for all of you… you are nothing but rabble."
The moment her voice fell, she gave a sharp, decisive gesture. "Kill!"
Whoosh!
In an instant, the man with the red ponytail soared into the sky. A terrifying sword light, an image that Kokushibo had never been able to forget for hundreds of years, flashed through the space once more.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the Infinity Castle.
Amane Ubuyashiki's body trembled, a chilling sense of violation and helplessness washing over her. From her birth in the Priest Clan to her marriage to Kagaya Ubuyashiki, she had lived a sheltered life. She had rarely been in close proximity to any man other than her husband.
But this terrifying existence holding her now—neither human nor demon, neither god nor devil—was something entirely new. A cold dread froze her in place, rooting her to the spot so completely that she couldn't even struggle.
"Muzan Kibutsuji… what… what do you want to do…?" Kagaya gasped from the floor. He had finally caught his breath, only to witness a scene that made his blood run cold with fury.
"What I want to do?" Tsukihiko's voice became a sinister whisper, deliberately crafted to provoke the dying man. "Isn't it obvious? It's exactly what you're imagining. As I said, the Ubuyashiki family is on the verge of complete extinction. But I am also one of the family's old ancestors."
He fixed his gaze on Kagaya, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Therefore, if you, my descendant, are truly incapable of continuing the line… then I can."
At those words, the last bit of color drained from both Kagaya and Amane's faces.
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