The courtyard became eerily quiet for a moment; even the wind stopped.
The moonlight shone quietly on the two of them, carrying an indescribable chill.
Kokushibo raised his left arm, holding the rapidly healing shallow scar up to his eyes. For the first time, all six of his golden eyes were fixed on that scar, their gazes filled with complex emotions.
It wasn't anger at being offended, nor humiliation at being hurt; instead, it carried a hint of nostalgia, reminding him of someone from long ago, someone etched into his very bones.
"For four hundred years..."
He spoke, his voice very soft, as if talking to himself, with a hint of hoarseness.
"You're the seventh."
Giyu stood on the roof ridge, breathing heavily, his chest heaving like a bellows.
The wound on his left shoulder was still bleeding, and the web between his fingers was split open, with blood dripping down between his fingers. Blood seeping from his nose slid down to the corner of his mouth and stained his chin red.
Yet he still gripped his Nichirin Blade tightly, the blade pointing directly at Kokushibo, his eyes showing no sign of retreat. Even though his body had reached its limit, he showed no intention of collapsing.
"The seventh... human who left a scar on me."
Kokushibo lowered his left arm; the shallow wound had completely healed, leaving no scar. But he remembered the human swordsman who had managed to injure him.
"The first six, all dead, all killed by my blade."
He raised his eyes, and six golden pupils locked onto Giyu, the chilling killing intent making the air seem to freeze.
Do you want to be the seventh one?
In the corner of the courtyard, Obanai Iguro stared intently at the two people on the roof, his fists clenched tightly, his heterochromatic pupils contracting sharply.
"This monster... can actually get injured?"
He muttered to himself, his voice trembling, his expression one of utter disbelief.
A surge of heat ignited in his chest, shattering all despair and sparking hope.
That blue and white figure, though small in comparison to Kokushibo, stood firm and upheld everyone's hopes.
Shinjuro Rengoku looked at Giyu Tomioka on the rooftop, at that figure standing straight despite being covered in wounds, at that blade of light capable of harming Upper Rank One, fire reignited in his eyes.
He bent down, picked up the Nichirin Blade that had fallen to the ground, and gripped it tightly. The familiar warmth from the hilt helped him regain his strength.
He chuckled softly, his voice hoarse yet full of power. "So, the distance between us and him isn't insurmountable! We humans can also injure this kind of monster!"
"Clang--"
With a crisp clang of metal, Kokushibo sheathed the Kokyū Shinku in his hand.
This was a customary gesture among warriors during the Warring States period, signifying a temporary truce before engaging in dialogue; it was also a form of recognition between strong warriors.
Kokushibo stood beside the broken roof ornament, moonlight shining from behind him, casting a long, distorted shadow that covered most of the roof, making him appear even more eerie.
"Four hundred and seventy years..."
He spoke, a hint of emotion in his voice, as if reminiscing about the long years, "I have seen countless swordsmen! Some desperately cultivate to pursue power, some ruthlessly crave immortality, some embark on the path of demon hunters burdened by blood feuds, some are driven forward by their beliefs, and some are forced to fight by fear..."
His six eyes were fixed on Giyu, his gaze piercing through his disheveled black hair to reach those icy blue eyes. "But there's nothing in your sword."
Giyu didn't say anything, he just stood there quietly, adjusting his breathing, trying to recover his strength as soon as possible.
The wound on his left shoulder was slowly healing, but the dizziness from blood loss was still lingering in his mind. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer and had to finish quickly, or at least drag it out until dawn.
Ghosts, after all, are afraid of sunlight.
You lack a strong desire for power.
Kokushibo continued, his tone certain, "Your attack just now was solely aimed at hitting me; it was fighting for the sake of fighting."
"You never even thought you'd survive; you were just doing your best, doing what you were supposed to do, and protecting those you were supposed to protect."
Kokushibo paused for a moment. The night wind blew in from the sea, carrying a salty, fishy coolness. A few wild grasses in the cracks of the tiles trembled in the wind.
"Become a ghost, Water Hashira."
He said it calmly, yet it carried a power that could shake people's hearts.
"I can give you my blood, and make you a demon, just like me."
Giyu raised his eyes, his icy blue pupils staring directly at Kokushibo, unwavering.
I don't want to become a ghost.
His answer was direct and decisive, without any hesitation.
"Why?"
Kokushibo pressed him for answers, his six eyes fixed on him, scrutinizing every expression on his face.
Is it because ghosts eat people and harm innocents?
"That's not a problem! You can control it! We Upper Rank don't need to eat often at all. One person a month, or even a year, is enough to maintain our strength."
"That person could be damned, could be your rival, could be anyone you don't care about, but they won't give you any psychological burden."
He took a step forward, his figure upright and imposing, the moonlight flowing with his steps, spreading a faint path of light beneath his feet.
"By becoming a ghost, you will possess eternal time and eternal life."
"One hundred years, two hundred years, five hundred years... You can use this time to hone your swordsmanship to a level that is unimaginable to humankind."
What lies at the end of the Water Breathing? What scenery lies beyond the Transparent World? Don't you want to see it?
His voice carried a hint of seduction, striking at the deepest desires of the heart with the most direct facts.
"The human body is too fragile! It can get injured, get sick, age, and die."
"At thirty, physical strength begins to decline; at fifty, the hand holding a knife begins to tremble; at seventy, even Breathing Style become difficult to maintain."
"But demons are different! Demons have eternal life and limitless power. As long as they are not exposed to the sun or Nichirin Blade, they can live forever and grow stronger forever."
Kokushibo raised his left hand, his fingertips resting on the long-healed wound, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
"If you were one of my kind, that last cut would have severed my entire arm, instead of leaving a shallow gash that heals in three seconds."
"You could have been stronger, lived longer, so why cling to this fragile human identity?"
Giyu fell silent, but his mind was filled with countless warm memories.
He remembered his sister Tsutako's last smile and her dying words, "Giyu, live well, be a gentle person, and protect those around you."
He recalled his Urokodaki's teachings: a swordsman's sword is used to protect people, to protect the unarmed and innocent.
He thought of Sabito, the friend who had always encouraged him.
It reminded me of the Kocho Sisters, Kanae's gentleness and Shinobu's resilience.
I was reminded of Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira who was always crying yet incredibly strong, and his compassionate heart that protected humanity even while shedding tears.
If you become a ghost, all those warm smiles, sincere tears, and the warmth of life will disappear, leaving only a cold shell and endless loneliness.
That kind of eternity is meaningless.
What do you like best?
Kokushibo suddenly asked, his tone softening and less intimidating.
He moved closer, and the two were now less than ten meters apart.
Is it swordsmanship? Is it about becoming stronger? Or something else?
He carefully observed Giyu's expression. Although his face was expressionless most of the time, his six eyes could catch the slightest muscle twitches, pupil contractions, and changes in breathing rhythm.
Tell me! After becoming a ghost, you can have eternal time to do whatever you love, without any constraints!
The moonlight shone on Giyu's face, softening his cold features.
He thought seriously for a few seconds, then lowered his eyelashes. His ice-blue eyes were clear and firm, reflecting the moonlight and the gray-white hue of the distant sea.
Then he spoke, his tone calm, with a hint of barely perceptible gentleness.
I like sunbathing.
Kokushibo's expression froze instantly.
It was a pure, incomprehensible bewilderment, as if I had heard the most illogical thing in the world.
His six golden eyes blinked simultaneously, like the instinctive, stunned reaction one has when hearing something completely incomprehensible.
A few seconds later, he realized what Giyu meant.
Instantly, his aura became incredibly sharp, and killing intent swept around.
The illusory crescent moons that appeared in the air all froze, then slowly turned, with the tip of each illusory moon pointing precisely at Giyu.
"You..."
Kokushibo's voice was soft, yet icy cold.
Are you mocking me?
Giyu gently shook his head, his eyes calm and serious, without a trace of mockery.
"That's the truth."
"I love basking in the sun, I love the warmth of the sunlight. I don't want to lose this warmth, I don't want to become a monster who's afraid of the sun."
Kokushibo fell silent, and the killing intent around him dissipated somewhat.
Six golden eyes stared intently at Giyu, their emotions incredibly complex: anger, disdain, and bewilderment at humanity's obsession, but deep down, hidden within was a trace of envy that even Giyu himself didn't realize...
I envy this simplicity, I envy this warmth that belongs to people.
He abruptly shook off the thought; it was a betrayal of himself!
The Kokyū Shinku instantly drawn, the blade flashing, and killing intent surged.
"Then--"
Kokushibo said, his voice regaining its initial indifference.
"Take your truth and sink into the endless night!"