Almost the moment Yuko collapsed from exhaustion, Kokushibo, with the Nichirin Blade still hanging from his neck, pulled away and retreated at high speed.
His eyes were wide open, the veins on his cheeks and neck bulging as he forcibly pulled the Nichirin Blade from his neck.
Two-thirds of his neck had been severed, leaving his head almost hanging by a thread.
Kokushibo supported his head with one hand and panted heavily. He had come so close—if he had been even two seconds slower, he would have met his end.
He had actually been caught off guard by that sudden Sword Style.
The combination of Snow Breathing and Sun Breathing was nearly identical in both the movements of raising the hand and the operation of the lungs.
There was indeed a relationship of reference and improvement between the Breathing Techniques, but no one had ever been able to blend various Breathing Techniques together.
The previous form had clearly still belonged to one Breathing Technique, yet the next form would suddenly transform into another.
Switching between Breathing Techniques was extremely demanding. The Demon Slayer Corps had no shortage of swordsmen who had mastered several Breathing Techniques, but wanting to switch between them freely during battle was something even Kokushibo himself could not do.
This was not a matter of technique, but of a special constitution.
In the entire Demon Slayer Corps, only Yuko possessed this talent.
Even the most special Sun Breathing could only be used with difficulty by Yuko, while the gates to every other Breathing Technique were likewise open to her.
Mastering every Breathing Technique, including Sun Moon Breathing, within three years—Kokushibo had subconsciously overlooked this talent.
Because, in his eyes, only the Sun Breathing used by Yoriichi was worth his attention. Yet Yuko kept refreshing his understanding of her time and time again.
If Yoriichi had been far ahead from the very beginning, then Yuko was someone who obediently followed behind you when you paid her no mind. But when you suddenly remembered to pay attention to her, you would discover that she had somehow already walked ahead of you.
The scorching sensation of the Scarlet Blade left his neck almost unable to regenerate, but fortunately, that burning sensation was gradually fading.
Kokushibo angrily severed Yuko's Nichirin Blade.
An ownerless Nichirin Blade was, in the end, nothing more than scrap iron.
The flesh on Kokushibo's neck slowly writhed as it healed. Carrying the Demon Blade, which was likewise slowly recovering and extending, he walked toward Yuko.
"Cough, cough... Urk..."
Yuko collapsed to her knees in a sorry state, continuously vomiting muddy, clotted blood. Her vision blurred, her ears buzzed, and her mind was nearly blank.
I can't go on... My body has reached its limit.
A pair of blurry feet appeared before her.
I really didn't sever it...?
The moment the thought surfaced in Yuko's mind, the owner of those feet bent down, grabbed her by the neck, and lifted her entire body into the air.
Yuko instinctively reached out with both hands and grabbed Kokushibo's arm, as if trying to make breathing a little easier.
She could no longer see the face of the person before her and merely struggled unconsciously.
"Cough..." Blood trickled from the constricted passage of her throat and dripped from the corner of her mouth onto Kokushibo's fingers.
Those feeble hands merely rested against his arm. Seeing Yuko, weak and covered in blood, the fury in Kokushibo's eyes did not fade.
He applied a little force with his five fingers, and Yuko became like a dying goldfish in the water, blood bubbles continuously spilling from the corners of her mouth.
In a daze, it seemed that a gentle voice had sounded beside his ear.
You don't need to prove anything to anyone, Brother. I have always been proud of you.
Kokushibo's fingers subconsciously loosened considerably...
"Let go of Miss Yuko!"
A furious shout suddenly rang out from the side. Kokushibo turned his head and saw the Demon Slayer swordsman who had fled earlier charging toward him with her Nichirin Blade raised angrily.
Having mastered the Clear World, Kokushibo instantly saw through Namiko's outward show of strength masking her inner weakness. Her method of concealing her fear with an angry shout was ineffective.
After sending off the Kasugai Crow that was carrying the message, Namiko had thought of Miss Yuko still facing the evil Demon and forcibly suppressed her fear before turning back.
Perhaps Miss Yuko has already defeated the Demon.
She prayed for this.
But when she stepped through the gate, all she saw was the scene of Miss Yuko about to be devoured by the evil Demon.
Facing this terrifying Demon who stood a full one hundred ninety centimeters tall, every cell in Namiko's body sounded an alarm, as if constantly urging her:
Run!
Run!
That was not an enemy you could handle.
Even if you fled, Miss Yuko would not blame you.
But she could not do it. This was clearly her mission, yet she was making Miss Yuko bear the consequences. What kind of nonsense was that?
Yuko, whose mind was in a daze, also heard that furious shout and struggled to turn her head.
A blurry figure charged over with a blade. Yuko opened her mouth, but only a voice as faint as a mosquito's came out.
"Run..."
Yuko had never felt as miserable as she did now. Her entire body felt as heavy as lead, as if not a single part of it belonged to her, while the consciousness in her mind was fading away.
Kokushibo stood calmly where he was. As the distance between them closed, a glimmer of hope rose in Namiko's heart.
At this distance... I can hit him!
"Water..."
The view before her suddenly tilted. Namiko stared blankly ahead, and her perspective became parallel to the ground.
Yuko's eyes gradually widened a little. She increased the strength in her arm, wanting to break free.
But in the end, she had no strength left.
Kokushibo held Yuko with one hand and calmly swung the Demon Blade with the other. The small branches extending from the blade hooked onto the back collar of Namiko's clothes and dragged her toward the house behind him.
"L-Let go of me!"
Namiko's terrified voice entered Yuko's ears. Yuko felt relieved, but at the same time, a faint sense of foreboding rose in her heart.
After entering the house, Namiko was casually thrown aside by Kokushibo. She rolled several times across the floor before struggling to escape.
Yuko shifted her eyes slightly and saw Namiko's condition.
Blood flowed from both Namiko's hands and feet. It looked as though... the tendons in her hands and feet had been severed. With terror on her face, she was now crawling awkwardly toward the exit using her elbows and knees.
Yuko struggled to speak. "What... are you trying to do?"
Kokushibo did not respond. He understood clearly that chatting with Yuko would only make him miserable.
She could always say things that shattered people's defenses without changing expression.
The hand Kokushibo had around her neck tightened slightly, his fingernails piercing through flesh like sharp blades.
"Mm~"
Yuko's brows drew tightly together. She could clearly feel her life force rapidly draining from her body.
It doesn't matter if I die.
But what will happen to Namiko...?
Kokushibo noticed her looking at Namiko from the corner of her eye. "At a time like this, you still have the mind to care about someone else?"
He hesitated. He hesitated over whether or not he should kill Yuko.
Hearing Kokushibo's words, Yuko turned her eyes back toward him. There was no hatred in her gaze, only pity for him.
Yuko struggled to speak. "Katsushibo... cough, cough... one day, you will pay for the sins..."
Her voice suddenly stopped. Her pupils shrank to the size of needlepoints, and she opened her mouth without making a sound.
Her body.
Something... had entered.
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