Whose... voice was that?
The voice sounded somewhat aged, unfamiliar yet familiar.
No...
Kokushibo turned around. That voice should not have sounded unfamiliar to him.
Perhaps it had simply been too long since he had heard it, so he had not immediately unearthed the speaker from his memories.
That voice... how could that voice sound unfamiliar...?
His younger brother, his enemy, the shadow that would haunt him for eternity-Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
He felt as though blades had struck his back and neck, but none of that mattered anymore.
He had heard Yoriichi Tsugikuni's voice, for the first time since that Blood Moon Night four hundred years ago.
"Yoriichi... Yoriichi Tsugikuni!"
Come out. Come out and face me in a fair fight!
Let my blade pierce your chest, your chest still brimming with life!
Not like four hundred years ago, when all I could do was cut apart your dead body in humiliation!
On the Blood Moon Night four hundred years ago, Kokushibo, who had become a demon, encountered the eighty-five-year-old Yoriichi Tsugikuni before a pagoda.
His once strong, vigorous younger brother had become a frail old man in the more than sixty years since they had last met.
The sorrow of a human and a demon walking separate paths lingered in Kokushibo's heart for only a moment before confusion and anger washed it away.
"Why... are you still alive...?"
Kokushibo refused to believe that his younger brother was still alive.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni should have died long ago, just like those marked swordsmen who had died at twenty-five!
Otherwise, how could he, Tsugikuni Michikatsu, face the excuse he had used to become a demon?
What enraged him and filled him with envy even more was this: why had heaven shown mercy only to Yoriichi Tsugikuni?!
The white-haired Yoriichi said nothing. He merely