The first light of dawn finally dispelled the last chill of the snowy night.
Akaza had vanished, and the suffocating pressure vanished with him.
Tanjiro's furious cries echoed across the empty snowfield until his strength gave out, leaving only ragged gasps. His Nichirin Blade was long since nowhere to be found, and every bone in his body felt as though it had fallen apart, but he felt no pain at that moment.
He was still alive.
Inosuke and Zenitsu were still alive, too.
He turned his head and stared fixedly at the center of the battlefield.
Kyojuro Rengoku was still alive.
The Flame Hashira, as dazzling as the sun, was down on one knee, his body swaying on the verge of collapse. His signature white haori with its flame pattern was in tatters, more than half of it soaked in blood. Yet his straight back remained like the most unyielding blade.
"Mr. Rengoku!"
Tanjiro scrambled toward him, tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes.
A moment ago, he had thought it was all over. He had thought he would once again have to watch helplessly as someone strong and kind died at a demon's hands.
Hearing his voice, Kyojuro slowly raised his head. His face was as pale as paper, but his golden eyes were still astonishingly bright.
"Mm... young Kamado, you're too loud." He grinned, his smile a little weak but still radiant. "Your injuries are worse. Don't move around."
Even at a time like this, his first concern was still for someone else.
Kyojuro drew a deep breath, and a burning pain shot through his lungs, an aftereffect of using "Purgatory." He could clearly feel that his body had reached its limit.
But he had not died.
Akaza's fist, powerful enough to pierce through anything, had finally stopped less