Chapter 21: Burial of Crows
Countless crescent-shaped slashes, gleaming with a cold light, rained down like a storm, striking hard against Akira's seemingly delicate form.
Yet, the expected sight of blood and wounds never came.
Each blade-like slash appeared to strike an illusion—like moonlight vanishing on the surface of water. They dissipated on contact, leaving Akira completely unharmed.
In the next instant, Akira's body burst apart into a cloud of black crows, scattering in all directions.
This sudden transformation made Kokushibo narrow his eyes in frustration. He quickly retracted his glowing katana and scanned the surroundings with cautious precision.
Without warning, a calm, low voice whispered in Kokushibo's ear:
"Crow Breathing: Second Form – Raven Clone."
With those words, the crows circling in the air rapidly reassembled.
In the blink of an eye, a dozen identical figures of Akira appeared, surrounding Kokushibo. Some stood silently atop tree branches, others on the ground, spread across all sides. They moved in perfect synchronization, pressing their weapons to the earth and chanting:
"Crow Breathing: Third Form – Raven Burial!"
An overwhelming surge of demonic aura erupted from the clones, forming a black tidal wave crashing toward Kokushibo.
Chains soaked in blood erupted from the ground, wrapping around Kokushibo from all directions. He looked down—startled to find the soil beneath his feet had turned into a pool of blood. His body began to sink.
He tried to break free, but the chains tightened. The blood pulled him under, swallowing him entirely.
Suddenly, it was as if he were drowning in an endless ocean of blood. No ground. No sky. Just red.
Then he heard Akira's voice:
"Your swordsmanship is as vile as your appearance. Fighting you only helped me master the first three forms of Crow Breathing."
Kokushibo froze. Muzan, observing from afar, was also visibly shocked.
"What did you just say?" Kokushibo demanded.
"You learned that breathing technique… while fighting me? Impossible!"
On the sidelines, Muzan's breathing slowed, his expression solemn.
"As expected from the one who once cornered me… As a demon, your talent is even more terrifying," he murmured.
Muzan fell into deep thought. Witnessing Akira's strength and potential, he began to reconsider: Was Kokushibo still worthy of being Upper Moon One?
From the sea of blood, Akira strode forward slowly.
"I have nothing to prove to the weak. Just like how you could never defeat Yoriichi, you will never surpass me.
The gap between us is as vast as this ocean of blood. Kokushibo… today, I will defeat you."
Kokushibo's eyes widened, not just in anger—but fear.
Akira's long, blood-red hair whipped in the wind, his stance tall and unwavering. Although his appearance was different from the man Kokushibo remembered, he couldn't help but see the image of Yoriichi overlapping with Akira's.
The memories came flooding back.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni, his younger brother, had always been like a distant peak he could never reach.
No matter how hard Kokushibo trained or how far he pushed his limits, he remained in Yoriichi's shadow. It was as though Yoriichi had been born to stand at the summit, while he—despite a lifetime of struggle—could only gaze upward.
Why?!
Why?!
Why, after Yoriichi, is there now an Akira?!
He had become a demon, hoping eternal life would allow him to outlast Yoriichi and finally claim the title of the strongest swordsman. But now, another mountain had risen before him—taller and even more impossible to climb.
If Kokushibo had ever read Romance of the Three Kingdoms, he might have cried out like Zhou Yu:
"Since the heavens gave me Yoriichi, why also Akira?"
First he lost to Yoriichi. Now he was facing Yoriichi's disciple.
What curse followed him into this life to bring two monsters to haunt him?
"Enough. That's far enough."
Muzan's voice echoed in the blood-soaked air, halting the battle.
Akira looked at Kokushibo, a trace of regret in his eyes. The ocean of blood receded, and both warriors returned to solid ground.
Muzan appeared between them, his gaze shifting from Kokushibo to Akira.
"Akira, you have won this duel."
"Thank you, Lord Muzan," Akira replied with a respectful bow.
Even Kokushibo dared not question Muzan's declaration.
Muzan smiled faintly.
"But I've made a new decision. The title of Upper Moon One shall still belong to Kokushibo."
Akira's expression flickered for a brief moment. Kokushibo lowered his head in silence.
"Understood," Akira replied, without protest.
"I'm not finished," Muzan added, placing his hand on Akira's head.
"From this day on, you are the commander of the Twelve Kizuki. You may not hold a numbered rank, but you will oversee all Twelve Moons."
Akira's pupils trembled.
As Muzan spoke, the kanji for "Demon" and "Moon" appeared in his left and right eyes respectively.
Meanwhile, the words "Upper Rank" and "One" reappeared in Kokushibo's eyes.
"Akira, you are no longer just Akira. You need a new name."
"I leave that decision to you, Lord Muzan."
Muzan's eyes gleamed. Naming others had always been his favorite pastime. He thought for a moment, then said:
"From now on, you shall be known as Zangya."
"Zangya Akira," Akira repeated softly.
Muzan corrected him:
"No. Just Zangya. Let go of your human name. Let go of Akira."
But when he saw the resolve in Akira's eyes, Muzan sighed as if yielding.
"Fine. If it means that much to you, keep it. It's a small matter."
"Thank you, Lord Muzan."
Akira held on to the name as a final connection to Chitose—the person he vowed to avenge. If he lost even that, he feared he'd forget her completely in his eternal life.
Akira had become a demon for the sole purpose of gaining the strength to avenge her.
To forget her… would make it all meaningless.
Muzan understood. Sometimes, when your subordinates are truly exceptional, even the Demon King must compromise.
He leaned in close and whispered:
"I'm entrusting the Twelve Kizuki to you for the next hundred years. Don't disappoint me."
"I won't, Lord Muzan."