Kibutsuji Muzan! In this era, the Corps will destroy all the demons, including you!"
Plop ——————
As soon as he finished speaking, Giyu Tomioka collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from the wound in his heart, staining the earth a vivid red.
At the same moment, the sky began to brighten—dawn was breaking.
Kokushibo did not flee. Nor did he strike the final blow. He merely stood there, silently watching Giyu Tomioka, as if the Water Hashira's final act had awakened some long-buried memory within him.
It wasn't until Kibutsuji Muzan's voice echoed in his mind that Kokushibo stirred from his trance.
He turned toward the horizon, and spoke softly:
"It's too late, sir. It's dawn."
Suddenly, just as Kokushibo had taken only a few steps forward, a violent gust of wind swept across the battlefield.
"Wind Breathing, Eighth Form: Primary Gale Slash!"
A large circular wind blade slashed into Kokushibo, landing a hit—but in the next instant, Kokushibo vanished, his Blood Demon Art flaring in full force.
"Damn it!!!"
Sanemi Shinazugawa struck the ground in frustration with his Nichirin blade. He didn't dare approach Giyu's body.
Just moments ago, when he arrived and launched his sudden attack, he clearly saw Giyu Tomioka lying motionless in a pool of blood—his heart pierced clean through by his own Nichirin sword.
Though Sanemi and Giyu had never gotten along, deep down, he had always respected Giyu as a fellow warrior—a man of principle.
Risking his life to save Kocho Kanae, Rengoku Kyojuro, and Uzui Tengen… Sanemi had seen it all.
So when he heard Giyu was facing a powerful enemy, he pushed himself beyond his limits to reach the battlefield in time.
His leg was still bleeding from overexertion.
He thought he had been fast enough—but he was too late.
What he hadn't expected was that Giyu's opponent was Upper Rank One himself.
As much as he hated to accept it, Sanemi knew he had to face the truth.
And yet—the next sight left him stunned.
Giyu Tomioka's body, which had been lying in a crimson pool, was gone.
All that remained was a pool of fresh blood—and his Nichirin blade.
"What… what the hell is going on?!"
Sanemi was no amateur. His battlefield perception was second to none. If a demon or human had approached, he would've sensed it. But this time?
Nothing. No movement. No presence. Just… nothing.
That was when Rengoku Kyojuro and Uzui Tengen arrived simultaneously.
They found Sanemi staring blankly at the pool of blood and the abandoned sword.
"Sanemi, what happened here? Where's Tomioka?"
"Did you kill the demon? Or did it escape?"
Sanemi's expression remained dazed as he explained everything he had witnessed.
Rengoku and Uzui listened quietly. As the tale ended, both men fell silent, deep in thought.
Uzui glanced around cautiously, then frowned.
"…Could it be you misread the situation, Sanemi?"
"Huh?!" Sanemi scowled immediately.
"I saw it! Tomioka's Nichirin blade was stabbed into his own heart!"
"And even if you don't believe me, look at that blood pattern—the outline's clear as day!"
Just then, Uzui began blinking rapidly, trying to signal something.
"…Your eyes…" Sanemi trailed off.
He turned around—and froze.
Standing behind him were Kocho Shinobu and Kocho Kanae.
"You—what did you say?! Giyu—what happened to him?!"
Shinobu's voice was sharp, trembling with restrained panic.
Before Kanae could speak, Shinobu grabbed Sanemi by the arm.
"Tell me everything. How could Giyu be stabbed through the heart with his own blade?!"
"And where is he now?! How could he vanish into thin air?! You're lying, right?!"
There were no tears in her eyes—but her whole body radiated pain.
Sanemi couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. His arm hurt from Shinobu's grip, but he didn't shake her off.
The truth was, Sanemi felt a deep guilt gnawing at his heart.
If I'd only been faster… could I have saved him?
Seeing the intensity of the moment, Kocho Kanae stepped forward and gently pulled Shinobu away.
"That's enough, Shinobu. Don't take it out on Sanemi. He's hurting too. And just like us—he wants to understand what's going on."
Shinobu knew that. But she couldn't stop herself from hoping.
She stepped past the others and approached the bloodstain. With trembling fingers, she picked up Giyu's Nichirin blade.
And in that moment, holding the sword that once belonged to him, Shinobu didn't feel pain.
She felt something far worse—a hollow grief so deep it made pain meaningless.
Her body wanted to collapse, but her will kept her upright.
Then, suddenly, she turned and sprinted into the forest.
"Giyu's not dead! He has to be nearby! I'll find that idiot myself!"
"He promised me he'd be okay."
"He still owes me a meal… if he breaks his promise, I'll never forgive him!"
Uzui and Rengoku exchanged glances—then wordlessly dashed into the trees after her.
The chances were slim, but none of them could give up yet.
Kocho Kanae turned to Sanemi.
"I'm sorry about Shinobu—she didn't mean to take it out on you."
"…It's fine. This is my fault."
And without another word, Sanemi Shinazugawa also disappeared into the forest.
Kanae let out a shaky breath, her voice barely audible.
"Tomioka… please be okay…"
Three hours passed.
In that time, the Kakushi arrived to aid the search.
One by one, the remaining Hashira appeared:
Gyomei Himejima, Iguro Obanai, Kanroji Mitsuri, and even the "spacey" Tokito Muichiro joined the effort.
All the Hashira gathered. The forest was scoured by the finest swordsmen and trackers of the Demon Slayer Corps.
And yet—
Giyu Tomioka had vanished without a trace.
No scent. No sound. No footprints. Nothing.
Back at the clearing, Kocho Shinobu sat collapsed on the ground, Giyu's Nichirin blade cradled in her hands.
She said nothing.
"Cry if you need to, I'm here," Kanae whispered gently, wrapping her arms around her sister and stroking her hair.
That embrace finally shattered the last defense in Shinobu's heart.
Her body trembled violently.
And she began to sob—deep, gut-wrenching sobs, the kind that pulled pain from the soul.
Everyone nearby felt their hearts ache at the sound.
Sadness spread like a fog through the clearing.
Eventually, Shinobu, drained from her grief, slumped forward—whether asleep or unconscious, no one could tell.
As her awareness slipped, she murmured a single phrase:
"…Brave and valiant…"