Even after the Infinity Castle folded shut, the scent of blood still lingered in that space.
Muzan stood alone within that residue. The presence of the other Upper Ranks had already vanished, but his gaze still pierced into the depths of the abyss.
“...Kokushibo.”
The moment he murmured that name, even the air trembled. Muzan’s red eyes flickered faintly.
“Why didn’t you eat him? Why did you stop at merely taking that demon slayer’s life?”
His voice was cold, but the waves beneath it were desperate.
Muzan hated change. He pursued only perfection under the name of immutability. And yet now, his own immutability had been stained by a lack.
The Kokushibo he knew was a being who sought strength by devouring strong humans. More than that, like Akaza, he also pursued strength honed again and again through training.
And yet that same being had shown such strange behavior—Muzan found it deeply displeasing.
“...What made you change?”
His red pupils sank deeper.
The Upper Rank One he had kept at his side for hundreds of years.
A possessor of overwhelming power even Muzan could not erase in a single stroke. Kokushibo was an existence unlike any other Upper Rank. He was someone who could only be killed for certain if Muzan went all out.
And yet he was still only a demon under Muzan’s control. Because he could be controlled, because he was the only demon among them who could be trusted as a companion, Muzan had never kept him in check.
But as of today, that thought was beginning to change. Thick veins bulged sharply at Muzan’s temples.
Kokushibo’s slightest wavering had, paradoxically, driven a sharper thorn into Muzan’s mind.
“――Kokushibo.”
Muzan’s lips twisted thinly. He did not allow the word lack to exist for demons.
Devour it. Swallow it. Absorb it completely, without leaving a trace.
That was the reason demons existed, and the shadow of the perfection he pursued.
And yet, Upper Rank One.
Even with human blood and flesh before him, Kokushibo had ignored it.
“...Are you saying you still respect the human sword in the end? The shape of a warrior, huh. How amusing.”
Muzan muttered lowly as he looked at the back of his hand. Red veins writhed irregularly beneath the skin. It was as if the lack that tormented him from deeper than his heart was flowing out through his blood.
“I must become complete. There is only one thing that can fill this lack—the Blue Spider Lily.”
His voice wavered. It was not the usual absolute, icy bearing. That only made it more desperate.
The Blue Spider Lily.
He had chased that flower for a thousand years. Every night he tore through split skies and dug deep into the earth.
He experimented on humans, altered flesh, and bred countless demons. And yet he had never once properly obtained it.
“Even something that cannot be caught by insignificant humans... a flower whose very existence is doubtful... is mocking me.”
Muzan’s red eyes flashed. In that instant, the air of the Infinity Castle boiled thickly. His rage, despair, and obsession all seeped out at once.
“...Kokushibo. If you are my heart, then I must find you. Even if the shadow of humanity has fallen across your soul—in the end, you cannot escape my will.”
When his voice faded, the walls of the Infinity Castle trembled thinly once more.
The smell of blood grew faint, and even the air seemed to evaporate and vanish.
§§§
The night stretched long, and the full moon was cold.
Kokushibo sat alone with his sword beside him. He closed his eyes for a moment.
The final form of Water Breathing.
And then, another form that rose up by instinct.
“...Yoriichi.”
The instant that name touched his lips, something deep in his chest quivered faintly.
Why had that human been so strong? His younger brother, who had never once lost the shape of his own strength until the very end.
And the back view of that twin brother he had once faced beneath the dark, cold night air.
Kokushibo’s six eyes were still, but his depths were shaking.
*Am I... truly unable to surpass Yoriichi?*
And yet at the same time, he felt it. That form was not an illusion. It was another kind of shape he would one day have to reach.
Kokushibo slowly opened his eyes. Moonlight flowed quietly over the blade’s edge.
That was when it happened.
Before him, as if wind were rippling through empty space, a figure took shape.
The same dark crimson hair as his own flowed down, and red eyes held a sun-like aura. That figure did not truly exist. And yet it was far too vivid.
“――Big brother.”
The afterimage opened its lips. Its voice seemed to mingle with the wind, and yet it pierced straight through his chest.
Kokushibo’s six eyes widened. He knew he was not the one who had ever been called Yoriichi. This body was only a shell he had possessed.
And yet, in this moment, he could tell for certain. This was a trace of memory left behind by the body’s original owner.
“Yoriichi....”
A low resonance spilled from Kokushibo’s mouth.
He did not remember that name. And yet, instinctively, he knew what it meant.
The shadow he had never been able to surpass.
The Yoriichi in the afterimage lowered his head slightly and smiled.
That smile was warm, but at the same time cruel.
For the proof of strength was a power that drove the other side to despair simply by existing.
“You still seek strength. But strength is not gained merely by eating, indulging, and swallowing.”
Kokushibo’s hand tightened around the scabbard. His heart pounded. The consciousness of the one who had possessed this body did not even know the name Yoriichi. And yet the body’s memories were burning back to life.
And he could not help but answer that voice.
“...I must surpass you. Only then can I finally become complete.”
The afterimage of Yoriichi shook his head. His voice spread like a passing breeze.
“Strength is the refusal to lose one’s ‘shape.’ What you fear, big brother, is that the strength you have longed for will end as nothing more than a wavering illusion.”
Moonlight seeped in, and the two figures overlapped. Kokushibo kept his six eyes open and stared at the afterimage. An alien sensation rose from the abyss. He could not remember it. And yet the body’s original owner proved that he knew it clearly, as if forcibly dragging the memory back up.
――That smile, that back.
The shadow of the younger brother who had always stayed one step ahead of him.
Kokushibo exhaled, holding himself back.
“...I will trample your shadow and establish my own shape.”
The Yoriichi in the afterimage gave no reply. He simply turned away, as though dissolving into moonlight. But in that instant of disappearance, a new resolve rose within Kokushibo’s six eyes.
The Blue Spider Lily.
Muzan’s obsession had ultimately bound him in chains. But that moment of realization had given Kokushibo another clue.
Even without the Blue Spider Lily, there were countless ways to prove strength. To not lose one’s shape—that was the true source of the “strength” Yoriichi had spoken of.
And yet Kokushibo had no idea what that “shape” was supposed to be. Should he have chosen the path of a human rather than a demon?
Kokushibo lifted his head and looked up at the moonlight.
The cold aura seeping from the blade’s edge was hardening something deep within him even further.
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