Moonlight flowed across the stone, cutting through it like a blade.
Kokushibo’s hand clenched the sword hilt hard enough to crush it, but the blade still had not been drawn.
In his mind, a command rang out without end.
Kill him. Eliminate that one.
The trace of the sun must never be left behind again.
But his body was the exact opposite.
His fingers trembled, and the tendons in his hand twitched like convulsions.
It was as if the memory of that day, centuries ago when he had faced Yoriichi, had become countless thorns piercing straight through his flesh.
“...!”
Kokushibo’s six eyes shook violently.
Yuichiro looked back at him head-on. He was clearly afraid. His whole body was slick with sweat, and his knees trembled faintly.
And yet his face was calm.
Yuichiro slowly raised a hand atop the rock. The wind stirred the bells, and moonlight brushed his earrings.
“This dance has been passed down through our family. Its name is――Hinokami Kagura, the [Sun Breathing].”
The tip of his foot brushed the stone. His movements were clumsy, and he didn’t even hold a sword. And yet the rhythm of his breathing continued like fire.
From the First Form to the Second, and in an instant to the Twelfth Form.
Before long, the twelve forms of Hinokami Kagura were there before him.
Each time his arms swept through the air, moonlight shattered like fragments scattering from broken glass.
It was only a dance, but in Kokushibo’s eyes, it was unmistakably the [Sun Breathing]—a sword technique.
“...Yoriichi.”
The name slipped out on instinct. Yuichiro’s body was nothing like a swordsman’s. A farmer’s muscles, untrained arms.
And yet the grammar of that breathing was unmistakably what Yoriichi had left behind. It looked unfinished, but the Hinokami Kagura Yuichiro kept repeating over and over was similar to the [Sun Breathing].
It was as if a silk road of flame had opened before him.
Kokushibo saw an illusion with his six eyes.
Where Yuichiro stood, Yoriichi was now layered over him, and blazing sunlight swallowed the night.
Just like then――the day he had been overwhelmed by a single sword stroke.
“Stop...!”
Kokushibo’s scream burst out.
Killing intent exploded outward, and the stone graves around the clearing were blown apart. The bells shattered and fell, and the drum split open.
But Yuichiro did not stop dancing. He looked as if he feared death not at all.
“This dance is not a threat. It is only the breathing of life our family has protected.”
His voice trembled, but he still could not draw a sword.
“...I have to cut you down. I must cut you down... and yet...!”
Body and mind were being dragged in different directions.
The mind ordered him to strike, but the body sank heavily in refusal.
Every time the man before him overlapped with Yoriichi’s shadow, the act of cutting itself became impossible.
Yuichiro could feel that confusion. He stopped dancing, took a short breath, then spoke slowly.
“Lord Kokushibo. If you know Yoriichi, then you should know this. He never swung a sword he hated.”
The words seeped into Kokushibo’s ears like moonlight. In that instant, a clear afterimage rose in Kokushibo’s six pupils.
Brother.
Will you repeat the same mistake again?
The body shook. The mind screamed.
“Stop... stop with the Yoriichi...!”
Kokushibo shut his eyes. His killing intent trembled, but it did not fade.
The confusion inside him only burned hotter, setting the forest and mountain itself into violent motion.
§§§
Moonlight poured over the rock.
The broken bells and split drum lay scattered like wreckage, but the resonance still called up Yoriichi’s shadow from within them.
Inside Kokushibo’s chest, his heart thudded like it was being hammered with iron. In his mind, endless commands echoed.
Kill him. Cut off the root. The remnants of the sun must be turned to ash.
But his hand would not obey. Instead, his body was slowly loosening the fingers wrapped around the sword hilt.
“...This curse... is killing me...”
Kokushibo’s lips split as a low voice leaked out. His six eyes flashed with blood-red light, but deep within them, something was wavering.
Yuichiro stood beside a collapsed stone and caught his breath before continuing.
“Our family is not a family of swords. We are only people who dance before the fire and pray for life. This dance was never meant for fighting. It is only breathing that continues, breathing for life.”
His words were ordinary, but that ordinariness pierced Kokushibo’s chest all the more.
Yoriichi had always said the same thing.
That the sword was not a tool for slaughter, but a prayer for protection.
“...Lies.”
Kokushibo growled lowly. The rock cracked from the force of his voice.
“What you call a dance is still a sword in the end. It will become [Sun Breathing], and one day it will cut me down!”
Killing intent burst out again. The air tore apart and whipped Yuichiro’s sleeves. But Yuichiro shook his head.
“We never learned swordsmanship. We only learned how to survive by dancing before the flames. Those traces probably look frightening to you.”
His tone was calm, but to Kokushibo it sounded like mockery.
All six eyes opened at once, trembling unsteadily.
“Frightening? Me?!”
Kokushibo half-drew his sword, veins distorting across his entire body. Killing intent coiled around the sheath, and the forest’s shadows writhed with it.
But at the very last moment――his arm stopped again.
“...!”
His body rejected the motion.
Every time the man before him overlapped with Yoriichi, the will to cut him down melted into the air.
Yuichiro let out a trembling breath and took one step closer.
Fear still lived in his eyes, but so did a flame that refused to go out.
“Lord Kokushibo. If you truly knew Yoriichi, then you would know why your body is resisting so fiercely.”
Kokushibo’s six eyes flew wide open. The words were like a spear piercing his heart.
The moonlight on the rock dimmed.
Beyond Yuichiro’s figure, another shape rose into overlap. It was not Yoriichi’s shadow.
Long, dark red hair. A heavy sword sheath. The mark of [Upper Rank One] engraved in six pupils.
A form identical to his own.
And yet that gaze was far deeper, far more cruel, than the Kokushibo of now.
――Remember. I am you. And you are me. Never forget that.
An echoing voice filled his mind completely.
The body began convulsing again. The mind that said to draw the sword and the body that said to stop were tearing each other apart.
“Who are you...!”
Kokushibo screamed. But the illusion did not answer.
Instead, moonlit shadows spilled from the sheath. As the illusionary Kokushibo drew his sword, even the moon hanging in the sky seemed to tremble as if it might split.
“I am what you abandoned. The end of the path you chose.”
The voice became clear.
“The day you abandoned Yoriichi, abandoned humanity, abandoned the sword, and remained a demon. All those choices gathered together and made me.”
“And――I am the end of your memory, and its beginning.”
――Do not forget, Kokushibo. Your future must be different this time.
At that moment, Kokushibo’s six eyes shook all at once.
The body boiled like flame, and the mind shattered like a broken wave.
“Enough...!”
With that scream, the sword finally came free.
As the blade emerged, swallowing the moonlight, the air in the clearing split in an instant.
Boom!
The sword strike Kokushibo unleashed did not aim for Yuichiro.
Instead, the forest around him――the massive trees that had endured for centuries――were cut down at their roots in a single instant.
The mountain groaned, and the wind was torn apart.
Timbers crashed down like waves, swallowing the area around the rock. And yet, the one spot where Yuichiro stood was strangely untouched by the blade.
Kokushibo’s killing intent still surged toward Yuichiro, but the sword itself ignored him.
“...!”
Yuichiro’s whole body trembled, but he still did not close his eyes. Fear was there, and yet for some reason he could feel something like salvation in the air.
Swish――
Kokushibo’s massive presence wavered, then vanished the next instant.
It was enough to call instantaneous movement; the space he had occupied was emptied in a blink.
What remained was the wreckage of the cut forest, and the moonlight still swaying over the rock.
Yuichiro sank to his knees as if his strength had gone out of him and let out a short breath. His earrings swayed faintly in the wind.
“...Lord Kokushibo.”
Calling that name, he stared into the empty air.
Only the echo of shadow remained there now.
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