Clouds drift lazily across the sky, cloaking the sun in a soft, silvery veil.
The air is quiet, peaceful.
Kasumi stands at the edge of the cliff, his cyan eyes lost in the sky's gentle gray.
"Hanako-san escaped the dream on her first try," he thinks. "While I… I drowned in it for years. Night after night, I endured his torment. I couldn't wake up, couldn't fight back. Why her? Was it her will? Her heart?"
Behind him, quiet footsteps stir the grass.
Ren's calm voice breaks the silence. "What's in your mind, Matsunaga-kun?"
Kasumi turns slightly, his voice soft. "Hajime-san… I did it. I finally escaped his curse. His endless nightmare." His eyes glint—not with pride, but humility.
Ren's expression changes. For a fleeting second, his eyes widen… and then, a rare, sincere smile.
"I'm glad… You've proved yourself, Matsunaga-Kun."
But Kasumi lowers his head. "It wasn't my strength alone. I was humbled by someone far stronger than me in that moment."
Ren takes a step closer. "Humbled…?"
Kasumi meets his gaze. "It was Hanako-san. She entered that nightmare too. And she helped me break free."
A sudden wind brushes through them. Ren's maroon eyes widen.
"Hanako-san…" he murmurs. "She faced his curse? But how?"
Kasumi looks down, his voice quieter now. "I don't know how he cursed her. But somehow, we were trapped together… and somehow, she stood firm. It was her spirit that ended it."
Ren lets out a slow breath, almost reverent. "She's stronger than she realizes. I believe… we will meet her again. When the time is right."
Just then, Miyuki steps out from behind the trees, her tone lighter but filled with worry. "So… you're not gonna die anymore, right?"
Kasumi smiles faintly. "Not yet. I only escaped the dreams… not the curse itself. It still lives in me, ticking down my final years. But for now…"
He glances at the sky.
"I can finally sleep without fear."
Ren rests a hand on his shoulder. "That's your first victory, Matsunaga-Kun. And you earned it. Remember how far you've come."
Kasumi nods slowly. The wind settles.
Ren, Kasumi, and Miyuki turn from the mountain's edge, the mist curling behind them as they walk away—shoulders lighter than they had been in a long time.
———————————————————————
At night.
A cliff so narrow it could break under a breath, jutting into an endless abyss.
No land.
No horizon.
Only an eternal sea of ash-colored mist, twisting like writhing spirits.
There, motionless, sits a figure.
Kokushibo.
His posture is that of a meditating warrior from a forgotten age—still as a corpse, regal as a god of war.
The wind howls like a wounded beast, whipping through his dark mane and long ponytail, yet he does not blink. Six eyes glow dimly on his face, like dying embers in the dark.
There is no noise.
Until—
A voice slithers through the air. Ancient. Hollow.
"Kokushibo… the time is about to come… to end everything all at once."
Kokushibo's lips part, the mist curling through his breath. His voice is as deep and sharp as obsidian.
"Muzan-sama… what do you think?"
The voice echoes like it's coming from the bones of the world.
"You've risen… beyond flesh, beyond demonhood. The strongest in existence… And yet… I see doubt… flickering beneath your eyes."
Kokushibo closes all but one eye.
"It isn't only Yoriichi," he says. "This new generation… the demon slayers—they are different. I do not fear them. But I refuse to dismiss them."
The wind howls louder now. The mist seems to breathe.
Muzan's voice returns, cold and slow. "You are right. Strength alone does not decide war… but fate has already chosen. And fate favors us."
Kokushibo's voice sliced through the mist like a blade drawn in silence.
"Our Upper Moons are enough. For the first—and final—time in history, this generation bears the strongest demons to ever walk this earth."
He paused, the wind howling like distant screams caught in time.
"While I handle Yoriichi… the rest will fall to them."
Muzan's voice echoed low and cruelly satisfied.
"That's right, Kokushibo… This generation is unparalleled. Far beyond the demons of the Taisho Era. Unmatched. Unrelenting."
"Rank means nothing now. The current Upper Moons—Akaza, Douma, Jigen, Eliza… they stand shoulder to shoulder. Their power cannot be measured by numbers anymore. The hierarchy we once followed… is now meaningless."
The gales thickened, the mist curling like a living thing. The world seemed to still—calm, but heavy with dread.
Kokushibo finally spoke again, his voice colder than steel, ancient as death itself.
"No wonder they say Akaza, Douma, Eliza, and Jigen… are equals. Titans. Monsters. The very air bends under their presence. But if I must speak the truth—if there is one among them who eclipses the others, not in strength, but in sheer terror…"
His eyes narrowed, glowing like dying stars.
"Then it is Jigen."
"I knew you'd say that… and I approve."
Kokushibo's eyes still tear through the mist, darkness.
He says, his voice deep, calm.
"Akaza... Upper Moon One, in title. But titles hold no weight anymore. The hierarchy is shattered, devoured by time and chaos. Still... his will to surpass all others is unshakable. His rage, his resolve
… those are what make him worthy of fear. He is not just strong. He is relentless. That's what makes him survive."
A moment of stillness follows, before his next words slide out like sharpened steel.
"Douma… a hollow shell with a painted smile. Sadistic. Inhuman. His blood demon art is devastating—versatile, cruel, and beautiful in its horror. A century ago, he broke Akaza without effort. Now, he grows stronger with every woman and child he devours. Even with your power, Muzan-sama… Akaza could not surpass him completely. Their last battle ended in a draw... but neither of them walked away unscarred."
Kokushibo's gaze hardens.
"Eliza… the angel of the abyss. Her existence defies what we know. I could never understand her. None of us could. But her strength… it was once above both Akaza and Douma. Her blood demon art... it is not something mortals—or even demons—should possess. In her calm, she hides oblivion. Even Jigen… she defeated him once. Though... I doubt he was at his full power."
Muzan says in his mind. "She hates me… but I don't care. I won't be surprised if she betrays us, but she can't run away from us no matter what."
The wind stills. The silence thickens.
Then—
"And Jigen..."
Kokushibo continues.
"He is not a demon… he is something beyond that. When I first stood before him, I knew… I was not facing a warrior. I was standing before a force of nature. A being untouched by time or morality. He does not thirst for power. He is power."
————
44 years ago.
After the Great War between Demons and Slayers.
A wasteland of silence.
Kokushibo, the new Demon King, wanders alone—weeks without rest, in search of one thing.
Not a demon. Not a man. But a curse that walks in flesh.
Jigen.
At the edge of a forgotten cliff, where the world seems to collapse into the sky, Kokushibo stands.
Unmoving.
Beneath him, there is no land, only an ocean of pale clouds stretching forever, like the veil between realities.
Above—no stars.
Only fog.
Kokushibo's voice, like a blade dragged through bone, tears into the stillness.
"Muzan-sama… we've searched all continents. Cities. Forests. Oceans. And still… no sign of him."
From the void of his mind, Muzan replies.
"He is alive. I feel it… He exists… somewhere outside the reach of time."
Then—
The air fractures.
A storm erupts from nothing. Gales shriek like tortured spirits. The ground cracks and weeps beneath his feet.
Kokushibo's hair lashes through the air. His long ponytail dances like a banner before a god of death. Yet, he doesn't move.
Then—
The sky splits open.
Not lightning. Not cloud. But a rupture in reality.
A colossal eye—as wide as the heavens—unfurls above him, dripping blood-red light, pupil contracting like it's staring through Kokushibo's soul.
A cosmic eye.
It gazes down—at an infection. A parasite too bold to climb so high.
For a long time, nothing moves.
No sound. No heartbeat.
Even silence dares not remain.
Kokushibo whispers.
"So… he is here."
Then—
BOOM.
A gale detonates across the mountaintop, howling like the death scream of creation. Mountains tremble. Trees in distant valleys bend backward. Rocks fracture into dust.
But Kokushibo stands still, eyes fixed upward.
Unblinking. Unmoved.
And then… it appears.
A shadow forms in the void between the cliff and the storm. A silhouette, floating above the endless fall of clouds.
A shape not fully human.
Limbs veiled in shifting darkness. Eyes—two blood-red lanterns burning with impossible age.
Power so thick, it coils around the world like a serpent.
Jigen.
Behind him, a hallucination made real—
A cosmic entity takes shape:
A goat's head with weeping black horns, wings that blot out stars, hands clasped in mock prayer.
It doesn't belong in this world. It doesn't belong anywhere.
Jigen speaks.
"The devil in me… sees the demon inside you."
A vibration behind the bones. A whisper crawling across the brain.
Kokushibo responds, cold as the void.
"So we have finally met."
No bow. No anger. Only acknowledgment—like wolves recognizing each other in the dark.
Suddenly—
Kokushibo's aura erupts, crimson and violet, matching Jigen's. The air screams. Reality itself seems to stutter.
The cliffside bleeds light. The clouds boil.
Both beings stare, unmoving.
Then—Kokushibo slowly draws his blade and places it against Jigen's throat.
It doesn't touch skin. It touches nothing.
A chill wind coils between them.
Jigen doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink.
He simply answers, like a god confessing destiny.
"I know why you're here. I predicted it… You don't need to speak.
This time—I'll go with you."
And so he did.
That day… the Devil joined the Demons.
———————————————————————
Present Time.
Kokushibo remains still—perched at the cliff's edge, where the land dies and the sky drowns in fog.
His six eyes pierce through the mist like lanterns in a graveyard.
In his mind, Muzan's voice has long fallen silent, yet Kokushibo speaks aloud, a murmur to the abyss—
"There are many reasons… That is why… Jigen is the true Upper Moon…"
The wind hushes.
Then—
"Oi, what are you still doing here?! We've already completed the mission."
A voice cuts through the quiet like a punch—sharp, agitated, familiar.
Akaza.
The atmosphere shifts.
Suddenly, four distinct powers throb in the air—
Sharp like venom. Calm like a whisper. Beautiful like starlight. Ancient like death.
But Kokushibo doesn't turn. His tone stays cold, measured.
"Good… Do you have something to say?"
A deep, low voice responds—not impatient like Akaza's, but calm, chilling.
"Lord Kokushibo… After killing nearly 60,000 Japanese soldiers tonight, we found something. You'll want to see this."
Jigen.
Kokushibo finally shifts—just slightly, just enough for his gaze to catch them behind him.
Jigen, like a silent wraith—expressionless.
Eliza, serene and blinding—like a divine statue amidst death. Akaza, still standing tall, refusing to bow.
Without a word, Jigen and Eliza kneel.
The earth beneath them seems to respond—trembling faintly. Only Akaza remains unmoved.
Then—
Eliza's voice rises, soft and celestial, echoing like a hymn lost in the wind.
"Among the dead Japanese soldiers, one stood still. Alive. He had a good potential to become an upper rank demon. So, we turned him into a demon.
She raises her head gently.
"We gave him a taste of power. Just a drop of our blood… and he absorbed it. He lives."
Jigen and Eliza step aside.
And behind them… something moves.
A new figure emerges.
Shrouded in black mist, its body veiled like a phantom.
The ground darkens under its feet. Its breath carries the chill of a graveyard. Its eyes—two radiant orbs of pure white.
Kokushibo slowly rises to his feet.
His eyes lock onto the newcomer, every one of them narrowing.
The mist curls tighter around the demon.
Kokushibo's voice returns—low, slow, calculating.
"…So this is the one you chose?"