Chapter 75 – The Emergence of Gyutaro
In the grand hall of Angel's Ladder, a headless woman knelt motionless on the floor.
Then, from her back, something began to stir.
Flesh twisted, bubbled, and folded in on itself, reshaping into a new form — grotesque, pulsating, and wrong. The woman's slender body convulsed as another figure clawed his way out from her back, splitting her open like a cocoon tearing apart.
A sickly, emaciated man emerged, his skin tinted gray-green, his hair long and matted, his frame thin to the point of horror — especially around his narrow waist, which looked unnaturally constricted, almost inhuman.
This was Gyutaro, the true Upper Moon Six.
The elder brother of Daki.
A twin demon sharing one body and one fate.
As long as either of their heads remained intact, the other could not die.
To kill them, both must be decapitated simultaneously.
The instant Gyutaro appeared, the atmosphere of the room changed completely.
The air thickened, filled with the stench of blood and rot. The oppressive aura he exuded pressed down on everything like a storm.
His jaundiced eyes darted toward Yukinoshita Akira, then shifted to Yukinoshita Haruno hiding in the distance.
Within that gaze burned envy — deep, ugly, and poisonous.
People like her — beautiful, refined, privileged — represented everything he despised. Born into the gutter, surrounded by filth and rejection, Gyutaro's entire existence had been shaped by hatred for those who shone above him.
"Well, well… aren't you a pretty one," he rasped, his voice dripping with venom. "Skin so smooth, not a single blemish… not even a scar… I hate people like you. Makes me so jealous. So how about… you just die for me, yeah?"
As he spoke, Gyutaro's long nails dragged across his own face, carving deep wounds into his cheeks and forehead. Blood trickled down, only to seal shut instantly — the grotesque wounds healing faster than they could bleed.
Akira let out a quiet breath, expression unreadable. Then, he smirked.
"Of course I am," he replied casually. "I've got a whole harem of women as beautiful as her. More than twenty of them, in fact — all willing to die for me. If I wanted, I could spend every night with a different one for two weeks straight and still not run out."
He glanced meaningfully toward Haruno.
Her face turned crimson, then pale. "Y-you…" she almost choked on her words.
Daki's beauty had been striking, almost supernatural — but Gyutaro's ugliness was something else entirely. His presence alone was nauseating, his twisted features horrifying under the dim light.
Akira's words were deliberate, designed to provoke. And they worked.
Gyutaro's expression twisted further, his resentment boiling over.
"You bastard…" he hissed. "I'll carve you to pieces. I'll make you suffer like no one ever has."
"Then by all means," Akira replied calmly. "Try me."
He wasn't afraid — in fact, his eyes gleamed with anticipation.
He could feel it — his power had risen again. Even during the earlier battle with Daki, the temperature of his blood had begun to climb.
Now, faint markings pulsed across his forehead — the Demon Slayer Mark, awakening once more.
"Blood Demon Art – Flying Blood Sickles!"
Gyutaro's blood spilled freely from his arms, fusing with his twin sickles. He swung them, releasing a volley of razor-thin blood blades that tore through the air like a crimson storm.
Each carried lethal poison — even the smallest scratch would spell certain death.
There was no Nezuko here. No antidote. No cure.
"Mark—Activate!"
Akira inhaled deeply.
"Sun Breathing: Sixth Form – Burning Bones, Summer Sun!"
A fiery blast erupted from his blade. The air trembled, and every single blood sickle was obliterated by a sweeping, explosive strike.
When the flames subsided, Gyutaro was already gone.
He reappeared directly in front of Akira, scythes flashing toward his head while his other hand lunged for Daki's severed head still clutched in Akira's grasp.
Without hesitation, Akira kicked Daki's head aside, sending it tumbling across the floor.
Now with both hands gripping his sword, he exhaled slowly, filling his lungs with air once more.
"Sun Breathing: Fifth Form – Fire Wheel!"
A burst of flame spiraled upward as Akira leapt into the air, spinning his body like a blazing comet. His blade carved a fiery arc through the room.
The strike landed clean.
The blade cut deep into Gyutaro's chest, slicing through flesh and bone — the wound burning with intense heat.
Gyutaro stumbled backward, his face contorting in shock.
"Onii-chan—!!"
Daki's distant head screamed, her voice echoing from across the room.
Before she could finish, Akira's sword flashed again.
A single stroke pinned her head to the floor, blade piercing through her skull.
Haruno gasped at the sight.
Akira turned back toward Gyutaro, his expression calm, almost cold.
He knew this much — such wounds meant nothing to an Upper Moon. Even if their bodies were shredded to pieces, their regeneration was instantaneous. They were monsters far beyond mortal logic.
"You dared… to hurt my sister…"
Gyutaro's voice cracked with fury. His pupils narrowed, and his bloodlust exploded outward like a shockwave.
"I'll tear you apart!"
"Then stop talking and do it."
"Blood Demon Art – Flying Blood Sickles!"
More crimson blades erupted, slicing through the air from every direction.
At the same time, Gyutaro charged forward, his scythes gleaming wickedly under the flickering light.
Logically, the best move for Akira was to evade. With his speed, he could easily dodge.
But if he did… Daki's head would fall back into Gyutaro's hands.
From the start, Akira had kept it close precisely for this reason. Even if Daki was weaker, her Obi clones could complicate the fight.
And worse — Haruno was still nearby.
If she were captured, everything would be over.
He couldn't afford to let Daki revive.
Not for a second.
His heartbeat quickened.
Then, suddenly — time seemed to slow.
Every motion around him dulled.
The spinning blades of blood hung in the air like frozen droplets.
Gyutaro's movements appeared sluggish, predictable.
Akira's breathing steadied. His senses sharpened.
"Flame Breathing: Fifth Form – Flame Tiger!"
He shifted seamlessly between styles — from Sun to Flame Breathing — and his sword ignited with blazing ferocity.
A tiger made of fire roared into existence, its fangs bared, its body coiling around Akira as he lunged forward.
"Impossible—!" Gyutaro gasped.
The fiery beast pounced, tearing through his blood blades and engulfing his body in a whirl of crimson and gold flames.
The entire hall trembled under the impact — a storm of light and heat erupting between demon and swordsman.
And within that blazing inferno, Yukinoshita Akira's silhouette stood unyielding — like a sun burning against the night.
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