Sahiru dashed forward again, blade whistling through the air, matching Muzan blow for blow. But each movement grew heavier.
His breathing—labored. His stance—shaky. Blood dripped from a dozen cuts.
"You're slowing down," Muzan sneered, eyes glowing with malice.
"You may shine bright, Sahiru… but all lights burn out eventually."
Then—WHIP!
Muzan's twelve tendrils launched forth like spears of death, spinning and twisting through the air.
Each aimed at Sahiru's heart, lungs, throat, legs—death from every direction.
Sahiru's eyes widened. His blade too far behind. His body too drained.
He whispered, "…Suzune."
But—BOOM!
Twelve radiant flashes—each a different color—collided with the tendrils mid-air.
CLASH! SLASH! CRACK!
Sparks flew. Ground split. Shockwaves rippled.
Behind Sahiru, the warriors had returned—his comrades, his family.
Zenitsu—lightning yellow. His blade humming.
Giyu—icy blue, expression cold and focused.
Sanemi—violent green wind howling around him.
Mitsuri—pink fury, heart blazing.
Obanai—snake-like precision, his eyes locked on Muzan.
Genya—guns smoking, teeth gritted.
Muichiro—mist curling like fog on a battlefield.
Inosuke—wild rage, mask cracked but spirit unbroken.
Kanao—calm breath, focused eyes.
Shinobu—a deadly grin, dancing like a shadow.
Gyomei—the mountain, unmoved and unshaken.
And at their center, between them all—
Tanjiro - The heart of the sun –
Sahiru, eyes wide.
They stood behind him.
Not as Hashira. Not as slayers. Not even as warriors.
But as a family of light, refusing to let their brother fall alone.
"You're not alone, Sahiru-san "
Tanjiro's voice broke the silence.
Sahiru grinned, exhaustion forgotten.
"Then let's finish this—together."
Muzan's smile faded for the first time.
The final battle had truly begun.