The Crystal's Whisper and The Wind's Embrace

Chapter 69: Breath of Wind, Heart of Crystal

Clang! The first clash of blades sent a shockwave rippling through the chamber.

Tsukiyo's blade of crystal met Kokushibo's jagged, demonic katana with a screech that split the air.

Beside her, Sanemi moved like a storm, blades of wind spiraling around him as he launched forward.

Kokushibo met them both without flinching.

His eyes—six of them—followed each movement with eerie calm, his blade adapting to every form, every breath.

"This pressure..." Tsukiyo gasped, stepping back as Kokushibo's attack shaved a crater into the floor. "It's like fighting a mountain."

"No," Sanemi growled, "it's worse."

He charged in again. "Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clean Storm Wind Tree!"

Blades of wind screamed toward the demon in tight, spiraling waves. Kokushibo barely shifted his wrist—and parried it with supernatural grace.

Tsukiyo followed in. "Crystal Breathing, Fifth Form: Refracted Bloom!"

A ripple of overlapping strikes bloomed in shards of light, dancing in fractal arcs. But even her perfect footwork couldn't fully penetrate Kokushibo's defense.

He moved like water. No wasted motion.

What makes it worse is that he studied them.

"You rely on each other too much," Kokushibo said as he parried another coordinated assault. "One will break. The other will fall."

"Not today," Tsukiyo hissed.

"Not ever," Sanemi spat.

But even as they pushed harder—he grew faster.

Then, without warning, a blade slashed from above.

Muichiro dropped into the fray, mist coiling around his sword.

"Hashira of Mist, Tokito Muichiro," he said, blade flashing. "I'm not late, am I?"

Kokushibo actually turned his head, just slightly.

"Your eyes... you carry a bloodline I know."

Muichiro narrowed his own. "Then you already know what happens next."

His arrival tilted the balance for a moment, just enough for Tsukiyo and Sanemi to regroup.

"You alright?" Sanemi muttered.

She nodded, sweat beading her brow. "I've got more."

Together again, they surged in—this time a three-pointed attack. Mist, crystal, wind.

It should have been overwhelming. But Kokushibo adapted.

Faster. Smarter. Deadlier.

And then—

A second impact. The ground shook.

From the shadows, Gyomei Himejima stepped into the chamber, his enormous frame calm and immovable as his weighted chain slammed into the ground.

His eyes, though blind, turned toward the demon with uncanny precision.

"I have heard enough," Gyomei rumbled. "This ends tonight."

Kokushibo, for the first time, paused.

"So many strong ones gathered to die."

The battlefield blurred. Attacks layered like storms.

Tsukiyo darted around the edge, sword moving like ribbons of glass. She didn't aim to overpower Kokushibo. She aimed to support—binding his arms, drawing his attention, creating gaps.

"On your left!" she shouted.

Sanemi didn't hesitate. "Wind Breathing, Seventh Form: Gale, Sudden Gusts!"

The cut landed barely. But blood flew. Kokushibo blinked.

"You're... fast."

"And you're talkative," Sanemi shot back.

But Kokushibo's body regenerated almost instantly.

No hesitation. No delay.

It was then that Genya arrived.

He stumbled into the room, panting hard, shotgun already raised.

"Oi! Nii-san—!"

"Genya?!" Sanemi roared.

"Don't stop swinging!" Tsukiyo called.

Genya didn't. He raised his gun and fired repeatedly. His body started to mutate after consuming demon flesh.

Kokushibo turned toward him, all six eyes widening just slightly. "You again."

This time, Sanemi did falter.

"Get out of here, you idiot!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Genya shouted, reloading.

Tsukiyo caught Sanemi's wrist before he lunged again. "He can handle it. Trust him."

"I can't—!"

"You must."

Sanemi grit his teeth—but nodded, barely.

They all moved again—now five fighters against one.

And yet, Kokushibo still danced between them like a ghost, his strikes growing wider, his voice now quieter.

"You are the strongest this era has produced... and yet, still so blind to your weaknesses."

Just then, Tsukiyo slipped. Just a half-step.

A mist strike exploded beside her, forcing her back—and Kokushibo was on her in an instant.

Sanemi's voice tore through the battlefield.

"TSUKIYO!"

She raised her blade just in time. But she was off-balance.

The sword screamed as Kokushibo's katana met hers in a bone-rattling strike.

Sanemi was already on her—shielding her, deflecting the follow-up blow with a roar.

"I told you," he snarled, blood flying from his cheek, "you don't touch her."

Tsukiyo gasped, her hand tightening around his. They stood together, breathing hard.

Kokushibo's blade lowered slightly. "You are strong," he admitted. "But strength fades. And I will not."

He raised his blade again.

And as it came down, so did theirs.