As Tanjiro walked the bustling streets of Asakusa, his senses honed, he felt a presence so chilling, so deeply rooted in malice, it was unmistakable. He felt his heart seize, then steady as he slowly turned toward a dark figure strolling casually down the cobbled streets of the city. Muzan Kibutsuji.
The sight of him, so indifferent and at ease, ignited a fury within Tanjiro that was barely containable. Muzan's tall frame cut through the crowd with elegance, his pale skin and crimson eyes drawing attention from unsuspecting bystanders. Tanjiro's fists clenched, and he carefully drew his hood over his face, ensuring his appearance was concealed.
Without hesitation, he exploded forward. In a flash, he closed the distance between them, gripping Muzan by the collar with one fierce, unyielding hand. Muzan's eyes widened in shock as Tanjiro's steely gaze met his.
A single, furious whisper escaped Tanjiro's lips, filled with enough rage to cut through the night. "This time, I won't let you escape."
With that, Tanjiro pulled Muzan out of sight and into the outskirts of the city. The people of Asakusa would be safe, away from the battle that was about to unfold. Muzan, now aware of his enemy's strength and resolve, regained his composure and faced Tanjiro, his lips curving into a twisted smile.
"So it's you," Muzan murmured, his tone dripping with contempt. "The boy from the mountains. How quaint that you're still alive."
Tanjiro's eyes blazed, his body thrumming with fury as he tightened his grip on his blade. Memories of his family's laughter, their warmth, the life they'd shared in peaceful simplicity—all shattered by this creature in front of him. The weight of it filled him with a rage so profound it felt like fire coursing through his veins. With a deep breath, he centered himself, his grip tightening on his sword.
Then, he charged.
Tanjiro's breathing aligned, each inhale filling his body with precision and power. Water Breathing, Second Form—his blade sliced through the air with a seamless fluidity, every movement controlled, flowing like a river. Muzan dodged, though his surprise was visible, as Tanjiro shifted mid-strike, transitioning effortlessly into Thunder Breathing, First Form. His blade moved with blinding speed, cracking through the air like lightning as he drove Muzan back, each strike relentless and charged.
"Is that all you've got?" Muzan sneered, dodging again, though Tanjiro could see hints of uncertainty beneath his cruel façade.
Tanjiro's mind was sharp, his anger channeled and controlled. "You destroyed my family, ripped them from me! I'll make you feel every ounce of that pain!"
Without giving Muzan a chance to respond, he surged forward, switching to Stone Breathing. His stance grew rooted, his body immovable, each blow landing like a hammer against stone. He could feel his strikes reverberate through Muzan's flesh, each one landing with a purpose. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Muzan staggered, momentarily thrown off balance.
Muzan's lips curled in frustration, his eyes glinting with malice. He retaliated with his own attack, his limbs transforming into a chaotic mass of flesh and whip-like appendages, each strike aimed at Tanjiro with lethal precision. But Tanjiro saw the assault coming, his instincts sharpened by Observation Haki, and dodged with ease, moving like water around Muzan's strikes.
With a fierce resolve, Tanjiro shifted into Sun Breathing. His sword began to blaze with fiery energy, the flame's intensity reflecting the raw rage and grief burning within him. Hinokami Kagura, Dance of the Fire God. He unleashed the technique, his sword sweeping down in an arc of fire that seared the air, colliding with Muzan's flesh and leaving a scorching wound across his torso.
Muzan let out a hiss of pain, his eyes narrowed in fury. "You're just like him—just like that damned Monster, Yoriichi!" he snarled, voice shaking with anger and a hint of alarm.
Hearing that name only made Tanjiro's resolve harden. Yoriichi—the legendary swordsman who had brought Muzan to the brink of death centuries ago. Tanjiro could feel the spirit of Yoriichi with him, fueling him forward, his strikes becoming swifter and more precise, a dance of fury and skill.
Armament Haki flowed into his sword, strengthening it with a dark, invisible force, as he struck Muzan with unyielding force. His sword moved with renewed strength, each slash penetrating deeper, forcing Muzan to truly fight to defend himself. Blood splattered as Tanjiro's strikes connected, the sound of their clash ringing out through the empty landscape.
"You won't get away this time," Tanjiro growled, his voice fierce and unrelenting.
Muzan, usually so composed, now looked rattled, fury and pain flickering across his face as Tanjiro continued his onslaught. But the demon's arrogance remained intact, and he lashed back with a renewed vengeance, his attacks speeding up, the air filled with a swirling miasma of demonic energy. Yet Tanjiro's Flow State kicked in, his body instinctively dodging, each movement a precise response to Muzan's frenzied attacks.
Muzan's smug expression started to slip as he felt the force of each blow. Tanjiro's attacks were no longer wild swings but a carefully executed storm, mixing Water Breathing's grace, Thunder Breathing's speed, Stone Breathing's weight, and Sun Breathing's deadly fire. Muzan felt the weight of every loss Tanjiro had endured, every shred of hope that had been torn from him—and he felt it in each precise strike.
Finally, Tanjiro leapt back, inhaling deeply, every muscle coiled as he prepared for one final blow. The night around them seemed to grow darker as he took his stance, his blade shining with a fierce, golden aura. With a silent prayer to his family, to the memory of Yoriichi, he activated Hinokami Kagura, Flame Dance.
In one blinding movement, he closed the distance, his blade blazing as it sliced toward Muzan. But just as it was about to connect, Muzan's form flickered, and he vanished, his body retreating in a whirlwind of darkness. A mocking echo of his voice lingered in the air, filled with disdain.
"This isn't over, boy. I will watch you burn for your insolence."
Tanjiro's blade slashed through empty air, and he let out a frustrated growl, his breathing heavy. Muzan had escaped, retreating like the coward he was. Tanjiro's hand clenched around his sword as he fought to control the overwhelming surge of rage and despair.
But as he stood alone on the outskirts of the city, he felt something new—a deeper resolve, a promise to himself that he would not stop. He had felt the raw fear in Muzan's eyes, even if only for a moment. This was far from over, and now he knew that one day, he could bring him down.
Tanjiro lowered his sword, his chest heaving as he whispered, a final vow into the silence of the night.
"Run while you can, Muzan. I'll be there to finish this—no matter what."