Chapter 95 — Hachiman Takes the Katana!
The forest was swallowed by the night, its darkness deep and silent.
Under the canopy of young trees, the air grew so heavy it felt like it could crush a man's lungs. Akaza stood still, his golden eyes glinting faintly as he studied the human before him.
Why—why could this man still stand so calmly in front of him?
Yes, he had slain an Upper Rank Four, but to Akaza, that meant nothing. An Upper Rank Four was merely an obstacle on the mountain path of strength.
"Strange human," Akaza muttered. "Instead of charging at me, you stand there talking. You're… unusual."
"It can't be helped," Yukinoshita Akira said evenly. "My Nichirin Blade isn't with me right now. Without it, killing you will be troublesome."
"And you're telling me that so casually? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you right here?"
Akaza tilted his head, intrigued.
This human—this Demon Slayer—spoke with absolute confidence, even exposing his weakness without hesitation.
Why?
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't bravado. It was something deeper—something that stirred Akaza's curiosity.
As a warrior, Akaza lived for the fight. He loved clashing with the strong, testing his limits, tasting the thrill of battle. The only satisfaction he recognized in existence was the one born from combat.
"If you were an ordinary demon," Akira said calmly, "I'd be preparing to strike right now. But you're not ordinary. I can tell. You won't kill me outright. Instead—you'll give me a blade and demand that I fight you fairly."
"Interesting…"
The demon's lips curved into a faint smile. "You think you understand me so well? Enough to trust me—a demon?"
The air shifted.
The tranquil forest suddenly felt as though it were filled with needles.
The killing intent radiating from Akaza burst outward like a storm, tearing through the stillness.
But Yukinoshita Akira didn't flinch. He had faced far worse—more oppressive, more suffocating.
Not everyone could endure it, though.
Behind him, Hikigaya Hachiman, who had been barely managing to stay upright, finally buckled under the crushing pressure. His knees trembled violently.
"Hey… you okay?" Akira asked without looking back.
"I—I'm fine…" Hachiman gritted his teeth, keeping his voice steady, even as sweat poured down his face.
"Still got strength left?"
"What are you—"
"Get my katana."
"You've got to be kidding. If I move now, he'll kill me on the spot!"
"Don't worry," Akira said, his tone calm but firm. "He won't stop you. And even if he tries—don't forget, I'm still here."
"…Fine. If that's all I can do, then I'll do it. But if you die, I'm dead too. So don't make this pointless."
Never underestimate the resolve of a man.
Hikigaya Hachiman—a second-year high schooler, a pessimist who always mocked himself—was terrified. He doubted himself. He trembled. But deep down, he had a line he wouldn't cross.
He didn't care if he got hurt. He didn't care if he died.
But when it came to his little sister, Hikigaya Komachi—there was no room for hesitation.
Right now, the only one who could save everyone here was Yukinoshita Akira. And so, he made his choice.
Clenching his teeth, Hachiman forced his trembling body to move. Step by step, he pushed through the crushing pressure.
The sight made Akaza glance his way briefly. A weak human—one without even a trace of Breathing Technique—was still managing to stand under his aura.
"…Amusing."
"Humans," Akaza said softly, his tone carrying a dangerous edge, "you really don't know fear, do you? You talk so casually… right in front of me."
In a blur, Akaza vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared right in front of Hachiman—his right fist raised, glowing faintly with demonic energy. The air distorted around his arm as he swung down, aiming straight for Hachiman's skull.
The impact thundered through the forest.
But before the strike could land, a sharp crash of flesh meeting flesh echoed. Akaza's fist was stopped—caught by Akira's bare arm.
The force was enough to send shockwaves through the trees, tearing leaves from their branches.
Though Akaza hadn't used his full power, he was still pushed back several steps.
"…Ho." His golden eyes gleamed brighter. "You blocked my punch barehanded? You truly are a warrior. Tell me your name."
"Yukinoshita Shin Akira. Just another Demon Slayer."
"I am Akaza. Yukinoshita Shin Akira… become a demon."
The words froze Hachiman in place.
What did he just say? Did this monster… want Akira to become like him?
"Become a demon," Akaza repeated. "That way, you and I can fight forever. No end. No decay. No death."
"Sorry," Akira replied, his voice cold and certain. "I refuse."
"Why? Humans are weak. You're bound by sickness, pain, age. But as a demon—you'd be free. You could keep growing stronger."
"Keep growing, huh?"
"Yes," Akaza said, his voice rising with conviction. "If one year isn't enough, train for ten. If ten years aren't enough, train for a hundred. And if a hundred still isn't enough, train for two hundred! One day, you'll reach the true pinnacle of martial arts!"
That was Akaza's truth.
He hadn't climbed to the position of Upper Rank Three by gluttony or by Muzan's blood. He had achieved it through discipline—through endless combat, sacrifice, and refinement.
Aside from Kokushibo, he was the only demon who had grown stronger by his own effort alone.
But Akira only shook his head.
"Sorry, but I'm not interested. Becoming a demon means surrendering your peak to someone else. No matter how strong you get, in the end, you're still under Kibutsuji Muzan's control—forever."
Akaza fell silent.
As a warrior who had lived for centuries, he knew those words were true.
Every demon bore Muzan's curse. None could escape it.
It was a chain that bound them to eternal darkness.
"You know it too, don't you?" Akira continued quietly. "Becoming a demon means abandoning the light. No matter how far you climb, you'll never touch the sun. And I… can't accept that."
"…Then I have no choice," Akaza said finally. "I'll kill you. Slowly. Piece by piece. I'll consume you, one bite at a time. You'll become part of my strength."
"Think you can manage that?"
Their eyes met—both smiling.
And then, without warning, they clashed again.
Their fists met midair, shattering the silence with raw, physical power. No techniques, no weapons—just muscle, instinct, and killing intent.
A pure battle between monsters in human skin.
Meanwhile, in the distance, Hikigaya Hachiman forced his legs to move again. His lungs burned, his body screamed, but he kept running.
He had one task—one hope.
Get the katana.
His footsteps pounded through the dirt, quick and desperate.
Because the camp wasn't far, and adrenaline drowned out the pain, he managed to run faster than he ever had in his life.
His face was pale but determined.
"Where is it? Where's Yukinoshita Akira's katana!?"
Near one of the wooden lodges, a sliding door opened.
Standing there, stepping out with quiet grace—was Yukinoshita Yukino.
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