"Drifting Snow."
This was the second form of Cold Cry's Breathing Technique. Like the first, it was deceptively simple—only two words, yet carrying a chilling lethality.
Cold Cry dashed straight toward Kanzaki Aoi. As his breathing intensified, frigid air spiraled around him, spreading outward in visible waves.
Moisture in the air crystallized instantly, forming countless ice shards. Wherever he passed, a trail of white mist followed, as though winter itself was chasing his footsteps. Even his wooden blade became coated in frost, turning pale and ghostlike.
Before he even reached her, the cold had already brushed against her skin.
Kanzaki Aoi narrowed her eyes at the white figure cutting through the mist. She inhaled deeply, steadying her breath.
She had to complete her breathing before he closed the distance. If she inhaled that freezing air mid-combat, the strain on her lungs would be severe.
"Ice Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance."
Her body shifted fluidly.
With light, twisting steps, she moved like a flowing stream, weaving left and right as she plunged into the fog.
Cold Cry struck.
His blade carved a smooth arc through the air, carrying a flurry of frost and wind as it collided with Aoi's wooden sword.
Clack!
Aoi parried cleanly.
Using the momentum of Flowing Dance, she slipped to his side in a single motion, her blade already redirecting—
A strike aimed at the back of his neck.
The first attack had only been a feint.
This was the killing blow.
At such close range, there was no way he could evade.
It's over.
Aoi tightened her grip, putting just enough force into the strike to knock him unconscious.
But just as her blade was about to land—
Cold Cry's head suddenly dropped.
A quiet voice followed.
"Shattering Drizzle."
Aoi's pupils shrank.
Too late.
Cold Cry twisted low to the ground, his body bending at an unnatural angle. His wrist snapped upward, swinging his blade in a sharp, rising motion.
Several ice spikes—each the size of a finger—shot forward with explosive force, carried by a burst of freezing wind.
They targeted her chest, throat, and face.
Aoi's expression changed instantly.
She had stepped into his range.
There was no way to block all three.
With no other choice, she forcefully activated her breathing despite the strain in her lungs.
"Sixth Form: Whirling Whirlpool!"
She twisted violently, her blade spinning.
A miniature vortex formed around her, pulling in the air and deflecting the incoming attack. The ice spikes shattered upon impact, scattering into fragments as the surrounding mist was blown away.
Cold Cry's figure was revealed once more.
Aoi's chest tightened painfully.
Her breathing was unstable.
At this distance, if he pressed forward again—
She wouldn't be able to defend.
"Third Form: Flowing Dance!"
She retreated immediately, her body weaving as she attempted to create distance.
A sharp sting suddenly spread across her shoulder and neck.
She had been hit.
Though Whirling Whirlpool had blocked most of the attack, a few shards had slipped through.
Cold Cry didn't hesitate this time.
The moment she tried to disengage—
He moved.
Planting one hand on the ground, he launched himself upward.
Under the moonlight, his figure rose into the air.
The temperature in the courtyard plummeted.
Snow began to fall.
"Sister Aoi, watch out!"
From the porch, the girls of the Butterfly Mansion cried out in alarm. What they had expected to be a simple lesson had turned into a one-sided suppression.
Cold Cry was overwhelming her.
Aoi, focused on retreating, hadn't even noticed.
Only when the warning reached her ears did she look up—
—and see him descending.
"Icefall."
His voice was calm.
His blade came down.
Like the collapse of a frozen waterfall.
Aoi's lungs burned. She had already forced her breathing twice under pressure. There was no time left to stabilize.
No room to dodge.
She could only meet it head-on.
"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust!"
She thrust forward.
All her strength condensed into a single point.
The fastest, sharpest technique in Water Breathing.
The tips met.
And instantly—
She knew.
This won't stop it.
Drop Ripple Thrust excelled against direct, linear attacks.
But this—
This was not a thrust.
It was a crushing descent.
A falling mass.
Like trying to stop a waterfall with a single point.
Cold Cry's strike carried overwhelming force, crashing down with unstoppable momentum.
Aoi's arms trembled.
The pressure surged through her blade, down into her bones.
It felt as if an iceberg was collapsing onto her.
Cold.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Her mind flickered.
Waterfall Basin…
The Eighth Form of Water Breathing.
This attack…
It resembled it perfectly.
Even if she survived the impact, the force would spread outward, crushing everything nearby.
Her grip weakened.
I can't… stop this…
And then—
Her thoughts spiraled.
What am I, really?
A member of the Demon Slayer Corps?
Yet she had never truly faced a demon.
Never truly risked her life.
Since passing Final Selection, she had remained behind—
Safe.
Sheltered.
Afraid.
Can someone like me… even call themselves a Demon Slayer?
Her strength drained.
Her will faltered.
The fight left her.
On the porch, Shinobu Kocho stood abruptly.
Her hand rested on her sword.
She had felt it.
The shift in Aoi's spirit.
In battle, losing the will to fight was fatal.
Without the resolve to face death, one could never stand against demons.
Aoi was not weak.
Not truly.
She was kind.
Too kind.
Her sharp tongue, her temper—those were shields, hiding her fear and self-doubt.
Not everyone could embrace bloodshed.
Not everyone possessed overwhelming talent, sharp instincts, or the unwavering resolve to walk the line between life and death.
People like Tanjiro Kamado—
And Cold Cry—
They were different.
They carried something heavier.
Something unshakable.
They were—
Born warriors.
Their place in the Demon Slayer Corps was no coincidence.