"Kotetsu… Kotetsu… Kotetsu————"
The moment Shuya's fist detonated Akaza's skull, the world went silent inside his head. The roar of battle vanished. All that remained was that single, haunting voice calling a name he hadn't heard in centuries.
Who? Who the hell is calling me?
Akaza's headless body thrashed, fists swinging wildly at empty air. There was no one there. Just the whistling sound of his own punches cutting through nothing.
Then his head grew back.
He stood perfectly still, blood still dripping from his neck. A blurry image surfaced in his mind—a woman, head lowered, face hidden behind a soft white glow. He couldn't see her features, but something deep in his chest clenched hard enough to hurt.
"Who are you?" he whispered. "Why are you in my head?"
The image began to fade. A gentle voice drifted through the fading light.
"Kotetsu, come on. We're all waiting for you."
No. Don't go.
Akaza lunged forward in his mind, reaching out, but his hands passed through nothing. The figure kept drifting farther away no matter how hard he chased it.
Desperate, he raised his fist and smashed it into his own skull.
Boom!
Pain exploded behind his eyes. His ears rang. But the vision slowed its retreat.
So he did it again.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Blood sprayed. His own blood. Tears mixed with it, hot and red, running down his face as he kept hammering his head like a man possessed. Every time the vision threatened to disappear completely, another self-inflicted blow dragged it back a little closer.
He didn't care about the pain. He didn't care that he looked insane. All that mattered was keeping her there.
Because some deep, primal part of him knew—this woman was more important than anything. More important than the martial arts pinnacle he'd chased for centuries. More important than his pride as an Upper Rank.
That human. That bastard human did this to me.
Akaza's eyes snapped open, wild and feverish. Shuya's lingering fighting spirit still hung in the air. He could track it.
He took off running.
When he finally caught up, the scene that greeted him made even an Upper Rank demon freeze.
Shuya had Muzan by the throat, red lightning crackling up his arm and straight into the Demon King's body. Muzan's once-perfect suit was in tatters. His face was swollen and burned, hair fried into a wild, smoking afro. Every punch Shuya landed sent black lightning ripping through him, leaving spiderweb cracks across his skin that refused to heal cleanly.
Tamayo's drug was still working. Muzan's regeneration was crippled.
Shuya didn't even glance at Akaza. He just kept talking shit while he worked.
"You're real good at running, huh? Splitting into eighteen hundred pieces and crawling away like a cockroach? What's wrong, Muzan? Can't do it this time?"
Muzan's golden eyes burned with humiliated rage. He tried to twist away, but the red lightning kept him locked in place, muscles seizing with every pulse.
Then Muzan spotted Akaza.
Hope flickered across his ruined face.
Akaza. Finally.
"Akaza!" he rasped, voice hoarse from the choking grip. "Help me! Buy me a few seconds—just a few!"
Shuya's eyes flicked sideways. Annoyance flashed across his face.
"You still got the nerve to dodge?"
He redirected the next punch straight at Akaza.
But Akaza didn't dodge. Didn't activate Destruction Style. He charged straight into the fist like a man running toward salvation.
Boom!
Akaza's head caved in again, body flying backward. When it regenerated a few seconds later, he was already on his knees, muttering to himself.
"Not enough… still not enough… I'm missing something…"
Muzan stared, stunned.
"Akaza! I gave you an order! Save me!"
Akaza slowly lifted his head. His eyes were glassy, distant.
"Shut up."
The words hit Muzan like a physical blow.
For the first time in centuries, his most loyal, most reliable Upper Rank had told him to shut up.
Muzan's face twisted with disbelief and fury.
"Akaza… you dare—?!"
But Akaza wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring straight at Shuya with desperate, burning eyes.
"One punch," he said hoarsely. "Just one more. Like the one that let me see her. I don't know who she is… but she's everything. More important than anything I've ever wanted."
He dropped to his knees again, voice cracking.
"You want my Blood Demon Art? Take it. All of it. Every last drop. Just hit me again. Let me see her one more time. Please."
Muzan's mouth fell open.
His most loyal dog—Akaza, the one who had never once questioned him, who had taken every dirty job without complaint—was begging a human for a punch. Offering up his own power like it meant nothing.
All for a ghost.
Shuya looked down at the broken Upper Rank kneeling in front of him, blood still streaking his face, eyes wild with something far more dangerous than battle lust.
Something dangerously close to hope.
The corner of Shuya's mouth twitched.
"Well, shit," he muttered. "You really are willing to throw everything away, huh?"
Akaza didn't answer. He just kept staring up at him, trembling, waiting for that one punch that might bring her back.
Even if it killed him.