One Piece: With Sign-in System

For the Demon Slayer Corps, the key to minimizing casualties in the final battle against Muzan Kibutsuji lay in two objectives—

First, eliminate as many Upper Moons as possible.

Second, slay Nakime, the demon controlling the Infinity Castle.

With that goal in mind, the Hashira and their successors split up, heading to separate locations to confront the Upper Moons.

Meanwhile, Ron, accompanied by Giyu Tomioka and Tamayo, arrived at the very place where Muzan—disguised as a human—was hiding.

Their purpose wasn't to engage, but to ensure Muzan didn't detect the threat and flee once again.

This thousand-year-long war between humans and demons was nearing its end. And Ron—

He didn't see himself as the hero of this final act. He would rather be a witness—

To watch the demon slayers, burning with vengeance and pain, sever the shackles of fate with their swords.

Muzan Kibutsuji…

I wonder what kind of face you'll make when you realize it's all over?

He bit into a spicy meatball skewer, his sapphire-blue eyes twinkling with mischief as they glanced in the demon's direction.

…

That very night—

The Yoshiwara Entertainment District shimmered under the glow of lanterns.

Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and the others had just discovered Daki, the Upper Rank Six demon, and a fierce battle had broken out.

And then—Tengen Uzui arrived, landing in front of them like thunder crashing down.

"A Hashira…?"

Daki's expression shifted the moment she laid eyes on the flamboyant Sound Hashira.

"You're Upper Moon Six, huh? You're way too weak for that title."

Uzui stood between the young demon slayers and Daki, raising his dual Nichirin Blades and pointing them at her. He tilted his head slightly and added, "There should be another one, right?"

Daki's eyes flickered in shock.

Slice!

Before she could react—

Her head was already flying through the air.

Tanjiro and Zenitsu froze in stunned silence.

But then, from Daki's back—another figure began to emerge.

Her true form's other half.

The real Upper Rank Six—Gyutaro.

"Big Brother! Did you hear what he said?! He said I was weak! I'm not weak, right? I'm the real Upper Rank Six!"

Daki's disembodied head wailed loudly, appealing to her brother in tears.

Gyutaro, with his back to Uzui and the others, picked up her head and reattached it calmly.

"Crying won't help you. You just lost your head, so put it back yourself."

He glanced at her with a strange, crooked smile. "Such a pretty face, and now look at you. All teary like a mess."

"I really tried hard! I gave it everything I had—and I was alone! And then they just ganged up on me!!"

Still sobbing, Daki clung to Gyutaro from behind.

"That's really… unforgivable."

Gyutaro turned his head slightly, eyes locking onto Uzui, Tanjiro, and the others. His grotesque face twisted with bloodlust.

"My little sister tried so hard… The ones who bullied her… all of you…"

"Must. Die."

He raised both hands—crimson sickles flashing with lethal intent—

Circular Slashes: Flying Blood Sickles.

A barrage of razor-sharp blood blades howled through the air, shrieking as they tore toward Uzui, Tanjiro, and the rest with incredible speed and murderous power.

Tanjiro and Zenitsu felt the icy chill of death race down their spines.

They instinctively reached for their swords—

But Uzui was already in motion.

With a flourish of his twin blades, he cut forward—

Sound Breathing, Fourth Form: Constant Resounding Slashes!

His blades formed a perfect barrier, cleaving through the blood sickles in a flash. He glanced back at the trio behind him.

"This one's mine. You three—go finish off the girl."

Tanjiro snapped to attention, his expression steeled with resolve.

"Got it!"

With a nod, he charged toward Daki, with Nezuko and Zenitsu following close behind. The battle resumed—fierce and unrelenting.

Gyutaro's gaze lingered on Uzui, surprised that his earlier attack had been blocked so cleanly.

"Hey, hey… That strike was full of bloodlust, y'know. You actually blocked it? Looks like you're not like those other Hashira."

He stood shirtless, sickles in hand, tilting his head like a curious predator.

"You're not bad. Not bad at all. And that face of yours…"

Before he could finish, Uzui's figure flickered—

In a blink, he appeared right in front of Gyutaro, blade swinging down.

Boom!

The ground beneath them shattered from the force.

Gyutaro barely caught the strike with his blood-red sickle, scowling at Uzui's handsome face with pure loathing and envy.

"So jealous. So disgustingly jealous. Would you mind just… dying?"

Uzui raised his head, looking him dead in the eye with a smirk.

"Come and try."

"You're just a human...!"

Gyutaro's bloodshot eyes flared with rage.

He launched into a frenzy, his sickles tearing through the air—

Blood Demon Art: Flying Blood Sickles!

Uzui's eyes narrowed. The flurry of attacks reminded him—of that training.

Of Ron.

Of the relentless barrage of strikes he had endured during those brutal days.

He smirked without thinking.

Too slow.

Neither the speed nor the number of slashes came close to what he had faced back then.

With a thunderous step forward, he charged Gyutaro instead of dodging.

His twin blades danced with explosive speed, slicing through the air faster than the eye could follow. The street erupted in a blast of smoke and shattered stone.

And Uzui—

Disappeared into the dust cloud.

"…Gone?"

Gyutaro froze for a split second.

In the very next moment, intricate marks flared across his neck—Uzui, now fully focused and in his Demon Slayer Mark state, appeared beside him like a phantom. In his hands, both Nichirin blades had turned crimson, burning like twin streams of fire as they slashed toward the demon.

Gyutaro didn't even have time to react.

Slash!

One of his arms was severed on the spot.

BOOM!

Explosives detonated. The severed arm, along with his entire right shoulder, was completely obliterated in a burst of fiery destruction.

"D-Damn it!"

With a snarl, Gyutaro swung his remaining arm, his blood-soaked sickle slicing through the air like a crimson flash, aiming straight for Uzui's neck.

Whoosh!

Uzui tilted back at an impossibly sharp angle, narrowly evading the attack with a move that was both fluid and precise.

Taking advantage of the narrow escape, Gyutaro retreated swiftly, pulling distance between them.

He stared at Uzui—at the red blade, the mark on his face, and that focused, predator-like gaze—and a cold bead of sweat trickled down his grotesque cheek.

"This guy… what the hell is going on with him?"

…

Meanwhile—

Gyokko was en route to the Swordsmith Village in search of information about the elusive Blue Spider Lily.

While passing through a remote hillside…

A short figure stepped into view and blocked his path.

"Hm?"

Gyokko's slitted eyes narrowed.

The silver moon cast its light down through gaps in the forest canopy, revealing the figure in full.

He was a beautiful boy—short in stature, long black hair, pale skin. He wore the Demon Slayer Corps uniform and a black haori draped over his shoulders. His face was impassive, but his presence was steady and unmoving.

"A Hashira?"

Gyokko, whose upper body protruded from the mouth of a grotesque pot, looked him up and down in slight surprise.

Muichiro Tokito gripped the hilt of his Nichirin blade calmly and said in a soft voice:

"This path is closed."

Gyokko blinked in surprise, then burst into mocking laughter.

"Shuhaha~ So you came to me, huh? I wasn't even going to look for you, but you people just come walking into your own death. Fine by me—I'll gladly help wipe out more of the Demon Slayer Corps."

He raised his hand, summoning a pot that appeared in his palm.

From the mouth of the pot, several goldfish-like creatures swam out—harmless at first glance.

But the next second, they launched a barrage of needle-like projectiles at Muichiro, too sudden to dodge under normal circumstances.

Muichiro remained calm, drawing his blade in one fluid motion.

Mist Breathing, Third Form: Scattering Mist Splash.

His sword cleaved through the air, and at that moment, the blade turned red—his Nichirin sword igniting into a crimson-hot weapon, glowing like molten metal under the night sky.

"His sword… turned red?"

Gyokko stared at the crimson blade, unease gnawing at the edge of his mind.

Best end this quickly, he thought.

Without hesitation, Gyokko used another Blood Demon Art.

Blood Demon Art: Octopus Vase Hell!

A monstrous octopus, the size of a small house, crawled out of the pot, lashing out its enormous, rubbery limbs—almost impossible to slice through—toward Muichiro.

"Love Breathing, First Form… The Swoon of First Love!"

A vibrant, feminine voice rang out in the night.

The air was suddenly filled with a slicing sound sharp enough to tear the silence in half. Bright pink arcs of light flashed across the octopus's massive body.

Slash!

In the next instant, the tentacled beast was cleanly diced into pieces.

"What?!"

Gyokko's face twisted in shock.

"You Upper Moon scum—your end is here."

A chilling voice echoed from behind him.

Shing!

A cold flash of steel, sharp as a serpent's fangs, slashed toward his neck with terrifying speed.

Serpent Breathing, Second Form: Venom Fangs of the Narrow Head.

Mitsuri Kanroji now stood behind Gyokko, her whip-like sword still humming in the air. With her and Muichiro blocking the front and back, Gyokko was surrounded.

Standing near the pot, Obanai Iguro held his snake-like Nichirin blade, having already cut deeply into Gyokko's neck—only a thin layer of skin remained between his head and decapitation.

"Is that all there is to this Upper Moon?" Iguro said coldly. "You must have more tricks, right? Go on. Show us."

"Three Hashira…? You're giving me too much credit," Gyokko muttered.

He glanced at the three of them, then let out a twisted, guttural laugh.

"Did you think I'd say something like that?"

With a flick of Iguro's wrist, his blade finally sliced through the last piece of skin—yet there was no satisfying snap. No sensation of a head rolling off.

Gyokko's form twisted and slipped away like a wet fish, diving back into the pot.

"Let me show you… my true form. The power Lord Muzan bestowed upon me!"

With that shout, a monstrous silhouette shot out of the pot.

It was a humanoid creature clad entirely in translucent, scaled armor.

"Behold! The crystalline scales I crafted from within the pot—harder than diamond! Feast your eyes on my perfect form!"

The creature coiled around a tree, looking down at the trio with pride.

"Fools! You should tremble before this flawless, divine beauty!"

Muichiro, Mitsuri, and Iguro exchanged glances.

Then, in the next breath, all three looked up at him—

—with synchronized smirks full of disdain.

"You and your pots… both look absolutely disgusting."

Gyokko's perfect form visibly twitched.

"Wh-what did you say…?! That's because your eyes are rotten! Rotten, I say!! HOW DARE YOU!! My form! My beautiful, perfect body—what part of it is ugly?!"

Shing!

Muichiro suddenly appeared in front of him, expression blank as his crimson-hot blade sliced downward in a deadly arc.

At the same time, Mitsuri and Iguro also launched their attacks.

Three Hashira struck at once.

Even with his so-called "perfect form," facing the combined fury of three elite swordsmen, Gyokko felt something deep and cold gnawing at him—

—a bone-deep, unmistakable fear of death.