Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

Chapter 320 Pain

Rinko lowered his head, and for a brief moment, he seemed to be in no hurry at all, as if time had stood still and the world had become quieter.

All that remained was the sound of the man's breathing.

Witnessing life slip away is a very different experience. Rinko has seen people die many times, but none of those times are the same as this moment. Most of the time, he is the one who kills, and life has been paused countless times in his hands—severed necks, shattered heads—but such abrupt endings are one thing.

What's happening now is different. It's not sudden, not without warning. Everything is predictable, everything is visible. Death is infinitely prolonged and slowed down in this moment, as if he clearly saw how a petal fell from the branch, swirled, and finally fell to the ground, rotting into mud.

The knife remained inside his body, deeply piercing his heart, yet it could not move an inch further.

It could not be moved, because the owner of the knife had reached the limit of his life, and the body holding the knife had also reached its limit.

Rinko was fortunate enough to witness this process.

He watched as the man remained standing, his hand tightly gripping the knife, holding the hilt as if it were the last thread he needed to hold onto.

Breathing continued, in every silent second, slow and heavy, rough like an old wooden door covered in dust, each push met with resistance, each more difficult than the last.

Blood was flowing and dripping, even more vigorously than before, with larger drops falling to the ground, splashing dust like tiny fireworks, one after another, celebrating the impending death of a life.

This is the last one.

Rinko thought.

That was the end.

That's all.

Rinko thought.

This time it's not a question, not a question; he doesn't need anyone to give him an answer. This is the answer.

"Senjurou said... thank you... for the owl you gave him... he really likes it. His father said... if there's a chance... he hopes... he can invite you... to dinner again..."

The heavy body finally collapsed with a crash, like a fallen mountain, so quiet, yet deafening.

The hand still gripped the knife tightly; every second it was pulled out was excruciating, so long it felt like an extended torture, as if to make him remember the weight of a life.

It didn't hurt as much as when it was stabbed, but it still hurt. My body, which had just healed, was cut open again, leaving a bloody mark.

The body, washed and cut open, was bleeding. The blood flowed down the body, dripped, and fell into the pool of blood on the ground, mingling together, and now looked like tears.

Rinko stood there quietly.

Watching, standing, silent.

It looks like a tombstone made of flesh and blood.

He felt a dull pain as he breathed, but couldn't figure out why.

I assumed it was because the blade that was pulled out had cut my heart.

Kyojuro asked him if he had ever regretted it.

Yes, I think so.

Looking back now, it all seems like a mistake.

The ending was far from happy.

What if we do it again?

He asked himself.

What if we come again?

Rinko, however, felt that he would probably still make the same wrong decision, because he remembered that he was happy during the days when he was friends with humans, and he was indeed happy when he could hold Makijuro's hand. He would probably never forget the other's smiling face.

But it's such a pity.

Makijuro.

I was unable to become friends with your son.

That's such a shame.

Anjuro.

We can never be friends in this lifetime.

"Kyojuro. If there's a next life, I hope you're a demon."

The sound of wind came from behind, along with rough breathing and rapid but disorderly footsteps, completely out of place.

The blade made a whooshing sound as it was drawn. Rinko heard it. This attack was too chaotic and too sudden. He didn't even need to exert too much effort to dodge it. He just lowered his head slightly and bent over to the side. The blade just grazed his face.

Rinko turned around and saw Tengen. She wasn't surprised at all. After all, all the Demon Slayer Corps members were like that, especially the Pillars. It was as if they had made some kind of deal with the heavens, making them all more resilient.

"What a pity. Tengen. You missed."

Rinko took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He threw a punch with all his might, smashing the second blade that was chasing him back, leaving a nick in the blade.

The roles of offense and defense have been reversed.

However, the situation did not reverse.

A battle whose outcome was destined to be lost.

Rinko watched as her opponent launched an attack that seemed almost entirely without any strategy, or perhaps it did have a strategy, but with her body pushed to its limits, the power, speed, and accuracy were all reduced, so in the end it looked like she was just hacking around randomly.

It doesn't matter.

The reason is not important.

Rinko raised her hand, this time gripping it precisely. It was no longer a meaningless grasp of the knife, but a grab on the arm. Her hand tightened, and without warning, with a sudden burst of force, the bone broke. Rinko clearly saw the pupils contract, the muscles tighten, and the sound of her breathing piercing, but there was no painful groan.

That's really brave.

Just like Kyojuro.

Rinko thought.

Yes, Kyojuro has always been brave, resolute, and unyielding, always wanting to protect something.

So when the man realized that he was unforgivable, he didn't hesitate to swing his knife at him.

How regrettable, he is no longer the one who is chosen, but the one who needs to be killed.

Rinko looked into those eyes, which were filled with hatred, but showed no fear.

"It's such a pity. You will never have another chance to wield your sword."

Rinko raised his other hand, aiming at the head reflected in his eyes.

Unlike ghosts, humans don't need to sever a person's neck; they only need to smash the head.

He threw a punch with all his might. Even though his opponent knew what he was going to do and reacted in time, the flying blade couldn't stop him at this moment. The blade was deflected and changed direction. His fist also tilted slightly. His forehead, his blind eye, his headband shattered, blood splattered and dripped into his eyes.

For a brief moment, Rinko saw almost nothing but Kyojuro.

A moment's lapse in concentration was enough for the other person to sever the hand he was holding, but just as quickly, Rinko snapped back to reality and immediately erased the distance the other person had created.

"I told you, you no longer have a chance."

The knife flew towards him, but it didn't matter. Rinko didn't even need to block it. He just needed to deflect the knife to the wrong place and let it cut into his body. After all, for a demon, as long as it wasn't a neck wound, it wouldn't be fatal.

As long as it's not a fatal injury.

It would be meaningless.

The blade she swung could only pierce the body; even if it sliced ​​the body in two, it wouldn't matter to Rinko. Rinko wasn't the only one who realized this; Tengen also did.

The moment the blade left his hand, Rinko knew what the other person was planning to do.

"How many more times are you going to use this little trick?"

He didn't dodge or retreat. Instead, Rinko reached out with his other hand and grabbed the explosives at the closest possible distance, before the other person could even release them.

Having explosives detonate right in front of you is never pleasant. Rinko was affected; he had some difficulty breathing while lying on the ground because it was so close. His chest cavity was blown apart, and he lost half an arm, but it didn't matter.

The injury is healing, even with every breath.

Rinko lay there, but before that overwhelming exhaustion caught up with him, he stood up.

His injuries hadn't fully healed, but he didn't care.

Both of them are dead.

He has no more obstacles in his way.

He has to go find Muzan.

Every step he took was heavy, and the sticky blood he stepped on made him feel nauseous.

Blood was dripping from his chest cavity and his arm.

But it doesn't matter, the injury will heal eventually.

The pain will eventually stop.