Muzan's brows furrowed.
"You should be dead. You were crushed beneath the castle. No one survives that."
Sahiru scoffed, blade resting on his shoulder.
"Only demons die under rubble, idiot."
He vanished. BOOM.
Reappeared behind Muzan—CLANG!
Their swords clashed like thunder.
Fist met blade. Tendril met flame. Step for step, strike for strike—Sahiru matched Muzan blow for blow.
Their fight was more than human—a storm in motion.
The others could only watch, stunned.
"How… how is he doing this?" Mitsuri gasped, blood dripping down her lip.
"He's fighting Muzan like an equal," Sanemi muttered, hand trembling around his sword.
Even Giyu, cold and calm, narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
But then—Sahiru faltered.
A tremble. His knees gave slightly.
He dropped to one knee, breathing heavy.
"Not now..." he whispered.
The world began to fade.
Everything turned white.
—
He stood in a garden of endless flowers, bathed in moonlight.
Cherry blossoms fell like snow.
A figure waited there, sitting under the great wisteria tree.
Suzune.
Her eyes were soft. Her smile familiar.
She didn't speak at first. Neither did he.
They sat in silence.
The breeze danced through the garden.
"You're tired again," she finally said, brushing a flower from his hair.
"I failed again," Sahiru replied quietly.
"No, you haven't. You just needed to remember... you're not alone."
She leaned forward, touched his chest where his heart beat like a war drum.
"Take this," she whispered.
"A gift... from my Mystic Breathing. The final form. The one I never finished."
A peacock feather shimmered in the wind.
"The Peacock Eye."
—
Sahiru gasped—back in the real world.
He rose, eyes glowing violet-gold.
Muzan raised a tendril to strike.
"Facade Breathing, 12th Form—Peacock Eye!"
He vanished.
SLASH!
A thousand strikes in one blink. Muzan's arm was shredded before he even reacted.
The battlefield exploded in color—gold, violet, and crimson streaks across the night.
Suzune's breath lived on.
And the battle had only just begun.