Demon Slayer: Guardian of the Forest

"I'm not afraid! I just don't need to waste my time on weak bugs and a traitorous brat! Becoming a member of the Twelve Kizuki wasn't for this! I'm here to grow stronger! To devour more humans! To earn more favor from Master Muzan! Staying here is pointless. I need to leave!"

Rokuro's thoughts whirled frantically as it turned to flee, but just as it pivoted, a violent gale erupted from its flank.

First Form of Wind Breathing: Whirlwind Cutter!

CRACK!

Caught off guard, Rokuro's body was pierced by a downward slash that left it reeling.

Junbo gritted his teeth, pushing his body to the brink with the Wind Breathing technique. Every movement felt like his flesh was being shredded, but memories of his fallen comrades and family devoured by demons surged within him. Tears of rage streaked his face as he roared silently, summoning a surge of immense strength that pinned Rokuro in place.

"Damn humans! Let go of me!" Rokuro howled furiously. The tendrils that usually grew from its wounds withered, while its injuries began to heal at an astonishing pace.

But Junbo remained steadfast, gripping his blade with all his might, pouring every ounce of strength into his strike.

From beneath the ground, vines of thorned rope burst forth, piercing through Junbo's body mercilessly. Still, he refused to release his grip.

"Curse you, Demon Slayer Corps!"

"You're the one who's going to die!" Before Rokuro could bellow further, Shinichi had already charged toward it.

"Blood Demon Art: Crimson Fury – Second Surge!"

A resounding explosion of fiery crimson energy burst forth from Shinichi. His skin glowed an intense red, veins bulging like molten rivers, glowing with an eerie orange hue. His bare arms were now marked with fiery patterns that seemed alive, writhing across his body.

His eyes burned crimson with unbridled rage. Letting out a primal roar, Shinichi's fists moved faster than the eye could follow. Blow after blow rained down on Rokuro, which remained trapped by Junbo's unrelenting grip.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"ARRRGH!!"

With a deafening shout, Shinichi's molten fist finally shattered the armor of vines shielding Rokuro's chest.

"You bastard!!" Rokuro's eyes widened in terror as Shinichi's blazing fist drove deep into its chest.

"Blood Demon Art: Vitality Drain!"

From Shinichi's palm, thorny tendrils snaked into Rokuro's body, expanding like venomous vipers. A violent suction force began siphoning Rokuro's very life force.

"No! No! It can't end like this! I'm one of the Twelve Kizuki! Lower Rank Four, Rokuro!"

"These words… Save them for the depths of hell!"

First Form of Forest Breathing: Ironwood Slash!

A verdant blade of green light streaked across Rokuro's neck like a shooting star.

"Noooo!!"

With a thud, Rokuro's severed head fell, accompanied by the crash of an ancient tree splitting apart.

Mori, the elder warrior, knelt slightly with his blade still extended. Blood dripped from his sword as he held his pose. But a gust of wind blew by, and he coughed violently, spurting blood. In seconds, his once-robust frame withered like a dying tree, leaving only a frail, aged figure behind.

Thud!

Junbo finally collapsed to his knees, his hands slipping from the hilt of his sword. His vision blurred, a ringing sound filling his ears. The searing pain that had wracked his body faded into a dull numbness.

Am I… dying? Junbo wondered hazily. But the demon… it's dead, isn't it? That's good… Everyone's sacrifice wasn't in vain.

In the haze, Junbo seemed to see his family, smiling warmly at him under a bright light.

With a faint smile tugging at his lips, Junbo's head bowed. The tattered haori draped over his back fluttered gently in the wind, revealing the bloodied kanji for "Destroy."

Shinichi, meanwhile, staggered as he pulled his fist from Rokuro's chest. Overwhelmed by the toll of activating the second stage of Crimson Fury, his body teetered on the brink of collapse. If not for the life force he had drained from Rokuro, he would have succumbed long ago.

In his dazed state, fragments of a life not his own flashed before his eyes—a life from Edo's twilight years.

It was the era of the Shogunate's decline. A once-prosperous merchant family in Chiyoda Castle had their fortune torn from them when armed samurai stormed their home, demanding the deeds to their tea plantations. Despite desperate pleas, the samurai showed no mercy, beating the merchant and seizing his ancestral lands.

Humiliated and powerless, the merchant turned his anger toward his family. That night, in a drunken rage, he killed his wife with the very tool they used to draw water—a winch handle, or rokuro. Unable to bear the cries of his terrified children, he strangled them with the well's rope. Alone amidst the bodies of his loved ones, he laughed maniacally.

That night, the scent of blood attracted a man with crimson eyes—a demon.

The memories playing before Shinichi revealed Rokuro's past as Saburo, a despicable merchant. Greedy for war profits, he borrowed heavily from samurai families. His dutiful wife sought help from her noble father, securing loans to save Saburo's failing ventures. But when rebellion broke out, all their goods were seized by raiders, leaving them destitute.

Instead of gratitude for her sacrifices, Saburo resented his wife and father-in-law, blaming them for his downfall. His unchecked greed had caused his ruin, yet he blamed everyone but himself.

Rokuro's decapitated head screamed in denial. "No! This can't be happening! I worked so hard! I earned my place as one of the Twelve Kizuki! I don't want to die!"

But as his neck disintegrated into ash, fragments of his human life resurfaced. The memories stopped him cold.

"What… what have I done? Yumiko… No, I…"

A single tear escaped Rokuro's eye.

"I… deserve nothing but hell."

With those final words, Rokuro's head dissolved into nothingness.

Lower Rank Four, Rokuro, was no more.