Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

Chapter 310 Stop Joking

The blade clashed with bone, again and again. The one wielding the blade used all their strength, as did the one defending, making the sound of the collision so clear. The blade sliced ​​through flesh and struck bone, the dull sound echoing continuously in the narrow corridor, the echoes overlapping and covering each other, to the point that it was almost jarring.

Tanjiro struggled to his feet on the floor, while Giyu, buried in the rubble in the distance, remained unaware of his condition. Tanjiro wanted to get up, to help, to provide support, to catch up with Kyojuro and Rinko, but the impact on his body wouldn't be relieved instantly, nor would he recover immediately. Broken bones needed a long time to heal, muscles trembling as if broken from bearing unbearable force wouldn't become healthy overnight, and bleeding wounds were like torn clothes—at this moment, there was no better way to deal with them than to leave them exposed to the air.

The clanging and clattering sounds continued, initially only a muffled echo, the sound of the blade striking bone, mixed with the scraping sound of the blade rubbing against bone that sent chills down one's spine.

But later it became even more fragile. The blade, which had been picked up from the ground and whose original owner was unknown, was now being used as a weapon against its former comrade. Apart from the sound of the two blades clashing, the only clear sound was breathing.

Tanjiro's own, rough, in the distance, one rapid and deep, the other slow and steady.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Your swordsmanship is superb, Rinko!"

Kyojuro's voice was loud and cheerful, just as it always was, and his hand never paused as he spoke.

While parrying, Rinko couldn't help but frown, because he was confused for a brief half-second by those words.

Did Kyojuro truly realize the nature of their relationship at the moment he spoke? Did he have a clear understanding of what he was facing? Did he have a sufficient awareness of his current predicament?

Was it because the injuries were too severe? Was it because the excessive fighting damaged his brain? Was it because blood loss made his thinking unclear? Or was he actually already in a daze?

But the blade he wielded was still powerful, the angle and direction of his strikes remained precise, and his combat awareness and instincts were still sharp, allowing him to effectively perform his duties.

"Did you specifically learn this from someone?!"

If not, if Kyojuro were still conscious, how could he be so optimistic and naive as to chat with him like this? It's as if they were just friends, using only wooden knives, not aiming to cut off one of their heads, and not cutting off anyone's hands or feet with each stroke.

Was Kyojuro confident enough? Composed enough? Or was this actually a scheme? To lower his guard? To distract him?

"What are you thinking about, Rinko! Distracted thoughts on the battlefield are very dangerous!"

Rinko's pupils contracted with a roar, and the blade she swung was clearly aimed at his throat, with no intention of hiding her intentions.

"Yes, I have studied it."

If Kyojuro's goal was to make him split into two, then Rinko thought the man was indeed very successful, because he had been distracted and thinking all along, and now, he belatedly realized that the question Kyojuro had asked, the one that had been hanging in the air and had never been answered, actually had an answer.

"Who is it with? They seem so familiar!"

"What a heavy blow!" Rinko thought to herself as she blocked Kyojuro's blade. "What's wrong with these Demon Slayer Corps members? Why were they all so weak before, but now they're improving at an astonishing rate?"

To be honest, I'm not worried about being beheaded, but it's definitely a bit of a nuisance.

“I studied under Mr. Urokodaki for a short period of time before.”

"You've only studied it for a short time? That's amazing! It seems you've completely mastered the Water Breathing techniques, but why haven't I seen you use it? Do you not know how to use it yet? Come to think of it, I've never seen Rinko use the breathing technique either. Did she not have time to learn it?!"

On rare occasions like this, Rinko felt that Kyojuro was actually quite terrifying, possessing amazing intuition and keen observation skills. He had never used breathing techniques, not because it was unnecessary, but for a simpler reason: he didn't know how. However, it seemed that most people subconsciously overlooked this because of the difference in strength between them.

Without proper breathing techniques, one cannot learn special breathing moves. Even if one remembers how to wield a knife, can imitate angles, and learn moves, it is only natural that one cannot unleash the corresponding power.

After all, it's just imitation.

"It's not that I didn't have time, it's that I didn't learn it. Whenever I use breathing techniques, I feel like my lungs are about to explode."

Rinko precisely blocked the slash with her blade. Even when Kyojuro tried his best to press down, the sword would only get stuck at that distance and could not get any closer to the boy.

The difference in strength was displayed in the most straightforward way in that instant.

"After all, Rinko's health is really bad! Father also said that Rinko always seems to be a worry for people!"

To put it mildly, a more direct way to put it would be that he looks like he could die at any moment.

"It only looks that way."

Rinko retorted calmly.

Father.

Makijuro is the father, and Kyojuro is the son.

Rinko took half a second to realize this, which was understandable. Kyojuro looked too much like Makijuro. Perhaps he had never really been able to distinguish the real differences between the two. It was not an easy thing for him. He had met too many people in his long life. When he encountered the same appearance, voice and personality again, he couldn't help but feel confused. It was as if he had gotten used to saying goodbye and then suddenly, in a completely unexpected moment, he met the shadow of an old friend.

"What a pity!"

The two swords clashed again in another swing, with great force. Kyojuro gripped the hilts tightly with both hands, his shoulders trembling as he strained to hold on and prevent the sword from slipping. His back was taut with effort, but his legs remained firmly planted. Rinko held the hilt of her sword with one hand and braced the back of the blade with the other.

"What a pity."

Their battle was hasty and chaotic, and the chase had taken them slightly off course from where they had been. Rinko blinked twice as a result, realizing she had to go back.

But Kyojuro's purpose was clear: to drive him away. Perhaps it was to protect those people, or perhaps he simply didn't want him to have another chance to find more weapons. It was hard to say, but Kyojuro's reasons were not important; his was the key.

We have to go back.

"Your swordsmanship is excellent! You have great talent and are well-suited to be a swordsman! I wish we could be companions!"

?

Does Kyojuro know what he's saying?

"If there's a next life, don't be a ghost again!"

.

Ah, it seems he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Only Kyojuro could utter such nonsense.

So when Kyojuro realized he was trying to create distance and immediately caught up, Rinko caught the sword in his hand, gripped it tightly, and pulled him in front of him. The boy's face was expressionless. He looked at Kyojuro's determined gaze, but only spoke calmly, almost indifferently.

"What a joke! If there's a next life, I definitely want to be a ghost again!"

Rinko raised her leg and kicked hard in the unsuspecting abdomen in that instant.

Kyojuro was pulled away from his sight, and Rinko was certain that he had accurately felt the real impact of the kick, and that his opponent had released his hand at the last second to block the blow.

He hadn't intended to use so much force, but once he kicked out, he couldn't quite say how much power he had used.

Rinko watched the figure fly away with inertia, then slowly walked forward. He looked at the Nichirin Blade in his hand, Kyojuro's Nichirin Blade. He had seen the swords of Flame Breathing users before, but this was the first time he had actually held one in his hand. It didn't seem to be much different from other Nichirin Blades. The inscriptions on the blade, the weight in his hand, the sharpened edge, all showed signs of wear from repeated impacts. The most unique feature was probably the tsuba, with its beautiful flame-like patterns.

It should be so.

This moment, however, was almost blinding.

The scorching flames, the radiance of the sun.

what.

I'm so angry.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Mr. Purgatory!"

Tanjiro watched helplessly as the battlefield between the two men receded into the distance. But when he was finally able to get up from the ground and use his breathing techniques to alleviate the impact, preparing to join in, the first thing he saw was a figure flying through the wall. He rushed over almost instinctively.

"I'm fine! Take care of yourself!"

Kyojuro pushed aside the splinters of wood on his body and got up from the ground. His already broken bones were now in even worse shape. He knew that, but now was not the time to rest, not the time to stop. He was tired, he was in pain, and the battle with Rinko had put him in a bad mood. But this was not the end.

"Do you even have time to care about others?"

The boy's voice drifted from afar, along with the Nichirin Blade, which flew over and landed precisely beside Kyojuro.

"You can't even stand up now, Kyojuro? If you really want to cut off my head, then be prepared. My head won't just fall off by talking to me."