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The flash of steel was glinting in the moonlight. Akaza’s fanged teeth bared into a toothy grin while Rengoku attempted to steady his breathing. Hot blood poured down his face and dripped into his panting mouth. His hands trembled from exertion, and his legs shook from the strain of simply standing.
“Become a demon, Kyojuro!” The demon trilled, “Then we can fight like this forever.”
Cold air hit the back of his throat as Rengoku inhaled sharply. He grit his teeth before spitting,
“I will never become a demon.”
Akaza seemed almost sad at that – an expression that rested unnaturally upon his tattooed face. He then spoke again.
“Your fighting spirit blinds me; you could ascend the ranks of the Kizuki and become stronger than your feeble human form could ever dream of!”
Rengoku readied his katana once more. He lunged and the blade neared Akaza’s throat in an instant. The demon raised his fist and blocked the blow. Rengoku didn’t relent his attack and each collision of fist and blade appeared as fireworks in the sky. Akaza’s laugh echoed around them, losing himself to the pleasure and thrill of the fight.
They separated in a brief respite, and each readied their strongest attacks yet. Beneath Akaza’s feet, a brilliant snowflake stretched across the ground, and he crouched into a fighting stance with his hands outstretched. Rengoku closed his eyes and concentrated every ounce of his might into one last stand.
“Ninth Form – Rengoku!”
A brilliant blaze of flame erupted from the sword as a dragon seemed to form. Akaza’s eyes shone with its magnificence, and he could not contain the smile that betrayed him. Demon and slayer collided once more at frightening speed, and sparks flew all around them. Everything was happening all at once and the two blurred together as they fought.
Then it stopped.
Akaza’s eyes widened in a look of pure, abject terror. His fist had blown through Rengoku’s stomach. The slayer looked down and the pain of the fight that he had been trying to subdue hit him. He winced as Akaza flexed his hand, and the demon’s bottom lip trembled. A string of apologies flooded from the Upper Moon’s mouth as he shifted his fist to remove it from Rengoku’s gut. Blood spouted out of the gaping wound and the torn muscle attempted feebly to contract around Akaza’s arm to keep the blood inside his body. The sickening squelch of hot blood and torn tissue sent shivers up Akaza’s spine.
“Kyojuro,” the demon said, voice shaking, “you’re going to die. Please let me save you – you are the greatest opponent I have ever fought – this can’t kill you!”
Kyojuro attempted a response, a refusal, but his pierced lungs had had all the air blown out of them from the impact, and he simply sputtered up more blood as his eyes glazed over. He clenched his eyes shut and very slightly shook his head.
Akaza’s eyes felt wet. Tears? Surely not. How could he cry after so long – it simply wasn’t possible. But looking at Kyojuro’s dying, shaking form, he felt pity and sorrow. Akaza hated to go against Kyojuro’s wishes, but there was no hope otherwise. Akaza raised his free hand and sharpened his nail. He dragged it against his own throat and shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood.
Rengoku’s eyes opened and he attempted to raise his katana with his last remaining bit of strength. The cool metal hit the side of Akaza’s neck, but the demon didn’t seem surprised. His neck was hard, and the steel slowly slid through the layers of skin, more demonic blood trickling down onto his tattooed chest.
“Save your strength, Kyojuro. Don’t die on me now,” Akaza comforted.
Rengoku did not acknowledge the demon, and his resolve seemed to only strengthen as he pressed the blade harder, now halfway through Akaza’s throat.
Akaza, with a finger, gathered some of his own blood and gently pressed it against Rengoku’s open wound.
Rengoku shuddered instantly and he released his sword. No doubt his master was aware of Akaza’s plan and had blessed this blood with the transformative power he so desperately craved in that moment. Rengoku’s eyes rolled back as his body convulsed. Akaza beheld the sight with a perverted love – soon Kyojuro would be a demon, and his human life would be lost to him. Then, they could fight forever. Typically, transformations took time, so Akaza, having noticed the shine of the rising sun on the horizon, began to step back, Kyojuro in tow, to protect them both from its rays and allow Kyojuro a safe place to become a demon.
As soon as Akaza stepped back, a hand was on his throat. What? Akaza looked at Kyojuro and his eyes widened as he saw black sclera and brilliant, flaming irises fixated on him.
“Despicable creature.” Rengoku spat.
Akaza attempted to free himself from Kyojuro’s death grip, but the newly born demon’s strength astounded him. Not that he doubted Kyojuro’s ability for even a moment, but the speed at which it was appearing was unprecedented. Akaza felt his throat tighten under the immense pressure and winced as his oesophagus was crushed.
“The… sun…” Akaza rasped, “It’ll kill us both.”
“I pray it does, demon.” Rengoku looked towards the brightening sky.
Akaza felt fear strike his soul as he thrashed desperately in Kyojuro’s closing fist. The glow of morning glittered across the sky. Akaza clawed and scraped at Rengoku’s arm, praying it would loosen its grip and allow him to break free. Could he detach his head and reattach it in time? He hardly had time to think before the burning heat of the sun scalded his face.
Akaza tried to scream at the boiling of his skin and melting of his flesh, but Rengoku, despite suffering much the same fate, only held him tighter. It was poetic, in a way. Akaza had wanted nothing more than to fight for all eternity with this man and now he would die in his arms. He would die fighting with Kyojuro Rengoku.
Akaza let his eyes flutter shut and let his body burn. He would see her soon. He would be with his dear Koyuki once again.
Rengoku felt tears streaming down his face as he beheld the sight of Akaza succumbing to his death. He knew he soon would follow suit. He thought of Senjuro – his darling younger brother – who would be alone with Shinjuro. His father was a good man once, perhaps he could be again. His mind flickered to thoughts of his mother. He could almost see her now – standing before him in the light of day. He would join her soon. He would be with his dear mother once again.
Both their bodies fell as ashes upon the sun-streaked ground.