CHAPTER 7: HAKUJI AND KOYUKI

The air around Akaza cracked.

His headless body moved with a hatred forged in centuries of violence.

A beast that refused to die.

A wrath that would not yield.

Even without a head—he fought.

Tanjiro and Giyu watched, blades ready, hearts pounding.

How was he still moving?

Then—

A flicker. A whisper in the endless dark.

"Hakuji…"

The voice… soft as snow.

It slipped past the rage, past the blood, past the demon.

It was her.

A woman, seated beneath the stars of his memory.

Pale. Fragile. Smiling.

Koyuki.

Akaza stopped mid-attack. His body shook.

The spirit bond had awakened.

"Why… now…" he gasped inwardly, memories burning to the surface.

He saw it.

The pale inn.

The bowls of porridge.

The music in the distance.

The warmth of her fingers on his hand.

A time before the demon.

Before death.

Before Muzan.

Koyuki stood in front of him, glowing gently in the black.

Tears shimmered in her eyes.

"You've fought enough, Hakuji…"

"Let's walk home. Please. Just one more step. With me."

His fists clenched. His muscles trembled.

He could destroy the world. He could kill thousands.

But he could not ignore her voice.

Akaza's body turned toward Tanjiro—

Then paused.

And slowly…

He raised his own arm.

Tanjiro and Giyu's eyes widened in horror.

Akaza formed a spear of blood—

—And drove it straight through his own chest.

A thundering crack. A violent burst of cursed energy.

His body collapsed.

Steam poured from his wounds. The demonic tattoos faded.

Akaza—Hakuji—was finally free.

The chamber was silent.

Only the sound of slow, rising breath.

Giyu looked at Tanjiro.

"…He ended himself."

Tanjiro said nothing.

He had nothing to say.

Akaza… no… Hakuji… was gone.

But in the softest folds of the afterlife—

Beneath the warmth of cherry blossoms in spring—

Hakuji stood again.

Not as a demon.

Not as a warrior.

Just a man.

And Koyuki, smiling, walked beside him.

Hand in hand.

They were going home.