As the twelve warriors clashed with Muzan amidst the ruins of the broken world, something began to stir—
Not in the sky.
Not in the earth.
But in their hearts.
The battle surged, blades ringing, blood flying, Muzan roaring—but then—warmth.
Spirit Bonds ignited.
Inosuke, his wild strikes slowing for a breath, saw a vision—
Kotoha, smiling, her soft voice echoing, "You've grown so strong, my boy."
He roared louder, blades tearing harder.
Kanao and Shinobu, side by side, were suddenly surrounded by fluttering wisteria petals.
Kanae appeared, her warm presence wrapping around them.
"Fight with your heart. And with each other."
Tears glistened—but their resolve sharpened.
Tanjiro stood still for a heartbeat as flames enveloped him.
There they were—Rengoku, standing proud.
His parents, his siblings, even Yorichii—the sun himself.
"Your kindness is your strength, Tanjiro. Now, burn bright."
Tanjiro roared—Hinokami Kagura blazed like the dawn.
Zenitsu blinked through tears as Jigoro stood before him.
"Show him what my student can do."
Electricity burst from his veins, thunder roaring.
Gyomei felt soft hands in his own—his siblings, smiling, innocent.
"You're still our big brother."
His flail struck the ground like a god's hammer.
Sanemi and Genya, surrounded in wind and gunfire, heard their parents' voices—twisted and flawed, but human.
"You boys… live better than we did."
Sanemi screamed with all his soul.
Genya cried and smiled—they were still family.
Obanai, bloodied but unyielding, saw his best friend—the only one who ever understood him.
"Live the way you always wanted to."
His blade curved like the snake he trusted.
Mitsuri, bruised but still dancing, saw the faces of those who loved her—who reminded her she was more than enough.
"Shine, Mitsuri."
Her heart bloomed with every strike.
Muichiro, pale and fading, was warmed by the embrace of his brother.
"Live for both of us, little cloud."
Mist turned to steel.
And Giyu—cold, silent, the pillar of sorrow—saw Sabito and Makomo, standing proud.
"You've always deserved to be here, Giyu. So stand."
And he did, blade gleaming like a frozen tear.
Together—they roared.
Twelve warriors.
Twelve souls united by love, grief, and memory.
They tore through Muzan, again and again—each blow filled with the strength of the past and the hope of the future.
Muzan stumbled.
And for the first time—
He felt fear.
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