The wind howled through the hollowed shrine of the mountain pass. Blood soaked the soil, and two figures stood surrounded by ruin and echo.
Obanai Iguro, Serpent Hashira—coiled and ever-ready.
Mitsuri Kanroji, Love Hashira—graceful, fierce, and unyielding.
They had tracked the trail of slaughter deep into the forest. Corpses of villagers were left mangled, eyes wide with horror. It was unmistakable—one of the Lower Moons had descended.
And he was waiting.
Lower Two, cloaked in robes of dusk and madness, sat atop a mound of tangled flesh and bones. His eyes, half-lidded with disdain, flickered red with Muzan's blood.
"You're the pretty ones," he whispered, smiling in a twisted curve. "I'll make you dance for me."
Obanai said nothing. His blade was already drawn. Mitsuri stepped forward, her smile tight with battle-readiness. "You won't harm another soul."
The clash began. The demon's Blood Demon Art: Marionette Sin came alive—thin invisible threads snaked through the air like strands of fate. The moment they touched Mitsuri, her body froze.
"Obanai… my arms… my legs—!"
She spun on him.
Before she could scream, her blade came down on him with the speed of a hurricane. Obanai parried, shocked.
"Mitsuri! It's me!"
Her eyes shimmered, but her expression was hollow—like her soul had been moved somewhere deep. Her strikes were elegant, ruthless. Each blow aimed to kill. She fought like the Hashira she was—only now, against her friend.
Obanai weaved between her strikes, trying not to harm her.
The demon chuckled in glee. "The ones who love each other... always bleed the best. Fight him. Break him."
Mitsuri's lips quivered. Obanai knew she was in there.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't call her name like a warrior. He whispered it like a prayer.
"…Mitsuri. You're the light of spring. The only color in my grey world."
A shudder.
Her grip faltered. A crack split the shell of her trance.
"You once said you fight because you love," he breathed. "Then remember—who do you love?"
Something inside Mitsuri trembled. Her body froze mid-swing. Her breath hitched. She felt him—not the control, but the warmth, the truth. The one who watched her silently at meetings, always nearby, always guarding.
"…Oba…nai?"
The threads snapped. Like glass shattering.
Her heart returned to her. She collapsed for a moment, gasping.
The demon snarled. "No! Not yet!" He surged forward, trying to reclaim control.
But it was too late.
They rose—together.
Obanai's sword gleamed, slithering like his namesake. Mitsuri's whip-blade danced in pink fury.
"Love Breathing, Fifth Form: Swaying Love, Wildclaw!"
"Serpent Breathing, Fourth Form: Twin-Headed Reptile!"
The demon barely screamed as their blades struck as one, severing his head and body in a crimson flash. The air hissed. Silence fell.
The threads were gone.
Obanai caught Mitsuri before she stumbled.
She clutched his haori. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
He didn't answer. Just rested his hand on her shoulder. Soft. Reassuring.
No words were needed.
They had fought through hell—and returned holding hands.