Uzui’s blades sang through the air, sparks flashing in rhythm as he drove the beautiful demon back, each strike sharper, deadlier, timed to perfection. She was fast—too fast—and dazzling in her own way, every motion like a dance that rivaled his own flamboyance. For what felt like hours, they clashed, her claws tearing at the earth, his swords glinting under the moon.

Then came the moment—his opening. Uzui’s muscles coiled, twin nichirin blades poised to sever her neck. He swung, breath steady, intent sharp.

But before the strike landed, the marks across her skin—the demon’s curse—faded like smoke in the wind. Her body faltered, eyes widening in confusion as Muzan’s grip seemed to dissolve. She stumbled forward, human once again, beauty raw and fragile without the monster’s mask.

Caught off guard, Uzui’s strike stopped short. Instead of a clean kill, she crashed into him, all weight and trembling limbs, slamming into his chest. The force sent them both tumbling into the dirt, his arms instinctively wrapping around her to steady the fall.

They landed hard, silence ringing louder than battle. Uzui’s breaths came fast, his heart hammering as he stared down at the woman sprawled across him, no longer a demon, no longer an enemy.