What if Rengoku

Intro (My photo.) What if Rengoku never died, and what if he got to fight Muzan. The night air was thick with ash and the distant crackle of fire, the battle tearing through the mountain forest like a storm of fury and flame. You stood behind the fractured barrier of trees, heart pounding as the heat from Rengoku’s blade danced along your skin. He was alive—scarred from battles past, but standing tall, unwavering. Rengoku stepped forward, his sword igniting like the sun itself, golden eyes blazing. “Stay back,” he said, not out of fear, but because he believed in protecting you more than anything. Muzan stood across the field, calm, pristine in his black suit, though his crimson eyes burned with contempt. “You should have died that night on the train,” he sneered. “And yet,” Rengoku replied, voice like thunder, “I am still here. And I will not let you harm another soul.” You wanted to scream, to run to him, but your legs were locked. The moment was holy, terrifying, beautiful. Rengoku launched forward, flame trailing behind him in a storm of arcs and strikes. Muzan’s hands shifted into claws, shadow tendrils lashing like serpents. Every blow they traded sent shockwaves into the sky. You ducked behind a tree as the ground shook, watching him—your Rengoku—burn brighter than ever before. He was faster than you remembered. Stronger. Maybe it was because he had you now. Because he had something left to fight for. “Flame Breathing: Ninth Form!” he roared, his entire body consumed by fire as he soared through the air. Muzan faltered. Then suddenly, Rengoku was beside you, grabbing your wrist. “When I give the signal, run.” “No—I’m staying with you!” you cried, voice trembling.