The cold moonlight cast long, eerie shadows across the streets of Tokyo.
The unnatural quiet of the block made Shinichi's skin crawl.
Behind him, Sabito, Tokito Muichiro, and Tokito Yuichiro moved in perfect sync.
The four figures were like ghosts, flitting silently through the narrow alleyways between buildings, their presence melting into the night.
Farther out, a perimeter of thirty other Demon Slayer Corps members conducted a wider, sweeping search for any trace of the demon.
The hunt was not going well.
It was clear that Kamaro was an expert at covering his tracks.
He had arrogantly left a survivor with a message about an exchange, but had named no time or place, seemingly confident that the Corps would never actually trade Nezuko for Ryukawa Chinatsu.
Even for Shinichi, whose Breath of the Forest gave him an acute sense of life and energy, the trail was vanishing.
He had followed the faint demonic residue from the ambush site to the edge of the city, but here, the weak aura was completely overwhelmed by the chaotic bustle of millions of human lives.
Searching for it now was like looking for a single needle in an enormous haystack.
This wasn't working.
"Spread out and continue the search," Shinichi ordered his team.
"Ask questions. The chances of a civilian seeing a demon are slim, but we can't afford to overlook anything. Keep your police identification handy to avoid trouble. Understand?"
"Yes, Master!"
"You can count on us, Shinichi-san."
"Mmm."
With that, the four of them split off at an intersection.
Perhaps the gods were watching, because it wasn't long before they found a lead.
Yuichiro was the first to report.
Following his master's advice, he had questioned the owner of a late-night soba stand, who nervously recounted seeing a strange, shadowy figure vanishing into thin air in that very area several times over the past week.
Almost simultaneously, a crow arrived with messages from the others.
Muichiro, using the incredible speed of his Mist Breathing to patrol the rooftops, had spotted a fleeting, demon-like shadow at the edge of the port district.
Sabito, using the subtle perceptions of his Water Breathing, had discovered a strange, cold, non-human residue near a sewer outlet, the faint demonic trace pointing toward the city's heart.
Combining the clues, Shinichi focused his own senses.
He could now detect it—faint wisps of demonic energy, all being drawn toward a single point: the central district of Tokyo, where the nation's elite gathered.
"What is he planning?" Shinichi frowned, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach.
An Upper Moon kidnaps a crucial ally, and instead of hiding in the mountains, he flees to the very center of human power?
Recalling Kamaro's previous warnings about corrupting the government, a deeply ominous premonition took root.
"Eizo!" he called to his Kasugai Crow. "Have all units converge on my position!"
Without waiting for a reply, he shot forward, a blur of motion racing towards the core of Tokyo.
The other three, receiving the news from their own crows, immediately changed course to follow.
....
Despite the late hour, the Ginza district was ablaze with light and activity.
The entrance to the famous Shimada Hotel was a bustling hive of luxury cars and reporters.
Inside and out, impeccably dressed dignitaries greeted each other with practiced smiles.
The security was immense.
Uniformed police patrolled the perimeter, but there were also dozens of plainclothes officers in black suits, their tough, disciplined aura and sharp eyes giving them away.
They stood at street corners, sat in unmarked cars, and watched from doorways, their vigilance absolute.
Just then, a long line of black sedans pulled up.
From them emerged a procession of elegant men and women, their faces instantly recognizable from newspapers: politicians, senior military officers with shining medals on their chests, and the heads of Japan's most powerful corporations.
From a rooftop opposite the hotel, Sabito watched with a grim expression.
"That's… the Vice Minister of Defense. And the Chief Cabinet Secretary. The chairman of the Mitsui Group…" These were the men who held the true power in the country.
Shinichi's hand tightened on the hilt of his Nichirin blade.
From this vantage point, he could feel the demonic aura radiating from the hotel.
It was arrogant, ostentatious, practically screaming its location.
Kamaro wasn't hiding at all.
"That bastard," Shinichi growled, realizing the demon's horrifying intent.
He hadn't just corrupted a few officials; he had apparently ensnared the very top of the nation's leadership.
"Master… what do we do?" Yuichiro asked, his voice tight.
"Do we just charge in?"
To him, any human who stood between them and a demon was just another obstacle to be cut down.
But as they hesitated, inside the hotel's grand ballroom, a luxurious cocktail party was in full swing.
The light from crystal chandeliers sparkled on tailored suits and expensive jewelry.
Waiters moved silently through the crowd with silver trays of champagne.
Politicians, generals, and tycoons mingled, their quiet conversations deciding the fate of the nation.
But beneath the glittering, harmonious surface, a dark and terrible undercurrent flowed.
In a secluded room on the second floor, overlooking the main hall, Kamaro lounged on a velvet sofa.
He was disguised as a handsome, sophisticated man in a white suit and gold-rimmed glasses.
His gaze swept playfully over the human elites below.
On the sofa next to him sat Ryukawa Chinatsu.
She was physically unharmed, her clothes still neat, but her face was pale and her eyes were cold with fury.
Her hands rested on her knees, her knuckles white from the force of her grip.
An invisible power held her fast, rendering her unable to move or speak.
She was an exquisite, captive vase in his display.
He tilted his head, giving her a smile that was all wrong.
"Look, Miss Chinatsu," he whispered. "The center of the human world. So interesting, isn't it? These people believe they control everything. With a single word, they can send tens of thousands to their deaths in a war. With a bit of greed, they can ruin millions of lives. Tsk, tsk. In their own way, they are far more terrifying than we are. It would take us demons a thousand years to kill as many as they did in their last great war."
He shook his head with feigned regret.
"So you see, I simply don't understand why you and your Demon Slayer Corps are so desperate to protect them."
His golden eyes locked onto hers, his smile widening.
"It makes me curious. Just how far will your dear Forest Hashira, and the rest of his noble friends, be willing to go to save you? After all," he purred, gesturing to the powerful men below, "these are the very people they are sworn to protect, are they not?"
Flames of helpless rage shot through Chinatsu's eyes.
She couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't fight back.
And Kamaro watched her, savoring her silent, impotent fury as if he were appreciating a fine work of art.
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