The night over the Entertainment District was as dark as ink. In the bamboo grove behind Kyogoku House, Giyu stood with his back to the moon, the hem of his black kimono swaying gently in the wind.
He had just finished handling the district's accounts and was waiting for members of the Demon Slayer Corps. According to the subtle signal from Oyakata-sama, the Wind Hashira and the Sound Hashira were coming tonight to deliver detailed intelligence about Muzan's current movements, as well as the latest progress on Tamayo's medicine.
Footsteps approached from beyond the bamboo grove—steady, but laced with urgency.
Giyu turned and saw Shinazugawa Sanemi and Uzui Tengen enter. Both wore plain night mission clothes, eyes sharp and alert.
"Tomioka," Sanemi spoke first, his voice rough but edged with impatience. "Oyakata-sama sent us to bring—"
"Shut up."
Giyu's cold interruption sliced through the air. His dark-blue pupils narrowed sharply, and his presence froze the night itself.
A suffocating, familiar pressure swept down from above, like a serpent of ice wrapping around his heart.
Muzan's gaze! Muzan was looking through his eyes—right now!
Sanemi and Tengen froze in confusion, not yet grasping what was happening. Before they could move, Giyu's sword was already drawn.
Without a moment's hesitation, the Nichirin blade flashed from its sheath, pale-blue water rippling along its edge. "Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!"
The blade surged forward like a torrent, striking straight for Sanemi's chest.
Sanemi's pupils constricted; instinct took over. He raised his sword in defense—clang!—a violent crash echoed through the courtyard. His arms went numb from the force, the sheer strength behind Giyu's blow unlike anything he had felt before. The shockwave blasted him backward, hurling him into the courtyard wall. Stone cracked; dust exploded into the air.
"Tomioka Giyu! Are you out of your damn mind?!"
Sanemi roared as he pushed himself up, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned with fury and disbelief. Why the hell was Giyu attacking him?!
But Giyu's expression didn't change. His gaze was cold, his tone sharp enough to cut. "I am Mushiki now. Demon Slayers barging into my territory—what right do you have to question me? Don't you kill demons? Then come and kill me."
The words struck like fire, igniting Sanemi's temper.
He'd already been seething over the rumors of Giyu turning into a demon. Now hearing him say this, he snapped completely.
"You actually admit it?! Have you forgotten how you became a Hashira?! Forgotten all those people demons murdered?!"
He lunged forward, wind surging violently around him. "Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!"
The green-white slash streaked toward Giyu's neck like lightning.
Giyu turned aside fluidly, his counterattack coming instantly. His blade shimmered with faint green light—the very mark of Wind Breathing.
"Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clear Storm Wind Tree!"
The counterstroke was faster and sharper than Sanemi's own technique, his blade's arc whipping through the air with terrifying precision.
That was the strength of Giyu as a demon. With the Demon Mark awakened, his endurance was limitless, and his grip strength had multiplied fivefold.
Sanemi blocked, but the impact sent another shock through his arm. He stumbled back several steps, realizing just how much stronger Giyu had become—his power easily double what it used to be, his transitions between breathing styles seamless, even mastering Sanemi's own Wind Breathing with frightening perfection.
"Tomioka, what the hell are you doing?!"
Uzui Tengen finally moved, twin blades flashing as realization dawned in his eyes. Those dark-blue slitted pupils… that tense, unnatural air—he understood instantly.
Muzan is watching him.
Without hesitation, Tengen drew both short swords. Silver-violet light split the night. "Sound Breathing, Fourth Form: Constant Resounding Slashes!"
The twin blades vibrated at high frequency, slashing toward Giyu's flank. It looked like an attack—but the tempo was deliberately slowed, leaving space for Giyu to react.
Giyu recognized the intention. He leapt back, switching to Flame Breathing mid-motion. Orange fire flared along his blade.
"Flame Breathing, Third Form: Blazing Universe!"
The fiery blade swept wide, clashing with Tengen's strikes. The flames roared, lighting up the grove, yet the arc carefully avoided Tengen's vitals—it only deflected his blades.
As a demon, Giyu could lose limbs and regenerate. They could not.
He wanted to tell them—fight seriously. His strength as a demon was far greater now. If they held back, they'd die before they could even blink.
"You two… is that all you've got?"
His voice remained cold, empty of emotion.
"You bastard!"
Sanemi exploded again, wind roaring violently around him. His aura surged, whipping into a storm.
"Wind Breathing, Seventh Form: Gale, Sudden Gusts!"
The flurry of blades fell like a raging storm, each slash splitting the air with a piercing whistle aimed straight at Giyu's vital points.
Giyu neither dodged nor flinched. The Nichirin Sword spun swiftly in his hand, a faint blue shimmer rippling outward.
"Water Breathing, Eleventh Form: Dead Calm!"
A veil of still water formed instantly, swallowing and neutralizing every strike. Sanemi's attacks dissolved into ripples—his blade hadn't even grazed the edge of Giyu's robe.
Before Sanemi could react, Giyu stepped forward. His left hand seized the spine of Sanemi's sword, his right pressed the tip of his blade against Sanemi's chest.
The sheer force of his grip nearly snapped the Nichirin Sword in two. The pressure on Sanemi's chest crushed the air from his lungs—but there was no pain. Giyu had held back.
"Wind Hashira," Giyu murmured, his voice low enough for only Sanemi to hear. "Is this all you've got? Muzan is watching—play along."
Sanemi's pupils constricted. In an instant, he understood everything.
Though rage still burned within him, his instincts took over. He forced a struggle, shouting furiously for show. "Let go of me! I'll kill you, you damn traitor!"
Uzui Tengen caught on immediately. Without hesitation, he joined the fray, his twin blades flashing toward Giyu's back. "Tomioka! You think beating Shinazugawa means you've won? Take this!"
His strikes were fierce but carefully flawed—leaving deliberate openings for Giyu to counter.
Giyu released Sanemi and turned, blocking Tengen's blades. Sparks burst between their weapons as metal clashed against metal.
He exhaled and switched breathing forms mid-motion. A golden hue flared along his sword. "Hinokami Kagura, Second Form: Clear Blue Sky!"
The sword swung in a blazing arc, radiating the heat of the sun. The flames forced Tengen to retreat, his night attire seared with small glowing holes.
"You can use Sun Breathing?!"
Sanemi feigned shock, charging again. "Just how many styles have you stolen, bastard?!"
Giyu didn't answer. His sword danced between forms—water, wind, flame, sun—the elements shifting seamlessly around him. The blade at times flowed like water, at times struck like a hurricane, burned like fire, and shone like the sun.
His stamina seemed endless. Even after half an hour of fighting, his breathing remained steady, his movements sharp. Every clash left Sanemi and Tengen's hands numb, their weapons trembling from the force of his strikes.
Gradually, both men began to falter, shallow cuts marking their arms and shoulders.
The wounds were neither deep nor fatal—exactly as Giyu intended. Enough to fool Muzan's watchful gaze, not enough to truly harm them.
Moments later, that suffocating presence above him began to fade. The cold weight pressing on his mind dissolved—Muzan's attention was gone.
Giyu exhaled quietly in relief, though he didn't stop. Instead, he deliberately exposed a gap in his guard.
Sanemi's blade came down, slicing through Giyu's arm. Black blood splattered across the dirt.
"Damn it!"
Sanemi stepped back, shooting a quick glance toward Tengen. "We can't beat him now. Retreat! We'll settle this next time!"
Tengen caught on instantly and nodded. "Got it. Move!"
The two leapt into the shadows, vanishing among the swaying bamboo.
Giyu stood still, watching the direction they'd gone. In his crimson-slit pupils flickered a brief, unreadable emotion.
He raised his remaining arm, pressing it against the bleeding stump. The flow of black blood ceased almost instantly, the wound knitting itself shut as new flesh grew. Within seconds, his arm was whole again.
"Good…" he muttered softly. The fight had been staged, but every moment had been perilous. One slip, and Sanemi or Tengen would have died for real.
He crouched and picked up a small piece of paper Sanemi had "dropped" on purpose.
Under the moonlight, faint ink lines appeared on its surface—words written in invisible ink: Tamayo has developed a prototype drug that can temporarily suppress Muzan's consciousness. Trials ongoing.
Giyu folded the note carefully and tucked it into the inner pocket of his kimono.