Some time after the battle with Rengoku Shinjuro.
Akira and Hokusai met the trading company employees at the promised halfway point, in front of an old shrine at the foot of a sparsely populated mountain.
"This is the child you mentioned."
The trading company employee pushed the child's back as if handing over a package.
Tsuyuri Kanao. A girl of misfortune, born in a slum, abused by her parents, and eventually sold into slavery.
In fact, Tsuyuri Kanao is not her original name. That too was a name and surname given after she was taken in by the Kocho sisters.
For convenience, Akira and the servants call her by that name among themselves, but now she is a nameless, helpless child.
Clad in rags, she was unwashed and covered in dirt, her limbs gaunt from malnutrition.
But the most wretched thing was not her physical state.
"...."
Akira bent down and looked into the girl's eyes. Amethyst-colored pupils. Beautiful, but they contained nothing. No life, no will, not even fear towards the man who bought her. They were just empty, like hollow holes.
"This is… more serious than I thought."
Akira muttered bitterly. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped Kanao's dirty cheek, speaking in as bright and light a voice as possible.
"Hello, little one? Nice to meet you. I'm Akira, your guardian from today… brother? Or uncle? Father is fine too. Well, call me whatever you're comfortable with."
"...."
"Hmm, exercising your right to remain silent? That's fine."
Akira lifted Kanao up in his arms. The child's weight was as light as a feather. Akira's brow furrowed as he felt her back, so thin that he could feel her bones.
"Let's go, Oei. This kid, her stomach is rumbling like thunder, but she probably doesn't even hear it."
"Tch, there are bad eggs in every era. To bring a child to this state…"
Hokusai also clicked her tongue and got into the driver's seat.
Inside the returning car. In the rattling back seat, Kanao sat like a doll, staring out the window. Even as the scenery passed by quickly, her eyes did not move at all.
Akira carefully stroked her dry, brittle hair.
'She must have protected herself by killing her emotions. If forced to open up, she'll break. Very slowly, like dissolving sugar in warm water….'
As soon as they arrived at the mansion, Akira called an emergency meeting.
"Now, everyone, attention! From today, we have a new youngest member in our household."
When Akira introduced Kanao, Benienma and Kiyohime came running.
"Oh my, goodness! She looks terrible."
"There's nothing but bones. Kiyohime, prepare some porridge right away."
"Please. First, wash her in warm water, and treat her wounds. Dress her in the softest clothes. Ah, and don't leave her alone for a while."
Benienma and Kiyohime hurried off to boil porridge.
Amid the commotion, Kanao stood blankly. When Tamamo took her hand and led her to the bathroom, only then did she mechanically start moving.
How on earth can we heal this child? Akira wondered.
And a few days later.
Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, Ubuyashiki mansion. A heavy silence hung over the garden bathed in warm sunlight. The nine Hashira, the strongest force of the Demon Slayer Corps that slays demons, were lined up.
But their lineup was precarious.
The overwhelming giant, Stone Hashira Himejima Gyomei; the sharp, murderous aura of Wind Hashira Shinazugawa Sanemi; the flamboyant Sound Hashira Uzui Tengen; and the silent Water Hashira Tomioka Giyu. These four were strong.
The problem was the rest.
Four Hashira who had been promoted by luck, having filled their quota of 50 miscellaneous demons, not even Lower Moons. They were sweating nervously, glancing around. They knew. That their skills did not belong in this place alongside the senior Hashira.
And at the very end, Flame Hashira Rengoku Shinjuro. He had shaved his beard and wore a clean haori, but his expression was dark, like a criminal on the execution block.
"The master is entering."
The screen opened, and Ubuyashiki Kagaya, who exuded a holy aura despite his illness, appeared. It seemed he didn't need support yet.
Sanemi was the first to bow his head in greeting, and the rest of the Hashira simultaneously knelt on one knee. Kagaya smiled warmly like spring sunlight and spoke.
"Welcome, my dear children. The sky is so clear today. I'm truly happy to see you all here healthy."
His voice gently soothed the listener's anxiety and resentment. Kagaya slowly turned his head towards Shinjuro, who had his head bowed deeply.
"The reason I called you all here so urgently today is because of what happened to Shinjuro a few days ago. Shinjuro, it must have been hard… can you tell us about it?"
All eyes turned to Shinjuro. Tengen raised his eyebrows.
"Hoh? Has something happened to the flamboyantly drink-guzzling Rengoku-sama? It's not another drunken hallucination, is it?"
Shinjuro, who would have flared up angrily in the past, quietly clenched his fist. And he opened his mouth heavily, as if spitting blood.
"...I was defeated."
"What?"
"To a demon… I was completely defeated. All my techniques were blocked, and my life was spared out of pity."
The hall fell silent as if cold water had been poured. The four weaker Hashira buzzed with whispers. The once-great Rengoku, completely defeated by a demon?
"About that demon… could you explain in detail?"
Gyomei asked, clasping his hands. Shinjuro recounted the terror of that night in a trembling voice.
"Its appearance was that of a human male in his early twenties, or late teens. It wore a black Western-style suit… and used bizarre Blood Demon Arts."
"Blood Demon Arts?"
An unknown Hashira asked.
"Yes. A leaping ability like a tengu from legends, stepping on air and flying. A mirror that absorbed all my flames and turned them into real water. And… above all, the final strike."
Shinjuro grasped his own neck. It seemed the cool sensation still remained.
"It was a thrust that seemed to ignore everything. Even though I clearly blocked with my sword… its attack broke the sword and reached the tip of my neck. It was an alien technique, impossible to defend against."
"Impossible to defend against?"
The faces of the weaker Hashira turned pale. For a swordsman, an undefendable attack was no different from a death sentence.
"Ha! That's ridiculous. Weren't you just drunk and seeing things? A thrust that penetrates defense, come on, even so, Flame Breathing shouldn't be so easily breached!"
Sanemi refuted roughly, but Giyu quietly interjected.
"With that level of skill… it must be one of the Twelve Kizuki, and surely an Upper Moon."
"U, Upper Moon?!"
The weaker Hashira screamed as if shrieking. A calamity from legends that hadn't been seen for over 100 years. No, even those who encountered them never returned alive, so their appearance and Blood Demon Arts were unknown—the worst demons.
As soon as that word was spoken, the air in the meeting room grew heavy.
But Shinjuro shook his head.
"But… it's strange. There were no numbers in its eyes."
"No numbers?"
Shinjuro nodded at Sanemi's question.
"Yes. Even though it had the presence of an Upper Moon, or stronger, there was no mark of the Twelve Kizuki. And… it didn't kill me."
Shinjuro bit his lip in humiliation, drawing blood.
"It said it spared me out of pity. It was fundamentally different from the demons I've slain so far. Something alien, unknown, different from Muzan's malice…"
Kagaya quietly nodded. His eyes gazed into the void, as if trying to read the unseen threads of fate.
"I see. A demon with Upper Moon-level power, but no numbers…"
Kagaya's gentle voice echoed softly, yet gravely, through the garden.
"Perhaps it is not one of Kibutsuji's Twelve Kizuki. Or it might be a new piece he has hidden. But one thing is certain."
Kagaya looked at each Hashira as he spoke. His voice was filled with deep concern.
"A new causality beyond our common knowledge has begun to move. That power that overwhelms even Rengoku… with your current strength, it is difficult to assure that you would be safe if you encounter it."
The Hashira's expressions were clearly divided. The four weaker Hashira trembled in fear.
Just the fact that an Upper Moon-level demon was roaming seemed to have stripped them of their will to fight. On the other hand, in the eyes of skilled ones like Gyomei and Sanemi, a fierce fighting spirit burned.
"Interesting. Upper Moon-level but no numbers… that bastard, if I see it, I'll tear it to shreds."
"Namu Amida Butsu… that demon, I will surely vanquish it."
Kagaya smiled warmly and spoke as if reaching out to Shinjuro.
"Shinjuro. Thank you for mustering the courage to speak, despite the shame. The information you brought will be a precious lamp illuminating the path for our Demon Slayer Corps. Please do not blame yourself, and take good care of your body and mind."
At the master's kind words, Shinjuro swallowed his surging emotions and bowed deeply. In the heart of the fallen Flame Hashira, a very small flame was being rekindled.
Meanwhile, the very one who plunged the Demon Slayer Corps leadership into fear and confusion, Akira.
"Now now, Kanao~ look here? What's this? Benienma's special three-colored dango~"
Akira was playing around, shaking the dango in front of the girl sitting blankly in the living room.
"Here, say ah~. Ah~ sweet and chewy~"
"...."
Kanao still just stared into space with unfocused eyes, not opening her mouth.
"Hmm, ironclad defense. Then I'll eat it~ Yum! Oh, it's delicious! Really not going to eat? Huh?"
"...."
"Stop pretending and spit it out, Master. You'll really ruin your health."
"Uweeeh!"
"Why does our master seem to be getting dumber?"
Being a demon, he can't even eat, but Akira tries to elicit Kanao's reaction by eating it himself. Of course, as Okita said, he eventually can't hold it and vomits. Shuten sighs at the sight.
Somehow, he seems to be getting lighter lately. In other words, does it mean this life has become comfortable for him? He didn't think that was bad either.
While he was called a new calamity by the Demon Slayer Corps, here he was just a father(?) trying to feed another spoonful of rice to the silent girl.