On the narrow paths of the Swordsmith Village, the air was saturated with a nauseating, almost tangible demonic aura.
"Mist Breathing, Second Form: Eight-Layered Mist!"
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash — Eightfold!"
"Hinokami Kagura: Clear Blue Sky!"
Three figures streaked through the darkness like meteors.
In that single instant, their blades cut with absolute precision across the necks of two demons.
Shhk.
Two heads flew high, then rolled across the rubble-strewn street.
"Hah… hah…"
Tanjiro's hands shook violently around his sword. His lungs burned like fire.
"Did… did we do it?"
He stared fixedly at the headless bodies.
But reality was often more absurd than nightmares.
Those two severed heads, lying on the ground, suddenly let out shrill, skin-crawling laughter—like fingernails scraping a blackboard.
"Heeheehee… that hurts… that really hurts…"
"But it feels so good!!!"
BOOM!!
The sound of tearing flesh exploded through the night.
Before the three boys' despairing eyes, the headless bodies and fallen heads rapidly split and recombined.
Four.
As the dust settled, four figures radiating suffocating pressure stood in the middle of the road.
Sekido, wielding a staff, furious and ferocious.
Karaku, holding a fan, his face full of manic glee.
Urogi, wings on his back, laughing for reasons unknown.
Aizetsu, gripping a cross-shaped spear, sighing endlessly.
The Four Manifestations of Hantengu—all present.
At this suffocating standoff—
Thump.
The wooden box Tanjiro carried on his back suddenly gave a dull удар.
The next moment, the lid was kicked open.
A small figure leapt out of the darkness.
She wasn't wearing her usual worn kimono, the one her brother washed far too carefully.
Under the moonlight, her clothes shimmered with luxurious sheen.
A pink brocade kimono embroidered with golden lotus flowers.
The outfit Daki had stitched at the Eternal Paradise Cult, while Kotoha smiled and measured, the two of them dressing her together in the end.
Kamado Nezuko.
The girl who almost never left the box unless absolutely necessary—
yet now, she paid no attention to the four Upper Rank manifestations exuding terrifying pressure.
Her pink eyes didn't look at the enemies, nor at her brother.
Instead, they anxiously searched the edge of the village.
There—red-and-white steam had surged skyward, then vanished without warning.
"Mm… mmph…"
A low whimper escaped Nezuko's throat.
Not a demon's roar.
But something human—filled with worry, tinged with a sob.
Tanjiro looked at his sister's profile, at her gorgeous clothes, at her eyes growing more and more human.
In that instant, his heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand.
"Nezuko…"
"So you felt it too?"
"Inosuke… he's fighting for his life over there."
Scenes flashed through Tanjiro's mind like a lantern reel—
The boy who saved him and his sister in the snow.
The young lord with the sharp tongue who secretly slipped him money.
The Inosuke who dared point at the Wind Hashira and curse him out to protect everyone.
"So that's it…"
"He became our pillar long ago."
"Not just money. Not just strength…"
"He gave us the hope to live."
"Without realizing it… he changed all of us."
"If not for him, we'd have starved by the roadside—or died in some demon's jaws."
"He gave us dignity. Gave us the means to survive."
"And more than that… he gave us the warmth of family."
"And now…"
Tanjiro looked toward that direction. The aura there was fading, replaced by a chilling stillness.
"He's bleeding."
"He's facing it alone."
"And we're stuck here… held back by a few clones?!"
Thump!
Tanjiro's heart slammed violently.
His temperature rose. His blood boiled.
"Inosuke…"
He lowered his head, veins bulging on the back of the hand gripping his Nichirin blade.
The once-dull scar on his forehead began to glow red-hot, darkening, subtly changing shape—like a brand.
"This time…"
"It's our turn to protect you!!"
Tanjiro snapped his head up, tangible fury burning in his eyes.
"Even if it means death!
Even if we go down together!"
"I'm going to your side!!"
Thump!
His heart thundered again.
"Unforgivable!!!!"
"Hah… figures…"
Zenitsu tightened his grip on his sword, knuckles white.
"I knew it. That bastard big bro who threw me at Akaza for special training—
there's no way the enemies he attracts would be simple."
Zenitsu raised his head and stared straight at Sekido and the others.
"Hey. Tanjiro. Muichiro."
His voice was low, steady—nothing like the coward who used to sob and shake.
"Don't count on anyone coming to save us."
"Inosuke's over there fighting his life away…"
"If the three of us can't even deal with trash like this…"
Electricity crackled around him, his haori fluttering without wind.
"Then what right do we have…
to face that idiot who treats us like family?!"
A faint lightning-shaped mark began to surface beneath the skin of Zenitsu's neck.
Blade drawn, his eyes held no trace of fear.
"I'm going to save that idiot big bro!!"
"I want to… become someone who can protect others too!!"
Behind them, Muichiro quietly watched everything.
He felt the heat surging from these two boys—
anger born of protecting others, flames kindled for comrades.
The thick ice sealing his heart began melting at an astonishing pace.
"This feeling…"
"It's not bad."
"Completely different from fighting alone just to complete a mission…"
An unnatural flush spread across Muichiro's cheeks.
He tightened his grip on the hilt. The once-ethereal fighting spirit within him now carried a scorching warmth.
"If we're all going to risk our lives…"
"Count me in."
At the very moment their momentum peaked—
"ROOOAR!!!"
The earth trembled. In the darkness, tens of thousands of crimson eyes lit up.
These weren't ordinary demons.
They were a legion Muzan had deliberately cultivated for this very situation.
Their sheer numbers instantly surrounded the three.
"Hahahaha! Despair!"
Sekido raised his staff, laughing wildly.
"This is Lord Muzan's divine punishment!
You'll be torn apart by this demon tide!"
Oppression.
Suffocation.
Four Upper Rank manifestations—plus thousands of demons.
"There are too many…"
Tanjiro gritted his teeth.
A demon's claw lashed toward Nezuko—
At that critical moment—
"Love Breathing, Fifth Form: Wavering Affection — Chaotic Claws!!"
A pink storm descended with a roar!
Swish swish swish swish!
Dozens of demons were shredded instantly, erased without a chance to regenerate!
Kanroji Mitsuri made her dramatic entrance!
She stood before them, ribbon-like Nichirin blade dancing through the air, her haori snapping loudly.
"Absolutely not!"
She turned around—her usually shy, blushing face now blazing with anger.
"These ugly things… trying to bully the few with the many?!"
Her eyes reddened as she looked toward where Inosuke was.
"Is that where Inosuke is…?"
"That doll-like, adorable kid… fighting an Upper Rank all alone…?"
"He even said he wanted to take me on as a follower! He said my hair was cool!"
Mitsuri slashed again, pink aura erupting as she forced Sekido back.
"Everyone! Back to back!!
"We're the Demon Slayer Corps!"
"We're Inosuke's support!!"
At the same time, high in the sky hundreds of li away—
A Kasugai Crow, plucked nearly bald and looking utterly miserable, flapped its wings desperately while coughing up blood.
It was pushing itself beyond its limits. Its throat was already hoarse, yet it kept screaming.
"Caw! Emergency! Emergency!!
Two Upper Ranks! Two Upper Ranks!!
"Demons! So many demons!!
"The Swordsmith Village is about to fall! About to fall!!
"Hashibira Inosuke—alone against Upper Rank Five! Alone!!
"Life and death unknown! Unknown!!
"Mist Hashira! Love Hashira! Separated!!
"Reinforcements! Reinforcements!!"
That piercing cry struck the hearts of two Hashira nearby like a sledgehammer.
BOOM!
The ground beneath Rengoku Kyojuro exploded as terrifying flames surged skyward.
"Again… alone?!"
For the first time, such savage fury twisted the Flame Hashira's face.
"On the Mugen Train, he took that punch for me!
"In Yoshiwara, he held off an Upper Rank by himself!
"And now… again he's alone?!
"Are we so-called Hashira really only fit to hide behind that boy?!"
Rengoku recalled the boy who always shouted "I'm the boss,"
yet when danger came, silently shielded everyone behind him.
"Unforgivable!!!
"Unforgivable!!
"If he dies…
"Then what right do I, Rengoku Kyojuro, have to bear the name of Flame Hashira?!
"He's the boy I wanted to take as my successor!!!!"
"Flame Breathing — Esoteric Art: Rengoku!!"
He became a blazing meteor, charging toward the Swordsmith Village at beyond-limit speed!
Elsewhere—
When Iguro Obanai heard that Mitsuri was on site and Inosuke's life was uncertain—
his heterochromatic eyes filled instantly with killing intent.
"That idiot…"
He remembered that boy.
The Eternal Paradise Cult's young lord who dared trade insults with the Wind Hashira at the Pillar Meeting.
The awkward kid who once shoved a plate of sakura mochi into his hands and muttered,
"Hey… you like that sakura-mochi girl, don't you?"
Noisy. Arrogant.
But…
the only one who saw through his heart—and clumsily tried to help.
"You dare touch Mitsuri…"
"You dare touch that stupid brat…"
Hiss—!
A massive white serpent phantom rose behind him.
"I'll mince every last one of you demons into paste!!"
Two figures representing humanity's peak combat power—
tearing through the night sky with fury enough to shatter heaven and earth.
Meanwhile, fifty kilometers from the Swordsmith Village, deep in the mountains—
Two figures sprinted at supersonic speed, trees snapping apart in their wake.
"Akaza-dono, faster~"
Doma's usual fake smile was gone. His face was dark enough to drip water.
Those rainbow-glass eyes burned with boundless savagery.
"Kotoha-chan almost fainted just now…"
His fingers brushed the ribs of his golden fan, voice icy enough to freeze the air.
"That's my Kotoha.
"That's my Inosuke.
"That's… my home."
"To bully my child while I'm away…"
"That trash named Sasaki…"
Akaza said nothing. He only ran—faster than Doma by a margin.
But the closer they drew to the Swordsmith Village, the stronger that urge to protect someone became…
His head began to throb violently.
Like a hammer pounding sealed memories from centuries past.
"Master…"
"Koyuki…"
"I have to protect…"
The image of that warm, medicine-scented dojo grew clearer.
The smiling girl who always called him Komaji-san—
and Inosuke's arrogant face, always calling him "Striped Basketball"—
overlapped inexplicably.
What he had once lost.
What he had sworn to protect—and failed.
"This time…"
"I don't want to be late again."
"Whoever dares touch that damn brat…"
"I'll kill them."
Inosuke stood motionless, only bare hilts left in his hands.
He gasped for breath. The steam around him had thinned.
That Mark-awakened strike had nearly drained him dry—his body swayed, his vision blurred.
Across from him—
The severed head on the ground laughed madly.
The headless corpse began to change in a grotesque way.
Gurgle… gurgle…
The corpse's right arm—the massive bone blade—suddenly flared with blinding blood-red light.
No head regrew at the severed neck.
Instead, a fleshy tumor swelled there.
Sasaki's true core had never been in his neck.
It was in that blade—the bone sword carrying all his human obsessions and hatred.
"Hahahahaha!"
Sasaki's voice rang out from the blade, manic with triumph.
"Didn't expect that, Divine Child?!
"My weakness isn't my neck—it's this sword!!
"When Lord Muzan granted me power, I swore this blade would be my life!"
"Now look at you—your blades are broken, your strength is gone!"
"And me… as long as this sword exists, I can regenerate endlessly!"
"Your good luck has finally run out!!
"Divine Child!!"
A dead end.
Inosuke lowered his head, staring at the broken hilts.
"The blades… broke."
His voice was soft, emotionless.
Clang.
He casually tossed the scrap aside.
"Yeah. They broke."
Inosuke slowly lifted his head.
Dark clouds swallowed the moon, plunging the ruins into darkness.
Yet in that darkness—
his eyes shone with terrifying brilliance.
No longer tri-colored—
but seven-colored.
Inosuke's hand rose slowly to his chest.
There, pinned in place, was a pair of folding fans.
The ones he had refused to use before—
symbols of that idiot father's power.
"Sasaki… you said earlier…"
Snap!
The fan snapped open.
A cold ten times more terrifying than before exploded outward from Inosuke!
This wasn't Breathing's chill—
it was true Blood Demon Art cold.
At his collarbone, the Mark changed color.
The lotus turned an eerie ice-blue, creeping up his neck and across half his face.
"If human blades can't kill you…
"If Breathing still isn't enough…"
Inosuke raised the fan, covering the lower half of his face, revealing only his eyes—
Seven-colored glass, lotus patterns faintly blooming within.
He smiled.
Just like Doma.
"Then let me show you…"
"As the young lord of the Eternal Paradise Cult…"
"what I really am."
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