The town was steeped in sorrow.
Tanjiro arrived as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, shadows crawling through narrow alleyways. The air was thick with fear, the scent of blood hanging like fog over the rooftops. Doors were shut. Windows sealed. No one walked at night anymore.
He spoke to a man whose face was lined with worry and sleeplessness.
"My daughter… she vanished at night. Like the others. No sound. No struggle. Just… gone."
Tanjiro knelt beside a fragment of cloth, his nose twitching. There—beneath the earthy aroma of soil and dust—was a stench foul and vile. Demonic.
He scanned the area. Then followed his senses to a side alley, where something slithered beneath the earth.
From the stone cracks, it emerged.
A hand.
Then another.
And a face that split open unnaturally—followed by a second, then a third. A demon with multiple bodies.
Tanjiro drew his blade.
The demon hissed, "You reek of grief. I hate that smell."
Then, it vanished.
In an instant, one of its forms lunged from behind.
"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!"
Tanjiro spun, his blade cleaving through the air in a perfect arc. Blood sprayed—but the demon retreated, giggling from three mouths at once.
It split into separate bodies, each moving in sync, striking from different angles.
Tanjiro dodged, pivoted, blocked—but his movements were strained. Too slow. The box on his back weighed him down—but he refused to set it aside.
Inside was Nezuko.
As if hearing her brother's heartbeat quicken, the box suddenly shifted.
Then burst open.
She leapt out.
Eyes narrowed.
Fangs gleaming.
Nezuko joined the fight.
With unnatural strength, she kicked one demon hard, sending it crashing through a wall. She growled—a low, warning sound. Protective. Territorial.
Tanjiro realized: She's not afraid. She's fighting alongside me.
Together, they moved like a storm. Steel and fury. Fangs and forms.
Tanjiro focused on the original body—the one that bore the demon's true core. He traced the scent through the clones. And then—
"Water Breathing, Sixth Form: Whirlpool!"
He spun, dragging them into the force of his technique, his sword slicing in circular motion. Flesh was torn. Screams echoed.
The true demon shrieked as Tanjiro's blade found its neck.
Silence.
The bodies dissolved.
The night was quiet again.
Tanjiro held Nezuko close as she lay unconscious in the box. She had used too much energy.
He turned to the frightened girl they had rescued—the latest would-be victim.
"You're safe now," he said softly. "It's over."
But in his heart, he knew the war was just beginning.
He looked to the moon.
And walked on.