Muzan was very pleased with Nakime.
At first, he only thought this woman who dared to attack him was bold, so he turned her into a demon, intending to keep her by his side and torment her at will. But after she became a demon, he realized that her short life as a human had been unexpectedly interesting.
When she was human, Nakime was nothing more than a low-ranking geisha in the red-light district. She had neither striking beauty nor exceptional skill. Because of that, she ended up marrying a man who drank, gambled, and abused her. With her husband beating her day after day, her body was constantly covered in bruises, and her already mediocre skills only deteriorated further.
Poor skill meant no customers. No customers meant no money. No money meant more beatings. Nakime realized she had fallen into a vicious cycle. As the days dragged on like this, she finally snapped when she discovered that her husband had sold her last decent set of clothes just to gamble.
She drove the plectrum she used to play the biwa straight into her husband's throat. As the blood burst out and splashed onto her hands, her trembling only grew worse. Not knowing what else to do, she washed the blood from her body and the plectrum, then went out to perform as usual.
But this time, her biwa no longer produced those harsh, grating sounds. Instead, it was hauntingly beautiful. She became popular almost instantly, and that very night, she received a reward she had never even dared to imagine before.
When her husband's body was later discovered, people assumed he had been mistakenly killed by debt collectors. No one suspected the frail Nakime.
She thought her life would improve from then on. But the next day, when she tried to perform again, she found she could no longer produce the same beautiful music.
Only then did she realize that it was the warm blood on her hands that had given her that mesmerizing ability.
So she began killing again. With her remarkable biwa playing, she quickly gained fame, until she set her sights on Muzan.
The blade plunged straight down. Instead of killing the man, her arm holding the knife was severed.
Nakime didn't understand why this had happened. But as she looked at the hand reaching toward her, she felt only relief.
When that piercing pain spread through her entire body, she truly thought she was going to die. Yet after struggling through the agony, she stood up again, her body stronger than before.
[What a pitiful creature… You did nothing wrong. Those meant to be killed are the ones at fault. You are no longer a lowly human. Kill as many as you wish… I quite like you. Come, serve me.]
That Lord's voice was gentle. The hand that stroked her forehead felt reassuring.
From that moment on, Nakime began to anticipate Muzan's intentions. She killed to offer beautiful music to Muzan-sama, the one who had elevated her life like a god. The more she killed, the more Muzan valued her. In the end, even after she awakened her Blood Demon Art, the Lord allowed her, a demon without a number, to remain by his side.
What an honor that was.
So she hated those Muzan hated. She rejected what he rejected. She was willing to offer everything to the one who had affirmed the value of her life.
That was why, after Muzan gave the order to locate the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters at all costs, Nakime did not hesitate. Even though she knew her strength would decline as the Infinity Castle was damaged by that unknown swordsman, it didn't matter. As long as she could be of use to Muzan-sama, even sacrificing herself would be worth it.
She did not fail him. She finally deduced the location of the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters. The only problem was finding a way in while that swordsman remained.
After learning this, Muzan immediately withdrew all demons and distributed his blood among them, raising every demon to the level of a Lower Moon. He only waited for that swordsman to let his guard down before launching an attack.
At last, the swordsman whose figure had never once been captured by demon eyes was gone.
Nakime saw many swordsmen slowly descending from the mountain. She knew the time had come.
On this quiet, beautiful night, the ornate paper sliding doors at the mountaintop opened without a sound. Nakime finally saw the man wrapped in bandages, seated upright in the center of the room.
She watched as Muzan stepped forward and walked toward him. Yet his expression held none of the hatred she had expected. He simply stood there quietly.
"Have you come? I thought it would be soon. Nice to meet you, Muzan Kibutsuji."
Muzan watched the man raise his head. The gaze directed at him held no intense hatred, only an unusual calm.
Unexpectedly, Muzan himself felt little hatred toward this clan that had pursued him for over a thousand years. Instead, he felt a strange sense of calm that made his stomach turn. To shake off the discomfort, he spoke.
"You look miserable, Ubuyashiki."
Ubuyashiki's voice carried a faint smile.
"You must hate our lineage, the one that has pursued you for over a thousand years, don't you? I know you would come to kill me. Only me. You would come in person."
"…I've lost interest in that. Just look at you. You're unbearably ugly. What about you is even worth hating?" Muzan frowned slightly. "Your empty dream will shatter tonight. Without you, the remaining swordsmen are nothing to fear."
But Ubuyashiki continued as if he hadn't heard him.
"Because of a monster like you, our clan has been cursed for over a thousand years. The children we bear are frail and sickly, dying young.
When our bloodline was on the verge of extinction, we encountered a Shinto priest. He advised us that a filthy demon had emerged from our own lineage. If we could not defeat that demon, the curse would continue forever.
So, generation after generation, our family intermarried with the Shinto priest's lineage. That is how our bloodline survived. Even so, few of us live past thirty."
"That explanation is so absurd it makes me sick. Has your illness rotted your brain as well? There is no cause and effect in any of that. I've never suffered divine punishment. I've killed hundreds, thousands, and never once seen gods or Buddhas. At best, this is just—"
"You've met him, haven't you?"
Ubuyashiki raised his head slightly.
"During the Sengoku Era. There was a swordsman like that, wasn't there?"
In that instant, the atmosphere around Muzan grew heavy and oppressive. But Ubuyashiki seemed completely unaware as he continued.
"You came for that child who conquered the sunlight. But unfortunately, I must tell you. You won't get that child. And you will die here.
For a thousand years, the one chasing an empty dream has been you. You dream of eternity and crave immortality. But your dream will never come true. The only thing that can be eternal in this world is human will. Only beliefs passed down through generations are truly immortal.
Muzan… your greatest mistake was not eliminating us at the very beginning. Your defeat was already inevitable."
Muzan's expression darkened.
"How boring. I'm tired of this."
"You cannot understand," Ubuyashiki said, lowering his head. "Even if I die, it will only further ignite the Demon Slayer Corps' resolve. Even if you wipe us out this time, people will rise again to oppose you. You can never comprehend how unwavering our determination to destroy you is."
"Enough."
Muzan walked slowly toward Ubuyashiki. Yet even now, the man remained as calm as ever. That composure in the face of death only fueled Muzan's anger.
"The ones who will die today are you. I am the one—"
"If you've heard this much, then I truly have to marvel at how convenient Blood Demon Art is, to accomplish even something like this.
...
Muzan, you should regret the monsters you've awakened."