Yoshiwara's night was ablaze with lights; the noise drowned out killing intent.
Masasaburō's fingernails had turned pitch-black, soaked in the venom born of obsession.
Just a scratch—only the tiniest break in the skin—and the woman who looked like a living bodhisattva would die on the spot.
"Mom… I'm here…"
Masasaburō suddenly burst forward. His scrawny body left a blurred afterimage in the air, bone spikes thrusting straight for Kotoha's nape.
But just as his fingertips came within an inch of her—
Swish!
A hand mottled with black spots reached out of nowhere and clamped around Masasaburō's head.
Like lifting a chick by the scruff, it effortlessly stopped him midair.
"Ugh…?!"
Masasaburō's pupils shrank violently. Suspended in the air, he kicked frantically.
"Hey, brat."
A voice like gravel lodged in a throat sounded beside his ear.
Gyutaro had appeared behind him at some unknown moment.
"What have you been staring at all this time?"
The blood sickle in Gyutaro's hand rose slowly, its blade resting against Masasaburō's neck.
"That disgusting look in your eyes…
Are you looking to die?"
Masasaburō went rigid.
This was absolute suppression from a higher being.
Even though Muzan had promoted him to Lower Rank Six, before a true Upper Rank he was still fragile as paper.
On a nearby rooftop—
Just as he was about to move, Dōma stopped, sat back down, and idly fanned himself, eyes narrowing.
"Oh? This little brat…
Did the boss send him?"
"How amusing.
Is this meant to disgust us?"
Dōma didn't hurry down.
He trusted Gyutaro—at this distance, no one could hurt Kotoha.
Yet the killing intent in his rainbow-colored eyes was nearly impossible to conceal.
But Dōma was wrong.
In this world, there were always lunatics faster than demons—
and far more unreasonable.
At the exact instant Gyutaro was about to sever Masasaburō's head—
Whooooom!!!
A savage, emerald-green cyclone erupted without warning from the far end of the street. Carrying a world-shattering momentum, it ripped through the crowd and charged straight in!
Fast—too fast!
That speed, that utterly unrestrained killing intent—
"Who's there?!"
Gyutaro instinctively tried to swing his sickle to block—
But the wind was viciously precise.
It cut directly toward the arm holding Masasaburō.
"Wind Breathing, First Form—
Dust Whirlwind: Cleaving Slash!"
Splurt!!
Blood sprayed everywhere.
A withered arm—still clutching Masasaburō—was severed and sent flying into the air.
"Brother?!"
Ahead, Daki—who had been holding taiyaki and explaining things to Kotoha—whirled around.
Plop.
The severed arm fell. The blood gushing from the stump didn't hit the ground; instead, it splattered across Kotoha's kimono.
Dots of crimson bloomed on the elegant fabric, like plum blossoms opening on snow.
Painfully vivid.
Kotoha froze.
She stared at the blood on her clothes, then at the white-haired man who had appeared behind her, her mind going blank.
"Where's the female demon?!"
A thunderous roar shook the street.
Sanemi Shinazugawa stood there gripping his still-dripping Nichirin Blade, bloodshot eyes scanning the area like a madman.
"The beautiful female demon?! Is it you?!"
His gaze locked instantly onto Kotoha—because she was the only woman here who looked protected.
"Is it you?! The one hiding in the pleasure district—"
His blade tip pointed at Kotoha.
Then he froze.
Too weak.
There wasn't the slightest trace of demonic aura on her. Her breathing was ragged and chaotic—she was clearly an ordinary human.
"…Did I get it wrong?"
Sanemi frowned.
In that split second—
With Gyutaro's arm severed, Masasaburō regained his freedom and fell to the ground—right at Kotoha's feet.
"Mom… Pure Land…"
Muzan's words filled his head. He didn't care what was happening around him.
Like a rabid dog, he opened his mouth full of fangs and lunged for Kotoha's calf!
Just as those jaws were about to close—
Boom!!
A geta-clad foot slammed into Masasaburō's face with terrifying force.
He didn't even have time to scream—his whole body flew like a kicked ball, smashing through the wall of a nearby shop and disappearing into the rubble.
Daki stood in front of Kotoha.
The steaming taiyaki she'd been holding—meant for Kotoha to try—had fallen to the ground, now covered in dust and blood.
She had waited in line so long for that.
She'd wanted Kotoha to praise her good taste.
Daki lowered her head, staring at the filthy taiyaki.
Then she looked up—at the bloodstains on Kotoha's clothes.
Then at her brother's empty sleeve.
"Ah—!!!"
Daki's body began to tremble.
The fragile bubble of happiness she had finally built—popped once again, mercilessly.
"Why…"
She raised her head. Her once-beautiful face twisted instantly, veins bulging.
Razor-sharp obi sashes burst from her back like venomous snakes, whipping wildly through the air.
"WHY is it always like this?!"
Every time I finally feel a little happy!
Every time I try to live a normal life just a bit!
Trash like you shows up to ruin it!!!
In Daki's gold-green eyes were carved words of despair:
Upper Rank Six
"Are you asking to die?!
Pay me back for my taiyaki!!
Pay me back for Auntie Kotoha's clothes!!
Pay me back for my brother's arm!!
I'll kill you all!
I'll tear every last one of you into pieces!!!"
Boom!
Terrifying Upper Rank demonic pressure erupted outward. Ordinary people screamed and fled in panic.
Sanemi Shinazugawa looked at the rampaging Daki—not with fear, but with a feral grin.
"Hah! Found you!"
"I knew Uzui was blind—this much demonic aura and he said he didn't see anything?!"
He flicked the blood from his blade, his eyes turning dangerously sharp.
"Hey, demon woman.
What's your relationship with that brat Inosuke?!
That little play he put on in the pleasure district—were you working with him?!"
"Inosuke?"
Hearing that name made Daki explode even more.
"You dare say his name?!
You're the one who injured him, aren't you?!
You're the one who drove him out of the Demon Slayer Corps, aren't you?!"
"Blood Demon Art—Eightfold Obi Slash!!"
Countless sashes sliced toward Sanemi like blades.
"Good!"
Sanemi charged forward instead of retreating, Wind Breathing fully unleashed.
On the rooftop
Dōma still hadn't moved to help.
He stood above, the night wind fluttering his cult leader robes, rainbow eyes coldly watching the battle below.
"So it's him, is it?"
He softly spoke Sanemi's name.
"A very familiar aura…
That day when Inosuke came back, the wounds he carried still held this scent."
Dōma lightly tapped his palm with his golden fan, lips curling into a smile without warmth.
"I was going to let it go, since Inosuke said we were even.
But you came knocking yourself.
Since you're here…
don't leave."
His gaze swept outward.
Several hundred meters away, in the shadows of the street, a clumsy figure was sprinting desperately toward them—
Shinazugawa Genya.
"Oh? Who's that?"
Dōma squinted.
"He looks an awful lot like that bastard… a younger brother?"
"So you have family too… how interesting.
Picked on Inosuke so much you got addicted?
In that case—let's have some fun."
Dōma glanced at Masasaburō, who was climbing out of the rubble, preparing to sneak attack Kotoha again.
A savage smile crossed his face—the same one he'd worn the day he killed Sasaki.
"Since he's a gift from Lord Muzan…
Let's make some use of this trash."
Dōma vanished.
The next instant—
As Genya ran, his vision suddenly blurred.
Boom!
A black shape crashed down in front of him, shattering the stone pavement beneath his feet.
"Cough—!"
Masasaburō tumbled across the ground. When he looked up, he saw Genya's fierce face—and the dark barrel of a gun pointed at him.
"What the hell is that?!"
Genya jumped back in shock.
From a nearby rooftop, Dōma's playful voice rang out:
"Hey, kid.
That guy with the gun—kill him.
Then you can go to the Pure Land too~"
Masasaburō's thoroughly brainwashed mind couldn't process truth or lies.
He only heard kill him and Pure Land.
"Kill… kill!"
He sprang up, fangs bared, lunging at Genya.
Genya reacted instantly.
Bang!
The gun roared.
"A demon?! Where did this demon come from?!"
Having arranged his "dogs biting dogs" performance,
Dōma clapped his hands and straightened his clothes.
He suppressed his aura completely, drifting lazily down from the rooftop and walking into the main battlefield.
At that moment—
Sanemi Shinazugawa was locked in fierce combat with the sibling pair.
Gyutaro's arm had already regenerated. Fighting together, the two of them were pushing even the Wind Hashira to his limits.
"Damn it! So this is an Upper Rank?!"
Sanemi gritted his teeth, blocking Gyutaro's blood sickle. Several new gashes had opened across his body.
"This is good stuff!!"
At the moment his old force was spent and new force not yet ready—
A cold, slender hand silently settled on his shoulder.
Every hair on Sanemi's body exploded upward!
Someone?!
When?!
Why hadn't I sensed anything at all?!
A smiling voice that sent him plunging into icy dread whispered into his ear:
"Ahhh…
So we finally meet."
Dōma stood behind Sanemi, that exquisitely beautiful face wearing a mask of utter falseness.
He didn't attack right away—just patted Sanemi's shoulder lightly, like greeting an old friend.
"So…
you're the bad older brother who bullied my son."
Sanemi spun around.
Time seemed to freeze.
He saw a pair of eyes—
Eyes too beautiful to be real.
And deep within that rainbow shimmer were two characters that made his heart stop cold:
Upper Rank Two
Sanemi's mind went blank.
Upper Rank Six.
Upper Rank Two.
And over there—another demon fighting Genya.
Three?!
There were three Twelve Kizuki here?!
After a brief moment of shock, the expression on Sanemi's face didn't collapse—
It twisted.
His grin stretched wider and wider until it became utterly deranged.
"Hahahahahaha!!!"
Sanemi leapt back, forcibly widening the distance between himself and Dōma.
"Three! There are actually three!!
Perfect! This is perfect!!
I was just wondering where to find you cowardly bastards—"
He didn't attack immediately.
Instead, he put his fingers to his mouth.
Whiiiiiip!!!
A piercing whistle tore through Yoshiwara's night sky.
Flap flap flap!
A Kasugai Crow hidden in the shadows seemed to gain a second life. It flapped its wings frantically, shooting toward Demon Slayer Headquarters.
That was the highest-level distress signal.
Sanemi stood firm, blade at the ready.
Blood flowed from his wounds—but his fighting spirit blazed hotter than ever.
"Finally caught you."
He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, eyes gleaming like a wolf's.
"Don't even think about running.
Tonight—right here—
I'm wiping every last one of you bastards…
out in one sweep!!!"
Dōma watched the crow fly away, the smile in his eyes growing even deeper.
"Calling for help?
Good.
Then we'll settle all our debts at once."
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