After a moment of silence to collect herself, Tamayo stood tall and met Kyūjō’s eyes with a calm but firm gaze.

“Truthfully… for the past three hundred years, I’ve maintained contact with every generation of the Demon Slayer Corps leadership.”

“Many of the tools here were provided with their support. So I don’t think relocating to the headquarters is a simple matter.”

“As long as I stay here, I can continue my research.”

But Kyūjō slowly shook his head.

“This world… is no longer the same as it was in the past.”

“Kibutsuji Muzan is in Asakusa now. You could run into him at any moment… and not even realize it until it’s too late.”

“Do you truly want to be reincarnated… before seeing him destroyed with your own eyes?”

His words struck like a cold whip of reality.

But Tamayo responded with a quiet shake of her head.

“Then Yushirō and I will leave this place immediately. We have other safehouses besides this one in Tokyo.”

Kyūjō gave a small smile. He didn’t try to push further.

“I know you’re cautious. But I want you to trust me.”

“The era of demons… will end with me.”

“Kibutsuji Muzan—I’ll be the one to cut him down.”

His voice carried the weight of unwavering conviction.

And in the depth of those clear, unwavering eyes… Tamayo saw it again. A silhouette from centuries ago, half-faded in the mist of time.

The shadow of a man long lost to history.

— — —

Night had fallen by the time Kyūjō left Tamayo’s clinic.

On his walk back to the hospital, a faint trace of a Low-Rank Demon brushed against his heightened senses.

Without hesitation, he drew his sword—a motion silent as air.

One slash later, the creature lay still beneath the moonlight, its body already disintegrating into ash.

— — —

Elsewhere, deep within the shadows…

Kibutsuji Muzan stirred.

He had felt it—his connection to one of his lesser demons abruptly severed.

He closed his eyes and delved into the lingering fragments of that creature’s final moments.

A young man with twin swords.

Swift, decisive—one clean strike.

Muzan’s eyes slowly opened, a frown twisting his lips.

“So fast…”

“His growth… is accelerating too quickly.”

“Is that boy’s strength approaching his level already?”

“Or… have my underlings simply been treating this like a game?”

He stared into the void before him and gave a quiet command:

“Nakime. Deliver a message to Akaza. Tell him to go to Asakusa immediately.”

The sound of a biwa string echoed.

From thin air, Nakime appeared—her eerie calm cloaking her like a veil.

“Yes, Muzan-sama.”

But as she reached for her instrument again to open the portal to the Infinity Castle, Muzan lifted a hand.

“Wait.”

The image of that sword flashed through his mind.

That speed…

Even Akaza might not be able to kill him.

He’s still young. Humans in that age are in their prime—growing stronger by the day.

If this attempt fails too…

No. I won’t let history repeat itself.

I will not spend another century hiding in fear!

Muzan’s voice lowered into a growl.

“Summon Kokushibō as well.”

His words carried a terrible finality.

He would not let that boy grow any further.

This time, he intended to end it—with overwhelming force.

As always, of course, he had no plans of doing it himself.

After all, throughout his centuries of life, Muzan had killed more of his own subordinates than he had Demon Slayers.

The coward king—more adept at hiding behind terror than confronting his enemies head-on.

“Yes, Muzan-sama.” Nakime vanished once more, fading back into the darkness of the Infinity Castle with the pluck of her biwa.

Soon after, Muzan summoned two more demons—setting them in place on the outskirts, a net slowly closing around his chosen prey.

— — —

As expected, Kyūjō found no hope in the modern hospital where Ruka was being treated.

No amount of technology or medicine could touch the heart disease ravaging her body.

The Rengoku family sat in tense silence, heavy worry carved into their expressions.

That night, back at the inn, Kyūjō made a decision.

There was no more use in hiding the truth.

He told them about Tamayo—a demon who had severed all ties with Muzan, one who had not taken a single human life, and who instead devoted herself to healing others.

“What?! You want to let a demon touch my wife?!”

“Absolutely not! Never!”

Rengoku Shinjūrō’s voice roared through the room, brimming with fury and rejection.

To him, the word “demon” only meant one thing—monsters that preyed on the innocent, deserving nothing but eradication.

He could not believe that something like that could ever be trusted to save a human life.

But Ruka gently turned to him, eyes filled with quiet firmness, and spoke to Kyūjō.

“Thank you, Kyūjō-dono. I know you’re doing all this for my sake.”

“And I believe every word you’ve said.”

“But… life and death are fates written by the heavens.”

“All I wish for… is a little more time with my beloved family.”

Kyūjō fell silent.

He saw it in her eyes—the strength of her will.

But deep inside… he also knew.

That will might waver, soon.

As he stepped out of the room, Shinjūrō watched his back.

His mouth opened, as if to call out—but no words came.

Still… in his heart, a sliver of hope remained.

If this hospital couldn’t help Ruka, then surely another could.

There were still many doctors in Tokyo.

Tamayo couldn’t possibly be the only one who—

But Muzan had no intention of giving him that time.

— — —

Three days later. Around ten o’clock at night.

Kyūjō had just finished his bath.

Sitting in his room at the inn, towel over his head, he was drying his hair when it hit him—a dreadful premonition pierced through his gut.

No…

It couldn’t be…

Why are the two of them here… together?

A flash of memory surged through his mind—three days ago, the night he’d slain that low-rank demon.

He let out a slow, heavy breath.

His eyes narrowed, staring blankly at the wall.

“So, Muzan… Muzan…”

“So this is what it feels like to be a man without the shield of plot armor.”

“Why didn’t you throw all this at Tanjiro, huh…?”

Yes.

Just as Muzan had ordered—Kokushibō, Upper Moon One, and Akaza, Upper Moon Three, were now in Asakusa.

Only about two hundred meters from where Kyūjō sat.

Strangely enough, though… they hadn’t moved yet.

Without wasting another second, Kyūjō stood and quickly donned his Demon Slayer uniform, strapping both of his Nichirin blades to his waist.

In an instant, he appeared at the door of the Rengoku family’s room.

No time for formalities.

He slammed his foot into the door, shattering it with a thunderous crack. The family jumped to their feet in alarm.

Kyūjō entered, face grave.

“Kokushibō—Upper Rank One. Akaza—Upper Rank Three.”

“They’re both here.”

“And it’s highly likely… I’m their target.”

Shinjūrō opened his mouth to speak, but Kyūjō raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Shinjūrō. If you want me to live—then listen carefully.”

“In a few minutes, I’ll lure them out of the city.”

“There are too many people here. It’s too dangerous.”

“If no one gets in my way, take Ruka-san and everyone else and leave.”

“Head to the place I told you about. Find Tamayo-san.”

“Wait until sunrise tomorrow before you come looking for me outside the city.”

“Do not come before dawn. No matter what you hear. No matter what happens.”

The moment his final words left his lips, Kyūjō’s figure vanished into the night.

Blue and golden light streaked across the moonlit sky—

Tachibana Kyūjō was on the move.

The time had come.

To face two of the strongest demons under the moonlit heavens.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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