Woooooo—!!
"Nakamoto, do you hear something strange?" A train attendant in uniform wiped sweat from his brow and asked his companion in the slightly stuffy locomotive.
"Yeah, there's definitely some noise. It almost sounds like... a train whistle?" The other attendant replied, puzzled.
Just as they were about to look out the window to see what was happening—
BANG!
The iron door of the locomotive was violently yanked open.
A head abruptly leaned in from outside, heterochromatic eyes staring emotionlessly at the two attendants.
"Stop the train immediately. Another train is coming head-on. Stay inside and don't run around, or we can't help you if a Demon bites your head off."
Hiss— The small white snake coiled around his neck flicked its crimson tongue at the attendants.
"Ah... y-yes, sir..." The two attendants trembled at the sudden appearance of Obanai Iguro but quickly complied, shutting down the engine and pulling the brake to slow the train.
Swish!
Obanai Iguro flashed back onto the roof, where Rengoku Kyoujurou and Tomioka Giyu appeared almost simultaneously beside him.
All three stared straight ahead.
A black train lay silently on the tracks like a ghost, exuding an ominous aura.
"Tanjiro! Wait for me! It's kinda scary!" The yellow-haired boy, Zenitsu, tears in his eyes, clung desperately to Tanjiro's haori.
"Uwohahaha! Perfect timing! My blades have been itching for this! Demons, here I come!!"
The bare-chested boy with a boar's head mask, Inosuke, brandished his Nichirin Dual Blades with a wild laugh.
He shoved aside the Demon Slayers blocking his way and leaped off the train first, charging forward.
"INOSUKE!" Tanjiro shouted anxiously, unable to keep up while carrying his wooden box and being dragged by Zenitsu.
He could only yell his companion's name, hoping he wouldn't be so reckless.
...
Clang!
Screech!
The metallic clashes were deafening, sparks flying brilliantly in the darkness.
Cyan-green slashes constantly shifted shapes—sometimes roaring like a dragon, other times shrieking like an eagle.
Yet, Shinichi, surrounded by an endless tide of paint-like masses, felt an increasing sense of unease.
Before him, these strange blobs of paint appeared soft and limp, yet when struck by his Nichirin Blade, they felt as heavy and solid as steel.
No matter how much strength Shinichi exerted, the paint blobs seemed to counter his force perfectly.
Gradually, Shinichi began to notice a pattern.
His heterochromatic eyes darted rapidly, scanning his surroundings.
His left eye, glowing with a verdant hue, was the first to detect an anomaly within the swirling mass of paint.
Clang!
With a single slash, he cleaved through a wave of paint blobs hurtling toward him.
Then, in the next moment, Shinichi abruptly stopped moving—allowing the elongated, blade-like tendrils of paint to stab toward his body. Instead of evading, he closed his eyes at the critical moment.
"Hm? Has he given up? Perfect! I'll take his head as an offering to Muzan-sama!"
Deep within the paint, Kaigaku, gripping his brush, grinned maliciously.
His hand danced furiously, the bristles flickering and spewing vivid pigments that formed the enormous, writhing mass before them.
But just as Kaigaku reveled in his excitement, Shinichi—who had seemingly surrendered—snapped his eyes open.
His Nichirin Blade erupted with a blinding emerald radiance.
"Forest Breathing, Third Form: Thorn Stab!"
Sssshhk!
A concentrated slash of light materialized instantly before Kaigaku.
"What?! How?! How did you find me?!" His excitement was doused in an instant, replaced by a bone-chilling dread.
Reacting swiftly, Kaigaku's brush suddenly expanded, transforming into a massive wooden pole that barely managed to block Shinichi's blade.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
At the same time, countless blobs of vibrant paint pierced through Shinichi's body—yet he showed no reaction, not even a stain on his clothes.
Those paint blobs were nothing but illusions!
"How could the force always be perfectly countered? From the start, only a few of those things were actually attacking me. The rest—that grand spectacle—was just a smokescreen. The real key was your brush, wasn't it? What a laughably stupid Blood Demon Art. Even Karasuma was stronger than you!" Shinichi tightened his grip on the hilt, pressing forward while taunting Kaigaku.
Kaigaku's face twisted further in rage—he had no idea who "Karasuma" was—but Shinichi was right.
His Blood Demon Art relied entirely on the illusions conjured by his brush.
The overwhelming tide of paint was fake, but Kaigaku's brush could indeed create a single human-sized blob—soft as liquid yet hard as steel.
Even more terrifying, his other brush had the ability to briefly tear open space at close range, allowing the real paint blob to ambush through the rift.
Combined with his formidable illusionary prowess, Kaigaku's position as Lower Rank Two was well-earned.
Yet, no matter how hard he tried, Kaigaku couldn't fathom how Shinichi had seen through his illusions.
Lifelike Illusion wasn't just any mirage—it manipulated light and even the tiniest particles in the air to refract images.
In other words, as long as one relied on sight, there should have been no way to detect the deception.
To the eyes, the illusions were undeniably real.
But now, Kaigaku had no time to dwell on it.
Shinichi's blade left him no room for thought.
Crack!!
"No!"
The paintbrush shattered violently!
The sharp Nichirin Blade twirled elegantly in Shinichi's hand as his heterochromatic eyes beneath black tousled hair remained calm.
He pivoted, stepped back, and raised his sword.
"Forest Breathing First Form: Iron Birch Slash!"
A single decisive strike the moment his foot landed!
The razor-sharp Nichirin Blade met no resistance, slicing through Kaigaku's neck as smoothly as a hot knife through butter.
Only two faint droplets of crimson blood clung to its tip.
Sssshhk!
A thin red line instantly appeared across Kaigaku's throat.
In its final moments, the demon's mouth twisted into a venomous snarl as it screamed the name it despised most—not Shinichi, but...
"Rui! You damn brat! Why didn't you come?!"
Thud!
The head toppled from its pale neck, rolling pathetically across the ground, still seething with resentment.
Shinichi didn't even glance at this insignificant Lower Rank Two demon, nor did he care about the "Rui" it had mentioned.
Among the Twelve Kizuki, only an Upper Moon could truly excite him.
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