"Excuse me, sir. Do you have an invitation?"
At the hotel entrance, a waiter stepped forward to block Shinichi's path, his eyes raking over the slayer's simple haori and uniform with unconcealed suspicion.
Lacking the opulent air of the other guests, Shinichi was clearly out of place and the waiter's tone held a distinct note of contempt.
Shinichi wasted no time on words.
He pulled a document from his breast pocket and presented it.
"Tokyo Metropolitan Police. We have reason to believe a kidnapper is hiding in your hotel. I need your full cooperation."
"Metropolitan Police?... Senior Superintendent Shinichi Moriki?" The waiter's eyes widened at the official-looking ID, his arrogance shifting to hesitation.
On any other day, he wouldn't dare obstruct a high-ranking officer, but tonight was different.
The men inside that ballroom could crush him like an ant.
If this "Superintendent" caused a scene…
After a moment of frantic calculation, the waiter made his choice.
He stiffened his neck and refused.
"Officer Moriki, our hotel is a legitimate establishment, and our clientele are all important figures. Tonight, especially, there is a private reception for some very powerful men. There are already members of the Metropolitan Police on the security detail inside. I suggest you don't disturb them. Even a Senior Superintendent can't afford to offend these gentlemen. Please, come back later, and we will be happy to cooperate."
Shinichi's brow furrowed.
He grabbed the waiter by the collar, his voice dropping to an icy growl.
"Later? Do you think the kidnapper will politely wait for us? If we lose him tonight, who will guarantee the safety of the hostage? Get out of my way."
"No! I-I can't! Please, officer, don't make this difficult!" the waiter stammered, terrified by the sudden explosion of pressure from Shinichi, but still holding his ground.
The commotion had attracted the attention of hotel security, as well as several large, imposing bodyguards who had been posted near the entrance.
Emboldened by the reinforcements, the waiter's voice grew louder.
"Please leave immediately, officer! Or we will be forced to remove you!"
Several security guards in black uniforms moved to surround Shinichi, their expressions hard.
The private bodyguards were even more menacing, their cold eyes locked on him, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
The atmosphere became dangerously tense.
Shinichi ignored them.
He glanced up, his keen eyes catching the faint, ghost-like movements of his team as they took up positions on the rooftops.
It's about time, he thought.
He had no time to waste on these lackeys.
Every second he was delayed put Chinatsu in greater danger.
And there was no point reasoning with men who were likely already under the demon's influence.
"This is your last warning. Do not interfere with my investigation," Shinichi's voice was frighteningly low.
"Move."
"He doesn't know what's good for him!" the waiter shrieked, emboldened by his perceived advantage.
"Get him! He's carrying a sword, he's a threat!"
One of the security guards lunged, swinging a wooden truncheon at Shinichi's shoulder.
Simultaneously, a bodyguard rushed in from the side, reaching to lock his arm.
To Shinichi, their movements were like a snail's crawl.
He didn't even draw his blade.
He simply tilted his body, the truncheon whistling past harmlessly.
His left hand shot out like a viper, seizing the bodyguard's wrist.
With a sharp pull and a violent twist—CRACK!—a sickening crunch of bone echoed in the tense silence.
"Aaargh!" The bodyguard screamed as his wrist bent at an unnatural angle.
He was lifted off his feet by the sheer force and thrown like a sandbag into two other guards, all three collapsing in a heap of flailing limbs.
At the same instant, Shinichi's right leg lashed out like a whip, his foot connecting solidly with the first guard's abdomen.
"Urk!" The man's eyes bulged, a spray of bile erupting from his mouth as he bent like a shrimp and flew backward, slamming hard against the hotel's glass doors.
It all happened in the blink of an eye, so fast that the others barely had time to register it.
The remaining guards and bodyguards stared in horror, some reaching instinctively for the firearms holstered at their waists.
Swish!
An emerald green light suddenly flared to life.
Shinichi's Nichirin blade remained in its scabbard, yet a brilliant light shone from it.
The pressure of his Breath of the Forest radiated outwards, a vast, majestic wave of tangible power.
The air seemed to freeze.
Every guard and bodyguard was caught in the crushing pressure, as if an invisible mountain had been dropped on them. Lifting a finger became an impossible task.
They could only stare in abject terror at the terrifying green glow and the cold, amber eyes behind it.
What kind of power is this?!
"Get lost," Shinichi snorted.
It was as if they had been granted a pardon from the emperor.
They scrambled backward, tumbling over each other in their haste to get away, their eyes wild with fear.
The waiter collapsed in a heap, a dark stain spreading across his trousers.
Shinichi paid them no more mind.
His figure flashed, passing through the hotel entrance as if teleporting and appearing in the magnificent lobby.
His sudden intrusion sent the staff and remaining guests into a panic, their screams echoing off the marble floors.
His goal was clear.
His senses were locked onto the two presences upstairs: the icy, demonic aura of Kamaro, and the faint, flickering life force of Ryukawa Chinatsu.
He ignored the chaos around him and shot towards the grand staircase like an arrow.
"Stop him!" Several bodyguards on the stairs drew their pistols.
BANG! BANG!
The bullets whizzed through the air, but Shinichi weaved between them without slowing his pace.
Clang!
One of the bullets struck the scabbard of his Nichirin blade, exploding in a shower of sparks before being harmlessly deflected.
The next second, he was on the second floor, appearing before the ornate, tightly closed doors of the banquet hall.
With two swift strikes from the hilt of his sword, he knocked out the guards blocking his path.
BOOM!!!
Without a moment's hesitation, he channeled his breath into his leg and kicked.
The heavy oak doors exploded inward as if hit by a battering ram, showering the opulent room in splinters.
In an instant, the music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all stopped.
Every movement froze, as if the world had been paused.
Countless pairs of eyes—filled with shock, anger, and confusion—snapped to the figure at the entrance, clad in a Demon Slayer uniform, holding a gleaming, unsheathed Nichirin blade, and radiating an aura of absolute cold.
Under the light of the crystal chandelier, Shinichi stood tall, his amber eyes like sharpened blades.
They swept across the stunned, elegantly dressed crowd, dismissing them as irrelevant, before finally locking onto a secluded room on the second-floor balcony.
There, Kamaro was leaning leisurely on a sofa, an empty wine glass in his hand, a disgusting, self-satisfied smile on his face.
And next to him, imprisoned by an invisible force, sat Ryukawa Chinatsu, her face pale, her eyes filled with a desperate, silent plea.
"Oh my," Kamaro purred, his voice carrying easily across the silent hall.
"It seems our dear Forest Hashira is finally here."
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