The streets of Asakusa blazed with life. Lights shimmered on paper lanterns, laughter spilled from food stalls, and the crowds moved in waves.
But Tanjiro's stride halted.
A scent struck him like lightning—the same scent that haunted his every breath since that day on the mountain.
Blood. Metal. Coldness wrapped in silk.
Him.
Tanjiro turned, eyes wide.
And there, in the sea of humans, walked a man in a western suit. Neatly combed hair. Crimson eyes. A gentle smile on his lips as he held the hand of a little girl.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
Tanjiro trembled. His breath caught. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.
But Muzan turned his head slightly—and smiled.
Then, as casually as brushing dust off his sleeve, he slashed the neck of a passerby.
The man convulsed, eyes white, body mutating violently. Tanjiro leapt to subdue him, but it was too late—the man had turned into a demon and began attacking.
Screams filled the street.
In the chaos, Muzan disappeared into the crowd, like a shadow swallowed by deeper night.
Tanjiro subdued the transformed demon without killing him. A woman in a lavender kimono appeared beside him.
Calm. Serene.
Tamayo.
She had eyes that held centuries. Graceful and precise in her movements, she applied a strange sedative to the demon, easing its frenzy.
Beside her stood a demon boy with yellow irises and claws: Yushiro—brash and overprotective.
Tamayo invited Tanjiro and Nezuko to a hidden house behind an illusion spell. A sanctuary within the city. There, they spoke beneath moonlight.
Tamayo revealed the truth: she was a demon—one who rejected Muzan's control. She had altered her own body to survive on only a small amount of blood. She lived gently. Carefully. Without killing.
Tanjiro was stunned.
"Can… can a demon truly live without harming people?"
Tamayo nodded. "It is difficult. But possible. I have hope. And with Nezuko's help, perhaps even a cure."
She wished to study Nezuko's blood, along with the blood of powerful demons close to Muzan, to create a path toward salvation.
Tanjiro bowed deeply. "If it helps Nezuko—if it helps anyone—I'll do it."
But peace was fleeting.
Suddenly, the air tensed.
Yushiro's eyes narrowed. "They're coming."
Two demons crashed through the barrier with wild hunger.
One hurled balls with supernatural precision and power—the other controlled arrows with invisible force.
The Twelve Kizuki were watching.
Muzan had sent assassins.
Tanjiro unsheathed his blade.
And the house of healing turned into a battlefield.