Two Corps members dragged in a bound creature that snarled and twisted against thick ropes. Red eyes blazed with murderous fury. Fangs bared as it snapped at anyone who came close.
The familiar stench of demon corruption filled the hall. A mix of decay and something fundamentally wrong that made human instincts scream danger.
"Stay back, everyone!" one guard shouted as the demon strained against its bonds with inhuman strength.
"I'll tear you all apart!" the demon screamed. Its voice carried the horrible enthusiasm of a creature that lived to kill. "Your blood will paint these walls! I'll crack your bones and suck the marrow!"
The assembled Corps members shifted uneasily. Even bound, demons projected an aura of wrongness that set teeth on edge and raised primitive fears.
This particular specimen seemed especially vicious. Its claws had already scored deep gouges in the wooden floor.
Akira approached with the same fluid calm she'd shown entering the hall. No hurried movements. No visible tension. She studied the demon with what looked like genuine curiosity rather than the disgust most people showed these creatures.
"Poor thing," she said softly. "Driven by compulsions you never chose."
"Don't talk to it like it's human," Tanjiro warned. His hand unconsciously moved toward his blade. "Demons lie to manipulate—"
"Do they?" Akira's amber eyes fixed on his. "Or do we simply refuse to listen because listening would complicate our worldview?"
The question hit harder than Tanjiro expected. His experiences with Nezuko had already complicated his worldview plenty.
But Nezuko had been different. She'd retained her humanity even as a demon. This creature radiated nothing but hunger and malice.
The demon's red eyes fixed on Akira with predatory intensity. "You smell different, human. What are you?"
"Someone who understands," Akira replied. Her voice carried a gentleness that seemed impossible in the presence of such corruption.
She drew her blade in one smooth motion. The nichirin steel caught the morning light, revealing an edge that gleamed like polished mirror.
No chips. No stains. No evidence of previous battles.
For a weapon carried by someone claiming to be a demon slayer, it looked suspiciously unused.
---
"First Form," Akira announced, settling into a stance that seemed more dance than combat. "Whispered Truth."
Her breathing changed. Instead of the sharp, controlled patterns Tanjiro recognized from other breathing techniques, Akira's breaths became deep and rhythmic.
Almost hypnotic.
The sound filled the hall. Not loud, but somehow impossible to ignore.
The demon's snarling faltered. "What... what's happening to me?"
"You're finding peace," Akira said gently. Never breaking the hypnotic rhythm of her breathing. "The rage that drives you doesn't have to control you."
"I don't..." The demon's struggles weakened. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
The change was gradual but undeniable. The blazing red faded from its eyes, leaving behind something almost human. The creature's posture shifted from predatory crouch to confused sitting.
Most unnervingly, the wrongness that had filled the air began to dissipate.
Gasps echoed through the hall. Tanjiro felt his own mouth fall open despite himself.
He'd seen many impossible things during the war against Muzan. But this challenged fundamental assumptions he'd carried since becoming a demon slayer.
"The hunger is..." The demon touched its own chest with clawed fingers. Expression bewildered. "Quiet. Why is it quiet?"
"Because you've chosen peace over violence," Akira said, sheathing her blade without having used it to strike. "The choice was always yours. You simply needed someone to show you it existed."
"Impossible," Tengen breathed.
"Not impossible," Akira turned to address the room. "Simply unexplored."
The hall erupted in amazed whispers. Corps members who had spent years learning that demons were irredeemably evil stared at a creature that seemed to have found redemption in moments.
"It's not trying to break free," Zenitsu observed. His supernatural hearing apparently detected no deception in the demon's changed behavior.
"The bloodlust is gone," another member added. "I can feel it. The wrongness is... less."
But even as wonder and debate filled the air around him, Tanjiro found his scar continuing to tingle with warning. The transformation was undeniable, the peace in the demon's eyes seemed genuine—yet something fundamental felt wrong about what they'd just witnessed, like a perfectly tuned instrument playing a beautiful melody in an empty room.