Tanjiro stepped closer to examine the demon. His enhanced senses searched for any trace of the malice that had filled the room moments before.
The creature watched him approach with curious eyes rather than hungry ones.
"What did you do to it exactly?" he asked.
"I showed it a different path." Akira's amber eyes met his. For a moment they seemed to shift between warm brown and something cooler, more calculating. "The demon retains its consciousness but loses the compulsion to harm humans."
"And then what?" Tanjiro pressed. His scar gave another warning tingle. "What happens to it now?"
"It can be relocated safely. Perhaps to a remote area where it can exist without threatening anyone." Akira's smile was patient. Like a teacher explaining a simple concept to a slow student. "Perhaps it can even be rehabilitated over time."
"Rehabilitated?" Inosuke's voice cracked with disbelief. Even from across the room, Tanjiro could see his friend's shoulders tensed with aggressive confusion. "It's still a demon!"
"Is it?" Akira challenged, gesturing toward the docile creature. "Look at it now. Where's the monster you all feared?"
Tanjiro looked. The creature sat quietly, no longer straining against its bonds. When it met his gaze, he saw confusion and something that might have been gratitude.
The transformation seemed complete.
And that wrongness in his chest grew stronger.
The room buzzed with debate as Corps members argued among themselves. Voices rose and fell in a cacophony of conflicting opinions.
"This changes everything," a young slayer said. His voice bright with possibility.
"This changes nothing," an older veteran countered firmly. "Demons are evil. Period. Whatever trick this is, it won't last."
"But what if it does?" another voice asked. "What if we've been wrong?"
"We haven't been wrong," the veteran snapped. "I've seen what demons do. They don't suddenly develop consciences."
Akira raised her voice above the arguments. Her tone remained calm despite the chaos.
"Must we cling to old thinking simply because it's familiar? If we can save lives without taking them, shouldn't we try?"
---
"The Demon Slayer Corps exists to protect humanity," Kiriya said thoughtfully. His young voice carried surprising weight. "If this technique serves that purpose..."
"With respect, Master," Tengen interrupted. His experience lent authority to his words. "We've seen demons fake docility before. They're cunning predators."
"Have you seen them maintain such behavior without constant threat?" Akira asked. "This demon shows no aggression, no deception. Only confusion about its own changed nature."
Tanjiro studied both Akira and the demon while the debate raged around them. The creature did seem genuinely transformed. No trace of the malicious intelligence he'd learned to recognize in demon encounters.
But something felt fundamentally wrong about the situation. Not wrong in an obvious way he could articulate. Wrong in the way a perfectly tuned instrument sounds wrong when played in an empty room.
"The question," Akira continued, "is whether we're brave enough to evolve beyond our current limitations."
"Our limitations?" The veteran's voice sharpened. "Those 'limitations' have kept humanity alive for centuries."
"And how many humans have died because we never explored alternatives?"
The question hung in the air like incense smoke. Impossible to ignore and difficult to answer.
Tanjiro had to admit that any technique that could save lives—human and demon both—deserved consideration. His own experiences with Nezuko had taught him that demons weren't uniformly evil.
But his scar continued tingling. His enhanced senses detected something he couldn't quite identify. Not deception, exactly. More like... misdirection.
Kiriya stood from his platform, and the hall gradually quieted.
"Kamado-san, you will partner with Shiranui-san for her first official missions."
The announcement hit Tanjiro like cold water. "Master Kiriya, I'm honored, but—"
"Your experience with Muzan makes you uniquely qualified to evaluate new approaches to demon encounters." Kiriya's tone brooked no argument. "Your judgment regarding unusual demon behavior is beyond question."
Akira turned toward Tanjiro with a warm smile. Sunlight on water—beautiful but impossible to hold.
"I look forward to learning from the hero who saved us all."
"I'm no hero," Tanjiro said quietly. The familiar weight of survivor's guilt settled on his shoulders. "Just someone who survived when others didn't."
"Survival takes its own kind of courage." Akira's voice carried surprising gentleness. "Perhaps we can learn from each other."
---
As the crowd began to disperse, conversations continuing in smaller groups, Tanjiro approached the docile demon alone. He crouched to eye level, studying its changed features.
"Can you hear me?" he asked softly.
The demon looked at him with empty eyes. None of the cunning intelligence he'd grown accustomed to seeing in these creatures.
"Yes."
"Do you remember wanting to hurt people?"
"I remember..." The demon paused, touching its forehead as if trying to recall a dream. "Anger. Hunger. But they feel distant now. Like someone else's memories."
"Do you still want human blood?"
"I..." Another pause, longer this time. Confusion flickered across features that seemed somehow less demonic than before. "I don't know what I want anymore."
That was what felt wrong, Tanjiro realized. Not the absence of malice—the absence of desire itself.
Every living creature wanted something. Humans wanted food, safety, companionship, purpose. Demons wanted blood and violence. This creature wanted... nothing.
It existed without motivation. Like a puppet waiting for someone to pull its strings.
"Interesting creature, isn't it?" Akira's voice made him look up.
She approached with that same fluid grace. Amber eyes studied both him and the demon with equal interest.
"So much more peaceful than the monsters we're taught to expect."
"It's definitely changed." Tanjiro stood, noting how Akira positioned herself between him and the demon without seeming to do so deliberately. "How long does the effect last?"
"In my experience, the transformation appears permanent." Those amber eyes seemed to shift again. The warm brown cooling to something more predatory before warming again so quickly he might have imagined it. "Though I admit my sample size remains small."
"Where exactly did those samples come from?"
"Remote villages. Places where people were grateful for any solution that didn't involve more bloodshed." Akira's smile never wavered. Patient and understanding. "I'm sure you understand the appeal of saving lives rather than taking them."
Tanjiro's scar gave another warning tingle. "Of course. That's what we all want."
But as morning sunlight streamed through the hall's windows, filling the space with golden warmth, the brightness failed to dispel the shadow of unease settling in his chest.
Something about this entire situation felt like performance. Beautifully executed, completely convincing, and utterly false.
He looked at the demon again. Sitting docile and empty-eyed. Wondered if what they'd witnessed was salvation or something far more sinister dressed in salvation's clothes.
The conversation around them continued. Corps members debating philosophy and tactics. Some excited by new possibilities, others suspicious of change.
But Tanjiro found himself studying Akira Shiranui instead of listening to the arguments.
She stood with perfect posture. Responded to questions with patience and warmth. Her blade remained pristine at her side. Her amber eyes shifted between the people around her with what looked like genuine interest and compassion.
And every instinct Tanjiro had developed through two years of hunting demons told him she was dangerous in a way he couldn't yet understand.
The morning light continued streaming through the windows. But shadows lingered in the corners of the room.
And in the corners of his mind, where certainty used to live.