Miss Tamayo noticed the strange expression on Hayashi's face and asked gently:
"Yoriichi san, is there something wrong with this address?"
Hayashi waved his hand calmly.
"No problem, I just thought of something."
Tamayo didn't press further. Instead, she turned toward the corner of the room and called softly.
Moments later, a faint "meow" echoed.
Under Hayashi's gaze, a calico kitten with black, white, and yellow patches suddenly appeared out of thin air. A talisman hung around its neck, and on its back was a small pouch.
Tamayo picked up the kitten and smiled.
"This is my companion, Chachamaru. It carries Yushiro's Blood Demon Art, making it invisible until it cries out. Once it meows again, it vanishes from sight."
Hayashi immediately understood her intention. As expected, Tamayo turned back and produced a small wooden box. Inside lay a curious blade—a short knife with a hollow handle and a thin tube built into the blade.
"Yushiro also crafted this," she explained. "A knife that can automatically draw blood. Yoriichi san, I would ask a favor of you. When you slay demons, please use this knife to collect their blood. Afterward, Chachamaru will appear by your side. You only need to place the sample in its pouch, and it will return safely to me."
Hayashi nodded silently and accepted the knife, slipping it into his belongings. He rose to leave, but suddenly paused.
Pointing to the flame-like mark on his forehead, he asked seriously:
"By the way… do you know anything about these markings?"
Tamayo tilted her head, puzzled.
"Are you referring to the crest on your head?"
It seemed she truly didn't know. Hayashi wasn't surprised—Tamayo's research had always focused on turning demons back into humans, devising poisons like the one against Dōma, and developing medicine alongside Shinobu to counter Muzan. It was natural she hadn't studied the phenomenon of the Demon Slayer marks.
So Hayashi carefully explained:
"When a swordsman awakens the mark, others often manifest it soon after, almost like resonance. I… was born with mine, so it doesn't shorten my lifespan. But for others, it is said that those who gain the mark later will not live beyond twenty-five."
His voice grew heavy.
"That is what worries me. If I remain with the Corps, my presence may cause others to awaken theirs as well."
Hayashi was not one to hide the truth. Defeating Muzan and the demons was far beyond what he alone could achieve. He had already decided to teach the Corps about the Transparent World and the Red Nichirin Blade.
But whether to share knowledge of the markings—that was the burden he still hesitated to place upon them.
Although Hayashi knew very well that even if he told the swordsmen of the Demon Slayer Corps about the curse of the markings—that no one who awakened them could live past the age of twenty-five—they would still never hesitate to use them, so long as it meant eradicating demons.
Miss Tamayo calmly prepared a new syringe, disinfected it, and said:
"I understand what you mean. But for the sake of research, I still need to draw a little blood."
Hayashi extended his arm without hesitation. As Miss Tamayo carefully extracted his blood, she lowered her gaze and asked softly:
"Forgive me for asking again… but is there really anything wrong with the address I wrote down?"
Hayashi shook his head, though his expression betrayed a secret he could not yet share.
"You'll know when the time comes."
Meanwhile, Murata gripped his Nichirin Sword tightly, trembling as he faced a tall, hulking demon with two horns sprouting from its forehead.
For days he had been investigating alongside Water Hashira, Tomioka Giyu, and finally they had tracked a trail of strange disappearances to this eerie house. But the moment he stepped inside, Murata lost sight of his superior.
Instead, he was ambushed by a grotesque demon crawling on all fours, its tongue stretching unnaturally long. In trying to evade the attacks, Murata stumbled into another corridor—and came face to face with the horned monster.
Bang!
The horned demon swiped at him with a massive palm. Murata barely rolled aside in time.
"You dodged? Hmph… quite the nimble little insect."
Gritting his teeth, Murata swung his Nichirin Sword. The blade bit into the demon's arm—but stuck fast in its flesh. With a violent shake, the creature flung Murata aside, sending him crashing through a sliding paper door.
"Murata! Are you unharmed?"
The voice was like salvation. Murata blinked through the dust—Tomioka Giyu had found him.
"I-I think I'm fine…" Murata muttered, patting himself down. Just bruises, no deep wounds.
But then his eyes widened. Standing opposite Tomioka was another demon—this one with a drum embedded in its torso, strange scars across its eyes, and kanji etched onto its eyeballs.
Murata's blood ran cold. The mark read: [Lower Rank].
A Lower Moon… one of Muzan Kibutsuji's Twelve Kizuki!
The drum demon licked his lips as he eyed Giyu's sword.
"A brat like you… and yet you're already a Hashira?"
"If I devour you, I'll gain power enough to prove myself to Lord Muzan!"
Just as he raised his clawed hand, the walls suddenly shattered with a deafening roar.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
A storm of countless slashes tore through the air, slicing the wood to ribbons. Dust billowed.
Murata shielded his eyes, only to glimpse a figure stepping through the wreckage—blade in hand, fury burning in his expression.
It was Sanemi Shinazugawa, his Nichirin Sword gleaming with the same inscription: Demon Slayer.
The drum demon froze, his eyes widening.
"Two… two Hashira?!"
And before he could even recover, another voice boomed—warm, powerful, unwavering:
"Oho! Giyu, you're here too!"
Even without drawing his blade, the sight of the flame-patterned haori was unmistakable.
Rengoku Kyojuro. The Flame Hashira.
The demon staggered back in terror.
"Three… three Hashira??!!"