As Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira, turned to leave, she left a lasting impression on Tanjiro Kamado. She hadn't said a word to him directly, but he could feel the immense, sorrowful hatred she carried in her heart. It was a cold, heavy presence, an emotion she kept tightly suppressed beneath her gentle smile. Tanjiro understood immediately. Someone she loved, someone precious to her, had been stolen by a demon. That was why she had joined the Demon Slayer Corps—to ensure no one else would suffer the same fate, and to rid the world of every last demon.
"Tanjiro! Wait up, Tanjiro!"
Just as Tanjiro finished his own preparations to depart, two figures hurried over to him. The first was Zenitsu Agatsuma, a friend he knew well. Zenitsu's panicked expression and wild, blond hair were a familiar sight, one that often brought a smile to Tanjiro's face. Despite his cowardly nature, Zenitsu was a powerful swordsman who used Thunder Breathing, though his skills only truly appeared when he was unconscious with fear.
The other was a young man with a dark, braided ponytail and a prominent scar running across his face. He seemed tense and unapproachable.
"Let's go together!" Zenitsu pleaded, grabbing onto Tanjiro's sleeve. "His name is Genya Shinazugawa. His older brother is the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa! You know, one of the Hashira who's missing right now! We have to help, and you can't just leave me behind to go by myself!"
"Kamado... Tanjiro!" Genya said, his voice rough as he finally looked Tanjiro in the eye.
It was a huge step for Genya, who was normally withdrawn and struggled to speak with others. For him to approach Tanjiro was a testament to the situation. He had seen Tanjiro's incredible strength firsthand during the Final Selection on Mount Fujikasane. Even with his unique ability to gain demonic power by eating parts of a demon, Genya knew he was no match for Tanjiro's skill. But more importantly, his brother was missing. With Sanemi in danger, Genya had to push past his pride and his usual difficult attitude. He needed help, and he knew Tanjiro was his best hope.
Before Genya could force himself to say more, Tanjiro offered him a warm, understanding smile.
"Alright," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Then let's do our best. Together."
At the same time, at the headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps, an urgent meeting had concluded. The six remaining Hashira stood ready, their orders received from Oyakata-sama. A heavy, murderous aura filled the garden, a silent promise of the battle to come.
Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira. Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira. Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira. Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira. Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira. Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira.
They were the strongest swordsmen in the Demon Slayer Corps, the pinnacle of human strength against the demonic threat. Each of them understood just how difficult and dangerous this mission would be. But that was precisely why they had to succeed. If they failed, the Corps would suffer a devastating blow, and their leader, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, would be in grave danger. The loss of three of their comrades had already wounded the Hashira deeply, and their shared grief now fueled a burning hatred for the demons responsible.
"Everyone," Gyomei said, his deep voice resonating with resolve. "It is time. Let's move out."
Their eyes met in a moment of silent agreement. In the next instant, they were gone, vanishing from the estate in blurs of motion that scattered in different directions, each moving with a speed that was almost inhuman.
Meanwhile, within the Ubuyashiki ancestral home, the atmosphere was tense.
"The Hashira have departed," Amane Ubuyashiki reported softly, helping her husband, Kagaya, to sit up. "Tanjiro Kamado and his friends have also begun to move. This operation is of the utmost importance to our family and to the entire Demon Slayer Corps." She paused, a shadow of doubt crossing her features. "But there's a problem. The intelligence we received claimed that the three missing Hashira have appeared on three different trains. My lord, this feels wrong."
A hint of worry entered her calm purple eyes. "This is very likely a trick, a trap set for us by Muzan Kibutsuji."
"Indeed, it is," Kagaya Ubuyashiki agreed without hesitation, his voice gentle despite the grim topic. "However, it is a trap we must willingly walk into. The enemy is hidden in the dark while we are forced to act in the open. We cannot simply abandon three of our Hashira, regardless of the risk."
A faint, sorrowful sigh escaped him. "I'm afraid this is merely a diversion on Muzan's part. He's become completely different from the being we have hunted for a thousand years. Even my foresight… my precognitive ability can no longer see through his actions."
This was a terrifying admission. For generations, the Ubuyashiki family had guided the Demon Slayer Corps not only with their leadership but with the family head's unique ability to predict future events. This power had allowed them to navigate centuries of conflict and survive against an immortal enemy. But now, for the first time, Kagaya found that his sight was blind when it came to Muzan. It was a bitter irony. The curse that was slowly killing him and his family, a curse originating from their blood relation to Muzan, was the very source of their power. Muzan had created their curse, and in doing so, had also given them the one tool that could destroy him. Now, that tool was failing.
"However," Kagaya's voice suddenly grew firm, his blind eyes seeming to focus on a distant point. "Our true trump card has not yet been played. That person is the key to this entire confrontation… the successor of the Shinkan clan: Jubei Shinkan."
As the Demon Slayers moved into position, Muzan Kibutsuji's Twelve Kizuki were already tightening their vast net. Following their master's earlier commands, they had manipulated events from the shadows, turning the entire Japanese government against the Demon Slayer Corps. Small, isolated clashes between slayers and local garrisons erupted into open warfare. Fueled by a new wave of carefully orchestrated demon attacks and assassinations blamed on the Corps, the Ubuyashiki family and their slayers were declared enemies of the state, pushed to the opposite side of all of Japan.
It was at this moment, across the country in the bustling metropolises of Tokyo and Osaka, that the plan was set in motion. As the designated time arrived, three long, powerful trains hissed to life on their tracks, their engines beginning to churn.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
With a great roar of steam and metal, they began to move, pulling their long lines of cars into the night. It was the Taisho era, an age of progress and shadows.
And on each of those three trains, three figures simultaneously snapped their eyes open.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Giyu Tomioka awoke to the rhythmic clatter of wheels on a track and the faint smell of iron. Blood. An overwhelming sense of danger washed over him, and before he could form a complete thought, his hand was already on the hilt of his Nichirin Sword. He shot up, his eyes darting around the train car. The other passengers were screaming, their faces twisted not in fear, but in monstrous glee as they lunged toward him.
His mind was a fog. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. But his body remembered its purpose.
Clang!
Blood sprayed across the windows as his blade cut down the first attacker. They looked like people, but his instincts screamed demon. A bizarre and terrifying hallucination had taken hold of his mind, twisting reality into a nightmare. He saw not frightened civilians, but a horde of grotesque demons thirsting for his blood.
Slash! Thud!
Within seconds, the train car was a river of blood. Giyu stood amidst the carnage, his blade dripping. He felt no triumph, only a cold, grim certainty.
"So, this is where I am," he muttered to himself, his voice low and empty. The faces of the shrieking passengers warped into leering demonic masks before his eyes. "It doesn't matter. A demon is a demon."
He raised his sword again, his expression unreadable. He was trapped in a living hell, and the only way out was to cut his way through it.
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