The world went quiet.
Yushirō froze.
Yasui-san?!
I was gone for five minutes—just long enough to make tea—and he's already Yasui-san?!
That bastard Demon Slayer who stepped on me like trash and chopped off my arm just now—
Lady Tamayo actually… actually…?!
Everyone knew that in Japan, addressing someone by surname versus given name carried very different meanings.
Recognition. Acceptance. Intimacy.
Yushirō's vision went dark.
His mind spiraled out of control, images flashing one after another—
That fake-smiling Demon Slayer getting close to Lady Tamayo.
Lady Tamayo responding gently.
That bastard's hands starting to wander—
No—!!!
Lady Tamayo wouldn't!
How dare that filthy Demon Slayer—on what grounds?! Who does he think he is?!
"Yushirō."
Tamayo's voice sounded again. She sighed softly.
"Put the tea down… and go outside."
The crushing weight of grievance and disbelief slammed around in Yushirō's chest.
"Lady Tamayo…"
His voice trembled, dry and hoarse, filled with accusation he couldn't quite say out loud.
Tamayo repeated herself, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Yushirō's lips quivered.
He shot Ryōsuke a vicious glare, then stiffly bent down, placed the tea tray on the low table, and walked out.
The tatami room fell into a subtle, awkward silence.
"Please forgive the scene, Yasui-san,"
Tamayo said apologetically, dipping her head slightly.
"Yushirō is… simply overly concerned about me."
"I understand," Ryōsuke nodded.
"Loyal to a fault."
His gaze flicked toward the closed door.
"Just not very bright. Gets heated too easily."
Tamayo: "..."
She decided to skip that topic.
"I agree to the cooperation you proposed," she said, her voice turning solemn.
"Developing a medicine that can turn demons back into humans has been my lifelong pursuit. If one day it can truly deal a fatal blow to Muzan… I, Tamayo, would not hesitate even if it cost me my life."
Ryōsuke leaned forward slightly.
"What do you need?"
He wasn't sure whether the Blue Spider Lily was something Tamayo required.
Canon only stated that it allowed Muzan to surpass sunlight—to become a literal Jo-level lifeform.
As for turning demons back into humans…
The formula had never been clearly stated.
Everything would depend on Tamayo's research.
"The key breakthrough lies in the blood of the Twelve Kizuki," Tamayo said after a pause.
"Especially the Upper Ranks. The higher the rank, the purer the concentration of Muzan's power in their blood."
Ryōsuke tapped his fingers lightly against his knee.
Just like the original canon.
The Twelve Kizuki couldn't be avoided.
When he killed Enmu, the system had clearly labeled him a terminal-tier demon.
Above that… would be the Lower Moons.
And the difference in strength between those two wasn't small—it was ridiculous.
Like quasi-emperors and true emperors.
Separated by a hair's breadth, yet worlds apart.
A true emperor could slap five or six peak quasi-emperors to death without effort.
With his current strength, Ryōsuke barely managed terminal-tier demons—Lower Moons were still out of reach.
He needed more farming. More growth.
Ryōsuke pulled a feral grin across his face.
"That day will come," he said decisively.
"When I cut off an Upper Rank's head, I'll deliver their blood to you immediately—fresh and packaged."
Tamayo froze.
Yushirō—who had been listening outside—nearly lost his mind.
Are you insane?!
You? Kill an Upper Rank?!
You'd have better odds climbing into bed!
Even Tamayo was momentarily speechless.
In all her centuries of life, she had never seen someone speak so casually—so matter-of-factly—about hunting an Upper Rank demon.
That near-blind confidence, that ruthless certainty, left her unable to respond.
"…I will await that day," she finally said, nodding faintly.
"One more thing," Ryōsuke added, changing the subject as he glanced around.
"You need to move."
Tamayo wasn't surprised.
This hideout had already been discovered by Ryōsuke.
Even if he meant no harm, what about other Demon Slayers? Or Muzan? Or his demons?
No matter how she looked at it, this place was no longer safe.
After a brief silence, Tamayo nodded solemnly.
"You're right. I'll make arrangements to leave Asakusa with Yushirō as soon as possible and find a new hiding place."
With business concluded, Ryōsuke saw no reason to linger.
He stood up and rolled his shoulders.
"Then I'll be going. As for keeping in contact—"
He glanced meaningfully toward the door.
"You're better at that than I am."
"Please rest assured," Tamayo replied, seeing him out.
At the entryway, Yushirō stood with his arms crossed like a door guardian, his glare boring into Ryōsuke's back.
Ryōsuke ignored him and stepped outside.
"Yasui-san…"
Tamayo called out to him.
"Will we… meet again?" she asked.
Ryōsuke smiled, not answering yes or no. Instead, he extended his hand.
Tamayo paused, staring at the well-defined hand.
After a brief hesitation, she lifted her own pale, slender hand and placed it gently into his palm.
Yushirō turned ash-gray.
His heart shattered on the spot.
Lady Tamayo—!!!
Tamayo looked at Ryōsuke and gave a small nod.
His hand was warm and dry, calloused from years of gripping a sword—carrying the vibrant vitality of the living.
"Of course," Ryōsuke said quietly, his voice carrying strange weight.
"Because our goal is the same."
"Ideals. Wishes. Or simply ending this damned era of demons."
"We're walking in the same direction."
"Our paths are the same."
He gave her cool hand a firm squeeze, then released it without hesitation.
"No attachments. No lingering."
"I'm going. Take care."
He didn't look back.
His jet-black haori swept through the air as his figure quickly disappeared into the darkness of Asakusa.
Tamayo stood at the doorway, warmth still lingering on her fingertips.
She gazed toward where Ryōsuke had vanished, the corner of her lips lifting unconsciously.
Four hundred years of darkness and struggle—
at last, a faint light had broken through.
From a strange Demon Slayer who claimed he only wanted to live.
"Lady Tamayo!"
Yushirō rushed over, his voice shaking with jealousy and grievance.
"How could you—how could you let him touch your hand?!"
"That bastard!"
"That damned Demon Slayer—what kind of spell did he put on you?!"
He pointed furiously toward the direction Ryōsuke had left, his whole body trembling. Deep claw marks had been carved into the pillar beside him.
Tamayo withdrew her gaze and shook her head.
She couldn't quite explain it herself.
She only gave Yushirō a calm glance.
"Yushirō. Pack up."
"We're leaving Asakusa."
"But—"
"No buts."
Tamayo turned and walked back inside.
Yushirō stared at her retreating figure, teeth grinding audibly.
That bastard Demon Slayer named Ryōsuke…
You'd better die out there.
Die at the hands of the Twelve Kizuki!!!
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