Countdown: 00:45
Beneath the night sky of Mount Natagumo, Inosuke's figure streaked across the darkness like a bolt of silver lightning.
With agility boosted to the extreme and the terrifying explosive power of demonization, he kicked off impossibly thin branches—sometimes even leveraging drifting leaves.
Every step detonated a white sonic ring in the air.
This gravity-defying ability to remain airborne made him look as though he were walking on nothing beneath the moonlight—elegant, lethal, uncannily reminiscent of his father.
"What's wrong, spider-head?"
Inosuke's voice was airy and mocking as he hung upside down in midair.
Silver hair spilled downward, and in his seven-colored eyes burned the fire of an eclipse.
"Weren't you pretty cocky two years ago?
What, now that you've seen me again, you can't even talk?"
Rui stood atop the highest branch, his deathly pale face twisted with extreme rage.
"You think… I've been playing around these past two years?"
His voice turned icy and vicious—the dignity of Lower Rank Five trampled beyond endurance.
"Ever since the day you humiliated me, you little human brat, I've spent every night thinking about how to cut you into pieces!
To deal with that brute-force saw of yours… I've prepared for a very long time!"
This was the butterfly effect.
Because of Inosuke's intrusion and humiliation two years ago, Rui—who once obsessed only over his make-believe family—had spent these years not only strengthening the hardness of his Blood Demon Art, but even developing tactics specifically designed to counter Inosuke.
Blood Demon Art · Killing Eye Cage · Steel Hardening!
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
Countless threads interwove instantly in midair, forming a massive spherical cage that completely enclosed Rui.
Unlike the transparent threads of before, every strand now flowed with dark crimson demon blood.
"To guard against your blades, I deliberately fed these threads with my own blood."
Rui hid inside the cage, eyes dripping with venom.
"They're ten times harder than steel! Even with that weird Blood Demon Art of yours, don't think you can—"
"Too noisy."
Countdown: 00:20
Inosuke frowned slightly, clearly irritated by this tactic.
He slowly spread the five fingers of his right hand; at his fingertips, extreme cold and extreme heat intertwined into a single force.
"Ten times harder?"
His figure flickered—he appeared directly before the enormous blood-red sphere.
"As long as it's a thread, it has knots.
And if it has knots, it can be undone."
With absolute pitch, he heard it—the faint frequency produced by the threads under tension.
"Open."
Blood Demon Art · Eclipse · Crimson Lotus!
Inosuke's hand pierced the sphere with surgical precision, stabbing into a structural node.
The scarlet light at his fingertips flared violently. Using the nature of Sun Breathing, he instantly severed Rui's demon-blood supply to that section of threads.
The supposedly indestructible blood-thread cage softened—and collapsed.
"What?!"
Rui stared in horror at that long, slender hand.
This was absolute domination.
This boy… had seen through the structure of his Blood Demon Art at a glance?!
A flawless hand broke through the defense and clamped around Rui's throat.
Countdown: 00:05
"Got you."
Inosuke leaned in close. Rui's terrified face was reflected in those seven-colored eyes.
He didn't kill him immediately. Instead, he smiled—a grin full of cruel amusement.
"Remember this feeling, little brother. This is called—"
Just as Inosuke was about to tighten his grip and snap Rui's neck—
[Ding! Experience Card time has ended.]
[Side effect activated: Forced cancellation of demonization. Entering extreme hunger and weakened state.]
"Wha—"
Inosuke's pupils shrank. Damn it!
He'd been showboating too long—forgot to account for all that talking!
Poof.
That world-shaking aura vanished instantly. In a puff of white steam, the demonized form reverted back into a bewildered, blue-black-haired youth in a haori.
Even worse, the rock-crushing strength disappeared with it, replaced by a stomach-shaking—
"Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!"
The sound of his stomach growling thundered across the battlefield, painfully loud and embarrassingly out of place.
Rui froze.
Inosuke froze.
"…Huh?"
Inosuke's grip slackened; his hand slid off Rui's neck. Gravity reclaimed him, and he dropped straight down from midair.
"AAAAAAH! I'm starving to death!!!"
Flailing like a kite with its string cut, Inosuke plummeted.
"Inosuke-kun!"
Tanjiro reacted instantly—he threw down his sword and opened his arms.
THUD!
Inosuke slammed squarely into Tanjiro's chest. The impact sent them rolling together across the leaf-covered ground several times before stopping.
"Ow, ow, ow…"
Tanjiro rubbed his aching chest and looked at Inosuke sprawled on top of him.
"Inosuke-kun, are you okay? That form just now was—"
"…Food…"
Inosuke lay on Tanjiro's chest, weakly lifting his head.
He clutched Tanjiro's collar like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline and murmured:
"Gonpachiro… got any rice balls…?
I'm gonna starve… hurry…"
From a nearby tree, Zenitsu poked out his head, utterly losing it.
"Boss! You were cool for less than ninety seconds!
You looked like a god just now—how did you turn into a starving ghost so fast?!"
Up in the air, Rui—who had narrowly escaped death—finally snapped back to reality.
Touching his nearly crushed throat, cold sweat soaked his back. Then an indescribable humiliation surged up inside him.
He'd nearly wet himself… because of this guy?!
"You dare toy with me!!!"
"I'll tear you to pieces! I'll mince you up and feed you to my spiders!"
Rui shrieked hysterically—the rage of someone mocked and humiliated.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
Countless blood-red threads exploded outward again. This time there was no defense—only offense, a killing net descending on all three.
"Crap! Run!"
Ignoring the pain, Tanjiro scooped up the limp Inosuke and turned to flee.
"Don't run."
Though weak with hunger, Inosuke's eyes sharpened instantly. He pulled out a bundled object from his chest—
a spare rice ball Tanjiro had given him earlier.
He swallowed it whole without chewing.
"Think I'm some soft target now?"
Inosuke wriggled free of Tanjiro's arms and drew his pair of iron fans.
"Don't panic, brats! I'm still here!"
He straightened up and planted himself in front of Tanjiro and Zenitsu.
Grinning wide, he flashed his sharp little fangs.
"Gonpachiro! Monitsu! Don't just stand there!"
He roared, the commanding presence of a gang leader bursting forth.
"Blondie, clear out the trash spiders!
Gonpachiro, cover me!"
"I'm gonna saw that spider-head's skull off—
and kick it around like a ball!"
"Yes!"
Tanjiro answered instinctively, his body moving faster than his thoughts.
"Why do I have to listen to you too?! I'm weak! I'm gonna die!"
Zenitsu wailed—but his body betrayed him as he drew his blade, Thunderclap and Flash already primed.
The battle reignited.
Manji Ultimate Bliss Cult — Deep Night
Only a few lamps were lit in the grand hall, making it feel vast and lonely.
Doma sat cross-legged on his ice-lotus throne, a paintbrush in hand, a canvas set before him.
He was painting a family portrait.
On the left was Kotoha, smiling gently.
In the center was himself, tall and composed.
And on the right—
The brush stopped midair.
Doma stared at the empty space on the right side of the canvas, brows knitting slightly.
He had meant to paint Inosuke—the loud, arrogant brat who always called him "Dad" to scam money, who turned the cult upside down.
But when the brush touched the canvas, he realized he couldn't capture Inosuke's current expression.
Was it the wild grin from when he smashed a Nichirin blade at age seven?
Or the seemingly carefree yet lingering silhouette from the day he left?
"…Strange."
Doma set the brush down and pressed a hand to his chest.
"Why does it feel… kind of empty here?"
He looked around.
At this hour, Inosuke should've finished training and come barging in to snatch his fan.
Or yelled at Butler Sato.
Or clung to Kotoha demanding a midnight snack.
The hall was usually noisy—so noisy he'd sometimes wanted to sew the kid's mouth shut.
But now, it was too quiet.
So quiet that all he could hear was the sound of melting ice.
"Cult Leader?"
Kotoha entered with tea, worry in her eyes when she saw Doma spacing out.
"Is something wrong? The painting not going well?"
Doma turned to her. For a brief instant, his trademark smile vanished.
What replaced it was something almost childlike—pure, bewildered confusion.
"Kotoha,"
he asked softly,
"when is Inosuke coming back?"
She paused, then smiled gently.
"Probably not for a while. In his letter, he said he's doing something big."
"Something big, huh…"
Doma lowered his gaze to the unfinished painting, fingertips brushing the blank space.
"Honestly, I don't really miss him that much."
The smile returned—but now it carried a faint bitterness.
"I just feel… without him stirring up trouble, it's a bit boring."
"And my fan hasn't been stolen in ages. Holding it feels… strange."
Suddenly, he stood and walked to the window, gazing in the direction of Mount Natagumo.
Worry.
"That stupid son of mine…"
His fingers tightened on the window frame, the tips whitening.
"If you dare die out there…
I'll freeze the entire Demon Slayer Corps—along with Lord Muzan—into ice dust."
"…After all, without him, this picture wouldn't be a family portrait."
Perhaps—
he truly had begun to grow something called human emotion.
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