Deep in the mountain woods.
Shirakawa and Tanjiro walked side by side at a steady pace.
Tanjiro's nerves were taut, his nose twitching from time to time as he vigilantly caught any unusual scent in the wind.
"Big brother, shouldn't we go a bit faster?" Tanjiro lowered his voice. "The others seem to have rushed ahead."
"What's the rush?" Shirakawa walked leisurely, his gaze seemingly sweeping over the surrounding trees and shadows at random.
"The selection lasts for seven days. Rushing too hard only makes it easier to become a target."
He paused, turning his head to look at Tanjiro with a meaningful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Besides, as guests, we have to give the host a little time to prepare, don't we?"
Just as he finished speaking—
"Heh... heh heh..."
From the bushes on the left came a heavy, eerie sound of panting.
Tanjiro drew his sword instantly, the polished blade tracing an arc of light through the dim forest.
A demon with grey-blue skin and cloudy eyes crawled out from behind a tree.
Its body was hunched, bone spurs grew from its nails and elbows, and thick saliva dripped from its mouth as it stared fixedly at Shirakawa.
"Hu... human..."
"Smells so good... hungry..."
Tanjiro took a deep breath, assuming the starting stance of Water Breathing, his eyes turning sharp. "Big brother, leave this one to me."
Shirakawa stepped back half a pace and crossed his arms, adopting a posture of watching the show. "Be my guest. It's a good chance for me to see the results of your training over this past year."
"Yes!" Tanjiro gave a low shout, his feet suddenly stepping forward.
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
His figure flitted past like flowing water, the sword light tracing a smooth curve.
The demon rushing forward didn't even have time to react before its head was separated from its body, turning into black ash and dissipating into the air.
However, before Tanjiro could breathe a sigh of relief, another demon suddenly pounced from the treetops above him.
It roared as it lunged with its sharp claws.
Tanjiro remained calm, sidestepping as he brought his blade back around; clearly, he had already caught the scent of this hidden demon.
"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!"
His body spun like a wheel, and the sword light turned into a circular current, easily slicing through the demon's claws.
"Water Breathing, Fourth Form: Striking Tide!"
Tanjiro leaped into the air, his blade enveloped in flowing currents, and in a single motion, he sliced through the demon's neck.
"Heh..." The demon's roar got stuck in its throat as its body began to crumble and dissipate.
Tanjiro sheathed his sword, panting slightly, and looked back at Shirakawa, a hint of expectation in his crimson eyes. "Big brother, how was that?"
"Passable," Shirakawa said, though his eyes held approval.
"Your movements were clean, and your breathing didn't falter. It seems that year of splitting stones wasn't for nothing."
Tanjiro scratched his head sheepishly, then suddenly remembered something and slapped his palm in frustration.
"Oh, I forgot to ask questions!"
Shirakawa shook his head. "I told you before, these minor demons couldn't possibly know how to turn Nezuko back into a human."
Tanjiro looked serious. "I have to try. Just in case."
Shirakawa shook his head helplessly. "Suit yourself."
Just as he spoke, Shirakawa's expression suddenly froze for a moment.
His left hand inconspicuously moved to the hilt of the horizontal sword at his waist.
The sword… was trembling slightly.
It wasn't excitement for battle, but something like a sob—like someone crying—a shudder of rage, and a wail of extreme sorrow.
Makomo...
A flame rose within Shirakawa's heart.
A sword spirit wouldn't react like this without reason.
In this mountain, there was only one possibility that could cause Makomo's emotions to fluctuate so violently.
He looked up, his gaze seeming to pierce through layers of tree shadows and into the depths of the forest.
From there came an aura far denser and colder than that of the two minor demons from before.
"What a stench!" Tanjiro had clearly smelled it too, immediately looking at Shirakawa.
"This scent is stronger than all the demons I've ever smelled combined. Big brother… is it him?"
Shirakawa didn't answer immediately.
He simply stroked the sword hilt gently, soothing the subtle trembling.
"Tanjiro," Shirakawa spoke, his voice much deeper than usual, "no matter what happens next, stay behind me and watch."
"Eh?" Tanjiro was stunned. "But, big brother—"
"Listen to me."
Shirakawa interrupted him, his tone brooking no argument. "This demon… is mine!"
He stepped forward, walking toward the source of the aura.
His steps remained steady, but Tanjiro keenly sensed something unusual.
It was no longer the usual relaxed, slightly irritating presence—but something cold, filled with killing intent…
Tanjiro swallowed, gripped his sword hilt, and followed closely behind.
The deeper they went, the denser the trees became and the dimmer the light grew.
The cold aura in the air intensified, mixed with a thick smell of blood and a nauseating stench.
Tanjiro's brows furrowed; clearly, this was difficult for someone with such a sensitive sense of smell to endure.
Then, they heard a sound.
It wasn't a demon's roar, but… a human scream.
Short, shrill, and abruptly cut off…
Followed by the hair-raising sound of chewing.
Tanjiro's face instantly filled with fury, and his pace involuntarily quickened.
But he did not overtake Shirakawa.
Passing through a dense thicket, they finally saw the source of the horrific stench in a relatively open clearing.
It was a monstrous figure of staggering size.
Its body resembled a grotesque mound of flesh, its grey-blue skin covered in twisted veins.
The most terrifying part was its body—
Countless human arms grew from its torso, densely packed like grotesque vines or writhing tentacles, moving unconsciously in the air.
At that moment, several of those arms clutched a mangled human corpse, stuffing it into a large mouth formed by two arms.
Blood dripped from its chin, staining the ground red.
Around it lay scattered torn clothing and the swords of other participants.
"What… what is this…" Tanjiro's voice trembled with both fear and anger.
He smelled a heavy aura of death and despair, and… the overwhelming malice and hunger emanating from the demon before him.
The Hand Demon.
Shirakawa's eyes narrowed.
His right hand pressed tightly against the sword hilt at his waist, which trembled more violently with each passing second.
Makomo's emotions flowed into his heart through the blade—
Bone-deep hatred, piercing pain, and… endless sorrow.
It was him…
He had devoured Sabito, devoured Makomo, and so many of Sakonji Urokodaki's beloved disciples…
The Hand Demon seemed to sense new prey. It stopped chewing and slowly turned its head.
Its face had no nose—only a massive mouth and a pair of cloudy yellow eyes.
When its gaze fell upon Shirakawa and Tanjiro, that huge mouth stretched into a twisted, cruel smile.
"Heh heh… two more brats have come."
Its voice was full of mockery.
"The masks you're wearing… heh heh heh… I recognize those carved patterns."
The Hand Demon's gaze locked onto the fox mask on Tanjiro's head, painted with a sun pattern.
"Sakonji Urokodaki's brats." The Hand Demon's laughter grew louder, filled with manic delight. "Excellent… excellent! I've waited so long, and finally, more of his disciples have come!"
Countless arms flailed excitedly, slapping against the ground with dull thuds.
"Do you know, brat?" The Hand Demon stared at Tanjiro, its yellow eyes brimming with malice.
"Do you know how many brats like you, wearing fox masks, I've eaten on this mountain?"
"Twelve? Or thirteen? I've lost count… heh heh heh, but I remember every single one of their dying screams perfectly!"
Tanjiro's pupils shrank suddenly.
Anger erupted in his chest like a volcano, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged as he gripped his sword. "You… you bastard!!!"
"Tanjiro." Shirakawa reached out and pressed down on his junior's shoulder, stopping him from rushing forward.
His voice was eerily calm.
Tanjiro turned back—and froze when he saw Shirakawa's face.
There was no expression on it.
But for someone like Shirakawa, who was usually cheerful and carefree, having no expression meant his emotions were at their most violent.
"Big brother…" Tanjiro murmured subconsciously.
Shirakawa didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the Hand Demon the entire time.
He released Tanjiro's shoulder and stepped forward.
"It's thirteen." Shirakawa spoke, his voice quiet yet piercing through the demon's manic laughter. "You ate thirteen of Sakonji Urokodaki's… disciples."