Shinobu's expression didn't change. She smiled softly, almost kindly. "Is that so?" she said. "Five?"
"Yes! Only five!"
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath. Then, still smiling, Shinobu shook her head gently.
"You don't need to lie," she said, her voice still as light as a summer breeze. "I already know the real number."
The Daughter blinked. "W-what?"
Shinobu's eyes drifted toward the cocooned trees around them, her voice maintaining that eerie tone of polite conversation. "Your cocoons are quite remarkable. Strong, flexible, and even resistant to Nichirin steel for a time. Truly, an impressive biological feat. But that makes it rather easy to tell how many people you've captured, you see."
Her eyes returned to the demon—calm, bright, and unblinking. "You've eaten at least eighty."
The daughter's eyes went wide. "Th-that's not true! You're lying!"
"Oh?" Shinobu's smile widened slightly, but her tone remained cheerful. "I came from the western slope of the mountain, you know. I counted the cocoons. There were fourteen in one cluster alone, each one containing a human corpse melted down to bone. And there were dozens more deeper in the trees. The smell of decay was unmistakable."
Her soft voice lingered like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "So, you see, you didn't kill just five."
The demon's legs buckled as she began to sob, shaking her head violently. "No! No! I didn't! I swear!"
"Now, now," Shinobu said, waving a hand lightly. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not angry. I'm simply making sure the death toll is accurate."
The daughter's sobs quieted into confused whimpers. "W-what good will being accurate do?"
Shinobu smiled again, her expression soft and dazzling in the moonlight. "Why, it's for your punishment, of course. So you can receive the proper number of wounds before we become friends."
The demon froze, staring up at her in horror. "F-friends?"
"Yes," Shinobu replied brightly. "I'd like to be friends with demons someday. But first, I must make sure you pay for what you've done."
Her voice didn't change in tone—it stayed serene, almost musical—but the words that followed made the daughter's blood run cold.
"For every person you've devoured, I'll gouge out your eyeballs, slice open your belly, and make you feel the same agony they did. Only after that, once you've suffered enough, can we become friends."
The daughter's body began to tremble violently, her eyes darting wildly in panic. "Y-you're insane! You're just as much of a monster as—!"
Shinobu tilted her head, still smiling. "Oh, don't be silly. You won't die from it. You're a demon, remember?"
The spider demon screamed and hurled a barrage of silk threads from her palms. They whipped through the air like a net of death, but Shinobu danced through them gracefully, each movement as light as a butterfly's wing. Her sandals barely touched the ground, her haori fluttering behind her as if she were gliding through the air.
"How pitiful," Shinobu murmured, landing lightly on a branch above her. "It seems we really can't be friends after all."
"Shut up!" the daughter shrieked, sending another flurry of razor-edged silk. But before the attack could reach its target, Shinobu was gone—vanished without sound or trace.
The demon's breath caught in her throat. "Where—?"
"Up here," came the serene voice above her.
The daughter looked up.
A halo of moonlight and fluttering wings descended upon her. For a brief, breathtaking moment, it looked as if butterflies were falling from the heavens—hundreds of them, glimmering in soft blues and purples.
One landed on her fingertip.
She blinked, mesmerized—then gasped as blood trickled down her hand. Pain lanced through her body. She looked down to see thin, precise slashes marking her skin, her arms, and her neck.
Shinobu landed gently in front of her, her blade glistening with a faint, violet shine.
"Insect Breathing, Butterfly Dance: Caprice."
The daughter staggered, clutching her neck. She wasn't beheaded. Her head was still attached.
"H-how—?" She choked. "You… you didn't cut deep enough…"
Her eyes darted toward the sword—it was thin, almost needle-like, its edge curved and narrow. "Your sword—it can't even cut off a head. You're weak!" she hissed, trying to stand. "I can still—"
But the words died on her tongue.
A sudden heat spread through her chest. Then, agony. Every nerve in her body screamed as her blood boiled, her muscles seizing uncontrollably.
Her veins turned black. Her skin began to split.
"What… what did you do to me…?" She gasped.
Shinobu watched her collapse, her face serene as ever. "You shouldn't relax just because you weren't beheaded," she said gently. "There are Demon Slayers who use poison, you know."
She twirled her blade in a delicate, elegant flourish. "I'm one of them."
The daughter's body convulsed one final time before falling limp, her eyes going glassy under the moonlight.
Shinobu straightened her back and spoke softly, her tone still bright and composed. "I am the Insect Hashira, Shinobu Kocho. I'm the only one among the Hashira who can't behead demons, but…" —she smiled proudly—"I'm still rather awesome, don't you think?"
Her words lingered in the air as she turned toward the hanging cocoons nearby. With a graceful flick of her sword, she sliced open one of the silk prisons, revealing a trembling but alive Murata.
He fell to the ground with a thud, gasping for air. "Th-thank you, Kocho-san…! I thought I was done for."
Shinobu knelt beside him, examining the damage. "Hmm… your clothes have mostly melted from the acid," she said thoughtfully. "But your skin appears unscathed. That's quite lucky."
Murata blinked, looking down—and realized, to his horror, that she was right. His uniform was in tatters, leaving little to the imagination. "Ah—! I-I'll just… cover myself!" He stammered, face red as he scrambled to his feet.
Shinobu merely smiled, watching him retreat behind a nearby tree. "Such modesty," she said with amusement.
Her gaze then drifted toward the deeper forest, where faint vibrations trembled through the air—an aura filled with killing intent.
The smile on her face softened, but her eyes sharpened like blades. "Now then," she murmured, sheathing her sword with a faint click. "If that girl wasn't lying, there's still one more demon out here… the one she called 'him.'"
A butterfly drifted past her shoulder, carried by the night breeze.
"I wonder…" she whispered, looking toward the heart of Mount Natagumo. "Has Giyu already taken care of him?"
~~~