A three thousand kms away. Deep within a mountain valley, hidden from all maps, lay a mansion. White walls. Black tiles. Winding corridors. The courtyard was filled with wisteria. Wisteria was the natural enemy of demons.
The toxin emitted by this plant could, to a certain degree, suppress a demon's regenerative ability. Though it couldn't completely nullify it, it could make demons instinctively nauseous and fearful.
It was a natural barrier material. And this mansion was surrounded by wisteria, inside and out. Even the most cunning demon could not take half a step near. Without question, this was the headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps. The main residence of the Ubuyashiki family.
Within the estate, in the main hall, the night was still thick. The wooden shōji doors were shut tight. Only two lamps burned inside. A young man knelt on a cushion at the very center of the room.
He appeared to be around twenty years old. His frame was gaunt. He wore a plain white kariginu, his black hair combed neatly and bound behind his head. His features, by their contours, should have been refined and handsome.
But the left half of his face, from the temple to the cheekbone, was ravaged by a creeping, deep purple corrosion. And his eyes, both pupils were clouded and white, the purple decay swallowing more than half of them. He was clearly, utterly blind.
This was the curse the Ubuyashiki family had borne for generations.
Just as Shinji knew. The Ubuyashiki family shared a bloodline with Kibutsuji Muzan. Five hundred years ago, in what was then still the Heian era, Kibutsuji Muzan had been born from the Ubuyashiki family.
Afterward, he had inadvertently become a mutation among humanity, the Progenitor of Demons, neither yōkai nor monster. And because of this, the Ubuyashiki family seemed to have been struck by a terrifying curse.
Generation after generation, they were frail and sickly. The males especially, rarely did any live past thirty. Most died before the age of twenty-five.
Yet, as though some unseen deity had granted an exchange, the successive members of the Ubuyashiki family also gained a certain ability, a precognition bordering on intuition.
They could not see concrete images, but they could feel the flow and direction of events.
This young man was the current head of the Ubuyashiki family, bearing that very ability.
Ubuyashiki Rikiya.
At his right hand, a pitch-black Kasugai Crow perched on a dedicated wooden stand, its golden eyes utterly still. It had just flown back from a thousand kms away.
It had brought all the messages relayed by Rengoku Jinjūrō. Rikiya closed his right eye, the only one that could still see, and remained silent for a long time.
"A yōkai…" he murmured. His voice was very soft, carrying the frailty one would expect of an invalid. Yet it was also calm. Steady. Even decisive, solid as stone.
"A yōkai capable of cutting down a demon from several kms away. Carrying the personal missive of Master Tōtōsai. Seeking out the Demon Slayer Corps of his own accord. And there is another… a hunter who can suppress three swordsmen in an instant. Nakai Shinji… this name, is it the one who has recently risen to such renown in Musashi Province? The one who cut thunder. Exterminated demons. Forced back an army of three thousand. Overwhelmed the Dragon of Echigo…"
He pondered, then reached out and took a thin sheet of paper from beside him. He dipped a brush in ink. Though he could not see, his handwriting, where the brush fell, was neat and precise, and written very quickly. When he finished, he rolled the paper and tied it to the Kasugai Crow's leg.
"Go," Rikiya said, stroking the crow's back. "Tell Jinjūrō to bring them here." The crow spread its wings, slipped through a gap in the window, and vanished into the night.
Rikiya watched it depart. Then he turned and spoke toward the empty shōji door. "Summon the Hashira back." A woman's voice acknowledged from outside. Footsteps faded into the distance.
Rikiya closed his clouded, blind eyes. That face, half-consumed by the purple corrosion, looked terribly aged beneath the lamplight. A body of twenty years. The presence of sixty. A lifespan of eighty. He did not have long to live. But before he died, to receive such news…
"Kibutsuji Muzan's whereabouts…" He spoke the name. There was no hatred in his voice. Only exhaustion. Five hundred years of exhaustion. And, a longing. For release.
Beneath the same curtain of night, several pitch-black Kasugai Crows burst from the Ubuyashiki estate and hurtled off in different directions.
They crossed mountain forests. Over rivers. Past the rooftops of towns and the footpaths of fields. Every single one carried the same command,
Hashira Gō. A joint council of the Hashira.
Somewhere in the mountains north of the Kantō. A campfire crackled. A bald, powerfully built man sat cross-legged beside the flames. His upper body was bare. His shoulders and chest were a crisscross of old scars.
Across his waist lay an exceptionally thick blade. The sheath was dark gray. The hilt was wrapped in coarse hemp rope. Without question, a Nichirin Blade. Before him lay the heads of three demons. Already they had begun to rot, blackening into ash, the firelight revealing lines of gray-green decay.
"Three," he grunted. He reached out, picked one up by the hair, studied it for two seconds, and tossed it into the fire. "Good luck today."
Behind him stood six young Demon Slayer swordsmen in their unified black uniforms. Their faces were tired but wired. Two of them bore injuries. One's left arm was bound in a makeshift cloth sling, seeping dark red blood. "Sir, one got away—"
"If it got away, it got away. There's no cover in that direction. Dawn's almost here, it'll die on its own." The bald man poured a mouthful of water down his throat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Caw. A Kasugai Crow landed in front of him. Its golden eyes fixed on him, its throat emitting rapid, urgent croaks. The bald man glanced at the slip of paper tied to the crow's leg, untied it, and scanned it twice.
"Oh." He stood up and brushed the ash off his body. He tossed all three demon heads into the fire. The flames leaped higher. "We're moving."
"Where to?"
"Headquarters. The Master summons."
Beneath a certain castle town. A windowless chamber. A single oil lamp. A woman, or rather, a girl, knelt in the corner. Before her lay an unsheathed Nichirin Blade, its blade a faint pink.
She was polishing the sword. Her movements were very slow. The cloth slid from tip to tang along the cutting edge. Again. And again. She wore the black uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps, a deep purple haori draped over it. Her long hair was braided and hung down her back. Her expression was plain. Her gaze was still.
A Kasugai Crow flew in through a vent and landed beside her knee. She did not stop polishing her blade. She only glanced sidelong at the slip of paper. Then she sheathed her sword. Stood. Pushed open the stone door of the chamber. And walked out into the moonlight.
And as these Kasugai Crows flew outward, that very first pitch-black crow had already crossed a thousand mountains and rivers, returning once more to the sky above the ruins where Shinji and the others stood. Half a night's passage.
At incredible speed… just as the sky began to lighten toward dawn.
Rengoku Jinjūrō extended his arm, and the Kasugai Crow landed steadily on his forearm. He untied the slip of paper, unfolded it, and looked up. His gaze shifted between Shinji, standing amidst the broken walls, and Tsugikuni Yoriichi, still crouched beside his wife.
"A reply from our Master." He held out the slip of paper. "He has granted permission for me to bring you both, to our headquarters."
Shinji took the paper and swept his eyes over it. The handwriting was neat and precise, the words concise. At the end was a floral crest that appeared to be a family seal. He handed it back. Then he turned to Yoriichi. "Bring your wife. We'll go together."
Yoriichi didn't answer right away. He looked down at his wife, Uta. She was still leaning against him. Her breathing had steadied, but her body still trembled faintly.
Every so often, the child in her womb would kick, sending a flicker of softness across her fear-stricken face. "Uta isn't in any condition to travel right now," Yoriichi said.
"The Demon Slayer Corps headquarters is far safer than this place." Shinji's tone was matter-of-fact, yet it left Yoriichi unable to refute, unable to refuse.
"At the very least, there's a wisteria barrier. There are people. There are midwives. And your wife's constitution seems… rather unique. Clearly, she attracts demons more easily. On top of that, that demon laid a trap just to harm her. Who knows when the next one will come?"
Yoriichi was silent for a beat. In the end, he nodded. He bent down and lifted Uta steadily into his arms, his movements so gentle and slow it was as though he were carrying the most precious porcelain in all the world.
Rengoku Jinjūrō watched this scene from the side, then glanced once more at the final line on the slip of paper in his hand, written in Ubuyashiki Rikiya's hand: Spare no effort to win them over. Neither is to be slighted. Both of them.
He tucked the paper away and bowed deeply, once each, to Shinji and Yoriichi. "Then, please, follow me."