"…Why did you stop running?"
Soma stepped forward, his movement casual—almost leisurely. Without warning, he lifted his foot and kicked Kenzō away from Tanjiro. The boy, who had been clinging desperately to Tanjiro's waist, was sent tumbling across the floor, rolling several times before finally being caught in his mother's trembling arms.
Soma didn't spare them another glance. He stopped in front of Tanjiro, calmly straightening the young swordsman's disheveled clothes, as though what had just happened was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Only after that did he cast a brief look toward the woman clutching her son, both of them shaking in fear.
Then, at last, he turned his attention back to the demon standing near the shattered window—the one who had almost fled, yet now remained.
"In your eyes, humans are nothing more than food, aren't they?" Soma's tone was light, almost conversational. "You had quite the feast not long ago, didn't you?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely puzzled.
"So what changed? Now that it's your own family, why is it suddenly different? If humans are just food to you, then they should be no exception… and yet here you are, hesitating."
His voice remained calm, but each word pressed down like a weight.
"The very 'food' you once devoured without a second thought—now, because of that same 'food,' you're putting yourself in danger."
"You could have ignored them. You should have been able to, right?"
"Then why… when it comes to your own family… does everything change?"
Soma's gaze locked onto the demon, his lips curling faintly.
"Why is it suddenly different?"
"You've already become a demon… and yet you still cling to what you once were as a human?"
"You should know—once you become a demon, everything that made you human will slowly fade… little by little, until it's gone."
The demon clutched his head, letting out a low, pained growl as he sank to the ground.
From the distant grass, Makomo stepped out at last. She had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to sever the demon's head in a single blow, but now she simply stood there, watching. Beneath her mask, her expression was complicated.
The demons she had slain before were all vicious, irredeemable creatures.
But this one…
This one was different.
Here he was, willing to endanger himself for the sake of his family—yet not long ago, he had mercilessly destroyed another family's happiness.
If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed both sides belonged to the same being.
"You're from the Demon Slayer Corps, aren't you?" Yamashita Yūsuke lifted his head, his crimson eyes fixed on Soma. "A group that claims to protect humans by exterminating demons… are you going to harm ordinary people too?"
"Heh…"
A faint smile appeared on Soma's face.
"Whenever night falls, demons emerge to prey on humans. And at the same time, there are those who descend upon the darkness to hunt them—to protect those very humans."
He gave a small shrug.
"That's the Demon Slayer Corps. Our purpose is simple: protect humans, eradicate demons."
Then his gaze sharpened.
"You can leave. Go on. And while you're at it, think carefully—will we act like you did toward your family… or like you did toward everyone else?"
"The choice is yours."
He stood there quietly, watching the demon crouched on the ground, writhing in anguish.
Yūsuke staggered backward, taking two unsteady steps.
At the same time, Soma's Nichirin Sword slid partway from its sheath. The cold gleam of steel flickered under the moonlight.
The demon retreated further.
But Soma… walked in the opposite direction.
Step by step, he moved toward the woman and the child, his expression turning utterly indifferent.
At last, the demon stopped.
His crimson eyes burned with violent fury as they locked onto Soma, killing intent surging forth without restraint.
"…You want to kill us?"
Soma looked up at him, a trace of mockery in his voice.
"Before you think about that, you should ask yourself something first—can you really protect your family?"
He spoke softly, yet each word cut deep.
"Can you protect them?"
"Dealing with you might take some effort… but as for a defenseless woman and a child?"
A faint, cruel smile tugged at his lips.
"That would be easy."
"Just like you did—sneaking into someone else's home in the dead of night, shattering their happiness without a second thought."
"It was exhilarating, wasn't it?"
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the trembling woman holding her son.
"Do you know what your husband has been doing out there?"
Then to the boy, whose eyes were red with fury and hatred.
"Do you know what your father has done?"
His voice dropped, almost a whisper.
"Just now… your husband, your father—he—"
"Enough!!"
Yamashita Yūsuke shot to his feet, roaring at the top of his lungs.
"Don't say another word! Don't say anything else—don't you dare speak of this in front of my wife… my child!"
At that moment, the demon's eyes burned a vivid, blood-red.
"Isn't this what you want? To kill me? Then come!" he roared, his voice trembling between fury and desperation. "Let's see who kills who—face me head-on!"
"No."
Soma shook his head.
"If it's a fight you want," he said calmly, "then before we begin, I'll kill your son right in front of you. Then your wife."
His tone was light, almost indifferent, yet every word struck like a blade.
"I'll make you experience what it feels like—the same way you trampled over other people's happiness without a second thought. I'll let you feel their despair… their terror… when they faced you."
He lifted his gaze again, fixing it on the demon.
"So now, make your choice."
"Run. Abandon your wife and child… and see whether we treat them the same way you treated those ordinary people."
"Or kneel, and wait for judgment—for the consequences of everything you've done."
Soma's voice remained steady, emotionless.
"The choice is yours."
Beside him, Kanao tilted her head slightly, quietly observing the demon before glancing up at her uncle.
Once, he had been just like this demon.
He, too, had struggled against his hunger, suppressing it again and again… until the day he could no longer hold it back, and had chosen to ask for death by her own hands.
But this demon—
He had not restrained himself.
He had unleashed his hunger upon strangers, devouring them without mercy… while preserving what little remained of his humanity for his own family, becoming a gentle husband, a loving father.
Yamashita Yūsuke stood frozen in place, his expression twisted in agony.
"…Dad, just run. Don't worry about us."
Kenzō's voice trembled as he spoke.
"Yūsuke… go," the woman added, her body shaking as well. "Don't worry about us. They… they won't kill us."
Perhaps it was their voices—his son's, his wife's—that finally pushed him to a decision.
The demon did not choose to fight to the death, even though he knew the end would be the same either way.
Instead, memories surfaced in his mind.
The families he had invaded in the dead of night… the ones who had once lived in warmth and happiness, just like his own.
He could still see them—falling to their knees, begging desperately, pleading with him to spare their children… even if it meant offering themselves in exchange.
And he had granted their wish.
He had devoured them.
Allowed them to die in a strange mixture of pain and relief… never letting them witness the moment he turned on their children as well.
Now…
That same fate had come for him.
He had become the one kneeling.
"Please… I'm begging you… don't harm my son… don't harm my wife…"
The demon dropped to his knees, bowing his head again and again before the demon slayers—those who existed to protect humanity and eradicate demons.
Soma said nothing. He simply watched.
Not far away, Makomo's expression was complicated. It was the first time she had encountered such a demon—so contradictory, so human. Her grip on her Nichirin Sword tightened… then loosened… then tightened again.
Nearby, Tanjiro stood frozen, unsure how to respond to the scene unfolding before him.
Soma did not act.
Instead, he turned to Tanjiro.
"You decide."
Tanjiro's hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.
He looked at the woman and the child—their eyes filled with desperate pleading.
Then he looked at the demon, whose gaze was filled with reluctance and love as he stared at his family.
In that moment, Tanjiro felt as though he had become an executioner—one who would take a husband from his wife, a father from his child.
The air was thick with emotion. He could smell it—the sincerity of their bond, raw and overwhelming.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
And in his mind, the scene from earlier resurfaced—the slaughter, the blood, the unbearable cruelty.
After a long silence…
Tanjiro opened his eyes again.
His gaze was firm.
"What's been done… cannot be erased. It must not be forgotten," he said quietly. "People must bear the consequences of their actions."
"…Demons are no exception."
"The dead cannot speak," he continued softly, "but I can smell their sorrow… their pain… how deeply they suffered."
With that, he tightened his grip on his Nichirin Sword and stepped forward cautiously.
Then—
he swung his sword at the demon.