The first-floor lobby of Kyogoku House plunged into an oppressive, deathly silence that seemed to swallow every sound.
The severed sashes lay sprawled lifelessly across the polished wooden floor like felled serpents, their once-vibrant crimson fabric now dull and limp. Charred edges curled inward from the heat of the lightning, while faint, erratic arcs of purple electricity continued to dance along the cuts, spitting tiny sparks that hissed against the wood before fading away.
Daki's plum-red, slit-pupiled eyes trembled violently in their sockets.
She stared down at the black-haired youth who stood there so casually, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his strange, dark blade. For several long heartbeats, her mind simply refused to process what she had just witnessed.
The single word—"brother"—had struck deeper than any physical wound ever could. It was the most tightly guarded secret buried in the rotten core of her existence, something even Muzan Kibutsuji himself mentioned only in the rarest, most private moments when granting her his cursed blood.
How could this ordinary-looking human, who wasn't even clad in the distinctive uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps, possibly know such a thing?
"You… who the hell are you?!"
Daki's flawless, porcelain features twisted grotesquely. The seductive oiran mask she had worn for over a century shattered in an instant. Thick, dark veins bulged and pulsed beneath her pale skin like writhing worms.
Her sharp fangs gleamed as her lips peeled back in a snarl, and her long, lustrous black hair began to writhe and lift on its own, coiling like living tendrils stirred by some unseen fury—as though the beast inside her had finally been prodded in its most sensitive, vulnerable spot.
"Waah! A monster!!"
"The oiran is a man-eating demon! Everyone, run for your lives!"
The spell of enchantment that had held the patrons captive finally broke. The men who moments earlier had been drunkenly admiring Daki's unearthly beauty now recoiled in raw terror.
Their eyes widened at the sight of the severed, unnatural ribbons and the hideous transformation overtaking their once-beloved Warabihime.
"Waah! A demon! A monster!!"
Piercing screams erupted throughout the hall. Customers shoved and trampled one another in blind panic, scrambling toward the narrow exits.
Behind the reception counter, the brothel madam let out a strangled gasp—her eyes rolled back into her head as she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint, her ornate hairpin clattering against the wood.
"So noisy… filthy, worthless insects—die already!"
Daki's irritation boiled over into pure, unfiltered rage. The chaos around her only fueled the spiraling killing intent that radiated from her like black smoke.
Boom!
More than a dozen much thicker crimson sashes erupted from her back in a violent explosion of fabric and malice. Each one was lined with rows of eerie, blinking eyes that rolled and glared in every direction. No longer content to target Rin alone, they fanned outward in a deadly web, tearing through the air with vicious intent.
The sashes aimed to shred every living thing on the floor—civilians, furniture, and even the very supporting pillars that held up the building.
"Blood Demon Art: Eightfold Obi Slash!"
A ferocious gust roared through the hall, whipping hair and clothing and sending razor-sharp wood splinters flying in all directions like shrapnel. The entire structure groaned under the strain. It seemed inevitable that the fleeing innocents would be sliced into bloody ribbons within the next heartbeat.
"Did I give you permission to move?"
The voice was low, icy, and impossibly close—right beside Daki's ear, as though the speaker had been standing there all along.
Too fast. Far too fast.
Rin's figure appeared to have bypassed the very concept of distance. One instant he had been ten meters away, calm and unmoving; the next, he stood directly in front of her, close enough that she could feel the faint heat radiating from his body.
He spared not even a glance for the deadly ribbons ripping through the hall. With an almost bored motion, he drove the Kusanagi sword point-first into the floorboards, the blade sinking several inches deep with a resonant thunk. The weapon stood upright like a dark sentinel.
Now with both hands free, Rin curled the fingers of his right hand into a claw-like shape. Violent blue lightning erupted around his palm and forearm, crackling with ferocious energy that lit the surrounding air in stark, flickering white-blue.
In one fluid motion, he seized Daki by the throat.
"Ghk—!"
Her pupils contracted to pinpricks as a choked, guttural sound forced its way past her lips. The next instant, dense lightning-attribute chakra poured from Rin's palm straight into her body—like thousands of red-hot needles simultaneously piercing every nerve, every vein, every cell.
Crackle—crackle—CRACKLE!
The dozen crimson sashes that had been seconds away from carving through the civilians froze mid-motion. Their malevolent eyes blinked erratically once, twice—then rolled back as the paralysis took hold. One by one, the ribbons lost all strength and dropped limply from the air, thudding onto the floor like discarded rags.
"L-Let… go…!"
Daki's clawed hands flew up to grip Rin's forearm, her razor-sharp nails digging desperately into his skin in an attempt to tear him apart. But the overwhelming suppression of the lightning robbed her of nearly all power.
Her legendary regeneration faltered; the wounds smoked and sizzled instead of closing. Even breathing felt like swallowing molten iron.
Rin lifted his arm with casual ease, hoisting the demon—who had lorded over the Entertainment District like an untouchable queen for more than a hundred years—clean off the ground. Her feet dangled helplessly, kicking uselessly at empty air.
His pitch-black eyes gazed down at her coldly, utterly devoid of pity or hesitation as she writhed and gasped in agony.
"Since you refuse to call him out yourself… I'll simply beat you until he has no choice but to show himself."
He flicked his wrist in a small, almost negligent motion.
Swish!
Rin's left hand moved like a blade, fingers extended and wrapped in a razor-thin layer of sharp, glowing chakra. The slash was clean, precise, merciless.
Daki's beautiful yet venomously twisted head separated from her shoulders in a single, fluid arc.
It spun lazily through the air several times, long hair trailing behind it like dark silk, before landing on the tatami mats with a heavy, wet thud.
The headless body slumped forward and collapsed in a boneless heap.
Rin didn't bother glancing at the twitching corpse. He reached down, gripped the hilt of the Kusanagi sword still embedded in the floor, and yanked it free with a soft rasp of steel against wood. Then he stepped over to where Daki's severed head lay, raised one foot, and brought it down hard on the side of her face.
Spulch~!
The impact cracked the floorboards beneath with a sharp report, fractures spiderwebbing outward in every direction.
"Waaah… it hurts! It hurts so much!"
The head did not dissolve into ash as a normal demon's would have. Instead, it began to wail like a petulant, wronged child—tears streaming from the corners of its eyes, snot bubbling from its nose.
"You actually dared to cut off my head! You cold, disgusting monster! I'm going to kill you! I'll tear you apart! Brother! Brother, come out right now! Someone's bullying me! Waaah—waaah!"
Daki's pitiful, high-pitched cries echoed through the ruined hall, raw and desperate.
As the sobs rang out, a chilling, wet grinding noise began to emanate from the back of the headless corpse still sprawled on the floor.
"Hehehe…"
The flesh along her spine churned and bubbled violently, as though a swamp of rot had suddenly come to life beneath the skin.
In the next instant, a pair of gaunt, skeletal hands—each tipped with long, blackened nails—tore through the flesh from the inside and clawed their way out into the open air.
An oppressive demonic aura—ten times heavier and more nauseating than Daki's—exploded outward, flooding every corner of Kyogoku House. The stench of decay, blood, and death was so thick it felt like it coated the tongue and lungs with every breath.
"Oh my, oh my… who made my precious little sister cry like this?"
A gaunt, bare-chested man rose slowly from the writhing mass of flesh, his posture hunched and crooked. Dark, sickly blotches marred his yellowish skin. In each hand he gripped a grotesquely curved bone sickle, the edges jagged and stained. Most tellingly, the characters for "Upper Rank" and "Six" glowed vividly in his sunken, bloodshot eyes.
The true master of Upper Rank Six—Gyutaro.
He tilted his stiff, malformed neck with a series of sickening pops, his gaze drifting lazily over the stampede of panicked civilians still fleeing in terror. Finally, his attention settled on Rin, who remained standing calmly with one foot pressed firmly against Daki's wailing head.
No trace of fury burned in Gyutaro's expression—only a deep, twisted, almost suffocating jealousy that seemed to seep from every pore.
He took in Rin's sharp, handsome features, the straight and confident set of his shoulders, the immaculate state of his clothing despite the chaos. Gyutaro's shriveled, cracked lips slowly peeled back in an ugly, lopsided grin, revealing rows of uneven, jagged fangs.
"How irritating… look at you. Such a pretty face, such clean, expensive clothes. Bet you're real popular with the ladies, huh? Never had to scrape and suffer a single day in your miserable life, have you?"
____
12 Advance chapters:Patreon/slept01