The abnormal gathering of demons was clearly meant to target Senior Shin Arashi. But somehow, they had mistaken Tanjiro for him.
Tanjiro quickly realized why. It was the fox-shaped, disaster-averting mask he wore—nearly identical to Shin Arashi's.
His mind raced.
If they think I'm Senior Shin… then maybe I can use that.
In the space of a breath, Tanjiro made a decision. It was reckless—but it might be their only chance.
"I'll break through their line," he whispered to the others. "The rest of you—grab Zenitsu and run. Don't stop. Head straight down the mountain."
The boy nearest to him nodded quickly, slipping behind Tanjiro and hoisting Zenitsu onto his back.
But the demons had already caught on.
They weren't stupid—they could see Tanjiro's intention. With a snarl, the demons behind them leapt forward, targeting everyone except Tanjiro.
Ten demons lunged at once.
Tanjiro's heart clenched—but then, a voice echoed in his mind. Shin Arashi's words. His encouragement. His confidence.
With a deep breath, Tanjiro stepped forward and shouted:
"Water Breathing, Third Form—Flowing Dance!"
His body moved like water—fluid and graceful, gliding through the trees and enemies like a dancer in a storm. The edge of his Blade shimmered in the moonlight, slicing through the darkness. He moved on instinct, striking along the invisible line of opening in each demon's stance.
Blade flashed.
Ten heads fell.
The demons didn't even have time to scream.
Tanjiro landed softly, his sword at his side. For a moment, he just stared. The severed heads rolled across the forest floor. The ten demons he'd thought were invincible were now lying still.
He had done the impossible.
He'd really done it.
For so long, he'd doubted himself—overshadowed by the brilliance of Shin Arashi. But now...
Before he could even process what had just happened, the sharp stench of danger jolted his senses.
They were still in trouble.
"Run!!" Tanjiro roared.
The group didn't need to be told twice. They bolted.
Tanjiro ran with them, his lungs burning, the cool night air slapping his face. Behind him came the sound of pursuit—savage and unstoppable.
He glanced back—and his heart nearly stopped.
Dozens of them.
At least fifty demons were charging after them, howling and shrieking with mindless rage. The sound of their footfalls was like thunder, shaking the earth with their fury.
"Senior Shin… this mess is because of you, isn't it?! It's going to get us all killed!" Tanjiro cursed silently, still running.
If he had known chasing after Shin would bring this kind of disaster, he never would've done it. And now, the demons had mistaken him for Shin—and they wanted blood.
Suddenly—
"Ahh!"
The boy carrying Zenitsu stumbled and cried out. His ankle twisted violently, sending both him and Zenitsu crashing to the ground.
He tried to get up, but pain shot up his leg, locking his body in place. He couldn't move.
Tanjiro skidded to a stop.
The others didn't. They kept running—panic had stolen their reason.
But Tanjiro didn't hesitate. He turned back without a word, sprinting toward the fallen pair.
He wouldn't abandon them.
No matter what.