The Hand Demon's grotesque laughter echoed once more through the forest.
"Chichichichi~"
It sneered, watching as Shin Arashi's relentless flurry finally came to a halt.
Though all of the demon's arms had been severed—leaving it as a pulsating, fleshy mass writhing on the forest floor—there was no fear in its voice. Quite the opposite.
It was confident. Patient.
Because unlike humans, demons didn't tire.
Shin, on the other hand, was reaching his limit.
His chest heaved with each breath, even as he tried to maintain the rhythm of Water Breathing. His right arm—the one wielding the Demon-Slaying Sword—hung low, trembling from strain.
The blade was still in his grip, but barely.
The Hand Demon could see it too.
"You're finished," it hissed. "Soon, you'll collapse—and I'll devour you like the rest."
High above in the branches, Tanjiro watched in tense silence.
He had seen everything—the sheer ferocity of Shin's modified technique, the storm of slashes, the calm yet powerful presence. A part of him couldn't help but feel small. Weak.
"He's… so strong," Tanjiro thought, his confidence wavering. "Compared to him, I…"
But then, something stirred within him.
He remembered Shin's voice. The way he had looked at him—not with disdain, but belief. Just like Master Urokodaki. Neither of them had ever doubted him.
Why should he?
Tanjiro clenched his teeth.
He couldn't let this chance go to waste.
Down below, Shin began to count under his breath.
"Three…"
"Two…"
The Hand Demon's regenerating arms twitched. Severed stumps began slowly reforming—slimy bone and muscle stretching outward once more.
But for now, it was still defenceless.
A grotesque, laughing ball of flesh.
"One…"
"Now."
From the shadows of the trees, Tanjiro leapt.
His body flew toward the Hand Demon with deadly intent, the glint of his Nichirin Sword flashing in the moonlight.
"Water Breathing! First Form!"
"Water Surface Slash!"
The blade came down like a crashing wave, slicing through the air straight toward the demon's exposed neck.
The Hand Demon's glee turned into alarm.
It squirmed and twisted, trying to move—but it couldn't. Not like this. It had no limbs to defend itself.
It was helpless.
CLANG!
Tanjiro's sword connected with its neck—and stopped.
It didn't cut through.
Eyes widening, Tanjiro gritted his teeth and pushed harder, yelling:
"Die!!"
But instead of slicing deeper—
CRACK.
A sharp, ringing snap echoed in the clearing.
The Nichirin Sword broke.
Shards of black metal scattered across the dirt.
Tanjiro stood frozen.
His weapon—his one chance—was gone.
And the Hand Demon, stunned at first, suddenly began to laugh again.
"Chichichichi~"
Its neck, though scarred, was intact.
"You failed."
Tanjiro stared at the hilt in his hand, shock and disbelief washing over him.
Behind him, Shin gritted his teeth.
"Tanjiro—!"