The tense air around them slowly lifted, like mist retreating from the morning sun.
The battle was over.
Tanjiro stood with Shin Arashi's Demon-Slaying Sword in hand, the severed head of the Hand Demon lying nearby—its grotesque expression frozen in shock, fury, and disbelief.
Shin Arashi had never doubted this outcome.
He believed in Tanjiro's strength.
And he trusted in the sharpness of his own blade.
The reason Tanjiro's Nichirin Sword had broken earlier was simple—it wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
Tanjiro's form was clean. His spirit, steady.
If the Hand Demon hadn't devoured countless other demons to reinforce his body, that first slash would have ended things.
After all, Tanjiro had already split boulders. The demon's flesh, no matter how hardened, was no match for true resolve.
Now, the Hand Demon's massive body began to dissolve, breaking apart into dust and smoke under the pale moonlight.
Its head rolled to a stop.
Its face twisted in agony.
"Damn it… Damn it! No! My body—it's unraveling!"
"I can't accept this! I can't—!"
The anguish in its voice wasn't just from defeat.
It was the despair of something monstrous… remembering what it once was.
Tanjiro stood before the crumbling mass, his eyes softening with a sorrow that most would never understand.
"…What a sad scent," he murmured.
He knelt and reached out, gently holding the last remnants of the demon's twitching hand—a hand that had once belonged to a human.
He closed his eyes.
"Please, God… if this soul must be reborn—don't let them become a demon again. Please."
His prayer drifted into the air as the last of the demon's body disintegrated, scattering into ash and silence.
Shin Arashi watched quietly his expression unreadable.
This was Tanjiro's nature. That boundless empathy.
Shin didn't comment. He respected it.
After a short rest, the numbness in Shin's arms finally faded. He rose and walked to Tanjiro.
"Tanjiro," he said, calm and steady. "Well done."
Tanjiro looked up and smiled.
It was faint, tired… but it was a real smile.
And, curiously, it looked a little like Shin Arashi's.
"Senior Shin." Tanjiro got to his feet and held out the blade. "Your sword."
Shin took it with a nod.
"Your Nichirin Sword is broken," he said, glancing at the shattered remains nearby.
"From here on, stay somewhere safe. I'll handle the rest."
Tanjiro blinked. "You're still going to hunt the other demons?"
"Of course." Shin's voice was quiet, but firm.
Mt. Fujikasane most powerful demon had been eliminated, but there were still others—smaller ones, weaker ones, scattering into the dark.
"We've already dealt with the hardest part," Shin said. "What's left are stragglers. They won't be a problem."
Tanjiro hesitated for a moment… then nodded.
"I'll wait for you to come back."
He didn't argue.
He didn't insist on going along.
Without a sword, even the strongest will couldn't help.
If his blade were intact, he might have chosen to fight by Shin's side once more.
But now, the only thing he could do… was trust.
Soon after, the two parted ways once again.
Tanjiro remained behind to rest.
Shin Arashi—guided by the flickering markers on his miniature map—pressed forward into the depths of the mountain, his mission far from finished.