Tsukihiko's voice echoed through the alley, and the air instantly grew heavy with a suffocating dread. The atmosphere became so thick with tension that it felt hard to breathe.
Priest Jubei, who had been wrestling with his own thoughts, felt his legs begin to tremble. He fought the overwhelming urge to fall to his knees, but his resolve was weakening with every passing second. Damn it, he thought, his mind racing. His voice is all I can hear. His real body isn't anywhere in my range!
The priest's face twisted into a grim expression. He possessed countless techniques and spiritual arts to combat evil spirits, but that was the problem—there were no spirits here. He was facing a physical monster, a being of pure, tangible malice. It made him feel like a master dragon slayer who had woken up in a world where dragons never existed. All his skills, all his training, were completely useless.
The sharp, metallic sound of rifle bolts being chambered cut through the silence. The clicks echoed off the walls, a chilling promise of what was to come. Even a man like Priest Jubei, a cultivator who had spent years preparing himself to face death, felt a cold shiver run down his spine. As a member of the Priest Clan, the idea of being torn apart by a volley of bullets was an unthinkable, almost absurd, way to die. He could already picture the confused and shocked faces of the other priests at the shrine when they heard how he had been killed.
"It seems you're still unable to speak for some reason," Tsukihiko's voice drifted into his ear again, smooth and devoid of any emotion. "But that doesn't matter." A cold amusement crept into his tone. "Your blood will tell me everything I need to know."
The moment the words left his lips, the world erupted in a deafening roar of gunfire. Countless musket balls shot through the air, creating a deadly web of lead that closed in on the priest in an instant. Jubei felt the violent impacts all at once, the force of the bullets tearing through his robes, piercing his flesh, and shattering his bones.
An all-consuming pain exploded through his body, overwhelming his senses until the world blurred into a haze of agony.
"No... no..."
The staff he held, the symbol of his priestly authority, slipped from his grasp and clattered loudly onto the ground. His body swayed for a moment before he collapsed, landing hard on his knees. The storm of bullets had shredded his internal organs. At this point, not even the gods could save him.
The next moment, a shadow fell over him. Tsukihiko's figure appeared, a terrifying silhouette that loomed over Priest Jubei's bullet-ridden body.
"Now," the demon whispered, "let's see what secrets you were hiding."
Meanwhile, at the Ubuyashiki family home, the quiet courtyard was no longer empty. One by one, figures had appeared, filling the space with their somber presence. A heavy scent of blood clung to them, a grim reminder of the battle they had just escaped. The six surviving Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps had returned.
Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira. Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira. Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira. Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira. Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira. And Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira.
"Greetings, Master," they said in unison, their voices heavy with exhaustion and sorrow.
They fixed their eyes on their leader, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, who was resting on a tatami mat inside. The six Hashira felt a confusing mix of emotions—relief at having survived, but also a lingering fear and the bitter taste of failure. They had all been prepared to die for their mission, but when death had felt so close, none of them had been able to face it without fear.
More importantly, their mission had been to bring back Sakonji Urokodaki and the others. In the end, they had failed completely.
"I already know everything that happened," Kagaya said, his voice as calm and gentle as ever. "You all did the right thing. And Urokodaki, Tomioka, and Sabito did not bring shame to the Demon Slayer Corps."
He knew that under Tsukihiko's influence, the former Water Hashira and his students had lost control, killing countless innocent passengers on the train and slaughtering the government officers sent to stop them. But Kagaya also knew that as soon as they regained their senses, they had immediately taken their own lives. In a way, they had fulfilled the code of bushido. As for their bodies being used by Tsukihiko afterward to cause even more destruction with the Mugen Train, that was no longer their burden to bear.
"There is something else I must tell you all," Kagaya continued, his voice drawing their full attention. "During the incident on the train, every one of you awakened… the Mark."
The Mark.
The simple words caused the six Hashira to tense up. They didn't fully understand what their master meant.
"The Mark is a special state that a swordsman in the Corps can enter," Kagaya explained softly. "When it appears, unique patterns will form on your face. Once the Mark is awakened, a slayer's strength can increase anywhere from three to ten times its normal level."
What? Upon hearing this, the Hashira's faces filled with shock, followed by a flicker of excitement. They were still grieving the failure of their last mission. If only they had been stronger, they might have been able to save Urokodaki and the others. They realized now that the strange patterns that had appeared on their faces while they were escaping must have been this Mark.
"However," Kagaya's voice grew somber, "awakening the Mark comes with a terrible price. Every Demon Slayer who awakens the Mark… will not live past the age of twenty-five."
The hope that had just appeared in their eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a stunned silence. They stared at their master, the weight of his words settling heavily upon them.
"My children," Kagaya said, his voice filled with a deep sorrow. "For me, for the Demon Slayer Corps, and for the people of this country, you have all sacrificed far too much."
At that same time, in Asakusa, Tokyo, Tanjiro and his friends were resting when a Kasugai crow arrived with the latest intelligence report from the Demon Slayer Corps.
As Tanjiro read the report, the color drained from his face. The paper slipped from his fingers, and he fell heavily to his knees with a loud thud. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his expression was a mask of pure, unrestrained fury. In such a short time, he had lost his master and his senior brother.
"Tanjiro! Tanjiro, what's wrong with you?" Zenitsu cried out, rushing to his side.
"Don't talk right now," another voice said softly. Zenitsu looked over to see the woman who was sheltering them. She had read the report over Tanjiro's shoulder.
"Sakonji Urokodaki was Tanjiro's teacher," she explained quietly to Zenitsu and Inosuke. "And Giyu Tomioka was his senior brother. If they had simply died fighting a demon, Tanjiro would be sad, but he could find peace knowing they died as heroes."
She paused, her own expression pained. "But that's not what happened. They were tricked by Muzan Kibutsuji. They didn't just die… their names will be remembered as villains by everyone in Japan. For Tanjiro, that's a fate even worse than death."
Zenitsu looked back at Tanjiro, his heart aching for his friend. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain he was feeling. After everything he had been through—losing his entire family to a demon—Tanjiro had somehow managed to keep his kind and compassionate heart. But this blow, this cruel and unbearable tragedy, seemed to finally be too much for him to bear.
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