1 Day Ago
"So, you are taking complete responsibility for this demon, right?"
Shinobu asked for the final time, her voice calm but firm. Ishida simply nodded and turned away, walking toward Tanjiro and Nezuko.
"Then I will inform the Corps and the Master immediately," Shinobu said before she turned and left the scene with the girl beside her — Kanao, her apprentice.
Ishida stopped in front of the siblings, pulling a small vial from his inventory.
"Drink this…" he said, extending his hand with the potion toward Tanjiro.
Tanjiro accepted it, though his expression was filled with mild confusion.
"What is this?" he asked, tilting the vial and examining it from every angle.
"This is medicine. It will help your wounds heal faster," Ishida replied before stepping a few feet away.
Tanjiro drank it in one go, and almost instantly, a rush of energy spread through his body.
"Oh— I'm starting to feel energized all of a sudden. What kind of medicine was this?"
"I have a very serious question for you, Tanjiro," Ishida spoke again ignoring Tanjiro's question, his tone shifting to one of gravity.
Tanjiro immediately stopped moving. His expression hardened, mirroring the seriousness in Ishida's voice.
"Now, as I said to her, I am currently responsible for the both of you. So…"
Before Ishida could finish his sentence, Tanjiro suddenly lowered his head, his voice carrying a deep sincerity.
"Thank you… Ishida-san. You saved my life… and Nezuko's too. If you hadn't stepped in, I—" His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of what could have happened pressing against his chest. "…I don't even want to think about it."
Nezuko, still silent as always, only gave Ishida a small, gentle nod from inside her box — her way of showing gratitude.
Ishida glanced at them briefly, his expression unreadable. "No need for thanks. I didn't save you out of kindness. I saved you because I believe your sister's case is different… and I intend to prove it. But…" his eyes sharpened slightly, "…if I ever see her losing control, I won't hesitate to do what needs to be done. Understand?"
Tanjiro straightened, meeting Ishida's gaze without hesitation. "I understand. And… I promise you that day will never come."
"Then I have a few questions for you," Ishida said, turning directly toward Tanjiro. "Before today's incident, did anyone know about the situation with your sister and how everything happened from the start?"
---
(Back at the Ubuyashiki Residence)
Ishida stood before the wooden box as the girl inside slowly peeked her head out. The sight made several of the Hashira pause — they had been discussing killing this small, innocent-looking girl. Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, felt her heart melt the moment she saw her.
"Good. Now then..."
Ishida drew his blade from its sheath. Tanjiro was taken aback, and the other Hashira also looked on with curiosity and suspicion, unsure of his intentions.
Tanjiro rose to his feet, but before he could take more than a step, the Kakushi moved to stop him. Ishida glanced back slightly and spoke.
"Stay where you are, Tanjiro," Ishida said without raising his voice, yet the authority in his tone was enough to freeze Tanjiro mid-step. "If you trust me… then don't interfere."
Tanjiro clenched his fists but obeyed, his eyes darting between Ishida and the box.
The Hashiras' gazes sharpened, some with suspicion, others with curiosity. Sanemi had already placed his hand on his own blade, muttering under his breath, "If this is some trick, I'll end it right here."
Without another word, Ishida turned the blade in his hand and, with a deliberate motion, dragged the edge across his own palm.
The steel parted skin cleanly, and a thin crimson line opened, spilling blood in slow, heavy drops.
Gasps rippled through the room. Mitsuri's hands flew to her mouth. Even Gyomei's normally calm demeanor wavered, his head tilting slightly toward the sound.
Sanemi's grin was sharp and mocking. "So… you're offering yourself as bait? Let's see how long that lasts."
Ignoring him, Ishida lowered himself until his bleeding hand hovered just above the wooden box. The scent of fresh blood flooded the air, metallic and potent—strong enough that every demon would feel it like a burning brand in their mind.
Inside the box, Nezuko shifted. Her bamboo muzzle caught the light as she raised her head, eyes locking on the scarlet drops. Her pupils tightened to slits, and her breathing deepened.
Several Hashira instinctively reached for their swords.
But then… her gaze faltered. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head sharply to the side.
A faint tremor ran through her shoulders as her fingers curled into fists against the wood. The blood kept dripping, the scent growing more intoxicating by the second, yet she did not move toward it.
Her breathing steadied—forced, deliberate restraint.
Mitsuri's voice was a whisper. "She's… resisting?"
Sanemi's smirk faltered into a frown.
Ishida kept his hand extended, the steady drip of blood tapping softly against the wooden floor like a cruel metronome. His gaze never left her.
Ten seconds passed.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The scent in the air thickened, heavy with iron, clinging to the back of the throat.
A full minute slipped by. Nezuko's head remained turned away, her shoulders tense, the bamboo muzzle catching faint glints of light with each controlled breath.
Three minutes.
Still… nothing. No lunge, no twitch toward the blood — only the quiet, unyielding will of a girl refusing the instinct that defined her kind.
By the time Ishida finally lowered his hand, the silence in the courtyard was absolute, as if even the wind had stopped to witness.
"This," he said at last, voice even but cutting, "is the proof I offer. She is not like the others."
The Master's calm voice drifted across the courtyard. "Indeed… her heart is strong."
Tanjiro's chest swelled with pride, though his fists trembled with emotion.
Finally, Ishida straightened as sheathed his blade and wrapped his palm in a strip of cloth, the fabric quickly soaking red, but he could care less about that. His eyes swept the room. "If there are any here who still doubt her after this," he said, his tone edged with steel, "then the weakness you sense is not hers… but your own."