The hall of the Demon Slayer Corps, a solemn sanctuary of wood and incense, echoed with the soft footsteps of its elite. One by one, the Hashira arrived.
Flame. Water. Love. Sound. Mist. Serpent. Wind. Stone.
And among them, Tharion.
Clad in black robes with his long, tattered cloak fluttering lightly behind him, he stood beside the quiet Ubuyashiki, who sat calm and composed despite his weakening body. A gentle smile touched the leader's face as he turned toward the gathered warriors.
"Thank you all… for answering the call," Ubuyashiki said, his voice quiet yet strong.
Tengen Uzui leaned back, arms folded, flamboyant jewelry catching the light. "You really made a flashy mess on that train, Rengoku."
Rengoku, now recovered and wrapped in fresh haori, gave a hearty laugh. "It was a battle worthy of every flame I wield. And I did not stand alone."
His gaze flickered toward Tharion, standing in the shadow of the paper wall, silent.
Murmurs passed between Hashira. They had all heard the story—how Tharion had unleashed a cascade of Sun Breathing forms, forcing Akaza, Upper Moon Three, into retreat. A feat none had seen in generations.
Sanemi, the Wind Hashira, sneered. "I still don't trust him. He's not one of us."
Giyu, the Water Hashira, said nothing, but his eyes flicked toward Tharion, filled with thought.
"Whether you trust him or not is irrelevant," Ubuyashiki replied gently. "He has saved your comrade and wounded Muzan's pride. That alone grants him a place here."
He turned to Tengen.
"Tengen. I want you to begin investigating the disappearances in the Yoshiwara Entertainment District. It is likely a demon is operating within the shadows of the courtesans."
Tengen clicked his tongue and smiled. "A flashy mission among the beautiful? Count me in."
"I'll have you take a team of your choice. But exercise caution. If it's an Upper Moon, you must retreat and wait for reinforcements."
Tengen's grin faded for a moment. "…Understood."
Ubuyashiki then turned toward Tharion.
"And you… the world seems to respond to your presence. You will go where the wind takes you. Slay what you find. But do not seek confrontation with the strongest… not yet."
Tharion gave a simple nod. "I will not hunt them. But if they come for me, they will fall."
The days that followed were painted in blood and moonlight.
Tharion moved alone.
From the freezing coasts of Hokkaido to the dense forests near Kyoto, he hunted.
Small demons. Packs of ferals. Enslaved blood servants twisted into malformed beasts.
Every town he passed, he left cleansed. Word spread of a ghostly swordsman whose blade burned like sunlight. Entire villages would light candles near shrines, praying he would pass through next.
In one mountain village, he saved a group of orphans trapped in a demon's illusion—severing the demon's head without uttering a word.
In another, he faced a demon that could shatter buildings with its voice alone. He tore out its throat before it could scream.
And in a forgotten temple overrun with shadow-spawned vermin, Tharion burned them all in a spiral of flame, leaving only scorched stone and silence behind.
Each kill honed his mastery of the forms. Each battle whispered secrets of breath, timing, and power. The Sun Breathing was evolving with him.
But beneath his calm surface, Tharion could feel the tension growing.
Like a storm on the horizon.
Back at the Corps' estate, Tanjiro received a folded letter from the crows.
He opened it slowly.
"Tanjiro,
Keep training. There is more coming than anyone sees.
When the time comes… we will all burn together—bright, and unyielding.
—T"
Tanjiro stared at the words, then looked to the sky, whispering softly.
"I'll be ready."
The Hashira returned to their posts.
Rengoku resumed patrols near the outer regions of Tokyo.
Tengen, now in full Sound Hashira regalia, made his way toward the glittering lights and layered secrets of the Entertainment District.
He was not alone.
Three girls under his care—Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru—had already gone undercover.
Tengen's eyes narrowed as he walked through the streets dressed like a noble.
"Let's see just how flashy this demon really is…"
And elsewhere, in the shadows between shrines and midnight rain, Tharion walked alone, flame coiled beneath his breath, waiting.
Waiting for the next tremor.
Waiting for the next enemy.
Waiting for the Hashira Training Arc to begin.