The shrine was long abandoned—charred, broken, steeped in whispers of a tragedy older than the district of Yoshiwara itself. Once a temple devoted to healing the sick, it had been cursed, or so the locals said. Everyone who ventured near after sunset… vanished.
Tharion stood alone at the temple's cracked threshold, wind stirring the ash-stained grass. He felt it—a pulse, like a heartbeat inside a corpse.
The air shimmered.
From the ruined inner sanctum, a voice hissed:
"Sun-blood… I smell you…"
Then it emerged.
Twisted and grotesque, the demon was massive—twice the size of Akaza, with six arms, all scarred by crude, self-carved sigils. Its skin bore tattoos of Muzan's will, scorched into its flesh like ritual brands. Its aura screamed one thing:
Artificial Ascension.
A failed experiment made with Muzan's blood, yet powerful enough to mimic the strength of an Upper Moon.
Tharion narrowed his eyes. "You were never meant to exist."
The beast roared, tearing stone apart as it lunged.
But Tharion was already moving.
While Tharion's hunt raged in the mountain shadows, Tengen Uzui moved deeper into the spiderweb of the Entertainment District.
By now, he had fully confirmed it.
Girls disappearing with no traces.
Witnesses speaking of an "Oiran" never seen outside daylight.
Servants dismissed for "spreading lies."
Makio's voice—finally heard through a hidden communication line—crying out before going silent again.
Tengen's jaw clenched. His fingers itched for the hilts of his dual chained blades.
That night, under the guise of a client, he infiltrated Ogimoto House, where Suma was last seen.
He heard it again.
Screams. Muffled.
And from the rafters—a sizzle of flesh.
He looked up.
For the briefest second, he saw a sash—a living, twisting demon-flesh belt—slithering through the wooden beams, carrying unconscious girls within its folds.
Tengen leapt.
But the creature vanished like smoke, melting into the shadows of the house.
His heartbeat was steady, trained.
"This demon likes to play," he muttered. "She thinks we're just a show to watch."
He tapped the hilt of his blade. "Then I'll show her the finale."
Back in the desecrated temple, flames exploded across the altar. Tharion moved in elegant arcs, his footwork dancing between ruin and rubble. His sword glowed with the incandescent heat of the Sun Breathing technique.
The monster lashed out with all six arms, each strike powerful enough to crush stone—but it struck only phantoms, each one a fiery afterimage of Tharion's speed.
"You're no Upper Moon," Tharion said, voice low. "You're a lie."
"I was made to replace them!" the creature howled. "Muzan gave me power beyond—"
"You were made to fail."
With a final surge, Tharion invoked:
"Flame Dance – Final Blooming Form!"
A spinning slash wreathed in divine heat severed all six arms in a single breath.
The creature screamed as it crumbled to its knees, tattoos burning like old parchment.
Then, slowly, as the flames consumed its body from within, its last vision was not of Tharion—but of Muzan, watching in disappointment.
"You were never worthy."
The scene returned to Yoshiwara, where Tengen Uzui crouched atop a tiled roof, scanning the district below.
He now had full confirmation.
A sash demon operating from the shadows.
Multiple victims hidden within it.
A central figure: the Oiran, whose presence controlled the tempo of the house like a conductor.
He muttered, "You've made one mistake."
He stood, full height, moonlight dancing across his forehead gem.
"You underestimated the Sound Hashira."
As the artificial demon's body crumbled in the distance, a Kasugai crow landed on Tharion's shoulder, panting from its journey.
"Message… urgent… from Corps…"
He took the scroll and read it under moonlight.
Upper Moon Six confirmed. Tengen Uzui in place. Combat likely soon. Daki engaged.
Tharion rolled the scroll shut.
"So… the stage is finally set."
He looked south, toward the bright lights of Yoshiwara.