From the depths of Mount Natagumo's shadowed forest, a pale figure stood amidst the web-strewn trees. Her porcelain skin gleamed under the faint moonlight, giving her an ethereal—almost ghostly—presence. She watched the distant flashes of blades cutting through her threads, her crimson eyes reflecting both irritation and quiet dread.
The woman's fingers twitched slightly, manipulating invisible strings that stretched across the forest canopy. Each movement sent ripples through her web, making the branches tremble as if the mountain itself was breathing. The delicate strands glistened faintly, and within them hung lifeless puppets—human bodies, dangling like marionettes.
Her teal eyelashes fluttered as her gaze shifted from one puppet to another. "How troublesome…" she whispered softly, her voice carrying a haunting gentleness. Her tone wasn't angry—it was weary, almost sorrowful. "The closer they come… the stronger the threads must be."
Her nails, painted the same deep teal as her lashes, lightly grazed her own arm, as though grounding herself. The sound of anklets chimed faintly when she shifted, her maroon-and-white kimono rustling softly. She stood poised—elegant yet tense—as if her beauty itself was trapped beneath invisible chains.
The puppets jerked suddenly, their movements becoming sharper, faster. She exhaled, drawing more energy into the webs that connected her to them. "Dance for me," she murmured. "Don't stop until they're gone."
But even as she commanded, her voice quivered. She could feel them—the Demon Slayers—cutting through her threads, one after another. Their strikes were coordinated, relentless. Each thread that snapped sent a faint sting through her fingers, a whisper of pain that made her wince.
And then—
"Mother."
The voice was small, delicate, yet it sliced through the air sharper than any blade. A child's voice.
Her entire body went rigid. The threads trembled.
"Mother, you can win… right?"
The woman—known as the Spider Demon Mother—turned slowly, her expression twisting into one of sheer dread. From the shadows behind her, a young boy stepped out. His white skin mirrored her own, his crimson eyes glowing with quiet malice. The sight of him made her heart clench.
"R-Rui…" she stammered, lowering her head immediately, her earlier composure collapsing. "I—I will win. I promise."
Her voice trembled, the words spilling from her lips as though rehearsed a thousand times. Rui's face remained unreadable, yet his very presence crushed her spirit.
"Good," he said softly. "Because if you don't…"
He paused, his lips curving into something that almost resembled a smile—but there was nothing warm about it.
"…I'll tell Father."
The words froze her blood.
Her breath caught, her vision swimming for a moment. Her hands began to shake so violently that the threads around her quivered, causing her puppets to spasm in unnatural movements.
"N-No…" she whispered under her breath, the word escaping before she could stop it. "Please, not him…"
She forced herself to straighten, to mask the terror twisting inside her. Her trembling lips parted in a desperate attempt to sound confident. "I won't fail, Rui. I swear it. I will destroy them all."
But her hands betrayed her. The threads tangled slightly as her focus slipped, her fear poisoning her control.
Rui said nothing. He only turned his gaze toward the horizon where the faint clang of steel echoed, and then—like mist—he was gone.
The silence that followed was deafening.
For a long moment, she stood motionless, the forest eerily still around her. Then, slowly, her breathing began to quicken. Her crimson eyes darted from tree to tree as panic crept in.
"He's watching," she whispered frantically. "He's always watching."
Her hands gripped the webs tighter, her knuckles turning white. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, could feel the raw pressure of expectation crushing her chest.
"I mustn't fail," she hissed, her voice breaking into a tremor. "If I fail—he will—"
Her words choked off, replaced by a ragged gasp.
All around her, the webs began to pulse faintly, as if responding to her unstable emotions. Her puppets twitched and convulsed in unnatural synchronization, their bodies jerking as she poured more power into the threads.
"Move," she commanded, her tone darkening, almost manic. "Fight harder! Don't stop until they're dead!"
The forest seemed to shudder in response as her threads thickened, the air itself vibrating with tension.
Tears welled in the corners of her crimson eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Fear had no place here—not while Rui was watching.
She clenched her jaw and yanked the threads again, sending her puppets hurtling toward the distant flashes of swordlight.
"Please…" she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "Just die quickly. Please… don't make me suffer anymore."
~~~