The moon was swallowed by thick clouds over a remote mountain pass, leaving a traveling merchant caravan in suffocating darkness. The silence was shattered by a wet, guttural snarl.
From the treeline, a horde of demons—at least a dozen—descended like starving locusts. The guards' torches were snuffed out in seconds. Screams of terror echoed as the lead merchant fell to his knees, watching a clawed hand reach for his throat.
"Please... someone..."
CRACK.
A sound like a breaking bone, or perhaps a localized thunderclap, vibrated through the air. But this wasn't the booming roar of a Thunder Breather. It was sharp, cold, and vacuum-quiet.
"Dark Breathing, First Form: Black Lightning."
A streak of obsidian energy flickered through the clearing. It didn't glow; it seemed to drink the remaining light. To the merchants, it looked as if a jagged tear had opened in reality, zigzagging through the cluster of demons at a speed that defied the human eye.
The demons froze. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, simultaneously, twelve heads slid from their shoulders, their necks cauterized by a dark, surging kinetic force. The bodies dissolved into ash before they even hit the dirt.
In the center of the carnage stood a young man. His Nichirin blade was a deep, matte black that didn't reflect the moon now peeking from the clouds. He wore a haori that shifted like ink in water.
The survivors huddled together, trembling. "You... you saved us," the merchant gasped, clutching his chest. "We thought we were dead. Thank you, Master Slayer! How can we ever repay you?"
Satoshi Kurogane sheathed his blade with a crisp clink. He turned toward them, and the intimidating aura of the "Dark Hashira" vanished instantly. He flashed a carefree, bright smile that seemed completely at odds with the "Dark" title he carried.
"Repay me? No need for that!" Satoshi laughed, waving a hand dismissively as he adjusted his travel pack. "I was just in the neighborhood. Besides, seeing you all safe is plenty of payment for me!"
His eyes sparkled with a genuine, almost boyish warmth. To the merchants, he looked like a simple, happy traveler—not a man who had just erased a dozen monsters in a single breath.
"Just doing my work," he added with a wink. "Stay safe on the road, okay? The night is still young!"
As he turned to walk away, his smile lingered, but as he looked toward the deeper shadows of the forest, his expression shifted for a fraction of a second—a flicker of recognition, as if he sensed something much worse than demons lingering in the dark.
Satoshi walked away from the mountain pass, his hands behind his head. For a brief second, he glanced back at the dense fog. A strange, metallic scent—unlike the sickly sweet rot of demons—had drifted on the wind. His eyes narrowed, the "Dark Hashira" within him sensing a flicker of something ancient and cold.
"Must be my imagination," he muttered, shaking his head until his dark hair ruffled. He broke into a grin. "Probably just hungry. Focus, Satoshi! There are more important things to worry about... like a certain Butterfly!"
******
Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters
The sun was high over the Wisteria-laden estate as Satoshi arrived for the Hashira Meeting. Most of the Hashira were already gathered, but his eyes locked onto only one: Shinobu Kocho. She stood by a stone lantern, looking as elegant and lethal as ever.
Satoshi practically floated over to her, his previous battle-ready aura replaced by a desperate, hopeful energy.
"Shinobu-chan!" he called out, leaning in with a sparkling gaze. "The moon was beautiful last night, but it didn't shine half as bright as you do today! So... how about it? One date? Just one? I know a great dango shop!"
Shinobu turned, resting a hand on her hip. She offered him her signature, closed-eye playful smile—the one that usually preceded a lethal dose of poison.
"Oh, Satoshi-kun," she chirped, her voice like a bell. "You're so persistent. But I'm afraid I'm much too busy for dango. Perhaps in another lifetime? Or maybe if you work on your footwork first?"
Satoshi froze. The colorful world around him seemed to turn into grey sketches. He slumped over, a comical dark cloud forming over his head as he muttered to the grass, "Rejected again... that's attempt number forty-seven..."
"HA HA HA! REJECTED AGAIN, KUROGANE?"
The booming voice of Kyojuro Rengoku shattered Satoshi's depression. The Flame Hashira stood there, arms crossed, eyes wide and unblinking with his usual fiery enthusiasm. "YOUR DETERMINATION IS ADMIRABLE, BUT YOUR SUCCESS RATE IS FLAMINGLY LOW!"
"Don't remind me, Rengoku..." Satoshi groaned.
"It's because you lack flamboyance, kid," Tengen Uzui chimed in, leaning against a nearby pillar while adjusting his jewel-encrusted headband. He looked down at Satoshi with a smirk. "A man with no experience in impressing women can't hope to land a lady like that. You need to sparkle! You need to radiate! Right now, you're just... dull."
Satoshi snapped upright, his face flushed with comical rage as he pointed a finger at the Sound Hashira. "Shut it, you flashy giant! Don't add salt to my wounds! Not everyone can have three wives just by existing! Some of us have to work for it!"
"Calm yourselves!" Rengoku laughed, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on both their shoulders, nearly crushing them into the dirt. "Save that energy for the meeting! Oyakata-sama will be here soon!"
Satoshi huffed, dusting off his dark haori and trying to regain his dignity, though he still cast one last longing glance at Shinobu. "Fine, fine. But I'm not giving up!"
As they walked toward the meeting hall, the laughter faded. The air grew heavy. Satoshi felt that strange chill again—the one from the woods. He looked at his comrades, wondering if he should speak up, or if his "past" was finally catching up to him in a way he wasn't ready to share.