Before the two Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen could spot him, Yoriichi stepped in front of Tanjuro. "This is far enough."
"Alright, Lord Yoriichi. Take care," Tanjuro said.
Yoriichi nodded, watching Tanjuro and Kie depart. Relieved, he turned to face the approaching swordsmen.
The two Corps members noticed him. At first, they thought he seemed familiar, but upon closer inspection, they realized who he was.
Swish!
Instinctively, they drew their Nichirin Blades, eyeing Yoriichi warily.
"Be careful—it's Yoriichi Tsugikuni!" one shouted.
Yoriichi frowned, puzzled. Why be cautious of him?
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Yoriichi Tsugikuni, don't think we're unaware. Your brother and disciple are demons. It won't be long before you turn too."
Yoriichi's brow furrowed. What logic was this—that because his brother and disciple became demons, he would too?
Ignoring them, he walked past with cold indifference.
But the swordsmen weren't ready to let him go.
"Stop!" one gritted out. "You're coming with us to face the Master."
"Yes, someone like you should be publicly judged!" the other added.
Yoriichi was glad he'd sent Tanjuro away. Had they overheard, explaining would've been impossible.
"I do deserve judgment, but not now," he said.
He turned, offering a glance of apology to the swordsmen.
He couldn't die.
This wasn't cowardice or an excuse.
Ren had warned that his death would unleash a massacre. Yoriichi died, and his disciple was capable of anything.
Until he slayed Muzan Kibutsuji himself, Yoriichi wouldn't allow his own end.
"Sorry," he said, dodging an attack with ease, parrying a Nichirin Blade and knocking out one swordsman with a single blow.
The other froze, rooted to the ground, unable to move as Yoriichi had so effortlessly subdued his comrade.
Yoriichi glanced at him calmly. "Don't panic. He's just unconscious. It's too cold here to linger. Take him to a warm place and leave this mountain quickly."
The swordsman, too shaken to protest, watched as Yoriichi descended the mountain.
---
The Yoshiwara pleasure district thrummed with life. At night, it blazed with lanterns, alive with boisterous voices and bustling crowds.
Courtesans sashayed through the streets, their alluring smiles and soft whispers drawing gazes. Samurai, swords at their waists, swaggered with authority.
Wealthy young men flocked here, indulging in wine and delicacies, flirting with beauties until dawn.
Graceful maidens danced under the night's veil, their sweat glistening as they swayed or plucked soulful melodies from koto strings.
Amid this human tide, a mysterious figure moved slowly.
A jet-black crow perched on his shoulder, its crimson eyes scanning vigilantly.
Ren wore a wide black robe, concealing the lower half of his face, revealing only his deep, pool-like eyes.
In Yoshiwara's eclectic mix of high and low, where oddities abounded, his attire drew little notice.
As he walked, a woman in a kimono blocked his path.
Ren glanced at her, then followed silently, head bowed.
They reached the top floor of a secluded pavilion. A girl closed the door softly, withdrawing.
Ren looked up. "Lord Muzan."
Indeed, the woman was Muzan Kibutsuji.
This Muzan, unlike the one Ren had met twice before, seemed almost unrecognizable—like a refined noble's daughter.
Muzan's emotionless eyes, rare for him, held a trace of satisfaction as he regarded Ren.
"I know what you've done," he said.
Ren remained silent.
"Ren, you've excelled. For centuries, the Demon Slayer Corps has buzzed around me like annoying flies. They pose no threat, but their persistence irritates me.
The Ubuyashiki clan has evaded my attacks time and again. I've tried to crush those ants, but they always slip away. Thanks to you, they've tasted fear again. Ren, I was right to place my hopes in you. Turning you into a demon was no mistake."
"Thank you, Lord Muzan. I'm unworthy of your praise," Ren said.
His deference pleased Muzan further.
"With you, I can rest easy," he said. "I sense a threat from your former master, Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Lately, that danger has grown sharper. For the next century, I'll stay hidden."
High tact: staying out of sight. Bluntly: hiding.
"You've done well, but you alone aren't enough," Muzan continued. "I'm forming the Twelve Kizuki, selecting twelve demons to be my most trusted lieutenants."
The Twelve Kizuki was Muzan's latest idea, inspired by Ren's actions.
He aimed to forge twelve elite demons, loyal only to him.
"The Twelve Kizuki are split into Upper and Lower Ranks, one to twelve, six each," Muzan said, placing a hand on Ren's shoulder. "Ren, you are Upper Rank Two."
"Forgive my impudence—I shouldn't question you—but who is Upper Rank One?" Ren asked.
"Upper Rank One is Kokushibo. Before becoming a demon, he was Yoriichi Tsugikuni's brother. You've likely met him," Muzan replied.
At "Kokushibo," Ren was unsure, but when Muzan mentioned Yoriichi's brother, his expression shifted.