Somewhere deep beneath the earth, where the light of the sun had never touched, Akaza opened his eyes.
He sat in a circle of stone, unmoving, meditating as the stench of blood filled the chamber.
But tonight, something broke his stillness.
A feeling. A shift.
A chill that didn't come from the cold.
He rose slowly. He didn't need to speak to know something was wrong.
"Doma is gone."
Not defeated.
Not missing.
Gone.
No essence. No trace. No scent left behind. It was as if something had not just killed him—but erased him.
Akaza's knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists.
Someone was out there. And they weren't part of the Demon Slayer Corps.
[Meanwhile – South Village]
Rin sat on the porch of a small house, sipping tea. He wore simple robes, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely at the back.
To any villager, he looked like a well-mannered young traveler—a friend of the Kamados who helped with firewood and herbs.
No one questioned his presence.
They didn't see the faint glow in his dragon-marked eyes, or the way the shadows never touched his back.
Even animals didn't flinch around him. Birds landed beside him. Children brought him flowers. Mothers invited him in for meals.
To the world, Rin was completely human.
And that was exactly how he liked it.
That night, as stars burned above the mountains, Rin stood at the edge of a cliff, eyes closed, feeling the wind.
He could sense it faintly now—a hunter's gaze, somewhere in the dark.
Akaza was looking.
But Rin smiled.
Let him look.
The hunter had become prey. And he just didn't know it yet.