The oak log creaked slightly beneath the weight of the Doom Slayer. The stars above shimmered faintly in the cool night, casting silver light over the field. The rice balls sat in his hand, still warm, wrapped in Tanjiro's cloth.
For a moment, he simply stared at them.
He had no need for food.
No need for rest.
No hunger. No sleep.
His body had long since transcended such needs. Rage alone kept his flame alive.
But something in the boy's sincerity… in the quiet night…
He slowly reached up to his helmet.
Hissss—
Steam escaped. The clamps disengaged. Locks turned.
The helmet lifted with a low mechanical groan.
For the first time in this world… his face was seen.
Short-cut hair. Scars old and deep, trailing down his cheek and neck. A jaw chiseled in fury and ash. His eyes—emerald and burning like ancient warfire—looked out at the night without pity, without mercy… only silence.
He stared at the rice ball again.
And then… he took a bite.
The flavor was simple. Humble. Warm.
...He kept eating.
Not because he needed it.
Because someone gave it to him.
Elsewhere… atop a distant ridge
Two figures crouched in silence beneath a blood-soaked tree.
One wore layered fans in his hair like a noble geisha, his eyes forever smiling behind his mask of politeness.
Doma.Upper Moon Two.
The other stood beside him like a coiled predator, fists clenched, every muscle ready to strike, even though his instincts screamed not to.
Akaza.Upper Moon Three.
They watched from far above, hidden from all sight—except one.
"I don't like this," Akaza growled. "He killed Gyokko like a dog. And he didn't use a blade. That wasn't breathing technique. That wasn't demon slayer skill."
Doma's smile never faltered. "Mmm… quite right, Akaza-dono. He's… special. I daresay even Muzan-sama felt it, when Gyokko's death passed through the Curse. Like a shiver across Hell's own bones…"
He leaned in slightly. "But look… He removes his helmet. A human face. Handsome, in a rugged, homicidal way, yes?"
Akaza grunted. "He's still a man. I'll crush him."
Then—
The Slayer turned his head.
Not fast. Not sudden.
Just turned.
Toward them.
His helmet was off.
But his eyes…
They looked straight at them.
Across miles.
Through darkness.
Saw. Them.
Doma flinched. "Oh…"
Akaza stepped back once, instinctively.
Then the Slayer raised his hand slowly and—placed his helmet back on.
Hiss—Click.
And yet… he never broke eye contact.
For a second longer.
Then his visor turned back toward the stars.
Doma and Akaza didn't speak.
They just vanished into the trees, retreating without a word.
At the Demon Slayer Corps HQ
From within his quiet room, Kagaya Ubuyashiki sat in the shadows, candles flickering.
"I wonder," he whispered, his ruined eyes gazing at nothing, "what kind of world must create such a man… that even demons tremble before him?"