Deep within the dimensional labyrinth known as the Infinity Castle, the remaining members of the Twelve Kizuki knelt in uneasy silence.

Dōma. Hantengu. Gyokko. Daki. Gyūtarō.

And six new demons, recently appointed to the vacant seats of the Lower Moons.

It was the first time in centuries that Muzan Kibutsuji's elite had gathered in full.

"Kokushibō! Akaza!!"

"Those filthy traitors!!"

Standing tall in his pristine black suit, Muzan's expression twisted into something far more terrifying than fury. His face—beautiful and cold as ever—was contorted with visible rage.

His crimson eyes glowed with hatred, leaking bloodlust so intense it blanketed the chamber like a crushing fog.

Several demons collapsed to their hands, gasping under the weight of it.

But what truly ignited Muzan's wrath wasn't just betrayal.

No—what angered him most was that he had underestimated a human.

Tachibana Kyūjō—a mere swordsman he had once labeled a minor threat—had managed to sever Kokushibō's head.

Even though Kokushibō didn't die, Muzan had witnessed the moment through the demon's eyes.

So you were that strong all along…

Why didn't you show it earlier!?

If I'd known, I would've vanished again—hid for a hundred more years if I had to!

A new Demon King had been born.

To both Muzan and the Demon Slayer Corps, this development was catastrophic.

The only one who benefited… was Kokushibō.

In Muzan's ideal scenario, both Kyūjō and Kokushibō would've annihilated each other—erased from the board in one final clash.

And yes, Kokushibō had managed to kill the swordsman who came closest to rivaling Yoriichi Tsugikuni in raw skill…

…but what was the result?

His head was taken, and yet he didn't die.

Worse—he transcended even that. He broke free from Muzan's control entirely, walking his own path now as a king in his own right.

And most insultingly?

He no longer cared about Muzan at all.

Starting your own kingdom now, huh? Spreading your wings like you don't need me anymore…?

Muzan sneered internally.

That, above all else, was intolerable.

But even so—

He had no way to rein Kokushibō in.

They now shared the same vessel—both carrying the essence of the Demon King. Neither could destroy the other without a battle so drawn out it would end with sunrise and mutual incineration.

—

Muzan's gaze turned downward.

The demons before him trembled, kneeling with their heads pressed to the floor.

His instincts screamed at him to lash out—to crush one of them just to vent this fury.

But he held himself back.

The times had changed.

Kokushibō had raised a new army. If Muzan kept killing the Lower Moons on a whim, he'd only accelerate his own downfall.

Right now, his top priority was still the same—

To find the Blue Spider Lily.

To surpass all limits.

To reclaim absolute dominance.

Still—he couldn't let this rebellion go unpunished.

If he didn't teach the traitors a lesson, the others might start getting ideas.

He turned slowly, eyes settling on one particular demon…

One who sat with a dreamy smile, clearly daydreaming.

Dōma.

Muzan's blood boiled again.

But unfortunately… when it came to a lunatic like Dōma, intimidation rarely worked.

The ironic truth?

Of all his current subordinates, Dōma was the most reliable one left.

The others? Even facing Akaza, who had now joined Kokushibō, they'd be torn apart like wet paper.

With a cold, commanding voice, Muzan finally spoke:

"Dōma."

"Find Akaza."

"Bring me his head."

"And do not let Kokushibō catch wind of this…"

"Are you listening, Dōma!?"

—

But Dōma didn't respond.

He just kept smiling, completely unfazed.

Next to him, Gyokko—quivering from head to toe—timidly reached out and tapped Dōma's shoulder.

"D-Dōma-sama…"

Only then did Dōma turn.

His expression was pure sunshine.

"Aa~ I heard you loud and clear, Muzan-sama~" he chimed, voice cheerful like he was chatting about the weather.

Muzan stared at him with thinly veiled disgust.

Even demons found Dōma's smile revolting.

—

A string was plucked somewhere in the distance.

The sound of the biwa echoed through the chamber.

And just like that, the Infinity Castle returned to silence.

—

Meanwhile, at the headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps…

Tachibana Kyūjō had fully recovered.

Physically, at least.

Today marked his official release from medical care.

Kyūjō bowed respectfully to Tamayo, murmured his thanks, and followed a member of the Kakushi Division out of the infirmary.

Lord Ubuyashiki Kagaya had prepared a new residence for him within the main estate.

Kyūjō was now considered a "retired" Hashira.

Though he could no longer wield a blade, his service had been legendary. Irreplaceable.

Kyūjō had already made peace with it.

If his days were numbered, then he intended to live like the ancient tales of Liu Bei—

Playing music. Dancing freely.

Enjoying whatever time he had left.

But the moment he stepped outside—

Something felt wrong.

The air around the headquarters was heavy. And not in a good way.

Even from afar, he could hear the pained cries of wounded slayers echoing from the medical tents.

...No wonder Tamayo-san's been so busy lately.

But why so many injuries?

Did Muzan retaliate already? Had he sent the Upper Moons to strike back?

Still, something about it didn't sit right with him.

Kyūjō glanced at the Kakushi walking beside him.

"Hirosuke… have there been any recent reports involving the Upper Moons?"

"Why are there so many injured?"

The young support soldier, Maekawa Hirosuke, flinched at the question.

"A-ah… m-maybe? Kyūjō-sama, I-I'm just logistics, so I don't really know what's happening on the front lines…"

"I see… no problem," Kyūjō replied softly, not pressing further.

They walked in silence until they arrived at a small, peaceful garden.

Hirosuke turned with a proud smile.

"Kyūjō-sama, this is your new residence!"

"What do you think? Isn't it beautiful?"

Kyūjō nodded quietly.

It was serene. Clean. Simple.

At the center of the garden stood a towering ginkgo tree, its golden leaves fluttering gently in the breeze.

It looked just like the one back home—the one he'd lived beside for over a decade since arriving in this world.

He stared at it for a moment, watching the leaves fall in silence.

Is this where I'll spend the rest of my life…?

Everything had been prepared—furniture, supplies, all his daily needs.

As Hirosuke prepared to leave, he paused and asked hesitantly:

"Kyūjō-sama…"

"Are you sure you don't want someone here to care for you? Even just for company?"

Kyūjō smiled faintly.

"It's alright. I've been on my own for a long time."

"Besides… I'm a Hashira, aren't I? It'd be a bit awkward having a nurse fuss over me."

Hirosuke hesitated—then gave a small nod.

"Understood. We'll deliver fresh supplies every three days."

"If you need anything, please send word through your kasugai crow."

"Got it. Thanks."

Kyūjō walked him to the gate, then returned inside.

He grabbed a chair, carried it out into the yard, and placed it under the ginkgo tree.

And there, beneath the gently falling leaves, he sat.

Staring up at the endless blue sky above.

No words.

No sounds.

Only the rustling of wind and the soft glow of the afternoon sun…

…keeping company with a swordsman who had lost his blade.

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