The courtyard lay silent.
Crickets chirped in the distance, and a gentle wind rustled the trees, brushing leaves across the stone pathways like whispers. In the middle of it all, Kratos and Atreus sat on a worn wooden log near the koi pond. Both were still—yet alert. The Leviathan Axe rested beside Kratos, one hand curled loosely around the handle. Atreus leaned forward, elbows on knees, murmuring thoughts to his father in Norse.
From the veranda overlooking the courtyard, the Hashira observed.
"Look at them…" Mitsuri said softly, eyes wide with curiosity. "The father's enormous. And terrifying."
"'Terrifying' doesn't cut it," Sanemi muttered, arms crossed. "I don't trust them."
"You don't trust anyone," Obanai hissed beside him.
Tengen gave a flourish of his hand. "Still, they are flamboyant. Saving an entire village? That's the kind of bold entrance I respect."
Tokito's tone was flat. "Flashy or not, the father feels… ancient."
"There's something strange about the boy too," Genya added, his voice quieter. "His eyes—he's young, but they're… old."
"Whatever they are," Rengoku declared, stepping forward with calm authority, "they are guests. We do not strike at those who've done no wrong."
Sanemi scoffed but fell silent.
A sliding door creaked open behind them. Footsteps.
Tanjiro stepped into the courtyard, his green-checkered haori swaying with his stride. In his hands, he carried a wooden tray stacked with bowls of rice, soup, and grilled fish.
"Hey there!" he greeted warmly.
Atreus glanced up. Kratos didn't move.
Tanjiro knelt and placed the tray gently on a small mat between them. "I'm Tanjiro Kamado. Demon Slayer. This is for you both." He gestured behind him. "Those two are my friends—Zenitsu and Inosuke."
Zenitsu waved with a nervous smile. "H-hi…"
Inosuke didn't wave. He just stared at Kratos like a caveman discovering fire. "He looks like a boulder with arms."
Kratos raised a brow.
"Thanks," Atreus said politely, bowing his head. "We appreciate it."
Tanjiro smiled. "You saved a lot of lives. That means something here."
Atreus gave a nod.
Kratos finally spoke. "…The people here. They seem… cautious."
Tanjiro rubbed the back of his neck. "We've had our share of demons, curses, gods. Trust is a fragile thing."
Kratos grunted.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate.
Kratos's eyes flicked to the side, zeroing in on a tall, graceful figure walking between buildings.
Hair like flowing ink. An elegant kimono. Pale eyes devoid of emotion. And an aura drenched in something unmistakably foul.
A demon.
Kratos tensed.
Atreus tilted his head. "...Is that a demon? He's not attacking."
Kratos's grip on the axe tightened.
Before he could rise, Giyu stepped into view. "He's with us. For now."
Kratos didn't budge. "A demon. Free."
"Yes," came Shinobu's voice as she stepped forward. "It's… a delicate situation. He isn't our enemy at the moment."
Kratos said nothing. But the air grew thick with restrained judgment.
And then—it shifted.
A weight. A presence.
Every Hashira turned toward the compound's main hall.
A door creaked.
Boots thudded against stone.
And out stepped the Slayer.
Towering. Armored in scorched steel and fury. His helmet covered his face, but the narrow slit of pulsing green light glared like a cursed eye. A fur-lined cape dragged behind him, thick with battle-grime. A blade rested on his back. A shotgun on his hip. And beneath it all: rage.
Kratos stood.
Atreus looked between the two figures. "...Father?"
But Kratos said nothing. He stared.
The man before him was no demon. No god. No mortal, either.
A being born in torment. Tempered by slaughter. Shaped by endless war.
The Slayer.
He approached slowly, step by step, never breaking eye contact with Kratos.
The air crackled.
Shinobu and Giyu reacted instantly, stepping between them.
"Let's not escalate," Shinobu said sweetly—but her eyes were sharp as daggers.
Giyu's voice was low. Steady. "You're allies. No need for blood."
The Slayer stopped. Tilted his head.
He looked at Kratos. Then Atreus. Then, without a word, turned and walked toward the main hall.
Kratos tracked every movement with a soldier's eye.
"…That one," he finally murmured.
"He's our greatest weapon," Giyu replied. "We call him the Slayer."
Kratos exhaled through his nose. "He's not human."
Shinobu's gaze lingered on him. "Neither are you."
And above it all, watching silently from the pathway he was on from before, stood Kokushibo.
Muzan had told him once: If a god ever walks the earth, let him come. Let him try.
But now…
Even Kokushibo hesitated.
Because a god had arrived.