Darkness turned to haze as Tanjiro awoke.
Pain lanced through his body. His eyes flickered open, and the world swam—blurry, unfamiliar, sterile. Tatami mats. Clean air. The soft hush of sliding doors.
Nezuko was beside him—bound in a wooden box, silent.
They were in custody.
The air felt heavier with each passing second.
Footsteps drew near.
When the door opened, Tanjiro's breath caught.
They stood before him like living monuments.
The Hashira.
Nine of them—each more intimidating than the last. Their very presence bent the air.
Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira, burned bright even when still.
Mitsuri Kanroji, Love Hashira, shimmered with beauty and strength.
Muichiro Tokito's gaze drifted like clouds—vacant, uncaring.
Gyomei Himejima wept silently, hands folded in prayer.
Obanai Iguro stared coldly, his pet snake coiled lazily.
Tengen Uzui stood flamboyant, draped in jewels.
Shinobu Kocho's smile glinted dangerously.
And at their center—Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira.
Eyes like a storm. Rage like a hurricane.
Before Tanjiro could speak, Sanemi was gone.
And then—
A loud crack.
Wood splintered as Nezuko's box was torn open. Sunlight filtered in from the high windows, casting a glow on her pale form.
Sanemi stood above her, blade drawn.
"She's a demon," he growled. "You dare bring her before us?"
He turned his blade toward her—blood dripping from his own palm.
"She won't resist. Because she's no different from the others."
And with a snarl, he stabbed.
Once.
Twice.
Blood splashed across the floor.
Nezuko hissed in pain—but did not lunge.
She turned away, trembling, eyes soft with sadness—not rage.
The Hashira watched in frozen silence.
"See?" Sanemi shouted. "You expect us to believe this thing's different? That she won't—"
CLANG!
His blade stopped mid-air.
Another sword blocked it, firm and unwavering.
Giyu Tomioka.
His arm outstretched. His eyes calm, unflinching.
"Enough," he said quietly. "She is under my protection."
Sanemi's gaze flared. "You dare—"
"She didn't attack. You're proving nothing."
A deep stillness fell over the room.
Sanemi gritted his teeth, veins bulging.
But Giyu didn't flinch.
Two Hashira—locked in opposition.
The room, once heavy with judgment, now throbbed with tension.