"Hey, I said it'd be nice if humans and demons could just understand each other and live peacefully. What do you think, Tomioka-san?"
"That's impossible. As long as demons eat humans, coexistence can never happen."
The forest blurred around them. Shinobu Kocho and Giyu Tomioka were sprinting toward Mount Natagumo, both moving at a pace that mocked logic. Tomioka's strides were mechanical, precise—like his legs had small motors hidden inside. Shinobu glided beside him, light as mist, her steps as elegant as calligraphy.
For the Hashira, crossing distances like this was trivial. Why bother with horses or wagons, when their own legs were faster than the wind?
To bystanders, the two were nothing more than a sudden gust—there one moment, gone the next.
Both of them pushed harder. The sooner they reached the mountain, the more lives they might still save. The number of Demon Slayers had been dwindling with each generation. Even worse, the average strength of the Corps had been dropping. In such times, every life mattered.
But when the pair reached the base of Mount Natagumo, what greeted them wasn't carnage. It was… silence.
No demons. Only scars—deep cuts in the trees, shattered branches, traces of violent battle.
"Strange," Shinobu murmured, her lilting tone oddly calm. She pointed toward one of the trees. "That sword mark—it looks like one from your school, Tomioka-san."
Tomioka's eyes narrowed. He could tell from the stroke alone: whoever made this cut was skilled. Very skilled. A swordsman of at least Kinoe rank, possibly even higher.
Had a senior Slayer already cleared the mountain before them?
But as he moved forward, he noticed something else—sword marks that didn't belong to the same hand. Different breathing styles, different rhythms. One bore a clean Water Breathing pattern, but another was wild, unorthodox—something feral.
Two advanced swordsmen. At least two.
Both clearly talented.
If they were young… they might even become Hashira someday.
Before either could speculate further, the forest shook with a violent CRASH.
Tomioka and Shinobu exchanged a glance, then bolted toward the sound.
When they arrived, three figures came into view—no, two standing and one kneeling.
Tomioka's eyes widened. Recognition flickered.
"Hey," he said quietly, stepping forward.
"I'd like to know what's happened here."
He kept his tone even, but Shinobu soon caught up beside him, smiling that disarming smile that hid both kindness and venom.
Tanjiro's face lit up the instant he recognized the man.
"Tomioka-san! It's me—Tanjiro!"
Only then did Giyu connect the dots. And just as he did, Shinobu's eyes drifted to the girl at Tanjiro's side.
Her tone changed, light as ever—but the edge beneath it gleamed.
"She's… a demon, isn't she?"
Before anyone could react, Shinobu's blade was already half drawn, glinting in the light.
For all her talk about peace between humans and demons, Shinobu's heart was still chained to rage. Her sister had believed in coexistence—and died for it. Shinobu didn't share that dream. She only pretended to, wearing her sister's ideals like a mask.
The motion startled Giyu. He flinched—too slow to intercept, too late to stop the strike.
A flash of metal—CLANG!
Tanjiro had drawn his sword just in time. Sparks flew as Nichirin clashed against Nichirin.
"Nezuko is not evil!" he shouted. "She hasn't eaten a single human! And this isn't the time to argue—my sister's fighting a Lower Moon right now!"
The words Lower Moon froze both Hashira in place.
Even the calmest warriors couldn't ignore that.
"Then we settle this later," Tomioka said firmly.
Shinobu tilted her head, her smile returning. "Fine. I can agree to that much."
In the next heartbeat, they were gone—disappearing in twin blurs of motion.
Tanjiro and the others tried to follow, but their pace was inferior, and the distance between them grew with every step.
That was the difference between the elite and the rest.
The Hashira—
the strongest of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Within moments, Tomioka and Shinobu reached the origin of the disturbance.
The forest looked as though a storm had torn through it.
Trees severed cleanly at the base. The ground scarred, cratered, soaked in blood and shredded leaves.
Then they saw him.
The demon, his back against the dirt, his throat caught beneath a gleaming blue blade. The kanji for Five (伍) was carved into his eye—proof of his rank among the Twelve Kizuki.
And the one standing above him—
A young woman, her dark hair tousled and wild from battle, one foot pressing against the demon's chest.
The blue light of her Nichirin Blade shimmered in the night wind.
Blood flecked her clothes, but her expression was calm, her breathing steady. She wasn't wounded—only tired.
Just… catching her breath.
Tomioka's stoic mask cracked for the first time. His eyes widened, disbelief giving way to awe.
"Unbelievable…" he murmured. "She actually defeated a Lower Moon."
Beside him, Shinobu's usual smile softened, her voice dropping into something almost reverent.
They both knew what this meant.
To slay fifty demons, or to kill even one of the Twelve Kizuki—
That was the qualification for becoming a Hashira.
And before their eyes, a new one had just been born.
The Blue Blade of Water—
The Birth of the Tenth Pillar.