The sky over the Narita Line shimmered with morning haze as Tanjiro glided through the air, carrying Sakura within the protective field of his Reiatsu. His flight was gentle yet swift, like a silent stream weaving between broken rail pillars. Beneath them sprawled the long stretch of abandoned stations, each a quiet reminder of a world trying to survive under fear.
Sakura clung to Tanjiro's hand, her fingers trembling, though she tried to hide it with a brave smile. The flow of his spiritual pressure kept her safe, lifting her weight as though she were being carried by a warm current.
"Big brother…" she whispered. "…You really learned how to do all this?"
Tanjiro chuckled softly. "It took a while. More than a lifetime, maybe. But I'm glad it's helping now."
They soared past Z-09: Mitsukoshimae. The sign flickered weakly, half buried in ivy. Sakura leaned forward, tapping Tanjiro's wrist.
"There! That direction. Follow the older stairway shaft… it leads straight to Z-10."
Tanjiro angled downward gracefully and entered the wide cavern of Z-10: Suitengumae. The station's ceiling had collapsed in places, letting sunlight pour through in diagonal beams. Sakura pointed to the bright surface exit.
"This shrine… Suitengu Shrine," she said. "We come out here and take the upper tunnel."
Tanjiro observed the direction and nodded without question. He wasn't from this era, yet he trusted her completely.
They continued upward—through Z-11, Z-12, and at last reached Z-13, where Sakura tugged at his sleeve.
"Follow the Narita Line from here," she said. "If we keep straight, it goes directly to the airport."
Tanjiro simply answered, "Okay," and accelerated forward.
The world outside gradually changed as they approached the airport—fewer tall buildings, more open sky, and the faint scent of jet fuel still soaked into the earth even decades after humanity's downfall. Only, now the runways looked nothing like the ones Tanjiro had seen in old photos.
The moment they cleared the final tunnel and emerged over the airport grounds, Sakura gasped.
"W–What happened to… all of them…?"
Hundreds of airplanes lay collapsed like rusted skeletons. Wings bent, engines torn apart, fuselages cracked open. Some aircraft were crushed from above—as if something massive had squeezed them like toys.
Tanjiro felt his chest tighten. The destruction was too clean, too deliberate, too… familiar.
But then—
a scent struck him.
Cold. Sharp. Old as winter.
"…Giyu."
Without hesitation, Tanjiro pulled sharply to the right and darted toward the center of the airport.
"Big brother?! Wait! Why are we—"
He didn't answer. His eyes had already sharpened. His breathing aligned. Memories—centuries old, yet carved in his soul—rose up.
Water Breathing. Snow. A quiet man who carried pain in silence.
Giyu Tomioka.
Tanjiro landed—light as a feather—on the cracked tiles before the main terminal. Sakura stumbled slightly behind him, catching her breath as her feet touched the ground.
"Where are we…?" she murmured.
But then her eyes widened.
There were voices behind the metal gates. Human voices.
A crowd… at least a hundred people.
Peeking from behind barricades and improvised shelters. Dirty, tired, frightened—but alive.
"People…" Sakura whispered, her voice breaking with relief. "There are people here…"
When the survivors spotted Tanjiro's silhouette, they didn't cheer or call for help.
They screamed.
"Demon!!"
"It's him again!"
"Back away from the gate!"
Sakura flinched. "W–Why are they shouting?"
Tanjiro didn't move. His gaze was toward the crowd—searching.
And then…
A tall figure stepped forward through the frightened masses.
He wore a dark tattered coat over a uniform that still faintly resembled a Demon Slayer's garb. His hair had grown longer, wilder. Scars lined his jaw. But his eyes—cold, ocean-deep—remained unmistakable.
Tanjiro's throat tightened.
"Giyu-san."
Giyu's pupils narrowed.
He froze.
And then—like a river breaking its dam—he leapt straight over the barrier, landing in front of Tanjiro with the precision of a master swordsman.
Sakura stumbled back in fear.
Giyu's hand was already on his hilt.
He stared at Tanjiro.
Pain in his eyes.
Regret.
Anger.
And something darker—fear.
"…T–Tanjiro?" Giyu whispered. "It can't be."
Then, everything changed in an instant.
Giyu's eyes hardened.
"You're not Tanjiro."
He unsheathed his blade with a sound like ice splitting.
"You're the Demon King wearing his face."
Before Sakura could scream, Giyu unleashed his technique:
"Water Breathing — Eleventh Form: Dead Calm!"
A silent slash cut through the air toward Tanjiro with deadly precision.
But Tanjiro simply raised two fingers.
Clink.
The blade stopped.
Giyu's eyes widened in pure disbelief.
"What…? That technique stops even demons with regenerative cores—how did you—"
Tanjiro smiled gently, as if greeting an old friend after centuries apart.
"It really has been a long time, Giyu-san."
Giyu stepped back, gripping his sword tighter.
"No… Tanjiro died. You—You turned into that thing. I watched you open your eyes as a monster. Don't lie to me!"
Tanjiro shook his head softly.
"Giyu-san. I'm not a demon. Not anymore. I returned to myself. I returned to being… me."
Giyu's breathing wavered.
His heart trembled—not with fear, but with the weight of a wound left open for a hundred years.
Tanjiro spoke more firmly now, the warmth in his voice carrying the strength of mountains.
"If I were the Demon King, you wouldn't be standing right now. You know that."
Giyu didn't answer.
So Tanjiro stepped forward and did something Giyu never expected—
he lowered his forehead to touch Giyu's hand resting on the sword hilt.
A gesture of sincerity Tanjiro had used as a boy.
A gesture Giyu remembered.
"…I came back," Tanjiro whispered. "I'm here. As your ally. As your friend."
Giyu's sword trembled.
Memories crashed through him—Nezuko sleeping in the box, the Kamado siblings begging for survival, Tanjiro's tears, their last battle together.
He shut his eyes.
"…Tanjiro…" he whispered, voice cracking for the first time in decades. "If you're truly you… then…"
His grip weakened.
"…then welcome back."
Tanjiro smiled with relief.
Sakura, who had been frozen in shock, finally breathed out and stepped forward.
"Giyu-san… he's really not a demon. I promise."
Giyu looked at her, then at Tanjiro, and finally placed his blade back into its sheath.
"…Then come inside," he said, voice low but sincere. "There's much you need to know. And this world… this world has been waiting for someone like you to return."
Tanjiro nodded.
The gates opened.
Survivors stared at him in disbelief.
Some whispered prayers.
Others backed away.
But Giyu stood beside him.
Water Hashira.
Friend.
Witness of both Tanjiro's fall… and now, his return.
For the first time in 2000 years, they stepped forward side by side.
And deep in the wind…
hidden in the sky above…
A presence watched.
A voice whispered:
"So… you've returned, Tanjiro Kamado. Stronger. Wiser. Different."
A faint chuckle.
"Let's see how long that resolve lasts."
Muzan Kibutsuji…
watched with ancient hunger.