It's a Hashira!!
It's a Hashira!!
It has to be a Hashira!!
The Lower Rank Four demon, named Ling Yuzi, who was now fleeing for her life, was screaming madly in her heart.
In fact, from the moment the red-haired boy made his move, Ling Yuzi had a bad feeling.
He was too fast.
The speed at which he destroyed her Blood Demon Art was far too quick.
In just a moment, all the blood-manipulated birds she had summoned were reduced to ash!
Such speed and attack power were far beyond what ordinary Demon Slayer Corps members should possess. But because the boy looked so young, Ling Yuzi hadn't taken him seriously at first.
It wasn't until the boy crossed two locations in an impossibly short time, arrived in front of the Demon Slayer girl, and killed Ling Yuzi's strongest Blood Demon Art construct that she finally understood.
He's a Hashira.
A true Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps!
Without any hesitation, Ling Yuzi turned and ran.
She was the oldest among the Lower Moons. Though she hadn't been a Kizuki as long as the Upper Moons, she had survived longer than any of the other Lower Ranks.
Because survivors like her were experts at staying alive.
She would never give a Hashira the slightest opportunity. The moment she sensed one approaching, she would flee immediately—even if it meant being scolded by Muzan Kibutsuji afterward.
After all, Muzan hadn't summoned her even once since turning her into a demon.
So compared to Muzan Kibutsuji, Ling Yuzi feared the Hashira far more—those terrifying warriors who saw the Lower Moons as nothing more than stepping stones for promotion.
Just look: in just a few years, Lower Rank One had been replaced, Lower Two was killed not long ago, and rumor had it that even Lower Three had fallen to the Demon Slayer Corps!
Although the Lower Ranks of the Twelve Kizuki were essentially disposable pawns to Muzan, especially compared to the Upper Moons who hadn't changed in over a century, the mortality rate for this generation of Lower Moons was far too high!
This had made Ling Yuzi extremely cautious. At the slightest hint of a Hashira's presence, she would vanish without hesitation.
Just like now.
"How could this happen… Why did they come after me? Is it because I've eaten too many humans recently? But I've been holding back... I've been careful! Even if they did come, it should've only been ordinary squad members…"
Ling Yuzi couldn't understand why she was being hunted by a Hashira.
She had always been careful, never giving the Demon Slayer Corps a real chance to track her down. Fleeing at the first sign of trouble was her number one survival rule… And under normal circumstances, a Hashira would never come in person.
Unless… he's not a Hashira yet?
But even if he's not, he's practically already one!
What is going on with this generation of the Demon Slayer Corps? It's completely abnormal—far too abnormal! Haven't the nine Hashira already been assembled? So why are there still so many members capable of killing the Twelve Kizuki?
Ling Yuzi couldn't make sense of it, and she didn't want to think about it any further. All she wanted was to escape—as quickly as possible.
But in the end, Ling Yuzi didn't get away.
It wasn't that red-haired boy who stopped her.
It was a command that suddenly echoed in her mind.
—Kill him.
Muzan... Lord Muzan?
Hearing the sudden voice in her head, Ling Yuzi froze. And when she saw the image of the young boy transmitted directly into her thoughts by Muzan, her entire body trembled.
"I... I'm supposed to... kill him?"
In the fragmented memories Muzan sent her, the youth wreathed in flames looked exactly like the one she had just encountered.
Ling Yuzi was certain—she couldn't defeat him.
And yet... Lord Muzan was commanding her to kill that boy?
—Kill him, and I will give you more blood.
Muzan Kibutsuji's voice rang out once more in her mind, and then fell silent.
It seemed this was a group command sent to all the Twelve Kizuki. The message wasn't just received by Ling Yuzi—every other Lower Moon had likely heard it as well.
Muzan might not even be watching. He might not know Ling Yuzi's exact situation at this moment.
It looked like she could ignore his orders and continue fleeing.
But she couldn't.
Ling Yuzi simply couldn't disobey.
Every demon was under Muzan Kibutsuji's control—there was no escaping him. Even if Ling Yuzi fled now, once Muzan summoned her and sensed her thoughts, he would undoubtedly execute her.
Escape was death.
But staying meant death, too!
What should I do… What do I do?
Ling Yuzi stood frozen in place, paralyzed by indecision.
And it was that moment of hesitation that sealed her fate.
"You're not running anymore."
The boy's voice came from in front of her.
He had chased her down—he had caught up!
Ling Yuzi hadn't expected the boy to be so fast. She had poured all of her strength into fleeing—every ounce of her ability was focused on speed.
Among the Lower Moons of the Twelve Kizuki, no one could outrun her.
She had taken off the moment the situation looked unfavorable, and had put a significant distance between herself and the boy. By all logic, he shouldn't have been able to catch up.
If he did… it would be beyond abnormal!
How did he find me?!
Instinctively, Ling Yuzi took a step back—only to realize the boy wasn't moving to strike. He simply stood there, gazing straight into her eyes.
When he saw the kanji engraved in her pupils, he spoke softly:
"Lower Moon… Four? So it really is one of the Twelve Kizuki. Are there cowards even among the Twelve who are this afraid of death?"
Though his tone was calm and unchanging, Ling Yuzi could clearly hear the mockery hidden within it.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to retort—maybe even attack—to prove her courage.
But the boy's next question rooted her in place.
"…Forget it," he said. "Let me ask you something. Where is Muzan Kibutsuji?"
"!!!"
Where is M-Muzan Kibutsuji…?!
Hearing the boy say his name so casually sent a jolt through Ling Yuzi's entire body.
But this fear was different—it wasn't the fear of an enemy's strength.
It was the instinctive terror engraved deep into her very blood, the primal dread every demon carried when faced with the name of their creator—Muzan Kibutsuji.
"No… I can't… I… I can't say…"
Ling Yuzi backed away again.
She still wanted to escape.
She couldn't defeat the boy. More importantly, she couldn't reveal Muzan Kibutsuji's whereabouts—not even if she wanted to. The curse buried in her blood would subject her to a punishment far worse than death if she dared to utter even a single word about him.
She couldn't speak. She had to run—had to get away!
As she continued to retreat, the boy's figure suddenly vanished before her eyes.
Startled, Ling Yuzi whipped her head around, scanning the area—and there he was.
He had reappeared behind her.
So fast… I didn't even see a shadow…
She spun to face him, trying to react—but the moment she turned, a wave of vertigo crashed over her.
"Eh…?"
A puzzled sound slipped from her lips as a sharp, blinding pain coursed through her limbs.
Her body collapsed to the ground—only now did she realize that her arms and legs had been severed. What remained was a broken pile of bloodied flesh, no longer resembling anything humanoid.
He had dismembered her in an instant.
"The regenerative ability of demons is strong," the boy said, stepping calmly in front of her. His hands never left the hilt of his Nichirin sword. "But the Twelve Kizuki regenerate even faster."
He narrowed his eyes, voice cool and emotionless.
"But tell me… how many times can you recover?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"If you can survive my attacks until dawn, you win. If not… then I suggest you tell me the whereabouts of Muzan Kibutsuji, and I'll grant you a swift death."
The boy's tone was calm, but his words were merciless.
Ling Yuzi understood immediately. "You… you're going to… torture me?! Torture me until dawn?!"
"You could put it that way. And so it begans—"
As the young man spoke, the blade in his hand flashed once again.
Ling Yuzi had just managed to regenerate part of her limbs—only for them to be sliced off again.
"One."
The boy calmly counted the number of times she regenerated after being struck. A few seconds later, he swung his blade again, severing more than just limbs this time—he aimed for her internal organs.
"Two," he said, just as calmly.
"No… no!! No!! Why… why is it always me who has to suffer like this?! I didn't choose to become a demon… I never asked for this!! Why… why are you doing this to me?!"
Swish.
The blade flashed again.
"Three."
Still calm. Still cold.The boy continued his merciless count.
Ling Yuzi cried out in agony from the pain.
Tears blurred her vision, and within those tears, fragments of her past began to resurface.
…
Ling Yuzi had a miserable childhood.
As far back as she could remember, she had always been wandering, following her father.
Her father was a thief—not a good man. His daily routine involved targeting people who appeared wealthy, stealing their belongings in exchange for food and clothing for the family.
But sometimes, he would get caught, and they would have to run.
Run.
Keep running.
Her father once told Ling Yuzi, "As long as you run fast enough, they won't catch you. That's how you survive."
"As long as you're alive, there's hope. So when danger comes, you must run—run with everything you've got."
Ling Yuzi had remembered those words clearly.
Escape and survival had become instincts etched deep into her bones.
She and her father kept stealing and running…
Until one day, they failed to escape.
Ling Yuzi remembered it clearly—it was winter. Or rather, almost winter, as the first snow had already fallen and the weather was gradually turning colder.
Their family didn't have enough supplies to make it through the season.
So her father decided to target a wealthy family in town.
Not too much, he said. Just enough winter clothes and food for them to survive.
After all, that family was rich. They had more than enough, yet refused to share with poor people like them. It was their fault, he told her. They deserved to be robbed.
He passed this logic on to Ling Yuzi, then left to carry out the plan.
But he never came back.
The next day, Ling Yuzi found out that her father had been caught stealing by that very family. He was beaten to death.
He couldn't run. Not when he was surrounded by so many people.
The day after that, Ling Yuzi found his frozen body in a nearby field.
In his arms, he still clutched a single piece of bread, held tightly to his chest, as if refusing to let it go even in death.
That bread was the only reward her father had left her.
_________
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