The web trembled again.
Tanjiro's chest burned. Rui stood unharmed, pale and unfeeling, blood threads winding back around his arms. The head Tanjiro thought he'd severed—it had been a ruse. Rui had sliced his own neck with his threads before Tanjiro could reach him, detaching it on his terms to survive the blow.
Tanjiro's strength was gone. His blade broken. Nezuko was unconscious.
And Rui's voice—cold, calm—cut deeper than steel.
"You two… are unworthy of a true bond."
He raised his arm. The threads glistened with his blood.
From the sky above, a flash.
Like a whisper across the clouds, something fell.
A silver arc.
Rui turned—just in time for the sword to descend.
"Water Breathing, Eleventh Form: Dead Calm."
The threads were sliced from existence before they could twitch. Rui stumbled back, eyes wide.
Giyu Tomioka had arrived.
He moved like the reflection of a moon on still water—no movement wasted, no breath hurried. Rui attacked, threads like a hurricane, but Giyu's sword met each one with effortless serenity.
"You… you're strong," Rui muttered.
Giyu didn't respond.
He stepped forward.
In a blink, Rui's body split.
The threads fell.
And so did Rui.
No words. No last gasp.
The mountain began to quiet.
Elsewhere, Zenitsu lay curled in a cocoon of poisoned webbing, his face pale. His breath shallow. The poison had reached deep—but footsteps approached.
Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira, danced between trees like a butterfly on wind. Her eyes calm, her smile unreadable.
She crouched beside Zenitsu, drawing a syringe from her sleeve. "It's spreading fast. Let's halt that, shall we?"
She injected him with an antidote laced with her wisteria-crafted concoction. "There. Sleep, little sparrow. You did well."
But deeper in the forest, her real target waited.
A demon boy with the face of a spider—one of Rui's false siblings.
He cried for mercy as Shinobu approached, her blade already drawn.
"I want to be friends," he pleaded. "I didn't hurt anyone! I just watched!"
Shinobu's eyes sparkled, but her words were cold. "Then let's become friends. But I have a question."
She listed victims, methods, and blood spilled. The boy stammered. Lied.
And in one breath, her slender sword pierced him—her poison seeping through his veins.
"You see," she whispered, "my blade doesn't cut heads. But the venom does the rest."
The demon thrashed and screamed. Then silence.
On another path, Inosuke lay beneath shattered trees, body broken after battling the massive "Father" spider demon. He stared at the sky, mask cracked.
Footsteps neared.
Giyu stood over him, silent.
Inosuke groaned. "You wanna fight?"
"You're injured," Giyu replied, walking past him.
"Coward…"
The battle was over. But the mountain held its breath as the sun began to rise.
Tanjiro awoke cradling Nezuko, weak but alive. Giyu stood nearby, blade ready—not for demons, but for duty.
"She's protecting you," he said. "But others won't understand."
Tanjiro stood, shielding Nezuko.
And then—Shinobu appeared, her steps soft as petals. "My, a demon who doesn't attack humans. Fascinating. I wonder if I can dissect her?"
Her smile never wavered as she lunged.
Tanjiro leapt, dodging, running with Nezuko in his arms. Giyu blocked her blade.
"She's under my protection," he said firmly.
Shinobu's eyes narrowed. "We'll see what the Master says."
The Butterfly and the Water stood frozen, tension crackling.
Tanjiro ran—until a cloaked figure appeared in the trees.
Kanao Tsuyuri, silent and swift, intercepted his path.
A flick of her sword struck Tanjiro down.
And the siblings fell—unconscious.
Beneath the bloodied mountain, where the last threads dissolved in the wind, only silence remained.
The Demon Slayers had won—but judgment now awaited.