Tokyo Asakusa.
In the heart of this street where the waves of modernization surge most splendidly, a high-end Western-style restaurant.
A VIP room where a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling scatters crystal-like radiant light, and a faint classical melody flows from a phonograph.
There, a sophisticated meal was underway.
"Oh, Mr. Akira. This idea of premium canned food, it's so innovative to hear again!"
A middle-aged British businessman with a mustache showered praises.
On the table were sample canned goods just opened, and the aroma wafting from them was by no means that of mere preserved food.
"Enjoy a good quality meal anytime, anywhere with ramen, egg roll, and beef stew in a can… It's not just stew, but also canned ham! I was surprised again by the delicacy of the Japanese."
1911. A market where canned goods were not yet widely popularized and were mainly consumed as military rations. It was an era when even the famous canned ham did not yet exist.
There were canned beef and such, but they were high-end products not yet mass-marketed and were military-use.
Though beef with broth was available, it was still underdeveloped to be called stew, but the products Akira showed were perfect single meals with 21st-century technology.
Akira responded to him with a leisurely smile.
"I'm flattered. I just wanted to give busy modern people a meal of dignity."
Akira conversed fluently in English at a native level. True to a perfected being, he overcame the short tongue of Japanese and its unique pronunciation.
Akira picked up a knife with elegant hand movements and sliced the rare steak on his plate.
He speared a piece of meat oozing red juices with a fork and brought it to his mouth.
Human food that a normal demon would have rejected with nausea. But he was a perfected being.
He put the steak in his mouth, chewed slowly, and sincerely savored its flavor.
He then accompanied it with salad on the plate and even took a sip of red wine that shone like ruby under the penetrating sunlight.
While bathed in the intense noon sunlight pouring through the window, his skin did not burn but shone smoothly like porcelain.
That appearance was, in itself, that of a successful young businessman.
Across from the restaurant, on the second-floor window of a shabby building. In a dark room floating with dust, a brass telescope peeking through the blinds was tracking Akira's every move.
"...Reporting. Subject, Nagao Akira. Currently having a meal."
A member in a black uniform whispered in a tense voice.
"Any peculiarities?"
Behind him, a young man with his mouth tightly wrapped in bandages asked coldly. A man with heterochromatic eyes, Obanai Iguro.
He was still a Kinoe-ranked member not yet in the Hashira position, but his skill and determination were already renowned within the Demon Slayer Corps.
"None at all. He's consuming not just meat but dishes with vegetables like garlic, and eating salad without any aversion. Above all… that window seat is where the sunlight is strongest right now. If he were a demon, his skin should be burning."
Obanai roughly snatched the telescope from the member and pressed his own eye to it. The image of Akira beyond the lens was too ordinary. No, an overly perfect human.
'Nagao Akira… a man of unknown origin. But a monster who seized control of the Kyoto and Tokyo commercial districts in just a few years.'
Strength entered Obanai's hand, making the telescope barrel creak.
'The demon who turned Shinjuro-sama into a wreck… And the information that the horned female demon I encountered is connected to this trading company is certain. They are definitely using this as their base.'
To Obanai, Shinjuro was his lifesaver.
A being like light who saved his dirty bloodline and past.
When he saw that man one day, defeated by an unidentified demon and drowning in alcohol amidst the disgrace of being spared, something within Obanai crumbled.
He vowed revenge. To find that demon who brought Shinjuro down and kill it in the most painful way.
Of course, that was just the final nail; it would have happened even if he hadn't met Akira in the first place.
'But that man… gives off no demon aura. No aura, eating habits, or reaction to the sun is perfect. Is he just a human collaborator using demons? Or… one being used?'
Obanai did not let go of his suspicion.
"Keep monitoring. Whether he goes to the restroom, makes eye contact with anyone, record every breath. A flaw will definitely appear."
"Yes! Understood, Iguro-san."
At the same time, on the streets of Asakusa. A cold winter wind blew, but the street welcoming the new year bustled with rickshaws and pedestrians. In that gray crowd, there was one woman who particularly seized attention.
A bright gray kimono with spiderweb patterns exquisitely embroidered on the finest silk. Jet-black hair was neat, and white skin shone dazzlingly under the sunlight.
Kumohime.
Currently a core executive of Akatsuki Trading Company, deeply infiltrating human society to assist Akira's business.
'Haa, the daytime human streets are still noisy and hazy.'
She frowned slightly and walked gracefully.
Thanks to Tamamo's sun-blocking spell, she could stride proudly through the streets under the sun, the natural enemy of demons, without even an umbrella.
"Look at that woman… How much does that kimono cost?"
"She must be from a noble family. Her aura is extraordinary."
Men passing by stared at her, captivated.
Once a demon hiding in a mountain shack, now luckily risen to look like a noble lady.
No one could even imagine that this noble-looking woman was once a monster who bound people with threads and ate them in the mountains.
Click, click.
A cheerful sound of clogs echoed.
She was on her way back to headquarters after successfully completing an important meeting with an external client.
Until a crack appeared in her perfect disguise.
Mixed in the crowd, patrolling around Akatsuki Trading Company, Obanai felt a peculiar movement from his neck.
Sssss~
The white snake wrapped around his neck, his partner Kaburamaru, suddenly raised its head and flicked its tongue violently.
It was a much more irritable and anxious reaction than when it usually sensed demons.
'Kaburamaru? Why is it doing that?'
He first left the crowd and quickly climbed onto a rooftop.
From the rooftop, he followed the snake's gaze. Kaburamaru was glaring at one person among the countless crowd, a woman in a gorgeous kimono.
Shh~ Hiss~
Kaburamaru made a small sound. It was a clear signal of an enemy presence.
Obanai's pupils narrowed. He immediately lowered his body and hid behind the tiles, staring intently at Kumohime.
'That woman. Kaburamaru is reacting. From that woman… it smells a thick demon scent?'
But Obanai soon fell into confusion.
Because the scene unfolding before his eyes and the sensation Kaburamaru conveyed clashed head-on.
He continued observing Kumohime from beyond the tiles.
'It's impossible. It's broad daylight. The sun is directly overhead.'
Demons cannot live under the sun. This was an absolute law and common sense that had continued for hundreds of years.
'That woman isn't even using an umbrella. Her skin is exposed to sunlight, yet it's not burning but perfectly fine.'
His eyes were screaming that she was human.
But Kaburamaru did not stop and tightened around Obanai's neck.
The snake's sensitive sensory organs were detecting the thick, sticky demonic aura and blood smell emanating from that woman's essence.
That was by no means human.
'Kaburamaru isn't wrong. Its senses have always been more accurate than my eyes. Then….'
A fierce debate raged in his head. And he reached one possibility.
'Blood Demon Art. Yes… that's possible. Demon abilities are bizarre. There are those who change appearance or erase their presence.'
Obanai's heterochromatic eyes shone sharply.
'Perhaps that woman has a special Blood Demon Art that blocks sunlight? Like covering with a thin film, or something like that?'
If so, this was not just a serious problem.
'A Blood Demon Art that allows walking under the sun… If there are more demons like this, people are in danger even during the day.'
Cold sweat trickled down his back. That woman was not a mere demon. She might be an out-of-spec monster that destroys common sense.
'I must confirm it. That woman's identity, and the cause of that bizarre phenomenon.'
Obanai, holding his breath, followed her movements from the rooftop.
Kumohime, completely unaware of the suspicious gazes directed at her, stopped in front of the grand entrance of Akatsuki Trading Company headquarters.
The doorkeepers immediately bowed 90 degrees upon seeing her.
"Welcome back, Managing Director! Did the client matter go well!"
Kumohime nodded lightly.
"Yes. I have matters to report to the Chairman, so step aside."
She entered the trading company as naturally as if it were her own home.
Seeing that scene, Obanai became convinced.
'Akatsuki Trading Company.'
He took out a notebook from his pocket and recorded with trembling hands.
Obanai closed the notebook and touched his bandaged mouth.
'Chairman Akira. And the woman demon deceiving the sun… The dots have connected. They are in cahoots. This is their den.'
It wasn't just about Shinjuro's revenge. This was a matter concerning the Demon Slayer Corps' survival.
'I won't miss it. I'll tear off your disgusting masks and uncover the secret of that bizarre Blood Demon Art.'
Behind the lively streets of Asakusa, on the rooftop, the snake coiled and glared at its prey.
Even if that prey was a subordinate of a massive existence it couldn't handle, the snake did not stop baring its fangs.