"Turn demons back into humans…"
Tamayo repeated the words under her breath.
It was, undeniably, a shortcut—perhaps the most effective one imaginable.
But the difficulty behind it was just as obvious.
She lifted her gaze to Ryōsuke, suspicion and caution deepening in her eyes.
"On what grounds do you think I would trust a Demon Slayer?"
"And on what grounds do you believe I could accomplish something like that?"
"On what grounds?"
Ryōsuke let out a short, mocking laugh and deliberately pressed his foot down harder.
A muffled groan escaped Yushirō's throat.
"Because I can kill him right now," Ryōsuke said lightly, "or report your whereabouts to the Demon Slayer Corps—hell, I could even report you directly to Kibutsuji Muzan."
"Tamayo, you don't have a choice."
His tone was casual, almost lazy, but every word cut like a blade.
Seeing the fury and hatred contorting both Tamayo's and Yushirō's faces, Ryōsuke suddenly shifted his tone.
"Of course, that's just the worst-case scenario."
"I came here to talk because I believe your hatred for Muzan is real—and so is your ability."
"After centuries of research, you're closer to the answer than anyone else alive."
"You're just missing… certain key elements."
"Or perhaps—an ally."
Tamayo fell silent, visibly shaken.
Yushirō, however, struggled even more violently.
"Lady Tamayo! Don't listen to him!" he shouted hoarsely.
"This Demon Slayer is just using us! There's no such medicine that can turn demons back into humans!"
"Lady Tamayo, run! Please—run!"
"Shut up."
Ryōsuke's blade flashed.
Yushirō's arm was severed cleanly.
"Gah—!"
Cold sweat poured down Yushirō's face as he clenched his teeth, barely keeping himself from screaming.
"That annoying turtle brat," Ryōsuke said irritably. "Who gave you permission to speak?"
"I didn't kill you on the spot—that's already me showing mercy."
Everyone knew Wei Kun could be two characters… or five.
Ryōsuke ignored Yushirō entirely and continued calmly.
"The enemy of your enemy is your friend. I assume you understand that much, Tamayo."
"…Release him."
Tamayo finally spoke.
Ryōsuke nodded and stepped back.
Yushirō's severed arm regenerated rapidly. He staggered upright, glaring at Ryōsuke with eyes filled with hatred and humiliation, ready to lunge at him at any moment.
"You bastard!" Yushirō snarled. "How dare you threaten Lady Tamayo—!"
"Yushirō."
Tamayo's voice cut through him like ice.
"Step back."
Yushirō clenched his fists, lowered his head, and obediently returned to her side.
Tamayo took a breath, forcing herself to process the sudden turn of events. After a moment, she made a stiff, reluctant gesture toward the room.
"Please… come in."
Ryōsuke shrugged and walked inside without hesitation.
"My name is Yasui Ryōsuke," he said.
"…Yasui-san," Tamayo tried, testing the name.
"Please, have a seat."
She turned slightly. "Yushirō, prepare some tea."
Yushirō shot Ryōsuke a venomous look and spat out a single word:
"…Yes."
As he disappeared into the back room, Ryōsuke glanced after him, then at Tamayo's profile. That strange, subtle NTR-ish feeling crept up again.
Weird. Kind of awkward.
And somehow… faintly satisfying.
The tatami room fell quiet with only the two of them present.
After a long pause, Tamayo finally voiced the question weighing on her heart.
"Yasui-san… who exactly are you?"
"And why are you so obsessed with killing Kibutsuji Muzan—so much so that you'd seek out demons like us?"
"Tamayo."
Ryōsuke's voice softened.
"Do you really believe that killing Muzan will suddenly make the world peaceful and just?"
Tamayo froze.
The question was too direct—too sharp.
She slowly shook her head.
Ryōsuke smiled faintly.
"You've lived far longer than I have. You've seen far more."
"Sometimes, humans are more terrifying than demons. Even if Muzan dies, tragedies won't stop."
"That's simply the nature of this era—and it won't change."
Tamayo agreed.
She had lived for centuries and seen it all.
Wars. Famine. Plagues. Greed. Hypocrisy.
People in fine clothes who were worse than beasts.
And souls in despair who still clung to kindness.
This world had never been black and white—only endless shades of gray.
Ryōsuke's tone sharpened.
"But Muzan's existence allows that evil to persist and mutate."
"Because of him, the wicked gain immortality and power—free to torment the world without restraint."
"Because of him, even good people are forced to become monsters."
Tamayo's body trembled.
Ryōsuke lowered his voice.
"You understand this better than anyone, Tamayo. You are brave—and kind."
She nodded faintly.
Once, she had been dying, consumed by illness, when Muzan appeared and tempted her with salvation.
After becoming a demon, the hunger robbed her of reason—and she devoured her own husband and children.
That blood debt could never be repaid.
Lost in memory, Tamayo clutched her chest, eyes reddening.
Ryōsuke sighed softly.
"That is why I want Muzan dead—to sever the root of this evil."
"I can't promise the world will become a paradise."
"But at least people will be able to walk at night without fearing monsters in the dark."
"At least fewer families will be torn apart."
Tamayo stared at the boy before her.
For the first time in centuries, the tightly sealed strings around her heart began to tremble.
Then Ryōsuke said gently:
"Sometimes, humans are the real demons—wearing human skin while committing monstrous acts."
"And sometimes… demons like you are more human than most."
The words shattered something inside her.
Four hundred years of loneliness, guilt, regret, and despair poured out at once.
He said she was human.
Those simple words weighed more than anything she had ever heard.
Tears streamed down her pale cheeks.
At that moment, the door slid open.
Yushirō stood there, frozen in place, tea tray in hand, utterly stunned.
He stared at Ryōsuke as all his resentment exploded.
"You bastard! What did you do to Lady Tamayo?!"
He lunged forward without thinking.
"Yushirō!"
Tamayo snapped her head up, tear-streaked face cold and resolute.
"Do not speak to Yasui-san like that."
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