Under the dim glow of the streetlights—
Nezuko lay fast asleep on a bench, while Ron stood quietly at her side.
Directly in front of them, just two meters away, stood Shinobu Kocho and Kanao Tsuyuri, both gripping their Nichirin swords tightly.
"It was you, wasn’t it?" Shinobu’s voice rang out. "The one who saved Yukita and the others from an abnormal demon?"
Ron smiled at her. "I do recall rescuing some Demon Slayers from a demon not long ago. Whether they were the ones you’re talking about, though... I can’t say for sure."
As expected, it was him!
Shinobu’s violet eyes narrowed sharply. "Why are you protecting a demon?"
Ron shrugged, looking a little helpless. "I’m not protecting demons. I’m protecting this demon. Please don’t get it twisted. I wouldn’t want anyone mistaking me for being in league with those foul-smelling creatures."
"What’s the difference?" Shinobu’s voice was icy cold. "A demon is a demon. No matter what, it must be slain."
Her words dripped with utter contempt for demons.
Ron couldn’t even be bothered to argue anymore.
He casually unfastened the flask at his waist, stepping forward to place himself firmly between Nezuko and the Demon Slayers.
Shinobu’s slender brows drew together slightly. "You’re really choosing to side with a demon... against the Demon Slayer Corps?"
Ron laughed lightly at that. "An Insect Hashira like you... isn’t exactly qualified to speak for the entire Corps, right?"
"And besides... going against the Corps doesn’t bother me one bit."
The moment those words left his mouth, Shinobu’s figure suddenly vanished.
She moved like a butterfly, weightless and unpredictable, disappearing without a trace.
A flash of violet light lashed out, faster than the human eye could follow, aiming a deadly series of strikes straight at Nezuko lying defenseless on the bench.
"Insect Breathing: Dance of the Butterfly — Caprice!"
"So this is Insect Breathing, huh..." Ron mused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Funny, he thought — he had even taught this very technique to Bonney and Robin once upon a time...
What a nostalgic memory.
Raising a single hand, Ron flicked his finger lightly toward the incoming attack.
A sharp, clear sound echoed out.
The immense force behind that simple flick deflected Shinobu’s slender Nichirin blade just inches away from Nezuko’s head. The shock traveled up through her weapon, jolting her hand painfully and throwing her entire technique into disarray.
But Shinobu didn’t stop.
She shifted her footing, abandoning all pretense of defense, and launched herself forward in a deadly, straight-line thrust.
Insect Breathing: Bee Sting Dance — True Flutter!
A hand shot out once again, firmly gripping Shinobu’s wrist mid-thrust, completely arresting her momentum in the air. With the lightest squeeze, her sword slipped free and clattered to the ground.
Shinobu’s eyes widened in disbelief.
He had disarmed her — one of the Nine Hashira — without even drawing a weapon?!
Seeing this, Kanao didn’t hesitate for a second. Sword flashing, she leapt at Ron in a swift, upward arc.
Flower Breathing: Fourth Form — Crimson Hanagoromo!
A single slash, brilliant pink and deadly, ripped through the air.
But Ron simply willed it—
And an icy wall materialized before him.
Kanao’s twin strikes crashed into the crystal-clear surface, but didn’t even leave a scratch. The force of her own attack rebounded, sending painful tremors through her arms.
She stared at the shimmering ice, her normally expressionless face betraying a flicker of shock.
Meanwhile, Ron lowered his gaze to Shinobu, who was still frozen in place.
"As a swordsman who inherited the legacy of Breathing Techniques," he said calmly, "you haven’t even awakened your Demon Slayer Mark, nor unlocked the Transparent World. And you dare call yourself a Hashira?"
Demon Slayer Mark... Transparent World...
Shinobu had never heard of such things.
For a moment, she simply stood there, stunned, unable to comprehend what he was even talking about.
Ron sighed as he looked at the utterly confused Shinobu.
"As I thought... you don’t know," he murmured. "Forget it."
Releasing her wrist, he casually lifted the silver-blue Endless Flask in his left hand and took a slow sip.
"With your current level of swordsmanship," he said quietly, "you’re nowhere near strong enough to avenge your sister. All you’d be doing is throwing your life away."
A violent tremor ran through Shinobu’s heart.
The ever-present smile she wore vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp glare. "Just how much do you know?" she demanded.
Ron chuckled softly. "More than you could ever imagine."
He tilted his head slightly, his voice turning almost casual. "If you’re willing to listen to me... maybe, just maybe, I can help you grow strong enough to slay the one you hate most—Upper Moon Two, the Ice Demon, Doma."
The moment those words fell, Shinobu’s entire body jolted.
Her pupils shrank to pinpoints.
All the calm she had desperately tried to maintain shattered in an instant.
Meanwhile, across the city, another scene was unfolding.
Tanjiro had finally tracked down the scent that had haunted him—the scent that led him straight to the demon disguised as an ordinary man: Muzan Kibutsuji, posing as a merchant, blending seamlessly into the crowd with a wife and child by his side.
Just as in the original events of fate, the confrontation played out.
Tanjiro trembled with rage—rage so overwhelming he nearly vomited.
But no matter how much fury boiled inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to draw his Nichirin Blade in front of that innocent-looking woman and child.
Before his very eyes, Muzan casually reached out and transformed a random passerby into a demon.
Tanjiro’s heart screamed.
Every fiber of his being demanded action.
But even so, he chose to save the innocent.
"Darling, do you know that boy?" Muzan’s wife asked with a soft voice.
"No," Muzan replied indifferently. "I’ve never seen him before."
As Muzan turned to leave, his gaze flickered briefly to the hanafuda earrings dangling from Tanjiro’s ears.
Meanwhile, as Tanjiro struggled to restrain the newly-turned demon, a commotion broke out. Policemen and curious onlookers quickly gathered around.
Among the crowd, silently observing, were Tamayo and Yushiro, who had accompanied Ron into the bustling streets earlier.
As if destiny were following its script, the events unfolded just as they were meant to.
Moved by the sight of Tanjiro’s kindness, Tamayo invoked her Blood Demon Art, casting a powerful illusion to cloud the minds of the onlookers.
And under that veil of magic, she spirited Tanjiro and the newly-born demon away from the scene.