"Blood Demon Art: Engraved Prison."
Rui clenched his fists. At once, the crimson threads in the clearing shuddered and surged, weaving together like serpents under his command. They lashed around Tanjiro, locking him in place.
In seconds, a funnel-shaped cage of blood-red silk spiraled down from the treetops, narrowing, tightening, preparing to grind him into nothing.
The threads shrieked as they rubbed together, a metallic rasp that made Tanjiro's teeth ache. His heart hammered in his chest.
What should I do? What should I do?
Even his strongest Water Breathing forms couldn't cut Rui's blood-soaked threads. He had tested them already, and they'd resisted every strike. The despair of helplessness clawed at his chest.
And then—he thought of her.
Nezuko… she's still waiting for me.
The image of his sister bound in threads, helpless, relying on him—Tanjiro's breath caught. He had never hated himself more than he did in that moment. Hot tears slid down his cheeks as he pounded his fists against the dirt.
But before despair could consume him, a voice rose through the darkness.
"Tanjiro… don't give up."
Gentle. Familiar.
His father's voice.
And with it, the faint chime of bells, clear as mountain air. It rang in his ears, soft yet unyielding, as though carried across time itself.
The bells from Father's dance…
The Hinokami Kagura.
When he was small, he had watched his father dance the sacred Fire God's Dance under the stars, his body flowing like flame, the bells at his waist keeping rhythm with every step.
The sound now was the same.
The truth struck him like lightning: this was his father's guidance.
His father's voice, his father's dance—reaching across memory to guide him out of the dark.
"Hinokami… Kagura."
Tanjiro's despair turned to fire. He gripped his sword with both hands, breath deep, eyes sharpening. For the first time, he shifted the rhythm of his lungs—beyond Water Breathing.
"Sun Breathing… First Form—Dance!"
Dark flames erupted from his battered blade, searing hot, burning brighter than any torch. He swung, his movements flowing like his father's dance, his Nichirin Sword trailing a blazing arc.
The crimson threads shrieked.
The fiery slash tore through the cage in one sweeping strike.
Rui's Engraved Prison shattered, threads burning away like scorched steel.
Tanjiro staggered free, his body ablaze with determination.
Rui froze, stunned. One of the Twelve Kizuki—undone by a boy still reeking of inexperience. His carefully woven cage, burned apart.
"How…" Rui hissed, disbelief searing into fury.
But Tanjiro did not hesitate. He roared, surging forward with the momentum of fire, flames trailing behind his Nichirin Sword as he lunged toward Rui's throat.
Rui's panic sharpened. With his right hand, he lashed out again, sending fresh streams of crimson silk hurtling toward Tanjiro. But this time, Tanjiro's burning blade cut them apart with ease, fire eating through thread.
Rui's calm cracked.
Why… why does this brat's blade burn with power that even my lord's blood recoils from?
That thought alone made the holy blood in his body quiver, restless. For the first time, Rui felt something close to… fear.
And then Nezuko moved.
Her eyes shot open. The bamboo gag cracked between her teeth as she bit down with unnatural force. Rage and worry surged through her, sensing her brother's peril.
On her forehead, a strange swelling formed, faint horns pressing beneath the skin. Dark markings spread across her temples like veins of ink.
She thrashed against her bonds.
Meanwhile, Tanjiro's blade came down. His nose, sharpened by instinct, pinpointed Rui's weakness—the stench of his neck, where his scent wavered. He struck with everything he had, a cry ripping from his throat.
"RRRRAAAHHH!"
The flaming Nichirin Sword screamed toward Rui's neck.
But Rui's eyes narrowed in disgust.
This weakling… rushing at me over and over. Did he truly think a few swings could sever me?
He twitched his fingers.
Threads snapped tight around Tanjiro's body, ripping him away mid-swing. The world spun, his blade growing distant, until he slammed into the earth with a sickening thud.
Pain exploded across his body. Switching between Water Breathing and the Sun's fiery rhythm had already shredded his muscles; now, agony consumed him. He could barely lift his sword. His body refused to move.
"You've lived long enough," Rui said coldly, fingers poised.
Crimson threads fell from the canopy, their points angled like spears, ready to pin Tanjiro into the dirt.
But Rui didn't notice it at first—the droplets of blood falling across his shoulder.
Nezuko's palm was outstretched, her veins burning. Her blood dripped onto Rui's silks, and then—ignited.
"Blood Demon Art… Exploding Blood!"
The crimson threads erupted into golden fire, searing heat crackling across the clearing.
Rui shrieked as the blaze leapt from thread to flesh, scorching his clothes, searing his shoulder and cheek. He recoiled, staggering, hastily retracting his silks to defend himself.
When the flames ebbed, his wide eyes fixed on their source.
Nezuko stood free of her bindings, body low, her fangs bared. Her voice was a feral growl, a warning rumble deep in her throat. She placed herself between Rui and Tanjiro, her small frame shielding him.
"Nezuko!" Tanjiro's voice cracked. "Don't worry about me—run! Please!"
But she didn't move.
The fire had shaken Rui. The girl before him—this demon girl—was the same kind as him, yet her blood burned him like the sun. Impossible. Only the Twelve Kizuki should wield Blood Demon Arts. How could she?
His confusion twisted into rage.
Fine. If the sister wished to die with the brother, then so be it.
"Very well," Rui hissed, eyes blazing. "Since you both long for death—I'll grant your wish."
He thrust out his hand.
"Blood Demon Art—Killing Eye Cage!"
From the ground and trees, threads screamed into motion, circling the siblings in a spiraling storm. They wove upward, layer upon layer, forming a dome of scarlet silk. Its hemispherical walls closed tighter and tighter, the deadly threads poised to crush and slice them into nothing.
Inside, Tanjiro cried out. "Nezuko—run!"
But Nezuko did not run. She threw herself onto his back, her small arms clinging to him, as though her presence alone could shield him.
His trembling hand closed over hers. Their despair steadied.
If this is our end… then we'll face it together.
But Rui's triumph was short-lived.
His left hand twitched, and he froze. The silks dangling from his fingertips went slack. One by one, the threads snapped—cut from within, not without.
Another presence. Another hunter had forced his way into Rui's prison.
A flash of white steel cut through the air.
Yukishiro emerged, his Nichirin Sword jagged and cracked from the strain of deflecting Rui's threads. Already, the edge had been gnawed into a saw-tooth, and the fractures crawled toward the hilt. It would not last much longer.
But still, he fought.
Still, he stood.
And Rui felt the first chill of a storm that had not yet broken.