Demon Slayer Corps members who had stolen from the Akatsuki Trading Company were drinking calmly at a tavern.
And the women who entered that tavern.
"What's this? Women at this hour…?"
One of the drunken members, heavily intoxicated, squinted with bleary eyes at the women who had opened the door.
Red hakama, a sleeveless black kimono, and a Japanese sword at the waist.
Their attire was unusual, but to his eyes, they just looked like pretty women.
"Ooh~ Beauties. You don't look like the tavern girls here. Care to have a drink with us? We made some good money today."
The burliest member gestured with a lecherous smile.
But Tsubaki, who appeared to be their leader, closed the shop door quietly without a word.
Click.
The sound of the lock turning echoed loudly, like the door of a prison sealing off the outside world.
Whether she had already taken care of it or not, the staff and owner were gone.
"I heard there were rat bastards who laid hands on the Akatsuki Trading Company's goods here…"
Tsubaki parted her red lips and spoke coldly.
"They're even worse trash than I thought."
"What? What did this bitch just say…!"
One member flared up and sprang to his feet. Out of habit, he reached for the Nichirin Sword at his waist.
Bang!
An ear-splitting crack shook the narrow tavern.
The acrid smell of gunpowder from the muzzle instantly overwhelmed the scents of alcohol and metallic blood.
The member's corpse, with a hole in his forehead, thudded to the floor.
His eyes still stared into empty space, an expression of not even understanding how he had died.
"...?!"
Frozen by the sudden turn of events, the three remaining Demon Slayer Corps members stiffened.
Their faces, flushed red with alcohol, instantly lost color and turned pale.
"A gun…? Those, those bitches have guns!!"
"Damn it! What are you doing!"
The burly member, the first to regain his senses, kicked over a table and shouted.
He drew the Nichirin Sword from his waist. The blade gleamed with a blue hue.
Though his skill was mediocre, he was still a swordsman who could use Breathing properly.
He was a swordsman who used the most common Water Breathing.
"You crazy bitches! How dare you shoot at us! Kill them all!"
At his cry, the other two members hastily drew their swords.
As if covering fear with rage, they roared like beasts and charged.
"All units, commence the hunt."
Tsubaki's short, dry command fell. At that moment, the eyes of the Gekkatai members guarding the entrance changed.
The diluted blood of Akira flowing through their veins surged, contracting every muscle fiber like steel.
Physical abilities surpassing human limits. Combined with the Breathing techniques taught by Tsubaki, their movements became too fast for the eye to follow.
"Total Concentration! Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!"
The Demon Slayer member at the front swung his sword in a large rotation.
A trajectory of water filled the narrow tavern. It was powerful enough to cut an ordinary person in two instantly.
But the Gekkatai member facing him didn't dodge.
Clang!
She held the Japanese sword in her left hand in a reverse grip, precisely blocking the member's Nichirin Sword.
It was incredible strength, unbelievable for a slender woman's arm. Sparks flew as blade met blade.
"Guh?! Wha, what is this! Why is this woman so strong?!"
The member panicked and tried to pull back his sword, but the Gekkatai member's blade held it fast like an iron chain.
Then her right hand snaked into his chest like a serpent.
In her hand was a cold revolver.
"Opening."
A bloody smile spread across the Gekkatai member's lips.
Bang!
With a dull gunshot, the member's abdomen caved in. A close-range shot. The spinning bullet tore through his organs, shattered his spine, and exited his back.
"Cough… Hack…"
The member knelt, vomiting blood.
He looked down at his stomach with disbelief. A gun in a swordsman's fight.
And not just any gun—a bullet flying at the same time as a sword strike, from this close.
A brutally efficient and cruel technique: deflecting or blocking the opponent's attack with a sword, then planting a bullet in that instant of opening.
"Aah! My leg! My leg!"
Next to him, another member writhed on the floor after being shot in the leg.
He had tried to close in quickly using Flame Breathing, but the Gekkatai members' dynamic vision had already surpassed human limits.
"Breathing…! You're using Breathing too?!"
The fallen member shouted in terror.
"You're not demons… How can human women be this fast?!"
Instead of answering, the Gekkatai members aimed their guns for the finishing shot.
Their faces held no emotion, no hesitation.
Only the mechanical killing intent of carrying out their master's orders.
"D, damn it! They're monsters!"
The member who saw his comrades slaughtered in an instant.
He smashed through a window and threw himself into the back alley. Money and everything else were unimportant. He had to survive.
He had to inform headquarters. The Akatsuki Trading Company wasn't a business—it was a group of murderers.
"Huff, huff…!"
He ran desperately, rolling in the mud. Just around the alley corner was the main street. If he could call for people there…
But as he turned the corner, the hem of red hakama fluttered before his eyes.
A woman standing with her back to the moonlight.
It was Tsubaki.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Hi, hiiik…!"
The member tried to look back, but Tsubaki was faster. Her draw wasn't visible. Only a silver line traced through the air.
Swish.
An eerily clean cutting sound. The fleeing member's vision spun.
He saw his own torso kneeling far below. It took a few more seconds to realize that his head was missing from that torso.
Thud, roll~
The severed head rolled across the muddy ground. Tsubaki slowly sheathed her sword, not a drop of blood on it.
Click.
"There's no place to run. It's the Gekkatai's rule to chase you to the ends of hell and behead you."
Back inside the tavern.
Only the youngest and most frightened member remained alive, cornered in a nook. The one who had been shot in the leg.
He trembled violently among the gruesome corpses of his comrades, his pants soaked through.
"Sp, spare me… Please…"
He begged, knocking his head against the floor.
"I, I'll give it all back! The stolen money, the goods, everything! Just spare my life…!"
Tsubaki slowly approached him.
Tap, tap.
The sound of her geta sandals echoed like a death god's footsteps.
"W, we're the Demon Slayer Corps! An organization that hunts demons, like a self-defense force! If, if you kill us like this, the Demon Slayer Corps won't stand idly by! Th, the Hashira—the pillars—are much stronger than you! Even if we did this, we're a righteous organization!"
Terrified, he babbled, selling out his organization's name as if it were his last lifeline.
"Righteous?"
Tsubaki sneered coldly. Her eyes gleamed with icy contempt.
"Stealing others' goods, selling them, and throwing drinking parties—is that what you call justice? You think you're something just because you were given a sword."
She slowly pulled back the hammer of her revolver. Click.
"Do you think that organization you believe in will come to save you? Or will they be ashamed of trash like you and cut their losses?"
"Th, that's…"
"Don't mistake this place. This isn't the daylight world ruled by law. It's the night world ruled by our Master."
Tsubaki pressed the gun muzzle against the member's forehead.
"The price for laying hands on Master's goods is death alone. Go to the underworld and preach your so-called justice to King Enma."
"No! Aaaah!"
Bang!
The final gunshot split the night sky. The tavern was again engulfed in heavy silence. The floor was a red puddle from the blood shed by the Demon Slayer Corps members.
"Clean up."
At Tsubaki's command, the Gekkatai members moved in unison. They recovered the stolen alloys, medicines, and money from the corpses. But they didn't dispose of the bodies.
Instead, Tsubaki took out a red card from her bosom.
It was a card embossed with a red moon, the emblem of the Akatsuki Trading Company. She gently placed it on the forehead of the first member killed, right over the bullet hole.
[Do not dare covet the Master's goods. This is the first warning.]
"Let's go."
Like red petals scattered by the wind, Tsubaki and the Gekkatai vanished without a trace into the darkness.
All that remained were the blood-soaked corpses and the chilling warning they left behind.
The next morning, the Demon Slayer Corps would discover this horrific scene and realize bitterly.
That what they had provoked was not a simple merchant, but a massive monster hiding in the shadows of the night.
And that it was guarded by beautiful yet cruel red flowers.