Tanjiro spread his arms. His hands held firm in front of him like two iron rods cast into the air.
He shielded the lightweight wooden box on his back completely behind his body.
In Yaha's eyes, the boy's clear gaze brimmed with undisguised terror, his body taut as a bow about to snap.
The black curse markings on Yaha's face writhed faintly like living things in the shadows cast by the canopy.
The oppressive aura that had just shredded the Spider Demon had not subsided. That almost tangible abyssal presence bore down on the prey before him.
"She doesn't eat people." Tanjiro's voice trembled.
Cold sweat trickled down the dark red scar on his forehead. It slid over his brow and dripped into his eyes, but he did not even dare blink.
"Nezuko... has never eaten anyone."
He pleaded incoherently, trying to explain to the unknown monster before him.
The curve of Yaha's lips widened slightly, revealing a trace of undisguised mockery.
"A demon that doesn't eat people," Yaha said.
His voice was languid, yet carried an indifference and contempt that placed him above all things.
"That's as absurd as a wolf that doesn't eat meat."
His words faded.
Heavy, viscous killing intent poured from Yaha.
The fallen leaves around him were crushed by the invisible pressure, green sap seeping into the soil.
Tanjiro's face turned deathly pale, and harsh, strained breaths heaved from his chest.
His legs trembled uncontrollably, but he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, letting the rusty taste spread across the corner of his mouth.
Even so, his feet remained nailed to the dirt, refusing to retreat an inch. He even mustered all his strength to grip the Nichirin Blade lying on the ground.
Just then, a muffled bang shattered the silence.
The wooden box on Tanjiro's back shook violently. Its sturdy Mist Cedar door was kicked open, the metal clasp snapping and flying apart.
A petite figure burst out of the box.
Nezuko's long hair hung loose, and she held a rough bamboo tube between her teeth.
Unlike other lowly demons, she did not follow the scent of flesh and blood to pounce on Yaha.
The newly awakened demon instinctively sensed the superior presence emanating from Yaha, powerful enough to annihilate a soul.
She abruptly turned and spread her slender arms.
With the fierce resolve of a mother protecting her young, she planted herself firmly in front of her older brother, Tanjiro.
Her pink eyes fixed on Yaha. A beastlike growl squeezed from her throat, and long, narrow nails extended from her fingertips as she assumed a defensive stance.
Yaha's half-lowered eyelids opened a fraction.
Deep within his pitch-black pupils, dark red light suddenly blazed.
Sukuna's perception fully awakened at that moment, his gaze coldly dissecting Nezuko's outward appearance like a precise scalpel.
This female demon contained an extremely high concentration of Muzan's Blood. There was no mistaking that nauseating stench.
Yet the dark red blood coursing through her lacked its most essential component.
There was no fear of Muzan Kibutsuji, nor any absolute obedience etched deep into her genes.
The supreme law that bound the Demon Race had actually been torn apart within her.
A flicker of feverish interest passed through Yaha's eyes.
This bamboo-biting aberration had severed Muzan's blood-control network through the remnants of her human will.
She was a living, perfect Law Loophole.
Yaha vanished from where he stood.
He did not stir so much as a breeze.
The next second, he crossed more than ten meters and appeared before the siblings without warning.
He withdrew his hands from his pockets. His right hand rose casually, his index finger slightly bent.
His fingertip, carrying a trace of shudder-inducing, invisible Cursed Energy, touched Nezuko's smooth forehead.
He flicked it lightly.
The gesture was utterly flippant.
Not a trace of tangible killing intent escaped him, yet his speed surpassed all reason. The siblings could not even catch an afterimage in time to defend themselves.
Clutching her reddened forehead, Nezuko stumbled back two steps and slammed into Tanjiro's chest, sending them both tumbling into a heap.
Yaha slipped his hands back into his pockets.
"Interesting." He looked down at the female demon, whose eyes were filled with wariness.
"If I keep a key like you around, maybe I can take those Upper Ranks hiding in the gutters out for walks like dogs someday."
Tanjiro sat sprawled on the ground, his gaze bewildered and tense.
All he knew was that this terrifying being, who could instantly cut an enormous demon to powder, had not dealt a killing blow just now.
Yaha shifted his gaze to Tanjiro's eyes, so clear and so foolish.
"Kid." Yaha's voice carried a bone-deep chill.
"That stupid look in your eyes will get you killed sooner or later."
"The next time you run into the Twelve Kizuki, no one will be there to babysit you."
With that, Yaha turned away.
His combat boots trod over grass slick with spider venom, making dull crushing sounds. The hem of his black clothes snapped in the night wind.
He followed the woodland path out without looking back.
The mountain trail was rugged and difficult, strewn with dead branches and fallen leaves.
Yaha walked slowly, in an unusually good mood.
Nezuko's existence had confirmed his theory about the laws governing the Demon Race. If he made good use of this aberration's traits, he could certainly draw out those apex prey hiding in the shadows.
He began working out how to squeeze every last bit of value from this "key."
Suddenly, an extremely faint flutter of wings reached him.
The sound mingled with the rustling leaves, imperceptible to an ordinary person.
Then a cloying, pungent scent of Wisteria drifted into his nostrils on the night wind.
The fragrance forcibly diluted the lingering smell of blood in the woods.
Yaha stopped.
His combat boot crushed a dry leaf with a crisp crack.
He raised his head slightly, sweeping his gaze through the air ahead.
A figure hung upside down from a branch of an ancient tree so thick that ten people would have needed to join hands to encircle it.
The newcomer wore the black uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps beneath a thin haori as light as butterfly wings.
Moonlight passed through the gaps in the leaves, falling on her pretty, faintly smiling face.
Her butterfly hair ornament trembled slightly in the night wind. One hand rested ever so lightly on the hilt of the slender Nichirin Blade at her waist.
Yaha curled his lips.
The black curse markings on his face sprawled brazenly through the shadows, their danger unmistakable.
"What?" Yaha's voice echoed clearly through the woods, laden with undisguised mockery.
"Can't the Hidden Corps even handle something as simple as collecting corpses anymore?"
"They actually sent a venomous bug to keep tabs on me."
Before you continue