A string of clear laughter drifted down from the branches.
Shinobu Kocho unhooked the legs she had been hanging from.
She flipped one and a half times in midair, then landed lightly on the grass five paces in front of Yaha.
Her military boots sank into the fallen leaves without making the slightest unnecessary sound.
She straightened, folded her hands in front of her, and tilted her head as she studied Yaha.
Her thin, butterfly-wing haori billowed gently in the night breeze.
Moonlight fell across her face, making her faint smile look gentle and gracious, like an older girl from next door greeting him.
But Yaha saw a different face.
There was not a trace of warmth in those purple eyes.
Where her gaze lingered, how often her lashes fluttered-everything betrayed cold calculation.
Like a coroner examining a body that had not quite stopped breathing.
"Nice to meet you. I'm the Insect Hashira, Shinobu Kocho." She bowed slightly, her voice as soft as if she were soothing a child.
"I happened to catch your fight just now. How impressive. You finished that Spider Demon in a single move. Even I couldn't react in time."
Yaha leaned against the tree trunk, both hands in his pockets, his eyelids half lowered.
"So?"
"So I thought I'd come introduce myself." Shinobu's eyes curved with her smile. "After all, swordsmen who can cut a demon apart like that aren't exactly common in the Demon Slayer Corps."
"And you don't seem to be using any Breathing Style, either?"
Yaha glanced at her.
The specially made Nichirin Blade hung at her waist, its hilt two inches lower than it would normally sit.
Drawing from that angle meant opening with a thrust.
A thrusting swordswoman who used poison to compensate for her lack of killing power-the Insect Hashira.
"The great Insect Hashira took a late-night stroll, wandered into this godforsaken place, and just happened to see me kill a demon."
Yaha yawned, one corner of his mouth lifting.
"With luck like that, shouldn't you be buying lottery tickets?"
Shinobu's smile did not budge.
"I certainly was lucky."
"Enough. Drop the act." Yaha rested the back of his head against the rough bark, his lazy gaze fixed on her face.
"That smile looks worse than crying. Don't your facial muscles ache, Lady Insect Hashira?"
The air went still for two seconds.
Wind swept through the treetops, stirring a rustle through the forest.
Ten paces away, Tanjiro sat sprawled on the ground, desperately shielding Nezuko behind him as cold sweat dripped from his chin into the dirt.
He looked at Yaha, then at the woman who had suddenly appeared.
His instincts told him the atmosphere now was a hundred times more terrifying than when he had faced that Lower Rank-level Spider Demon.
The curve of Shinobu's lips remained unchanged.
But the index finger of her right hand curled unnaturally inside her sleeve.
"What a straightforward personality." She tilted her head. "Then I'll be direct, too."
"Eight years ago, a village in the southern basin was found reduced to ruins, sliced into a grid. Lower Rank One had been obliterated, without any sign of regeneration."
"Your name was in the Hidden Corps' report."
Yaha said nothing.
"Mr. Urokodaki also mentioned you in his confidential letter." Shinobu raised a hand and tapped her chin with a pale fingertip.
"A power separate from both Breathing Styles and Blood Demon Arts, released from the fingertips, capable of shattering stone and metal and disregarding bodily regeneration."
She recited it word for word, her tone still gentle.
"Honestly, when I finished reading those descriptions, I thought I was reading a horror story."
Yaha ground his back teeth.
The contents of the Old Man's confidential letter had indeed been pored over countless times by the higher-ups.
And this smiling, venomous insect in front of him was the probe Kagaya Ubuyashiki had sent out.
"If you want to know something, just ask." Yaha tilted his neck, producing a sharp crack.
"I killed the demon. And I didn't use a Breathing Style."
He lifted his eyelids, his pitch-black eyes staring straight at Shinobu.
"So, are you here to arrest me or kill me?"
Still smiling, Shinobu let out a soft sigh.
At last, the faintest trace of killing intent leaked into that sigh.
"'Kill' is such an ugly word."
She raised her right hand, resting her slender fingers on the hilt at her waist. The movement was slow, as though she were stroking a sleeping cat.
"However, the Demon Slayer Corps does have regulations requiring the elimination of uncontrollable threats."
A faint glimmer of dark red flashed in Yaha's eyes.
"Of course, that's only the worst-case scenario," Shinobu said in the tone of someone concerned for a younger person.
"As long as you're willing to cooperate with an examination and let me confirm the source of your power, we can discuss everything calmly. The Master is very concerned about you, too."
Yaha said nothing.
He looked into Shinobu's purple eyes.
A fire lay hidden inside them. Hatred ignited by the horrific deaths of her loved ones, then forcibly smothered beneath a false smile.
She did not care where Yaha's power came from.
What she cared about was whether that power could kill demons-and whether it might one day turn on humans instead.
"Discuss it calmly." Yaha repeated the words, his lips pulling into an icy curve.
"By 'discuss it calmly,' you mean stab me first and chat afterward, right, Lady Insect Hashira?"
Shinobu's smile froze for an instant.
She vanished.
There was no scrape of metal leaving its sheath.
Only a blade gleaming with an eerie purple light, trailing a deadly afterimage through the moonlight.
It was saturated with wisteria poison at the highest concentration, enough to completely destroy an Upper Rank's cells within three seconds.
Insect Breathing: Dance of the Bee Sting-True Flutter.
The tip shot straight toward Yaha's left shoulder. Its angle was treacherous, its speed so great that even the wind could not keep up.
Ten paces away, Tanjiro could not even catch the opening movement. All he saw was a purple streak lingering on his retinas.
Yet Yaha's hands remained in his pockets.
His military boots had not shifted even half an inch in the fallen leaves.
When the tip was less than three inches from his shoulder, he tilted his head with utter nonchalance.
The movement was tiny. So tiny that it looked as if an annoying mosquito had flown past and he could not be bothered to raise a hand.
The purple blade skimmed past his cheek, piercing empty air.
A poisonous current brushed his ear, stirring a few loose strands of black hair.
Shinobu's heart sank. She immediately turned her wrist, preparing to withdraw her blade and change her attack.
But her wrist never completed the turn.
Yaha had not even taken his other hand out.
At some point, his right hand had risen from his pocket, its five fingers closing.
As easily as catching a moth that had flown straight into his palm, he clamped his hand around Shinobu's neck.
Tanjiro instinctively tightened his grip on his sword hilt and sucked in a sharp breath.
The Insect Hashira, who had been smiling beneath the tree a second earlier, was now dangling above the ground, held by the neck in one hand.
Yaha barely exerted any pressure with his fingers.
But beneath his fingertips, he could clearly feel the frantic pulse coursing through that slender artery.
That gentle smile, seemingly nailed in place with steel spikes, finally cracked at this distance.
Shinobu did not struggle, but Yaha could feel the faint tremor in her throat as she swallowed.
Yaha lowered his head slightly, leaning toward that no-longer-perfect face.
Dark red light slowly spread through his pitch-black eyes.
At his collarbone, black curse markings crawled out from beneath his collar like living things.
His warm breath fell against Shinobu's ear.
"Your speed barely passes."
Yaha's voice was quiet, carrying a nonchalance that made the scalp prickle.
"Too bad your strength is no greater than a mosquito's."
His thumb lightly scraped the artery along the side of Shinobu's neck.
"Lady Insect Hashira."
Yaha curled one corner of his mouth, revealing a smile brimming with malice.
"Tell me, if I cut open that poison-filled body of yours, what color would your blood be?"
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