During the darkest hours before dawn, seven lamps burned in the main hall of the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters.
Seven lamps marked a Hashira assembly of the highest order. Their wicks burned quietly, illuminating every corner of the hall.
The Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, stood beside a pillar, his arms locked across his chest, refusing to sit. He had held that pose since entering, bringing every ounce of his murderous aura into the hall. The Serpent Hashira, Obanai Iguro, stood to his right. The lamplight cast a heavy shadow over the scar on his cheek, and his gaze had swept toward the doorway more than once.
Both men were waiting for confirmation of a conclusion they had already settled on.
At least five versions of the Entertainment District mission had circulated that night, pieced together from scraps of news. Some claimed Yaha had gone on a killing spree. Others said civilians had died in droves. Still others insisted his domain had reduced the entire Entertainment District to rubble, leaving barely a handful of roof tiles intact. The stories grew more outrageous with every retelling, but they all pointed to the same thing.
This man had lost control.
"Oyakata-sama isn't here yet." Sanemi Shinazugawa's voice scraped through the hall like sandpaper over wood.
Giyu Tomioka stood in a corner. He had changed into a fresh uniform, a new one that concealed the sites of several wounds beneath its fabric. His face remained as expressionless as ever, his gaze fixed motionlessly on an empty spot at the front of the hall.
Sanemi Shinazugawa looked him over, then turned away without a word.
The sky was still a deep, heavy gray when the Kasugai Crow slipped through the window.
The crow landed on the perch beside the seat of honor, folded its wings,