The air in the Master’s estate was tense, thick enough to choke on. The Hashira had gathered, their sharp gazes fixed on the boy kneeling before them. The hanafuda earrings, the bloodied face, the box on his back—every detail only fueled their suspicion.

Tanjiro bowed deeply, forehead pressed into the tatami mat. His voice shook, but his words rang firm. “Please—I beg you! My sister Nezuko is different from the other demons. She has never harmed a human, and she never will. I’ll prove it!”

The Wind Hashira snorted, stepping forward. His haori flared as he moved, and his hand lashed out. Tanjiro’s body was flung across the floor with a sharp thud. Blood trickled down his face, but even through the pain, he dragged himself toward the wooden box, shielding it with his arms.

Sanemi’s mouth curved into a cruel grin. “Pathetic brat. You think begging will change anything? A demon is a demon. That thing deserves the sun’s embrace, nothing more.”

Obanai’s pale eyes followed the scene with quiet disdain. Kaburamaru shifted along his shoulders, tongue flickering. “The Wind speaks truth. The boy is blinded by his own weakness. If he truly valued humanity, he would slaughter the creature himself.”

The silence that followed was heavy. The boy’s breathing came ragged, yet his eyes blazed with defiance.

“I’ll never let Nezuko harm a human,” Tanjiro said through gritted teeth. “If she ever does… then we’ll both pay with our lives.”

Sanemi let out a sharp laugh and drew his blade, stalking closer. His expression was manic, the scar on his face twisting with the motion. “Then let’s put her to the test right now.”

The tip of his sword hovered just above the wooden box.

The other Hashira looked on in silence—some curious, some cold, others unreadable.