The grand hall of the Ubuyashiki estate was eerily silent, save for the quiet flickering of lanterns casting elongated shadows along the wooden walls. The Hashira stood in a semi-circle, each wearing expressions of confusion and unease.

It was rare for Kagaya Ubuyashiki to summon them like this—unexpectedly, urgently, and without warning. Whenever he did, it meant something dire, something catastrophic. The air was thick with tension.

Sanemi crossed his arms, scowling. “Alright, what’s going on? We don’t get called here unless it’s something big.”

Mitsuri shifted uneasily, glancing at the others. “I… I don’t like this. It’s making me nervous.”

Obanai’s mismatched eyes flickered toward Ubuyashiki, his voice quiet but firm. “Is this about Muzan?”

The master of the Demon Slayer Corps remained calm, his ever-gentle smile unwavering, though his frail form looked even weaker in the dim light. “I understand your concerns,” he spoke, his voice soft but commanding enough to silence the murmurs. “But I must ask for your patience. This matter is… delicate.”

The Hashira exchanged wary glances, their unease deepening. Even Gyomei, who stood in silent contemplation, furrowed his brows.

Ubuyashiki lifted a pale hand and gestured toward one of his children, who had been standing quietly in the corner. “Bring them in.”

A hush fell over the room as the child bowed and disappeared beyond the sliding doors. The Hashira tensed, hands instinctively drifting toward their weapons.

Something was coming.

Something they were not prepared for.