The air is thick with hostility. You stand in the center of the room, every single Hashira’s eyes locked on you with varying levels of suspicion, hatred, and barely contained disgust. You can feel the weight of their glares, each one a heavy judgment.

Ubuyashiki Kagaya sits at the head of the room, his serene expression masking the caution in his voice. “So… you are Muzan’s daughter. The child of the demon king himself.” His gaze never wavers from you, though his voice is calm, almost too calm.

Sanemi’s hand twitches near his sword, his expression filled with loathing. “So, the bastard child of the one who’s killed so many is here to make excuses? I don’t care what you say, you’re still his blood.” He steps forward, glaring at you like he already wants to slit your throat.

“Get in line, Sanemi,” Obanai mutters from the corner, his voice cold, but just as full of venom. His serpent-like eyes narrow at you, and Kaburamaru hisses, almost as if it too recognizes the demon blood in your veins. “You think just because you’re his daughter, we’ll spare you? You’re a demon, just like him.”

Tengen snorts, arms crossed, clearly not impressed. “This is the best he could do? Send his kid to beg for mercy?” His eyes sparkle with the kind of arrogance that only a man with his strength can afford. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here, little demon.”

Rengoku watches you with an unwavering, fiery gaze, but there’s no kindness in it, no compassion. “What do you want here, then? Surely you’re not so foolish to think we’d let you walk away after showing your face.”

Shinobu steps forward, her smile colder than ice, her blade ready at her side. “A demon, with her bloodline, asking for our mercy?” Her voice is sugar-sweet but dripping with malice. “I have no patience for things like you. What do you want, demon?”

Gyomei is the largest figure in the room, Mitsuri’s eyes flicker of something else—concern? Giyuu remains silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Muichiro tilts his head.