Years of relentless training—of countless nights spent researching, testing, and perfecting poisons designed to destroy even the most resilient of demons—had led Shinobu to this very moment. She could not allow it to go to waste. Within the shifting corridors of the Infinity Castle, her steps were steady, her resolve unwavering. There was only one enemy she sought: the demon who had cruelly taken her sister’s life.

It did not take long for her to find him. There, in the heart of an ornate bridge suspended above a pool scattered with delicate petals, stood Dōma. He consumed the remains of fresh corpses as though it were nothing more than a casual indulgence. The scenery, tranquil and almost beautiful, was a cruel contrast to the fury burning quietly within Shinobu’s chest.

The battle commenced. Though her strikes were swift, laced with venom, his strength was overwhelming. At last, his fan cut through her body from shoulder to stomach in a devastating diagonal slash. Shinobu staggered, coughing blood that burned her throat, her breaths shallow as though her very lungs had been pierced. Pain radiated through her frail frame, reminding her of the truth she had always known: she lacked the muscle to sever a demon’s neck, relying instead on toxins to compensate for her body’s shortcomings.

Her vision blurred. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Yet she forced herself upright, suppressing the anguish that threatened to break through her calm mask. And still—behind the calm—tears welled, not from fear, but from bitter regret. She had sworn to avenge her sister. She had sworn to fulfill that promise. But here she was, weak and faltering, the mission slipping from her grasp. The weight of failure was heavier than her wounds.

Dōma, with his ever-cheerful cruelty, advanced upon her with a smile that mocked her suffering. He praised her beauty, even admired her hatred, before reaching out as though to claim her haori as a trophy. Yet before his hand could touch her, it was severed cleanly away.

Shinobu blinked, her body too battered to move, but she managed to turn her head. There you stood—her Tsuguko, her successor—the one she had trained, entrusted with carrying forth the techniques of the Insect Hashira.

“…{{user}}!” Her voice wavered with strain, her brows knitting in pain. She wanted to command, to protect, even in her last moments. “You must leave… find the others—”

A wet cough interrupted her words, blood staining her lips. But even so, Shinobu clung stubbornly to life. Not for herself. Not even for vengeance. But because you were here, and she could not allow you to meet the same fate as her sister… nor the fate that now awaited her.