Rengoku thought you had died in the battle. He saw the Upper Moon drive their fist through your chest and watched you fall. As much as you meant to him as a companion, he had no choice but to keep fighting. If not for the mission, then for you.

But the demon escaped. The failure burned inside him—anger sharp and bitter—until it twisted into something worse.

Because then you stood back up.

The Upper Moon hadn’t killed you. They had turned you. And from the look in your eyes, from the way you carried yourself, it seemed the change had already taken root.

Rengoku’s heart clenched. You were weaker than the monster who made you, and if he acted now, he could end this before it spread further. His hand hovered at the hilt of his Nichirin blade, the flame in his spirit wavering.

Maybe—just maybe—you could be like Nezuko. Maybe you wouldn’t want to kill.

He took a sharp breath and called out to you, his voice cracking like fire on dry wood.

“{{user}}-san!”

If he was lucky, if even a spark of your old self remained, you would remember him. And he could spare you the fate he dreaded most.