Legend has it that after nightfall, man-eating demons roam the land, so people must return ho early. Okita had heard this tale more than once, yet he had never imagined he would truly encounter a demon.
“Draw your sword.”
The demon standing before Okita wore a high ponytail of long black sideburns, dressed in a purple snake-patterned kimono and black hakama. His posture was straight and imposing, crimson fla-like marks stretching from his left temple and from the right side of his jaw down to his neck. If that were all, one might mistake him for a traditional samurai. Yet under the moonlight, Okita clearly saw that the man possessed six eyes. This was sothing no human could ever have.
Okita could feel that the being before him was overwhelmingly beyond his level. His hand tightened around his sword as he asked nervously, “Why have you co for ? Do you intend to eat ?”
“I am rely… tempering myself… Your fate… is yours alone.” The samurai-like demon spoke slowly and distinctly, all six eyes fixed upon him. “Victory… and you live… Defeat… and you die.”
Okita tried to steady his breathing before finally drawing the blade at his waist and taking a stance. He shouted, “My na is Okita Amane! Seventh-generation successor of the Mushin-ryu Sword Style! Who are you? State your na!”
It was a bold declaration, though the trembling in his voice betrayed his fear.
“My na… is Kokushibo.”
The demon’s hand settled on the hilt of his long blade, as though he ant to draw it, but he suddenly paused and lifted his head to look into the distance.
“Summoned…?”
The crushing killing intent surrounding Okita dispersed in an instant. The terrifying demon before him took a single step forward and vanished as though into empty space.
The mont Kokushibo disappeared, all the strength Okita had gathered drained from his body. He collapsed onto the ground, his hands shaking so violently he could not even hold his familiar katana. After sitting in stunned silence for a long while, he finally covered his face with trembling hands. “How… how could sothing like that be real… God…”
...
Kokushibo observed the warped, jagged space around him, recognizing it as Naki’s Blood Demon Art—Infinite Castle. Whenever Muzan Kibutsuji wished to issue a unified command, he would have Naki summon the demons through this technique. The only question was what occasion warranted this gathering.
Kokushibo stood quietly, waiting. After the biwa sounded three tis, the others appeared.
“Oh my, Kokushibo is here too~”
A man with white-oak-colored hair and eyes shimring like a rainbow opened his folding fan. “Not a single person missing~ I thought soone might have been killed~ We’re all precious comrades, you know. Losing even one of us~ would make , Doma~, terribly sad~”
Tears glittered in his prismatic eyes as he spoke, his expression filled with theatrical pity. “Ah~ just thinking about it makes heartbroken~ Don’t you agree, Akaza~? Without you, I would be so~ so~ lonely.”
The demon known as Akaza had short peach-colored hair, deathly pale skin, and deep blue tattoos carved across his body like the marks of sinners. Hearing Doma’s voice, he remained expressionless, his golden eyes unreadable. Instead, he looked toward the long-haired woman holding the biwa.
“Naki. Has Lord Muzan not arrived?”
“Muzan-sama has not yet co.”
“To be summoned together again after more than ninety years—how rare indeed.”
A demon with completely white skin, yellow eyes, and green lips crawled out of a patterned jar. “How fortunate that all the lords are unhard. Whee, whee.”
“Terrifying, terrifying! After years apart, the Jade Pot can’t even count anymore! The last ti the Upper Moon were summoned together was one hundred and one years ago—one hundred and one, an indivisible number!” An elderly demon with a swollen forehead and two horns trembled behind a railing, his shrill voice tight with panic. “Ill-oned! Ill-oned! So dreadful! So dreadful!”
“Oh for heaven’s sake! Your constant muttering is driving crazy!”
A slightly haughty voice rang out with irritation. A beautiful woman with pink markings on her left cheek and right forehead frowned sharply. “Hantengu, you ugly thing, shut your mouth already!”
“Eek! Terrifying, terrifying, Daki is terrifying!”
“Oh now~ Daki, don’t be too harsh on Half-Day Dog. We’re companions, after all~”
Daki brushed back her long white hair with an elegant gesture, lifting her chin. “Beautiful people are always right. Just like Doma-sama and . But a demon like Hantengu, who has not a shred of beauty, should be eliminated as soon as—”
Kokushibo still stood silently, yet his long blade had sohow left its sheath. He looked at Daki with cold indifference. “Daki… you have overstepped.”
Her severed head fell to the ground, staring blankly at Kokushibo. After a brief pause, her green eyes filled with tears. “Waaah… Brother! Brother, where are you?! My head got cut off! It hurts! Brother! Co out, Brother!”
“Oh dear~ how pitiful~ Her head was cut off~”
“Yes, yes—”
A gaunt demon crept out from the shadow behind her. Though his dark-green hair and appearance were grotesque, his expression was strangely gentle. He picked up the crying head and carried it to the frozen, beautiful body. “Really now, it’s just a head. All you need to do is pick it up and put it back on.”
Daki wiped her tears, looking utterly wronged. “But, but—”
“In the end, you brought this on yourself for offending Kokushibo-sama.”
The demon’s skin was sickly pale gray, his upper body bare while his lower half wore loose blue trousers. Red-and-black silk ribbons coiled around both arms as he gently wiped Daki’s tears. “There now, don’t cry. Lord Muzan will be here any mont. If you keep crying like this, you’ll stop looking pretty.”
“Oh my~ I say Kokushibo is far too rigid~”
Doma snapped open his fan again, smiling at the green-haired demon. “A cute younger sister like Daki can afford to be a little willful, can’t she? Don’t you agree, Gyutaro~?”
“Unrestrained indulgence… only… corrupts.”
Kokushibo slid his blade back into its sheath. “Gyutaro… make her stop… Muzan-sama… is here.”
As Kokushibo’s words fell, Naki plucked the strings of her biwa. A handso man in a flawless suit, his eyes a deep plum red, appeared before them. After sweeping his gaze over all present, Muzan Kibutsuji frowned.
“After centuries… another swordsman capable of wielding a Bright Red Nichirin Blade has appeared.”
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