The wind howled softly over the mountaintop as cherry blossoms drifted across the sky like scattered fragments of a dream. Tanjiro sat quietly beneath the porch of the Butterfly Estate, watching the petals fall, his eyes thoughtful, his body still tender from recent rehabilitation training.
A soft knock tapped the wooden frame.
It was Kanao, silent as ever, holding an envelope marked with a familiar insignia—one that made Tanjiro instinctively stand.
The Ubuyashiki crest.
Tanjiro bowed with gratitude as he took the letter and watched her retreat with silent footsteps. He slowly peeled open the seal, the faint scent of incense escaping with the parchment inside.
He read aloud in a hushed voice.
"To Kamado Tanjiro,
Your recovery has been noted with satisfaction. The time has come to rise again.
A powerful demon has appeared—its presence tied directly to Muzan Kibutsuji. You are to rendezvous with Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku, and board the train bound for the western lands.
This 'Mugen Train' holds danger buried deep within its steel frame. Enmu, Lower Moon One, has been sighted. The mission: protect the passengers, assist Rengoku, and eliminate all demonic threats.
Be cautious.
You are not alone in the dark. There are many styles—many swords.
And among them… there is Facade Breathing."
Tanjiro's eyes widened slightly at the unfamiliar term.
"This style is not part of our corps. It belongs to one who walks alone in Tokyo—Sahiru, the masked swordsman. He obeys no Master, yet slays demons with surgical silence.
You may not meet him. You may not even hear of him again. But should you ever find yourself lost in a city cloaked by lies, remember: not every slayer fights for the same sun.
May your blade remain pure.
—Kagaya Ubuyashiki."
Tanjiro folded the letter slowly, fingers trembling not with fear, but with resolve.
Another warrior… using another style.
Facade Breathing.
The name itself felt elusive—like smoke through fingers. He wondered what it could be. Was it swift? Deceptive? Beautiful? Cruel?
He had no answers.
Only the train. Only the mission.
Tanjiro walked out into the afternoon light, his haori fluttering behind him. Zenitsu and Inosuke were already gathering supplies, their energy restless, unaware of the danger waiting on those tracks.
The journey ahead would be filled with iron and flame, blood and screams.
But Tanjiro's heart beat with calm purpose.
They were heading to the Mugen Train.