Though Ren had secluded himself in the mountains for centuries, far from the ways of the world, his countless spies blanketed the earth.
Hidden in the forest's depths, he bore the weight of profound solitude, sealing his heart and shutting out the world for a hundred years.
Now, as he resolved to step into this new world, long-buried memories and tidings surged into his mind like a tempest, carried ceaselessly by the crows scattered across the globe.
Despite his demonic form, the deluge of information overwhelmed him, too vast to fully grasp or process at once.
For now, he could only sift through the sights and sounds his crows had gathered over the years while journeying toward the Upper Rank meeting called by Lord Muzan.
With his original strength, he could have reached the destination swiftly, but his current state was unsteady.
For a full century, he had languished in a state of deep despondency, and he urgently needed time to restore his body and mind.
He needed time.
Passing a few households, hunger gnawed at him, tempting him to choose a fortunate soul as tonight's meal. But as he reached a doorstep, he froze.
For some reason, a voice echoed in his mind, urging him to halt.
It was as if someone had once sternly warned him against this, as if, by some unseen force, he'd been told not to act.
"Never mind."
Ren drew back his leg. He had no desire to defy his heart, and his hunger soon subsided.
When he encountered a group of swordsmen clad in haori marked with the "Destroy" kanji, that inner resistance vanished. Ren knew his meal had arrived.
After a simple feast, Ren pressed on toward his destination.
Sated, Ren's ability to process his memories quickened. He tapped his forehead, realizing the meal he'd just consumed was Demon Slayer Corps members.
Excellent. No wonder they were so delectable.
Over centuries, the Corps had transformed beyond recognition.
Two Corps Lords slain in succession, the Corps languished in silence before slowly recovering, yet it could not mend the grievous wounds it had suffered nor reverse its steady decline.
Because Ren had slaughtered the old generation of Hashira, the Corps faced a generational gap. As veteran Hashira fell, the young could not rise to fill their places, and the Corps' strength waned with each passing era.
Now, this era's Corps paled in comparison to the one Ren knew, its power a shadow of its former self.
A century of solitude had dulled Ren's interest in this weakened Corps. And for some reason, since his meal, a voice had nagged at him, repeating endlessly.
Something about "finding someone else to care for you…" or "marrying and having children…"
Could demons bear children?
Ren didn't know why such a thought surfaced.
Frowning, he stared at his palm in bewilderment.
Why had he become so strange, entertaining such childish notions?
Were these thoughts even his own?
And yet… why did his body seem compelled to follow these words?
Better to ask Lord Muzan. Having lived so long, Muzan was wise and knew much.
In a secluded courtyard, not a single living soul stirred.
A heavy gate creaked open, shattering the silent night.
A shadow, swift as a phantom, slipped soundlessly into the tranquil courtyard, blending into the darkness, half-seen, half-hidden.
Its piercing gaze, like twin blades of frost, swept slowly over every corner.
"This must be the place Lord Muzan spoke of, the site of the Upper Rank meeting," the figure murmured, its voice low and raspy, echoing in the still night.
Beneath the black veil of night, the "Upper Rank Five" etched in its eyes radiated a chilling aura.
Soon after the shadow appeared, the air began to tremble faintly. Then, several powerful presences converged rapidly from all directions.
"Tch, these insufferable fools are arriving one after another," Upper Rank Five muttered with a cold sneer, arms crossed, a scowl of disdain on its face.
"Oh, my, it's only been a few decades since we last met, and already you're calling your old comrades insufferable? That's rather hurtful," came a mocking laugh as another figure emerged.
This one was tall, its face twisted and grotesque, reeking of blood.
"Hahaha, well said! Upper Rank Five, have you forgotten the lesson Kokushibo taught you? Respect your elders! As our junior, you ought to bow in deference!" Several mocking voices rang out, followed by a host of demons, each more bizarre than the last, appearing around the courtyard.
Some were massive as mountains, others gaunt as withered bones; some bore terrifying visages with bared fangs, while others were clad in thick, scaly armor. In moments, the courtyard was encircled by these horrors.
The demons eyed one another. From Upper Rank Two to Upper Rank Six, all Upper Ranks save Kokushibo's Upper Rank One were now assembled.
"This is the place Lord Muzan meant for the Upper Rank meeting, right? Where is he?"
"Perhaps delayed by other matters. No hurry. Let's wait for Lord Muzan here."
Upper Rank Four spoke, then sat cross-legged on the ground.
Upper Rank Five frowned, scanning the surroundings. "Where's Kokushibo?"
At this, the others paused, their gazes sweeping around. Indeed, Kokushibo was absent.
"I have been here all along."
A deep voice reached their ears. A screen in the courtyard's depths parted, revealing Kokushibo seated at a tea table, his back to them.
Kokushibo lifted his head slightly, speaking in an utterly flat tone. "I have waited long. Cease your clamor."
His simple words carried an overwhelming pressure, instantly sobering the varied expressions of the Upper Ranks.
To become an Upper Rank, one had to be among the mightiest of demonkind.
Each Upper Rank was fiercely proud, rarely deigning to notice lesser demons. Even among their peers, they vied for dominance, each convinced their strength rivaled the others'.
Yet, when Kokushibo spoke, no matter their pride, none dared defy him in that moment.
Kokushibo sat motionless, exuding a suffocating terror. This pressure, heavy as a mountain crushing an egg, left the Upper Ranks struggling to breathe.
Before such absolute power, any thought of resistance or disrespect was ground to dust.