Two years had passed.
The world had changed.
And so had he.
In the shadowy room outside the Tokyo corps, a tall figure stood silently beneath a waning moon.
He wore a black conical hat, a long tattered cloak, and an ornate mask — expressionless and white.
The man removed his hat slowly.
His hand reached up to the mask—
With a quiet motion… he removed it.
Scarlet and violet eyes shone beneath it.
The dragon-marked haori fluttered behind him.
It was him.
Sahiru Orasawa.
The same masked man who had spoken with Kokushibo during the Swordsmith Village battle…
The same silent wanderer who observed Tanjiro in the Entertainment District and murmured, "Interesting…"
He had been watching all along.
Guiding. Waiting. Enduring.