Disclaimer:

I do not own nor claim all the rights to 鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba | Demon Slayer; all rights are reserved to its respective creator, Koyoharu Gotōge. This is purely a work of fiction; names, characters, businesses, events, localities, and occurrences are all extrapolated from the author's writings and imagination or utilized in a fictitious manner. As such, any direct or indirect references to actual entities, dead or alive, or events do not, in any shape or form, resemble the opinions of the author.

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"..." = Dialogue

'...' = Internal monologues

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I want to thank every one of you who has taken the time to read this book. It is uplifting to read your courteous words and to receive notifications of other means that evoke your indispensable approval. I must therefore give my thanks to you all.

Also, sorry about the lack of updates as I've been extremely busy thanks to school and studies. But I shall nonetheless try to consistently write more chapters in a shorter period of time.

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What was hitherto an imperturbable early morning situated within the relatively tranquil and sedated environment that enclosed the Corps' headquarters had now transitioned into something else entirely. 

The early morning hours within the decrepit and dilapidated premises of the old, Meiji-era suburbs of Yokohama lacked such a placid substance that defined the aforementioned vicinity bordering the Corps' headquarters. 

The incense of burning coal and heavy fumes exhaled from the smokestacks of a multitude of factories could easily—much to the contempt of the city's denizens—perpetuate a riveting effect on the plethora of noses that occupy the area to discern such a revolting stench. 

Moreover, aside from the repulsive scent, the lively ambiance that engrossed the metropolis with its commotion and clamor merely served to act as a catalyst for further disruption and heated exchanges between individuals as no sane person could possibly ignore the loud, obtrusive babel that ruptured the composure of far too many.

Despite these negligible circumstances abrogating one's wishes and desires for a good night's rest, there were still plenty of persons whose natural capacity—or incapacity, if one were to perceive this differently—to garner enough equanimity in the backdrop of turbulence permitted the facilitation of a greatly-coveted and well-rested sleep. 

Amongst them, it included the two Hashiras: Giyuu and Shinobu—with the latter especially attuned to the inner workings of an everlasting habit one could only best summarize in four distinct words: not a morning person...

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Giyuu

I slowly lifted my eyelids only to find the Sun's unabashed rays incandescently shining upon my eyes concurrent with a full display of its coruscating glimmer throughout the configurations of this small room. 

While a dark shadow still enclosed some sections of the room, they were mostly confined to the corners and other subsections that simply cannot accumulate the sun's persistent beam of photons navigating its way through the various pieces of translucent glass held together by a sash of dark-brownish wood. 

Furthermore, there were only two windows; so, the quantity of the early morning sunlight allotted for this room wouldn't be enough to suffice the tentative wishes for a bright, ebullient morning.

However, fatigue from the initial stages of my awakening had entrapped my thought processes and physical functionality to an unsatisfactory stage of incapacitation. Additionally, I could only vaguely make out the enigmatic events that had transpired the night before; I have no clue as to why that is, but I can only assume it's due to a lack of sleep. 

Even so, with sleep deprivation hardly being such a foreign notion to me, I do happen to keenly remember that I managed to sleep comfortably with no beleaguered nightmares to exact another bout of hyperesthesia to disrupt my primary senses to a primitive state of pitiful being. 

With that taken into account, it raises a question: what was the cause of my surprisingly sufficient amount of sleep with no interruption? Did something happen the night before that I cannot put my finger on at the moment?

Before I could further expound upon my inquiries in order to quench my curiosity and thirst for knowledge, I noticed something off. 

As I lifted the upper half of my musculature off the ground and into an upright posture, I felt a conspicuous amount of force pressing down on my legs. 

My eyes were still adjusting to the sudden stream of radiance invoked by the emergence of the yellow star from the thin, horizontal line resting between the blue atmosphere and the multicolored external crust of this Earth. 

Therefore, my vision was blurry and I couldn't examine the source of this peculiar sensation on my legs.

However, gradual adjustment to the contemporary light intensity was inevitable and I soon had the ability to identify the impetus for this situation.

"Kocho-san....?" I say softly.

Kocho, accoutred in an informal attire and the absence of what was an intricate, idiosyncratic coiffure, had prostrated herself—most likely in an unintentional sequence of events—onto my lap as she indulged herself into a deep sleep. 

Her body—if substituting its disposition as a geometrical plane—was perpendicular to my physical, linear expanse. 

Thus, she wasn't directly on top of me per se, but she did restrict the amount of space available for any further movement on my end. 

The shoulder-length and wavy characteristics which defined her hair beforehand were all lacking in light of the irregular contour and other means of informalities presently espoused simply by her hair. 

The omission of the yakai-maki coiffure and the white and purple butterfly ornament within the posterior section of her hair was indicative of how most individuals tend to disregard appearances in favor of comfortable slumber. 

The yukata she wore was just as unceremonious: equipped with no puttee—a long strip of cloth wound spirally around the leg from ankle to knee for protection and support—nor a standard-issue uniform in general. 

The current clothing was also more revealing and exposed more of her fair skin to the eyes of the world; my eyes, to be precise.

Thus, I could only watch as a fellow slayer effectively rendered me immobile due to her head reposed onto my legs. 

Now, I could try to wake her up, or move my legs to effectuate a compulsive reaction that will ultimately produce the same result. 

However, I fear that if I undertake such measures, then Kocho will be most displeased and will move to condemn me to another banter or a threat to my very life. Therefore, I could only watch as I contemplated a subsequent course of action to utilize in this tenuous situation.

However, the most riveting component of this conundrum was—as much as I am ashamed to say it—her body. 

There was simply to much displayed for a man to be comfortable with, as the yukata she fancied divulged too much of her smooth, light skin; her legs were slightly uncovered while revealing a section of her upper thighs, and the cleavage—though initially acceptable (especially considering that I was specifically warned not to look there by herself)—had now unveiled too much of the pectoral region for her (and my) liking. 

How much did she move last night to precipitate such a delicate condition...?

Thus, I was left in a fiasco that could only end in disaster for the both of us.

I scan the room, hoping to garner an idea of some sort to aid me in this predicament. 

Unfortunately, instead of obtaining whatever I sought to ascertain in light of my precarious position, I was only left confused and all of my previous postulations regarding the rationale for why Kocho was sleeping in such a bizarre arrangement were effectively made null. 

What I'm exactly referencing is just as outlandish, as when I promptly turned my head to face the entrance, I found a futon all crumpled up and reclined to the shoji screen door—Kocho's futon.

"What the hell...?" I quietly say as I automatically elicited a look of bewilderment at the sight of an inanimate object situated in an unconventional manner as it fancies an unorthodox disposition.

I look back at a dormant Kocho with a look of discombobulation; I was absolutely perplexed and had no clue as to how to react to this anomalous situation. 

Her feral modus operandi of sleeping was certainly a surprise for someone who holds a preeminent title within the ranks of a sacrosanct organization as old as the Meiji Constitution. 

Normally, individuals conferred with such distinguished peerage amongst the military-esque apparatus of a dispensable institution would be expected to simultaneously harbor the caricature and inclinations as the innate characteristics of the regal aristocracy. 

However, the Demon Slayer Corps was neither adhering to the class structure of the society to which it resides nor was it a military apparatus that conceded to such traditions. 

Therefore, it was only natural that the volition of its denoted members is more likely to contravene the aforementioned stereotypes than to legitimately apply it themselves.

The same could be applied to Kocho.

Now, as for what I'm supposed to do... I can't conjure up anything within the depths of my supposed analytical mind. 

The situation necessitated an immediate or temporary remedy to ameliorate this precarious state of affairs. Unfortunately, I had neither the aptitude nor the appropriate state of mind to procure a solution for this crisis.

However, I attempted to extrapolate previous knowledge of my quondam exchanges and tribulations with Kocho in order to amalgamate what was hitherto erroneous moves on my half into something more conducive for the salvation of my image and her dignity. 

Essentially, I was looking to save myself from this debacle.

These circumstances are quite analogous to that of the dispute we deliberated over back on the train ride to Yokohama. 

Now, where did I screw up over there? I tried to induce myself into a slumber—or at least acted as if I were in one—in order to deceive Kocho as a means of averting the humiliation that I eventually would incur upon her. 

Regrettably, she managed to look past my feigned charade and bestow upon me the totality of her unscrupulous wrath. Therefore, I would do my best to not blunder my way through this delicate situation.

Since sleeping didn't work last time, maybe I could physically wiggle my way out of this? However, since Kocho's body obstructed my legs to a confined space, there was the likely possibility that I might accidentally wake her up—thus destroying any hope of reprieve.

I try to twist my left leg side-to-side, hoping that my writhe would provide the pathway before my premature demise at the hands of a fellow slayer. 

However, it was of no use; as Kocho-san's stomach was resting on my knee caps—confounding my expectations for an early release. 

The weight of her body rendered my legs immobile; as I didn't want to wake her because of movement on my end, but I also wanted to avoid another confrontation overflowing with unnecessary contention.

With that in mind, what should I do now...?

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Shinobu

"Kocho-san, you aren't smiling," Tomioka pointed out.

Oh shoot, almost forgot about that.

"O-oh, sorry about tha—" I replied.

"Don't be, you look just as beautiful without it," he interrupted.

"Beautiful..." my heart was racing with no end in sight. But why was it racing? Why do I get nervous around him? Why do I always reveal my flustered and embarrassing side to him? What is it about him that perpetually fascinates and perplexes me?

A myriad of questions embroil my cognizant functions into a state of confusion, but that seems too convoluted for me at this very moment.

The copious, tantalizing aroma of the early morning dew engulfs the vicinity with its serene and soothing fragrance. Such a quiescent appeal had the ability to lull oneself into a deep slumber. 

Despite the suffocating effluvium that is emitted by the city and its plethora of industrial complexes, the atmosphere that enclosed the proximity gave way to a pristine airspace that cleansed all the negative and malignant externalities that would've otherwise imbued the surroundings with its virulent, pungent malodor. 

Such a subtle, automatic savor of the locality proved to be efficacious in exuding an enchanting charm to the ambiance of the already-calm setting. Moreover, the complementary effect of the gushing breeze amplified and effectuated a more tranquil and nonchalant exchange between us.

I wanted it again; I wanted to hear him say that again.

"Nee, Tomioka-san," I said.

"Hm?" he replies, still gazing up at the majestic starlit sky.

"Say it again."

"Say what again?" he asks as he pivots his head towards me.

I look back at him, "About my smile, say it again."

"... That you look beautiful without it?"

I let out a smile, but not one compelled by a devoir nor one feigned to mislead the people around me. No, this was a genuine one.

"... Thank you, Tomioka-san," I say back.

I look up at the night sky and begin to wonder: what if there was a life for me after the Corps? What if it didn't have to end early? What if... I lived a life full of happiness? Would it be right for me to accept it?

I can't seem to think properly at the moment; too many things are occurring at once. But I felt a tickle on my cheeks and a strange sensation pressing against my chest—my heart was palpitating. I couldn't help but blurt out something whether I intended to do so or not.

"Isn't the moon lovely tonight, Tomioka-san?"

It was a strange feeling; the feeling of serenity and at peace with oneself. But—thanks to many factors ranging from this conversation to the palpable ambiance of the setting—I felt at ease, I felt like all of the woes and the scars of my past had vanished. 

All the stress, all the hatred, the sadness, the yearning for comfort, the desire to be at peace once and for all... They left the stage to make way for an emotion I have not felt in years, the wistful feeling as I reminisce of the past and the longing for reconciliation with myself for that exact reason. 

A feeling full of nostalgia encompasses me as I imagine the days when duty didn't supersede happiness, when slaying demons wasn't just an old bedtime story uttered by the elders, and when I didn't descend into madness as I failed to protect my loved ones.

It was an unusual combination of embracing the tranquility and the realization that the hopes, aspirations, and the purpose that once brought equanimity were forever gone.

"... Hasn't it always been?" Tomioka answers.

I look straight at him, not knowing what to make of his response. But I could see the same look in his eyes; the same whirlwind of emotions entangling his spirit and soul as it does to me.

Tomioka-san... His mien is awfully familiar, but why is it though? I want to know more, I want to know more about you...

..

..

I was roused, but it wasn't abrupt in any manner; it was more along the lines of a calm awakening from a lengthy, but substantially beneficial sleep.

Initially, I wasn't sure whether I was actually awake or not. It certainly didn't feel like it; as what should be a velvety surface designed to formulate circumstances that are conducive to invigorating one's feeling of lethargy was instead something more rigid and uncomfortable. 

Nonetheless, as I slowly opened my eyes, they were immediately blinded by the sudden shimmer of sunlight which hampered my line of sight for a period of time.

I groan, "What time is it?"

However, as I began to move around my current bearing, I noticed something off. Clearly, I was staring at a futon. 

Yes, it's definitely a white blanket that I'm currently looking at. 

However, as I previously mentioned, the supposed texture and configurations of these elastic materials seem to harbor aberrant characteristics that completely deviate from its rudimentary elements. 

Basically, even though I'm looking at a white blanket, it doesn't feel like a white blanket.

I slowly lift my head to find a familiar face staring back at me. A subtle, but noticeable burst of happiness and—oddly enough—relief swept me as I felt reassured and aplomb while staring into his eyes.

"Ara? Tomioka-san?" I murmured.

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..

..

..

"Good... Morning..." Giyuu cautiously replies, not knowing what to make of the situation.

'I messed up... Should've gone back to sleep...' Giyuu internally laments.

"What are you doing here?" Shinobu queries.

'How do I respond to that...' Giyuu ponders.

"Well, I could only hypothesize due to my lack of knowledge in relation to this situation," said Giyuu.

Shinobu produced a look of discombobulation as if what she heard had only confusticated the issue at hand. 

Then, as Shinobu lifted herself from the ground so as to be sitting in a comfortable position on her knees, she allotted a few seconds to scan the room and its contents. 

Initially, she seemed to have comported herself well considering the anomalies that situated themselves within this small room. 

However, with each passing second, she came closer to the realization of the true extent of her unorthodox approach to achieving a goodnight's rest. 

She also glanced down and immediately became disconcerted; her slightly-unfastened yukata had almost instantly prompted her to turn around and—with the interrelation of embarrassment and frustration both acting at once—rectified that error.

Then, it hit: 'Was I sleeping on Tomioka-san's legs?'

"Tomioka-san..." Shinobu says.

"... Yes?" Giyuu said hesitantly.

"You woke up a while ago, didn't you?"

"... Yes," Giyuu readied himself for another banter.

"How much did you see...?"

'How am I supposed to answer that...' Giyuu deliberates.

"I adhered to your regulations and didn't attempt anything perverse on my half."

"Oh. How about we forget about all of this, yes?" Shinobu requests as she plasters a smile onto her face.

'Wow, she isn't mad,' Giyuu mentally notes.

"Sur— " Giyuu answered.

"Good! I'm going to go wash now. We'll scout the area later today," Shinobu immediately and curtly replies as she makes haste and leaves the room.

"... Huh," Giyuu, perplexed, commented.

'I did something right... Though I'm not sure what exactly I did...'

As soon as Shinobu arrived at her destination—right outside the washroom—she upraised her hands in an energetic motion and subsequently converged both of her palms onto her cheeks, producing a reverberating "SLAP" that enclosed the halls with the execution of such an irregular echo. 

She maintained a fixed position for her palms as they remained on the surface of her cheeks and gave out a low, but feminine moan of frustration.

'Why did I forget about that!? I should've known earlier about how sloppy I am in the mornings! And Tomioka-san saw me in that state! This is too embarrassing!' she groaned sheepishly as she attempted to escape the reality of her dilemma.

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..

As the dawn had approached this lively city, and the multitude of residents throughout the city awoke to their tasks and prerogatives, the Hashiras were readying themselves for a thorough examination of the underlying problem which has unknowingly beleaguered the city with its treachery: demons.

Giyuu and Shinobu, all dressed in their respective uniforms and Haori, entered the dining room expecting to find the ever-present landlord, Fumiko, be there to greet them. Instead, what they found instead was a note lying on the circumcenter of the brown, wooden counter in front of the kitchen.

"Hm?" Shinobu picks up the little note and proceeds to inspect it.

"What does it say?" Giyuu asks.

"She said that she won't be back till late at night. So, she's leaving the spare key to the building for us. Oh, and she said to leave the hostel payment on the bottom-most drawer behind the counter," Shinobu answers.

"We should be on our way then," Giyuu states.

"Indeed," Shinobu said as she returns the note to its original disposition and then promptly turns around and begins walking for the Genkan section of the household—where the two would make their way to attire themselves in their individual sandals (or Geta; traditional Japanese footwear resembling flip-flops).

The two then subsequently excused themselves from the building and advanced along the mostly empty streets—since this was a relatively dormant subsection of the overall, bustling city.

However, as they were walking, both of their thoughts and feelings were mired with questions regarding the events that had formerly occurred.

'I wonder if she's still concerned about that,' Giyuu glanced towards Shinbou.

'He probably thinks I'm some madwoman,' Shinobu had already conceded defeat.

Within the unbearable silence that had the potential to even unsettle the most introverted of individuals, the two hiked along; unable to contrive a conversation nor a simple exchange of words or ideas.

The pent-up emotions both harbored were reaching their respective limits.

Shinobu, in a very brusque manner, stops walking.

Giyuu caught notice of this development and then proceeds to turn around to face her.

Shinobu sighs, "Tomioka-san, although I do understand that the past few hours haven't exactly been convenient or comfortable for our tastes, we must understand that a lack of communication can severely impair the mission."

"You're right, which is why I want to apologize," Giyuu solemnly bows down.

"Wha— apology?" Shinobu, taken aback, inquires.

"Yes, as I failed to alleviate the state of quandary we both found ourselves in. Henceforth, I must take responsibility for my lack of success and incapacity to properly uphold my duty," Giyuu, with a tone imbued with formality and discipline, speaks.

Shinobu, at the sight of Giyuu bowing and his over-the-top attempt to make amends, was impelled to giggle, "Haha, it's fine Tomioka-san. Neither of us was at fault for the oddity that occurred back there. In fact, I should be the one apologizing; one, for my indiscretions when it comes to being a morning person—or lack thereof—and two, for the mistake of not reminding you of my abnormal behavior."

"Not at all, Kocho-san. You have all the right to be angry at me," Giyuu hoists himself back up.

Shinobu smiles, "Well then if you insist, I'll take your word for it. But, for now, let's focus on the task at hand, hm?"

"Indeed, thank you," Giyuu replies.

'Even though he's a social hermit, he's willing to be this respectable and humble—I'll give him that,' Shinobu graciously notes.

"Alright, so we know that the bodies of the missing persons have been located at the banks of the Sagami River, somewhere north of here," Shinobu starts, "and—as you said before—we can only suspect that the demon resides somewhere along the river."

"But it can't just be anywhere; it has to avoid sunlight during the daytime. Therefore, he must have a habitat to occupy whilst he peruses his surroundings at night. Meaning, we're either looking for a natural or an artificial shelter situated next to that body of water," Giyuu propounds.

"I find it hard to believe that any natural features continue to exist around cities such as these, especially as of now when it's rapidly expanding. So, most likely, a man-made structure," Shinobu adds.

"We can eliminate any vacuous buildings since there aren't many, to begin with. And also because it's less likely for them to exist along a pivotal river," Giyuu elucidates.

"We can also eliminate any contemporary sewage tunnels and systems," Shinobu suggests.

"Why's that?"

"Construction is still ongoing for those sewage systems, and there haven't been any recent reports on missing workers, so we only assume that the demon doesn't reside in there either," she informs him.

"Hmm... If it's not in a vacuous edifice, a natural structure, nor a sewage network, then... is it possible that an outdated and out-of-use structure exists around there?" Giyuu inquires.

Shinobu gives it a thought, "I haven't done much research with regards to the layout of the city. However, I am aware of the fact that the first modern piped water system in Japan—which was completed in 1887—was constructed here, in the port city of Yokohama. So it's likely that a large lateral pipe could've possibly protruded out of the obsolescent apparatus and into the outside world."

"Very likely actually, it's best if we investigate it ourselves," said Giyuu.

The speed and efficacy at which the two Hashiras deduced and concluded the inquiry into their adversary's whereabouts is of no surprise to themselves nor their fellow slayers; Hashiras—with their abundant knowledge of demons thanks to extensive training and on-hand experience from numerous expeditions—are highly analytical, unhesitating, and consummate with the construction of insightful, inductive reasoning that permits them to predict the behavioral patterns amongst demons with ease. 

Ergo why it is not astounding that Shinobu and Giyuu—the Insect and Water Hashiras, respectively—are able to reciprocate and effectively utilize such logical processes. 

However, what's unique in particular about these two is that—while they do tend to not be compatible in informal matters—when discussing a legitimately serious matter, their strengths in such deductive reasoning act as complementary forces; they amplify one another in an effort to best take advantage of the available knowledge and amalgamate their rational thought into one, potent force to be reckoned with.

"So we're essentially looking for the entrance to an old lateral pipe along the banks of a particularly large river," Shinobu comments, "this might take ages."

"We could deduct most of the river in favor of a specific area," said Giyuu.

"And how do we do that?"

"The further south you go, the more likely you are to find people—since you're approaching the port of Yokohama; the heart of the city. Likewise, the further north you head, you approach the rural areas; population density is nonexistent. So, we can assume that the demon has situated itself somewhere between the two extremes. Too many people, you risk getting caught; and too little people, you risk starving due to the sheer lack of human beings," Giyuu points out.

"Oh, that makes sense. So we don't have to cover the entirety of the river and instead subdivide it into sections where it's likely to appear," Shinobu acknowledges.

"We also take into account the extent of the old pipeline and substantially reduce the landmass of our investigation," Giyuu proposes.

"I believe a few helpful resources will aid us in that effort," Shinobu replies.

"Like what?"

"A map of the current sewage setup; they try to avoid coming into contact with the old 1887 pipes and structures," she answers.

"Ah, ok. Do we have that?" he queries.

"Conveniently, I do. Back at the train station, I picked up a few maps myself thinking that they would eventually come into use—and what do you know, they did."

"Good, we should get moving now."

"Agreed."

The two slayers managed to constrict the river length at which they will vigorously scrutinized. They divided the workload; Giyuu would handle the left-hand side of the river, and Shinobu would overlook the right-hand side.

While it is true that their exceptional analytical skills procured an abridged and shorter expanse for them to examine, it was still about two hours before they could finally confirm the accuracy and prognostication of their predictions and postulations.

Giyuu was walking along the banks of the Sagami River when he suddenly stopped. He turned to look at a strange configuration on the surface of a green, luscious hill. He could spot the presence of the brown rust of metal along with the natural green of moss and other plants that had enveloped it.

He gave it a look and then subsequently walked over. At first, it didn't seem like much; some sporadic rust here and there, but it was mostly the natural Earth he was looking at. However, with the usage of his feet, he uncovered the moss and greenery only to find more rust, and, finally, an opening.

"Kocho-san!" he calls out.

Shinobu, who was directly parallel to him, turned around once she had heard his calling. She then promptly gracefully leaps—using several rocks as stepping stones—to transport herself from one side of the river to the other.

As she landed, she, in moderate-paced, walked over to Giyuu—who was uncovering more and more of this secret, hidden entrance.

"You found something?" she asks.

"Yes, but, just to make sure, could you check the blueprint?" Giyuu replies, inducing Shinobu to pull out a map that meticulously described the layout of the current sewage pipeline in great detail.

"There seem to be no lateral pipelines connecting to this particular vicinity," she confirms.

"Then this must be it," Giyuu concludes.

"Are you sure about that? This entrance seems a bit too small..." Shinobu said, exercising caution.

"But it's still possible for people of our size to enter with ease, so why can't a demon do the same?" Giyuu presses.

"True, but demons usually are taller than the average human or they have an extending limb that acts as an idiosyncratic feature to their physique," Shinobu notes.

"True, but not all demons harbor those characteristics," Giyuu ripostes.

Shinobu sighs, "That's also true I suppose."

"Shall we head in?" Giyuu asks.

"Well, it's still noon. So, yeah, I think we will have enough time before it turns dark," Shinobu agreed.

"Alright," Giyuu said as he lowered his head a bit to allow for a proper entrance into the pipeline.

"Hopefully, this won't take too long; I've been meaning to take some business back at the Butterfly Estate. What about you Tomioka-san, do you wish for a short end to our lovely mission together?" Shinobu teases as she follows right behind Giyuu.

"Who knows," Giyuu said curtly.

And thus, the Hashiras delve deep into the caverns of darkness. They speak of this mission as comparable to a minuscule and minor irritation in their daily lives. Unfortunately for them, such analogies are all but erroneous interpretations of what is to come. Unbeknownst to them, they will undergo the greatest trial of their lifetime; they will experience pain, sadness, and a sense of longing.

The two slayers must henceforth descend deep within the confines of this eerie setting to face their adversary head-on. On the way, though, they encounter many obstacles--in both the physical and spiritual realm.

A Descent Into the Darkness.