A single note rang through the forest—clear, chilling, and deliberate.

The moment it reached your ears, the air grew heavier. It wasn't an attack like before. No, this was different. It was a warning.

Zenitsu tensed, his face draining of color. "Nope. Nope. Nope. That's bad. That's REALLY bad!"

Tanjiro narrowed his eyes. "This sound... it's full of grief."

Inosuke, oblivious to the emotional weight of the melody, pointed his swords forward. "Finally! The REAL fight is starting!"

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself. Unlike the chaotic melody that had controlled the lesser demons, this sound was precise, controlled—intentional. Whoever was playing this song was not just using music as a weapon.

They were performing.

From the shadows of the trees, a figure emerged.

They moved with eerie grace, their body swaying gently, as if caught in a dance only they could hear. Their kimono, once elegant, was now faded and tattered, its intricate patterns barely visible. Long, delicate fingers plucked at an unseen instrument in the air, their movements perfectly synchronized with the melody that filled the forest.

Then, they opened their mouth.

"You ruined my performance."

Their voice was smooth, melodic, but laced with quiet fury.

Tanjiro's grip on his sword tightened. "Are you the one behind the music?"

The demon tilted their head, studying him. "Hmph. You must have good ears if you can recognize true artistry. But you are not the one I am interested in."

Their gaze slid past Tanjiro—straight to you.

"You," they said, their voice almost... intrigued. "You can hear it, can't you? My song."

A chill ran down your spine. "What do you mean?"

The demon took a step forward, the movement impossibly smooth, as if they weren't walking but gliding across a stage.

"The rhythm in your breathing. The way you hold your blade. You understand music," they murmured, eyes dark with something unreadable. "But tell me... can you feel it?"

The moment the words left their lips, they played.

No instrument. No strings.

Just their fingers moving through the air—

And the melody crashed into you.

Your vision blurred.

The world around you twisted, warping into something unreal.

You saw flashes—bright, blinding lanterns, a grand stage, an audience with faces you didn't recognize. Music swirled around you, filling the space with warmth and beauty. Laughter, applause, the sound of a biwa being strummed with delicate precision—

Then, screams.

The scene shattered like glass, and you gasped as you staggered back into reality.

Tanjiro caught your arm, eyes full of concern. "Y/N! What happened?!"

Your breathing was shaky. "They... showed me something. A memory. But it wasn't mine."

The demon smiled, though there was no joy in it. "You saw it, didn't you? A glimpse of what I lost."

Zenitsu clenched his fists. "T-they can put their memories into their music?! That's not fair! I don't wanna see a demon's tragic backstory right now!"

Tanjiro's expression softened, sensing the sorrow hidden beneath the demon's power. "You were a musician, weren't you? Before you became a demon."

The demon's fingers twitched. "I was more than a musician. I was a prodigy. The greatest composer of my time."

Their voice wavered, their perfect poise faltering for just a moment. "But they took it from me. My audience. My stage. My music."

The air grew colder. The melody shifted.

The sorrow in their song turned to rage.

You raised your sword. "If you loved music that much, then why are you using it to hurt people?!"

The demon's eyes darkened. "Because it was never enough."

With a flick of their hand, the melody surged—faster, sharper. The trees trembled, the ground vibrated, and the very air itself seemed to pulse with their song.

You could feel it crawling into your veins, trying to twist your heartbeat into their rhythm.

But you weren't just listening anymore.

You were playing, too.

You took a deep breath.

"Second Form: Songs of Memory."

Your sword moved, tracing elegant arcs through the air, each swing releasing a counter-melody that wove through the demon's song. The moment your music collided with theirs, another memory surfaced—not from them, but from you.

A warm night. A quiet lullaby. The first time you ever picked up a blade, listening to the sound of steel cutting through the air like the notes of a song.

The demon flinched.

They staggered back, their melody faltering.

"You... you can play back memories?" they whispered, staring at you in disbelief.

You met their gaze, determination burning in your chest. "Music isn't just about pain. It's about connection."

For the first time, uncertainty flickered in their eyes.

But then—

A single, sharp note rang out.

The demon gasped, their body seizing up as veins of dark energy surged across their skin. Their eyes widened in terror.

"No... no!"

Tanjiro stepped forward. "What's happening?!"

The demon clutched their throat as their own melody twisted, warping into something unnatural. Their voice broke as they choked out a single word—

"Muzan."

And then—

The song changed.

Not theirs. Not yours.

But his.

A chilling new melody filled the air, dark and oppressive, suffocating everything in its grasp.

Your heart pounded.

This wasn't just a battle anymore.

Muzan had just joined the performance.