Murderous demons had appeared in Tokyo once again.
According to intelligence from the Kakushi, several swordsmen of respectable strength had already vanished in the areas where the demons were active. Charged with this investigation were the swordsman Kuguruma Natsunishi, along with Iguro and Kyojuro, who had been brought along for the mission.
The night wind carried a biting chill.
The bandaged boy's gaze, moving in sync with Kaburamaru around his neck, habitually scanned their surroundings like a serpent sensing changes in temperature. Vigilance and wariness had long since become a part of his very marrow. This was the brand left by his past—the experience of being imprisoned and held as a sacrificial offering. Stubbornness and suspicion caused him to instinctively maintain a distance from those around him.
But now, facing these two beside him, that hard barrier of self-protection had undergone a subtle, nuanced softening. It had reached the point where, when Natsunishi or Kyojuro occasionally walked in front of him and briefly obstructed his vision, it no longer triggered his reflexive unease or tension.
His gaze first fell upon the youth draped in a multitude of ornaments.
Kuguruma Natsunishi.
A Demon Slayer swordsman not much older than himself, yet a man far more inscrutable. Rather than calling him cynical, it was more accurate to say he simply didn't care about most things; he possessed a calmness that bordered on indifference. In Iguro's limited life experience, such a person was either a young lord born into a noble house or a monk from a deep mountain temple. He was a man impossible to see through.
Even now, in the middle of a mission, he exuded an extraordinary sense of relaxation. He even had a stalk of grass hanging idly from his mouth, as if they weren't about to face a bloodthirsty demon, but were instead enjoying a midnight stroll in the countryside.
However, Iguro had witnessed the true face beneath that layer of relaxation. His strength was immense; even if Iguro, Rengoku, and Kochou attacked together, they wouldn't be able to defeat him. His medical skills were also Peerless. Even Lady Ruka's illness—a condition that had left everyone else helpless—had been cured by him.
His knowledge was even more inexplicably vast. Whether it was guiding their training or custom-tailoring Breathing Style techniques for them, it wasn't something an ordinary swordsman or even a Trainer could achieve.
Iguro instinctively circulated the "Water" Breathing that Natsunishi had refined for him. A smoother, more "obedient" power surged through his body. Was this the strength of the "Doctor of Ninjutsu" that Kochou spoke of? Aside from the occasional esoteric, unintelligible jargon that escaped his lips and his tendency to space out during conversations, he was an almost flawless senior.
Regardless, in terms of strength, Iguro had long since fully acknowledged him.
By comparison, Kyojuro, standing nearby, was much more "real." At least, Iguro felt the boy was more human. He was the eldest son of his benefactor, Shinjuro-san—a youth equally brimming with energy and simple-hearted integrity. Though younger than Iguro, Kyojuro's strength was already not inferior to his own, thanks to his blazing Flame Breathing and swordsmanship.
Currently, Kyojuro was ahead, incessantly discussing topics like "the will to protect," "burning passion," and "the essentials of the way of the sword" with Senior Kuguruma—even though the senior wasn't listening at all and was completely zoning out. Yet, Kyojuro continued to speak with earnest enthusiasm, seemingly unconcerned about alerting any demons that might be lurking in the shadows.
According to Iguro's past habits, he felt he should loathe such a warm and cheerful person. Under the light of their boundless radiance, someone like him, accustomed to huddling in damp, dark corners, would only feel out of place and at a loss. He should have hated it.
But perhaps it was the untainted fire in Kyojuro's eyes, or perhaps it was his status as the son of his benefactor, that allowed this "snake" who had crawled out of filth and cages to feel a flicker of clumsy but direct warmth.
He unconsciously raised his hand, his fingertips touching the edge of the bandage covering the corner of his mouth. There lay a gash that ran across his entire face. It was the brand of his wretched bloodline, the proof of his time as a sacrifice. It no longer hurt. But—he still could not accept it or face it.
At the thought, a surge of complicated emotions rose within Iguro. He, who should have been curled up in the shadows, was able to stay at the Rengoku estate, train alongside Kyojuro and Kochou, and be treated as an equal in a strange way by the eccentric Kuguruma, all because they were unaware of his past.
If possible, he truly hoped these two troublesome guys, as well as Shinjuro-san, could all continue to live well. His Trainer had once informed him of the high mortality rate within the Demon Slayer Corps. Even the strongest Nine Hashira were replaced from time to time due to their sacrifices. To say nothing of ordinary swordsmen like them.
As his thoughts wavered, his Breathing Style began to slip slightly. Before he could readjust, an anomaly suddenly occurred.
Deep within the brick wall to their side, a shadow of even deeper intensity abruptly coalesced. A pair of large hands lunged out from within.
It was a demon!
"I'll start by taking two of you!"
The voice was raspy, like a starving wolf from the barrens.
With a surge of intense malice, the demon lunged from the shadows, attacking Natsunishi and Kyojuro.
Iguro snapped to alertness: "Don't space out!"
He unsheathed his Nichirin Sword and slashed at the demon. Almost simultaneously, the flames of the Rengoku family erupted ahead. One after the other, the breaths of Water and Flame circulated nearly at once. The Nichirin Swords reached the demon before its own attack could land.
Amidst the crossing flashes of blades, Iguro caught a glimpse of Natsunishi's right hand, which had originally been resting on his hilt, quietly letting go.
That idiot senior—made me worry for nothing.
He stopped being distracted and poured all his strength into the edge of his blade! He struck.
But the hit did not produce the effect the two had anticipated. The Nichirin Sword could not cut through. A swamp-like shadow covered the demon's body, blocking the blade firmly away from the skin. Upon closer inspection, the shadow seemed to hide tiny teeth that were constantly gnawing at Iguro's sword.
What is this?
Iguro was stunned and instinctively tried to pull his sword back and retreat.
"The usual rules!"
Kyojuro's shout instantly brought Iguro back to his senses. Combat practice is for us; the beheading and venting of grudges is for the senior. If one strike couldn't break through, then they would simply keep slashing.
[Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation]
A scorching burst of flame exploded. Kyojuro was already like an arrow released from a bow; his searing strike tore through the air, successfully cutting away several strands of the writhing black shadows.
"Don't try to resist me! Dammit, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm!"
The demon actually endured Kyojuro's slash and swung its right fist toward him. It wasn't the typical clumsy swing common among demons. Instead, it held a black metallic box. Iguro had seen similar objects with Natsunishi—
"It's a firearm! Kyojuro!"
Iguro immediately transformed his sword into flowing water, like a stream swaying its current, slashing through the space between Kyojuro and the demon.
[Third Form: Flowing Dance]
Bang!
The gun fired, but because of Iguro's slash, the aim was diverted. The bullet whistled past the owl-like boy's shoulder. Both swordsmen stiffened slightly because of this shot. If Senior Kuguruma hadn't frequently pulled out his own handgun to show off and boast, they might have truly been caught off guard by this sudden firearm.
Demons... don't they all use Blood Demon Arts? How can they use firearms?
The two fixed their gaze on the target of their mission. A tall figure with sharp teeth and a mass of hair like a hedgehog. There were no numbers in either of its eyes; it was not one of the Twelve Kizuki.
Kyojuro/Iguro and I can handle this together.
Just as the two youths were about to attack again...
"Just seeing you swordsmen makes my blood boil! I really want to tear you into pieces and interrogate you properly!"
The demon appeared to be in a state of exasperated rage, actually pressing the handgun against its own temple. It pulled the trigger with a sudden snap.
With a loud bang, the demon's brains were blown out.
Not only were the two young ones stunned, but even Natsunishi, standing nearby, was momentarily taken aback. Does this demon have a mental disorder?
[Hairo???]
[Energy Level: 135 (Body 66, Skill 59, Mind 10)]
[Blood Demon Art: Umbra Shadow Realm][Blood Demon Art: Shadow Realm - Ethereal Space]
It was the first time he had seen a demon with such a high "Skill" attribute. Furthermore, this Blood Demon Art didn't seem to have anything to do with firearms?
While Natsunishi was contemplating, the demon completed its head regeneration.
"That's... much clearer now."
It shook its restored head and locked its gaze onto the two. Slowly, it pulled a brand-new Type 38 rifle from the shadows. The barrel pointed steadily at Kyojuro.
"I don't know why, but seeing that yellow hair of yours makes me particularly annoyed."
Before the words had even faded, it pulled the trigger.
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