—"Onneesan… don't sleep! Wake up!!"
In the haze between consciousness and oblivion, Iori heard a familiar, soft child's voice.
It sounded just like her little brother.
For a moment, she truly believed it was him—but then she remembered… Her beloved younger brother, Isumi, had died long ago.
That day…
Along with their father, mother, sister, and older brothers…
They'd all been slaughtered by a demon.
"Hey! Wake the fuck up!!!"
Just as Iori convinced herself it was only a hallucination, the voice called out again—louder, clearer this time.
But it wasn't her brother's voice anymore.
It was that annoying little brat… Kamado Takeo.
—Wait, Takeo!?
As her mind jolted awake at the realization, Iori's eyes shot open.
She looked down at herself—her body was still wrapped in those horrific arms…
But just ahead, where those limbs should have continued—All she could see were severed stumps.
She wasn't dead.
Realizing that, Iori looked forward and there he was.
That red-haired boy, standing in front of her… back turned, shielding her once again.
He saved her.
Again.
"Hey!! Don't just lie there! Get up!! You wanna die here or what!?"
Takeo barked over his shoulder, not even turning around.
Iori struggled to break free from the severed arms wrapped around her. She grabbed her chipped and cracked Nichirin sword, forcing herself upright.
Her body trembled. Every part of her ached—she could tell her bones and internal organs were damaged.
If Takeo had arrived a second later… She would've already been crushed into a bloody pulp!
That was close.
"You… When did you get here?"
Iori asked, her voice hoarse, staring at the boy's back.
"A minute after you started screaming. You should be glad I was nearby and that this thing apparently wasn't in a rush to kill you. Otherwise, you'd already be dead."
Takeo's tone wasn't exactly friendly as he scolded Iori.
Truth be told, it was pure luck that she was still alive.
Fortunately, Takeo had been nearby.
And even more fortunate—this demon hadn't been trying to kill her right away.
Instead, it had chosen to torture her slowly, crushing her inch by inch to make her feel the agony of nearing death without the release of it.
Thanks to that delay, Takeo arrived just in time.
Any later, and Iori would've been reduced to pulp.
"Ahh~ Another one shows up," the Hand Demon muttered.
The arms Takeo had severed were already regenerating—faster than the Woman Demon's healing, even.
This regeneration speed was absolutely not normal. This wasn't a standard demon and certainly not one that should've been on Mount Fujikasane.
What was the Demon Slayer Corps doing? Why was something like this even here?
Takeo frowned, eyes narrowing as he looked up at the demon, towering like a mountain.
"With strength like yours," he said grimly, "you shouldn't be here at all. How did you get in?"
He didn't believe the Corps would overlook something this dangerous, which meant this demon must've come from outside!
Demons hated wisteria, yes—but not all of them avoided it completely.
Maybe this one had forced its way in despite the poisonous blossoms?
Unfortunately, Takeo's guess was completely wrong.
"Hehehe… how did I get in here?"
The Hand Demon let out a revolting laugh, snickering as his dozens of fingers twitched in glee.
"Of course I was brought in! Captured by your precious Demon Slayer Corps!"
Iori immediately shouted back, "That's impossible! Your strength is greater than even full-fledged members—there's no way they would bring in something like you for the Final Selection!"
Her words mirrored what Takeo was thinking.
The demon's strength far surpassed that of a typical swordsman.
If the Corps had encountered a threat like this, their first response would have been to eliminate it, not use it as part of a test.
So either the Hand Demon was lying—
or…
"…How long have you been here?" Takeo suddenly asked.
"Eh? How long…? Ahh…" The demon paused, began counting on its fingers, and then tilted its grotesque head toward Takeo. "Hey, brat… what year is it in the Meiji era?"
"…Meiji? It's already the Taishō era now," Takeo replied bluntly.
The moment the words left his mouth, the Hand Demon's expression snapped.
"Taishō…Taishō!?!"
His entire body erupted in fury, blood vessels bulging and dozens of hands thrashing.
"AAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!"
He roared with rage, the countless hands on his body and face tearing at his own flesh. Some of them thrashed on the ground like enraged infants, pounding and screaming:
"The era changed!! It changed again!!! While I've been trapped in this hell, the era changed again!!! Damn you, Urokodaki!!"
Again?
Takeo's pupils shrank.
Ever since arriving in this world, Takeo had familiarized himself with Japan's historical eras.
Before the Taishō era was Meiji, which lasted forty-four years.
But for this demon to scream "again", it meant he had been imprisoned even before the Meiji era—
—the Edo period!!
Even if it was the final years of the Edo era, it had been at least forty-six years since then.
Which meant this demon had survived nearly half a century, trapped in this mountain.
No wonder his strength was so terrifying.
But if a demon this powerful had remained hidden on Mount Fujikasane all this time, how had the Demon Slayer Corps failed to notice?
That was... a serious oversight.
"Damn you, Urokodaki! Damn you, Urokodaki! Damn you, Urokodaki!!!"
The Hand Demon continued cursing that name, voice hoarse with hate.
Takeo frowned—Urokodaki.
The name sounded familiar.
Beside him, Sakoma Iori asked in confusion, "Urokodaki…? Who's that?"
"Ah… Urokodaki… he's the bastard who captured me!!! That damned man!!! He's the one who brought me here!! And I've been trapped here for forty-seven years!!! Forty-seven years!!!"
As expected—he was a demon from the Edo period.
Forty-seven years…
Even if he had started off as a weak and ordinary demon, that much time was more than enough for him to grow terrifyingly powerful.
No wonder his strength was on an entirely different level.
Takeo's heart sank slightly, but he had no interest in listening to the Hand Demon continue ranting.
Yes, his body was tough—his defense was absurd.
But with Takeo's current strength, he should still be able to cut through that thick neck if he aimed precisely.
Just as he was about to make his move, Sakoma Iori suddenly exclaimed in shock:
"No way… how can a demon this old still be alive?! Weren't the demons here supposed to be ones that only ate one or two people at most!?"
…Is that really what you're worried about right now?
Takeo silently complained in his head, but didn't say it aloud.
After all, he was also wondering why this demon had managed to survive for so long.
"Ahahaha… that's because I was very careful…"
The Hand Demon began counting on his fingers, mumbling: "Each year… each Final Selection… I'd only eat one person… maybe two, tops. Only when one of those 'little foxes' came in did I eat a few more."
He grinned wide as he spoke.
This demon was extremely cautious.
From the very beginning, he had always hidden himself—never once taking on powerful Demon Slayers head-on.
At first, he didn't even attack humans. He simply scavenged the corpses others left behind.
It was only later, as he gradually grew stronger, that he began preying on isolated and weaker candidates.
But his cautiousness wasn't just about survival.
It was revenge!
He wanted to live longer—just to one day get back at the man who imprisoned him here.
That kind of obsession was what had kept the Hand Demon alive for so long.
"Foxes? Fox masks…"
Sakoma Iori instinctively reached up and touched the fox mask on her forehead. Then she looked up and asked:
"…Why? Why do you specifically target people wearing fox masks?"
The Hand Demon's answer was twisted and cruel: "Isn't it obvious? Because they're Urokodaki's disciples! Every last one of them wears that same mask!"
He let out a vicious, gurgling laugh.
"I'll eat them—every last one of Urokodaki's little brats! I'll make him suffer! I'll make him regret ever locking me away here! I'll—"
"Mist Breathing, Fourth Form—"
"Huh?"
The Hand Demon froze.
So did Takeo and Iori.
A young boy appeared out of nowhere, cutting past the demon's side in a flash.
By the time he landed on the other side, his Nichirin blade was already sheathed.
And the Hand Demon's head…
...had cleanly slid off his neck.
"—Shifting Flow Slash."
"Ah..."
Even as his head fell to the forest floor, the Hand Demon didn't comprehend what had happened.
Neither did Takeo or Iori.
For a long second, the entire forest fell into absolute silence.
_______
About the new cover pic.. Ehm.. I was just scrolling through LoRA in PixAI when I found a great female Kibutsuji Muzan template.. then I got creative.. 😅💀
Anyway! You can read 12 Advance chaps—P@treon: HornyFBI