"Hmm? You're new here—do you know any Demon Slayers?"
The one-eyed demon seated at the head of the room—Lower Rank Three—let out a displeased grunt.
His kimono hung loosely, exposing his torso and collarbone.
If he had been human, this posture might have appeared suave or elegant. But with his grotesque appearance, the effect was completely ruined—there was no charm, only revulsion.
The single eye of Lower Rank Three was fixed on Takeo, who stood between the two scholars.
He extended a long, snake-like tongue to lick the corner of his mouth. His gaze flicked between Takeo and Asato, and then, as if something had clicked in his mind, he said:
"Oh… so you're friends…"
Wolf Breathing, Fifth Form –
Twin silver streaks burst through the flickering candlelight. Before the Lower Rank Three could even finish his sentence, Takeo was already upon him!
His dual Nichirin swords crossed in a flash, unleashing several overlapping strikes aimed precisely at the same spot!
—Eightfold Fang!
This technique could decapitate any typical Lower Rank demon. If it connected, the demon's head would be cleanly severed—without fail.
However… Takeo's attack sliced through empty air.
At some point, a shadow had replaced the demon's original position. The real Lower Rank Three now stood at another location altogether.
The blade sliced through the shadow—but instead of dissipating, the shadow solidified and coiled tightly around Takeo's arms, grappling with his movements and locking down his hands.
Then, the Lower Rank demon spoke from across the room.
"Terrifying… truly terrifying, little brat. If you had been just a bit faster—just a little bit—I fear you really might've taken my head off. Tell me, little devil… are you a Hashira?"
The question hung in the air, coming from the now-relocated Lower Rank demon.
Takeo didn't answer. Speaking to demons was pointless—it would only waste time.
He had no interest in entertaining its provocations. Instead, he focused, tightening every muscle in his body, channeling his full strength into his arms.
In an instant, he tore through the demon's shadowy restraint.
So this shadow—though dangerous—could be broken, even severed!
Realizing this, Takeo immediately shifted his stance and turned his blade once more, lunging forward to strike the demon again.
But before he could land the blow, two figures stumbled between him and his target like human shields.
They were the two Demon Slayer Corps members who had been stationed nearby to guard the Lower Rank demon—one male, one female. Both appeared young, and in this moment, their faces were contorted with terror.
Tears streamed from their wide eyes, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.
"No… don't…"
"I don't want to die… please… I still… I don't want to die yet…"
Driven by sheer survival instinct, the two reached out to Takeo—not as comrades, but as desperate humans, pleading for their lives.
Their bodies were frozen with fear, obstructing his path not by loyalty to the mission, but because they were too afraid to stand aside.
Not all members of the Demon Slayer Corps possess the resolve to fight demons to the death. After all… most of them are only fifteen or sixteen years old—even Iori is.. was just fifteen.
They shouldn't be fighting demons in places like this. They should be in school, at home, somewhere safe.
So, Takeo didn't feel anger toward the two young Slayers for their desperate pleas. Instead, he grew even more furious at the shadow demon.
Playing with people's lives… using others as shields.
What do you think human life is?
Wolf Breathing, Fourth Form—
A fine mist began to spread throughout the room. Though Takeo was filled with rage, his face remained composed. As several tendrils of shadow lashed toward him, he calmly severed them with his blades and vanished into the fog.
The dense mist obscured everyone's vision—including that of the shadow demon.
The demon had lost sight of Takeo.
But he didn't panic—because he believed he knew exactly who Takeo was targeting.
—Wolf Strike in the Mist!
Like a predator emerging from the early morning fog, Takeo reappeared beside the shadow demon, twin Nichirin swords drawn.
No one knew when he had slipped past the obstruction of the other Demon Slayer Corps members, but in that moment, he was already standing before the demon once more.
This boy is fast… the demon thought. But unfortunately for him… he's up against me. Keh~
The shadow demon smiled inwardly—and allowed Takeo to slice off his head.
Then, the severed head dissolved into shadow.
"…"
As the demon's entire body melted into darkness, Takeo's expression grew grim. It wasn't just because the demon had used this method to escape—what truly disturbed him was the similarity to another enemy he despised.
The Dust Demon.
The demon's voice echoed again—this time, from the abdomen of a nearby Demon Slayer.
He had used shadow to form a grotesque mouth, which opened and closed as it spoke, delivering words that sounded like praise, but dripped with mockery.
"Terrifying… Kehehe~~ so terrifying… You really are a Hashira, aren't you?"
Perhaps knowing that Takeo wouldn't respond, the shadow demon went on without pause:
"But even if you are a Hashira, so what? Are you going to strike your own comrades? I'm hiding inside one of your fellow Demon Slayers right now. So what will you do? Are you going to kill them, too? Muahahahaha!"
The demon's cackling echoed wildly through the room, clearly delighted by his own idea.
Using Demon Slayer Corps members as meat shields.
The girl the demon had possessed trembled violently. Tears and snot ran down her face as pure terror overtook her expression.
"No… don't… sob… I… I don't want to die yet… snif…"
She sobbed and pleaded, and her desperate cries left Takeo in heavy silence.
If it were a demon—or someone aiding a demon—Takeo would strike without hesitation.
But faced with a comrade being held hostage by a demon, Takeo found it difficult to act.
He wasn't decisive enough.
Takeo knew this about himself, but he couldn't change it—not yet. After all, he had never taken a human life.
Slaying demons was easy.
They were enemies—natural enemies of humanity.
Monsters that had to be eliminated.
Takeo never hesitated when it came to them; there was no psychological burden when he raised his blades.
But killing a person… that was different.
Humans were his own kind. No one could attack another human so decisively and without remorse—unless driven by deep hatred, or unless they were a cold-blooded executioner.
Takeo held no grudge against the girl. And he wasn't an executioner.
So he couldn't bring himself to strike her now.
And even if he did kill her… would that truly destroy the shadow demon?
Takeo's gaze shifted to the others in the room.
Every one of them was a potential hostage for the demon—any of them could be possessed next.
What a mess…
This demon's tactics were troublesome, and it gave Takeo a headache just thinking about it. So, for the time being, he chose to ignore the shadow demon and the girl it had possessed.
In a flash, he moved—appearing beside Yoshizuru Asato and pulling him to safety.
Unlike the others, Asato had clearly suffered much more cruelly at the hands of the shadow demon.
His body was covered in scars, his arms twisted at unnatural angles, and his face was smeared with blood. If Takeo hadn't been familiar with him, he might not have recognized him at all.
"How did you end up like this?"
After pulling him to safety, Takeo asked in confusion.
It had been over half a month since they last parted ways, and this was the state Asato was in when they met again.
Asato was a veteran member of the Demon Slayer Corps. He had his own means of surviving in dangerous situations. Logically, the moment he detected signs of a Twelve Kizuki demon, he should have reported it immediately and requested assistance from a Hashira.
No matter what, he shouldn't have ended up this badly.
But Asato didn't answer the question. Instead, in a weak voice, he said to Takeo:
"You… you can't save me… hurry… leave me… leave me…"
"What?"
Takeo didn't understand what Asato meant at first.
But what happened next made everything painfully clear.
Pfft—!
Several shadow spikes erupted from Asato's body—like needles launched from a hedgehog.
Squelch~!
The shadow thorns pierced through Takeo's Demon Slayer uniform and stabbed into his flesh, passing clean through his body from back to front.
In an instant, Takeo resembled a human pincushion. Blood spurted from his wounds, and the long-forgotten sensation of intense pain surged through his nervous system.
Ugh!
He was injured.
This was the first time Takeo had been seriously wounded by a demon since joining the Demon Slayer Corps.
_________
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