Chapter 15 – One Slash for Justice, One Slash for Peace (Part 1)
That very same evening, right after the duel between Gyōmei and Tachibana Kyūjō ended, Kagaya Ubuyashiki quietly left the estate with Gyōmei—perhaps to help him come to terms with himself once more.
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The next day, Kuwajima Jigorō, who had been staying in Tōshō City for several days, finally said his farewells to Kyūjō and departed for his home in Momoyama.
Two more days passed after his departure.
Now, Tachibana Kyūjō stood in full uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps—a deep navy haori draped over his back, and at his waist hung two long swords, nearly identical in shape and length.
It was as if time that had been locked away finally began to move again—his natural aura, hidden for so long, now began to shine through.
With his dual blades and a pouch full of mission funds, Kyūjō departed from the wisteria house that had served as his temporary base of operations.
Gliding through the skies above him, his personal Kasugai Crow flapped low.
Kyūjō called him "Shōki."
(Though, to be fair, the crow still hadn't officially accepted that name.)
Thus began Kyūjō's first official mission as a Demon Slayer—a long-range patrol across the entire country of Japan.
This special assignment came directly from Kagaya Ubuyashiki himself. With Kyūjō's exceptional speed, he was designated as a mobile unit—tasked with traveling alone across the land to hunt down demons wherever they might hide.
Along the way, every Demon Slayer safe house, wisteria residence, and affiliated business would offer him full and unconditional support.
It was a rare sign of absolute trust from the highest authority in the Demon Slayer Corps.
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Counting the bills in his hand, Kyūjō glanced up at the crow perched atop a nearby tree.
"Man... it's good to have a big organization backing you."
"If I come back without at least slaying one Lower Moon or Upper Moon demon... I'd die of shame in front of Oyakata-sama."
As always, the crow had no time for Kyūjō's chatter. It simply squawked loudly:
"Head southeast... southeast-south! Kuroyama Village! Suspected man-eating demon activity!"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Kyūjō muttered, stuffing the bills back into his pouch and turning toward the indicated direction.
As for his method of transportation?
That would be... his own two feet.
There really wasn't much choice in this era.
In a country like Japan, horses were rare and hard to maintain—and even if one managed to get one, the uneven mountain roads made them tire out too quickly.
Sure, the Corps had funds. But they weren't about to waste them on inefficient travel methods.
Not that Kyūjō needed one.
If he ran non-stop all day, he could easily outpace a horse… though it would take a toll on his body.
— — —
After nearly ten hours of continuous sprinting, Kyūjō arrived at the outskirts of Kuroyama Village just as night began to fall.
Sweat dripped from his brow. Taking a few deep breaths to calm his body, he immediately began scanning the area.
Kenshin Tōmei—his refined sensory technique—could extend up to a hundred meters in all directions.
For a small village like Kuroyama, that was more than enough to cover every house and alley.
Even beyond that range, he could still sense faint disturbances. But within his full radius—Kyūjō was confident.
No demon could hide from him.
Exactly three minutes and fifty-six seconds after he arrived, Kyūjō caught a strong signal.
The stench of blood. Thick, metallic, and sharp.
It pierced through the night like a beacon of malice.
At first, he thought it might just be a low-level demon. But now... he wasn't so sure.
He stepped quietly toward the outer yard of a large house. The smell of blood oozed from beyond the moss-covered stone walls.
His brow furrowed.
"This isn't... a minor demon."
From the bluish-green cracks between the stones, it felt as though blood was leaking from the pores of the very walls themselves.
This wasn't just the scent of a victim or two.
"How many people... has this one devoured?"
Kyūjō didn't hesitate.
With a light leap, he soared over the tall wall and landed silently in the inner courtyard.
The moment his feet touched the ground, something felt off.
The air here reeked of death.
Even more disturbing—the scent of blood came entirely from humans. Not a single trace of demon blood in the air.
Without pause, Kyūjō followed the stench to the southern side of the residence—where it was thickest.
There, nestled in the shadows of the estate, stood a large, decadent pavilion.
"Huh... rich family, huh?" Kyūjō muttered under his breath, eyeing the ornate decorations and polished woodwork.
He knew full well how the elite lived.
The Tachibana family had once been wealthy too. They weren't nobility anymore, but Kyūjō's upbringing had given him a sharp eye for signs of status and power.
Moving quietly down the musty corridor, Kyūjō drew his Nichirin Blade.
His posture shifted—from traveler to hunter.
In the silence of night, he became the blade that slays demons.
His footsteps carried him toward the room where the scent of death was most concentrated.
— — —
Inside that room...
Tajima Yasuyasu was indulging in his "meal."
He held a woman's shinbone in his hand, licking it clean with slow, deliberate strokes, as if savoring the very soul that once dwelled within it.
Once he was satisfied that not a single flavor remained, he tossed the bone aside like garbage.
Then, eyes gleaming with hunger, he reached for the next piece—a young woman's thigh, still whole and fresh.
His teeth sank into the flesh with a sickening crunch. He chewed noisily, sloppily, with primal glee.
This... had always been his vice, even as a human.
And now, as a demon, it had only intensified into obsession.
Yasuyasu was addicted to the legs and thighs of women. Especially young ones.
Adult women were passable. But men? Elders?
In his eyes, they were rotting carcasses unfit to consume.
Even after becoming a demon, he refused to kill his entire family.
He got rid of the men and old folks—but the rest of the Tajima clan?
They became his devout followers.
To the Tajimas, who ruled Kuroyama Village from the shadows, Yasuyasu's power was a blessing.
They sheltered him. Protected him.
Worshiped him.
They dreamed of becoming demons themselves.
Eternal youth. Superhuman strength. All in exchange for a little tweak to their diet and a reversed sleep schedule?
A fair deal... or so they thought.
But they didn't realize—
Tajima Yasuyasu was a low-ranking demon. He lacked the power to turn others.
Even if the Demon King himself gave permission, Yasuyasu was far too selfish to share his blood.
He wouldn't waste a single drop of power on mere mortals.
These people were fools, drowning in delusion.
For years, the Tajima clan had kidnapped hundreds of young girls from all over—under the guise of adoption, apprenticeships, or domestic work.
All just to serve Yasuyasu his "meals."
They operated so discreetly, the Demon Slayer Corps couldn't trace them.
But evil, no matter how well hidden, always leaves a stain.
Not long ago, dozens of female skeletons were discovered in a forest outside the village.
That was when the Corps finally turned its eyes toward Kuroyama.
— — —
When Kyūjō slid open the door to that room, he had already braced himself for the worst.
And yet—
His hand trembled.
He couldn't stop it.
A breath escaped his lips. Quiet. Heavy.
Then, slowly, he returned his Nichirin Blade to its sheath.
But from his other side, he drew a different blade—one passed down from his father.
Tonight...
He wasn't just here to slay a demon.
He was here...
To deliver judgment.
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