Chapter 75 – Natagumo Mountain (3)
"There."
Inosuke's eyes glinted beneath his boar's mask as he jabbed a finger toward the dark woods. Without hesitation, he charged. His feral energy seemed to tear the silence apart.
Tanjiro's grip tightened on his sword.
"Murata, I'll leave this to you."
He didn't wait for Murata's reply. He sprinted after Inosuke, leaving the trembling swordsman behind, Nichirin blade shaking in his hands as he stood over several fallen comrades. The faint rasp of their breathing left their condition uncertain.
Murata's lips pressed thin, torn between duty and helplessness.
…
Tanjiro quickly caught up to Inosuke, the smell guiding him like a beacon. The closer they drew, the more overpowering it became—an acrid, fishy stench that clogged the air.
Ahead, in a clearing laced with web, a woman in white stood rigid. Her pale hair framed her face, her expression taut with panic.
Her voice broke into a shrill cry.
"Stay back! Don't come near me! Die—die, all of you!"
Her hands jerked violently, pulling on the silken threads.
The ground shuddered as something massive descended between them.
A hulking figure loomed—twice their height, its skin a mottled purple. Where its head should have been was only empty space, a grotesque stump. Instead of hands, it bore massive blades, curved and glinting like butcher's scimitars.
A puppet. But not like the others. This one was a demon's corpse, twisted and weaponized. The woman in white had woven it into her arsenal, a soldier far more formidable than the manipulated Corps members.
Inosuke reacted instantly. His legs coiled, then released, launching him skyward. With both swords raised, he came down in a brutal arc toward the puppet's neck.
Clang!
The scimitar arms crossed, catching his blades.
With an effortless heave, the puppet hurled Inosuke aside.
He tumbled back toward Tanjiro, skidding across the dirt. For the first time, he noticed the creature's missing head.
"What the—? No head?" His voice cracked in outrage. "How do you expect me to chop something that doesn't have a head?! You telling me it's impossible to kill? What do I do—what do I do?!"
"Inosuke, calm down!"
Tanjiro's nostrils flared, following the scent, tracking the rhythm of the threads.
His keen sense locked onto the weak point. He lifted his sword, pointing precisely.
"There! From the base of the neck to the waist. It's long, but if we time it together—"
"Hah! Like I need you!" Inosuke snarled, cutting him off. "I'll kill it myself!"
He lunged.
The clash was brutal. Two swords against two scimitars—but the puppet's reach and power dwarfed his. Sparks rained as steel met steel. In the span of moments, crimson streaked across Inosuke's arms and shoulders, shallow wounds piling up.
But the boar-headed boy refused to yield. His breath was ragged, his movements reckless, but still he pressed forward. Each time, his blades met the wall of steel and were thrown back.
Tanjiro's chest tightened. He's taking too much damage. At this rate—
Then it happened.
White spiders scuttled from the underbrush, their threads firing like arrows. Silk coiled around Inosuke's limbs, yanking tight. His arms jerked against the bindings, his body immobilized.
The puppet loomed overhead, its blade raised high, plunging down toward his chest.
Panic flashed through Inosuke's wild eyes.
For the first time, fear eclipsed bravado. "I—I'm gonna die!" he howled.
But before the blade struck, a figure cut across the space in a burst of speed.
Tanjiro.
His sword intercepted the descending scimitar with a ringing clash. Sparks burst, forcing the puppet to recoil. Without pause, he spun, slicing through the spider silk, freeing Inosuke.
The boar-headed boy staggered, staring. Something flickered inside his chest—a warmth unfamiliar, both irritating and comforting.
"Humph!" he barked, masking it behind pride. "I could've escaped myself!"
Tanjiro only smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Inosuke… if we fight together, we can bring it down."
Inosuke hesitated, breath ragged. Then, with a gruff snort, he relented. "Fine. I'll give you this chance."
…
The two moved in unison. Tanjiro surged forward first, his horizontal slash driving the puppet back. Dropping to one knee, he shouted, "Inosuke—step on the box!"
Confusion flickered, but instinct won. Inosuke leapt onto Tanjiro's back, feet pressing down on the wooden box.
The puppet's blades scissored together, descending.
Perfect.
With a feral roar, Inosuke swung. His blades sheared through the puppet's arms, severing them cleanly. Using the rebound from the box, he propelled himself into the air.
Tanjiro's eyes narrowed. Now—shorten it.
"Water Breathing… Fourth Form: Striking Tide!"
The Sun Blade swept low arcs of water flowing like a river's surge. The strike carved through both legs.
The puppet staggered, collapsing half a head shorter.
And right then, Inosuke descended.
His swords aligned, gripped tight.
His waist twisted, channeling every ounce of ferocity. With a roar, he cleaved downward in a diagonal slash, from neck stump to waist.
The blades bit deep. A hiss filled the air. Frost-like cracks spread from the wound as the puppet's body began to crumble, disintegrating into ash.
Tanjiro exhaled sharply. "We did it, Inosuke. We won."
"Heh! Once I get serious, it's nothing!" Inosuke puffed, chest heaving. Yet his eyes betrayed the thrill—victory shared.
…
In the distance, the woman in white clutched her threads. Her hands trembled. The silk slackened, unraveling. Horror twisted her face.
"No… no! How could I fail? A mere human—defeating me?!"
With her puppet destroyed, only she remained.
Inosuke's ears twitched, catching her location. His earlier irritation flared again. Tanjiro had taken the lead, commanded him. Now, he wanted to turn the tables.
"Oi, Tanjiro!" he barked, running over suddenly.
Tanjiro blinked as Inosuke dropped his swords and lunged, arms wrapping around him in a bear hug.
"Wha—Inosuke?! What are you—"
"I didn't like being ordered around. Now it's my turn!"
Before Tanjiro could react, Inosuke's grip tightened. Muscles coiled, and with a triumphant grunt, he hurled Tanjiro skyward, launching him straight toward the enemy.
...