Life for Yosuke, Hakuji, and Koyuki now included two more people: sixteen-year-old Gyūtarō and his thirteen-year-old sister, Ume.
Even after becoming demons, Gyūtarō and Ume's bodies continued to develop—and at a startling pace.
A young demon's body would grow rapidly until reaching its peak, after which it would never decline.
By now, Gyūtarō no longer looked like the emaciated skeleton he once had been. The black blotches that marred his body had disappeared, though his waist still remained unnaturally thin, mismatched to the rest of his build.
Ume, meanwhile, had grown into a graceful beauty. Even beneath a loose-fitting kimono, her delicate figure could not be concealed.
Because Hakuji had been the only one to hear Gyūtarō's desperate cry for help and extend him a hand, Gyūtarō placed deep trust in him. He liked to follow Komaji, training under his guidance in Blood Demon Arts.
Hakuji, pleased with his earnestness, gladly accepted Gyūtarō as a disciple of the Soryu Dōjō.
"Gyūtarō, why must you insist on using weapons? Our Soryu style relies on the body itself—every part of it a weapon to strike the enemy. Using external arms is nothing but a crooked path!"
Though Hakuji poured his heart into teaching, Gyūtarō seemed innately unsuited to Soryu techniques. He could not cultivate fighting spirit, nor could he master even the simplest form—Destructive Death: Disorder.
Gyūtarō scratched his cheek awkwardly. "But… I really like my sickles. They feel natural in my hands. And… I think I might have learned a Blood Demon Art."
Hakuji frowned, skeptical, and casually pointed to a spot nearby. "Show me, then."
Scratching at his skin as usual, Gyūtarō hunched over and pulled out two short-handled sickles.
As soon as he gripped them, blood and flesh spread along their handles, covering everything but the blades themselves.
"Blood Demon Art: Flying Blood Sickles!"
With a swing, he turned his own blood into razor-thin blades, launching them with his sickles.
Hakuji's eyes went wide—not at the technique itself, but at the target Gyūtarō had chosen.
"No! Stop—!"
A thunderous crash! A nearby wooden hut collapsed into rubble.
Cold sweat ran down Hakuji's face, while Gyūtarō tilted his head in confusion, not understanding why Komaji was so alarmed.
From the wreckage came a furious voice:
"Blood Demon Art: Dark Binding!"
In an instant, bloody ropes lashed out, coiling around Hakuji and Gyūtarō and hanging them from the trunk of a tall tree.
Just then, Koyuki and Ume appeared, approaching from a distance.
Koyuki rolled her eyes at the sight of the two dangling in midair.
Not knowing what had happened, Ume asked curiously, "Hakuji-san, brother, why are you hanging from a tree?"
Hakuji gave a sheepish smile, while Gyūtarō, restless as ever, wriggled in place, trying to scratch his face. With his arms bound, he couldn't reach it, so he settled for scratching at his waist instead.
"I don't know either. Hakuji-san asked me to test out my Blood Demon Art, so I did… and then Yosuke-sama strung me up."
Koyuki tugged Ume away gently. "Don't worry about them. They must have angered Yosuke-sama, that's why they're being punished."
Ume's eyes lit up in realization. Abandoning her earlier impulse to help, she quickly changed her tune. "Oh, I see! Onii-san, you mustn't make Yosuke-sama angry, okay?"
Unlike Gyūtarō, who trailed after Hakuji, Ume much preferred Yosuke's company, practically glued to him like a little shadow.
When she saw Yosuke emerging from the wreckage of the hut, her face blossomed with a bright smile, and she dashed over like a flying arrow.
"Yosuke-sama, I'm back!"
Yosuke pressed his temples, staring at what was left of the hut with a pounding headache. One Hakuji was troublesome enough; now there was a Gyūtarō too, and both seemed determined to wage war against his poor house.
Ume turned slightly, showing off the flower tucked by her ear. "Yosuke-sama, look! The bellflower I picked—it's pretty, isn't it?"
Yosuke reached out and ruffled her hair with indulgent fondness. Ume closed her eyes happily under his touch.
"It's beautiful. But Ume is far prettier than any flower."
Her smile bloomed at his praise.
From the rubble, Yosuke fished out a bottle of sake that had miraculously survived intact. Sitting cross-legged beneath the tree, he looked up at the dangling Hajuji and Gyūtarō, drinking leisurely as he watched.
Hakuji shivered under his gaze, goosebumps rising all over. "Yo-Yosuke-sama, I swear this time I'm innocent!"
Yosuke ignored him, turning his eyes instead to Gyūtarō.
Gyūtarō immediately spoke up. "Yosuke-sama, it was my fault. Komaji-san asked me to test out my Blood Demon Art, and I fired at the spot he pointed to."
Hakuji nearly burst into tears. "Gyūtarō! Don't explain it like that!"
With a flick, Yosuke dispelled the bloody bindings. Gyūtarō dropped to the ground, free once more.
He scratched his cheek in confusion. Strange. I admitted it was my fault, so why did Yosuke-sama release me but leave Hakuji up there?
Sensing the atmosphere was turning dangerous, Gyūtarō abandoned the still-dangling Hakuji without hesitation and scurried away from the scene of disaster.
Yosuke's lips curved into a dark smile. "So, Hakuji… you seem to have quite the grudge against my house, don't you?"
Hakuji forced a laugh, obsequious. "N-no, of course not, Yosuke-sama~"
A blood whip unfurled in Yosuke's hand. He cracked it against Hakuji's body again and again, each strike landing with merciless precision.
Soon, the area rang with nothing but Hakuji's screams.
"Look, Koyuki-san," Ume said brightly, pointing. "Yosuke-sama seems really happy right now~"
Gyūtarō nodded sagely at the sight. "Not only Yosuke-sama. I think Komaji-san might be enjoying it a little too."
Koyuki covered her face in shame. She couldn't even bear to watch.
For half an hour the cries continued, until finally Yosuke released Hakuji, commanding him to repair the ruined hut.
Gyūtarō joined in, helping Komaji with the reconstruction, while Koyuki and Ume prepared food in the kitchen.
Strictly speaking, demons had no need for food, but Koyuki refused to let go of the human habits she cherished, and she delighted in cooking each day for everyone.
Ume, meanwhile, cooked for a simpler reason: she wanted Yosuke to taste her dishes and praise her.
At last, Yosuke drained the last of the sake, setting the empty bottle aside. Watching the four of them—busy with their small, ordinary tasks—he felt an unexpected warmth stir in his heart.
More and more people have gathered at my side, he thought. If only time could freeze in this moment… how wonderful that would be.
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