Back in Yokohama, Natsunishi had already realized that his senior disciple's background was anything but ordinary.
He possessed a mansion in the most prosperous district of the city. Moreover, it was a Western-style villa with a distinct sense of architectural design. Not to mention, he owned numerous properties and businesses throughout the town. When Natsunishi was undergoing his rigorous coffee training, it had taken place in a cafe under his senior's name.
On a daily basis, Natsunishi experienced an opulent and composed high-society life that he had never even seen outside of the game.
Except, of course, during his training.
Igarashi had rarely mentioned his personal history before, and Natsunishi was naturally tactful enough not to pry. But now... Natsunishi understood that feeling of actually wanting to find someone to confide in.
"My childhood was spent among account books, tea parties, and learning various skills to inherit the family business," Igarashi began. "My father wanted me to become an excellent merchant capable of navigating the winds and waves, while I... I only wanted to read interesting magazines or go abroad to study new things. The world outside the window was vast, and it wasn't strictly necessary for me to inherit the Igarashi family."
The train started moving slowly, and the small town faded from view. Igarashi's tone remained calm, though the subject matter gradually grew heavier.
"The change happened one night on the return journey of a family trip. We were attacked by a demon. My older brother, my younger sister, even the accompanying guards and the driver... they all died."
"I hid behind a cargo crate and watched with my own eyes as that monster tore everyone apart... It didn't attack out of hunger; it was purely enjoying the slaughter."
Recalling that scene from his childhood, a shadow of darkness fell across the gentle Storm Hashira's brow. He took off his glasses and lightly wiped away a non-existent fog on the lenses.
"My father blocked the crate door with his body, and my mother covered my mouth tightly, terrified that any sound would attract the monster. I can't quite remember how I felt at that moment. I only vaguely recall the sound of claws tearing through flesh, a scent of blood thicker than a slaughterhouse, and... that monster's almost cathartic, gleeful laughter."
The carriage fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic clack-clack of the wheels against the iron tracks. Shinobu Kochou had unknowingly put down her book, the thick volume resting lightly on her knees. Natsunishi, too, had stopped cracking melon seeds.
His senior's story was indeed quite heavy.
"The demon was eventually slain by a demon hunter who arrived just in time. A silent swordsman who used the Breath of Wind. When he left, he only said one thing..."
"It was something along the lines of, 'Live on, and then choose between revenge or spending the rest of your life in peace.' I don't remember the exact words anymore."
Natsunishi thought to himself: That definitely sounds like something my cheapskate master would say.
Igarashi put his glasses back on. He looked at his own hands—hands that could both hold a coffee cup and swing a blade of wild wind to tear through demons. His expression gradually turned cold.
"I survived. My parents passed away shortly after from their injuries and the shock. I inherited the family business, and over the course of three years, I purged the restless board of directors. I expelled the incompetent, pedantic old guard occupying key positions. I stabilized and expanded the business until it became a machine that could function even without me. Afterward, I sought out that swordsman, who was also a Cultivator."
He looked up, his gaze sweeping over Shinobu and Natsunishi, as his gentle smile returned to his face.
"I chose to become a demon slayer not just because of hatred. It's just that... I could no longer endure that sense of powerlessness. I could not tolerate the existence of such pure 'evil' in this world, nor that this evil could descend upon anyone randomly and without fairness. Wealth and status cannot escape this powerlessness, and the financial might of the Igarashi family was no different. The existence of demons far transcends human ethics and common sense. Humans could spend their entire lives and never catch up. That is the shackle of humanity, and its limit."
He touched the Nichirin Sword at his waist. The light blue tassel, swaying like flowing water, seemed to ripple in response to him.
"Only Breathing Styles can break the boundary between humans and demons... no, they can even transcend that boundary."
The story concluded. For a long while, no one spoke in the carriage.
Shinobu Kochou bowed slightly and whispered, "I am very sorry to have made you recall such a painful memory."
"It's no matter," Igarashi shook his head with a smile. "Just a momentary lapse into sentimentality. Besides, this is the driving force that reminds me why I keep moving forward."
Beside him, Natsunishi thought to himself that his senior was indeed a man of education. The way he spoke was quite different from others.
After disembarking from the train in Gunma Prefecture, the local members of the Kakushi brought new mission intelligence and leads. The situation was worse than they had previously anticipated.
Initial reports only stated that a Kinoe ranked swordsman had gone missing while investigating a plague in this town. However, over the past two days, cases with similar symptoms had appeared not only in the town they were currently in but also in several surrounding villages.
In the early stages, patients would suffer from systemic itching and swelling. This was followed by fever and coughing. Within three to five days, the person would weaken rapidly, dying as if their blood had been drained dry.
Shinobu Kochou adjusted the medicine box she carried on her back. Looking at the Storm Hashira and Natsunishi beside her, her youthful face bore a seriousness that did not match her age.
"Local doctors have diagnosed it as a malignant form of consumption. But according to the information provided by the Kakushi, the transmission pattern doesn't quite fit medical laws. it isn't spread through droplets or the air. Many close contacts haven't been infected, while instead, some physically strong individuals or strangers who have nothing to do with each other have fallen ill."
She paused and looked at Natsunishi, who was glancing around. Since Sister Kanae said you have a decent hand in medicine, let me see what you're made of, you philanderer.
"Mr. Kuguruma, what do you think?"
Natsunishi snapped back to attention and said casually, "Do you think someone is dumping poison in specific locations?"
Hearing this, the Storm Hashira's brow furrowed. The disappearance of a Kinoe-ranked swordsman couldn't yet be equated to this plague. If it really was a deliberate poisoning, the range they would need to investigate would be even larger. After all, even an ordinary person could do such a thing.
Shinobu shook her head. "It's worse."
She took a sealed glass jar from her medicine box; a small amount of grayish-white powder remained at the bottom. This was a sample sent by the Kakushi not long ago.
"This is residue extracted from the lungs of the first batch of victims. It's not bacteria, nor is it any known toxin. It... grows inside the host."
The Storm Hashira pushed up his glasses. "Could it be a fungus?"
Natsunishi, however, spoke with absolute certainty: "No, it should be a Blood Demon Art, right?"
Shinobu stared at Natsunishi with some surprise. His judgment was the same as hers. It wasn't hard to realize this was a derivative of a Blood Demon Art, but to be so quick and certain...
Could it be that this "big radish" actually had some skill?
Shinobu naturally didn't know Natsunishi's logic. In a Japanese RPG game where you fight monsters to level up, a strange plague and an unknown toxin appear? Doesn't that clearly scream that the enemy is behind it?
Blood Demon Art. It was definitely a Blood Demon Art.
Furthermore, there was one more thing that made Natsunishi's conviction rock-solid. Regarding that residue in the jar...
His [Medicine], [Pharmacy], [Toxicology], and [Gathering] skills—none of them had triggered a reaction!
If that wasn't a Blood Demon Art, what else could it be?