Chapter 7 — Slash
Following the direction indicated by the strange girl, after walking for about half an hour, the gentle sound of flowing water finally reached the ears of the trio.
It was a clear stream winding between rocks and the roots of wisteria trees. Under the sunlight, the water shimmered with rippling light. For the three of them—who had spent the entire night running through blood-soaked woods reeking of decay—this place was nothing short of an oasis in the desert.
"Water!! It's water—ahhh! We're saved!"
Zenitsu let out a pig-slaughtering shriek of joy and scrambled toward the stream on all fours, throwing all dignity aside as he plunged his entire head into the water, gulping it down greedily with loud gurgles.
Tanjiro also let out a sigh of relief, but he didn't lose his composure like Zenitsu. He first cautiously sniffed the air around them. After confirming there were no traces of demons nearby, he moved slightly upstream, cupped his hands to gather clear water, and washed the dust from his face—along with the faint lingering scent of the Hand Demon's blood.
"Whew… I feel alive again." Tanjiro wiped the droplets from his face and turned to look at Zoro, who stood at the riverbank staring blankly at the water's surface. "Mr. Zoro, aren't you going to wash up? The water's cool—it really helps clear your head."
Zoro stood atop a moss-covered boulder, arms folded, his single eye fixed intently on the flowing water below.
"Yeah… I was just about to."
The irritation born from being unable to drink alcohol burned in his chest like a flame. The sensation of having his Haki sealed away felt like being locked inside a narrow cage, limbs restrained, unable to stretch freely.
In this world filled with weak creatures, he felt an indescribable sense of frustration.
Zoro extended his rough hand, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed it forcefully onto his face.
Splash—
The ice-cold stream shocked his nerves, droplets trailing down his resolute jaw and rippling across the calm surface below.
Just as the ripples began to settle and the water turned mirror-still once more—
Zoro's pupil suddenly contracted.
Reflected in the water was not his scarred human face.
In that instant, it felt as though the surrounding light had been devoured. The once-clear stream transformed, in his vision, into a churning sea of blood.
And within that crimson reflection stood a three-headed, six-armed Asura, wrapped in swirling violet-black demonic aura, staring back at him coldly.
It was not a "demon" of the Demon Slayer world.
It was a fiendish god from hell itself.
"…Hmph."
In that fleeting moment, an overwhelmingly terrifying "killing intent"—so sharp it was nearly tangible—erupted from Zoro without warning, radiating outward with him at the center.
Though it lacked the stunning force of Conqueror's Haki that could knock others unconscious, this pure killing intent was colder and more piercing than any demon's presence.
Zzzzt—
The water beneath Zoro's palm began to bubble as though boiling. Then, centered around his hand, the stream within a three-meter radius seemed to be pressed down by an invisible force, the water level sinking several centimeters as the current abruptly halted.
Even more frightening—several mountain fish swimming between the rocks had no chance to struggle. The moment that killing intent burst forth, they flipped belly-up and floated stiffly to the surface.
The aura lasted for less than a second before vanishing like an illusion.
The sea of blood in Zoro's eyes receded, and the reflection in the water returned to his own image. He flicked the droplets from his hand, a feral grin curling at the corner of his lips.
"So that's how it is… It hasn't completely disappeared after all. As long as the killing intent is pure enough, a little of it can still leak out, huh?"
He could feel it—the lock inside him called "power" seemed to have loosened by a single screw.
Behind him—
The bamboo tube slipped from Tanjiro's hand and hit the ground with a clatter, rolling away.
In that brief instant just now, Tanjiro's extraordinarily keen sense of smell had caught a scent unlike anything he had ever encountered before.
It wasn't "stench," nor was it "the smell of blood."
It was the "scent of death," as if he were standing beneath ten thousand blades.
The smell was so intense that every hair on his body stood on end, and for that one second, his heart nearly stopped beating.
That feeling was even more suffocating than facing one of the Twelve Kizuki. It was as though a blade had already been pressed against his neck.
"Mr… Mr. Zoro?"
Tanjiro's voice trembled. Instinctively, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Was that… your scent just now? For a moment, I felt like… I was looking straight into hell."
Zenitsu, on the other hand, fared far worse. The instant Zoro's killing intent leaked out, his body had reacted in the most honest way possible—foam at the mouth, eyes rolled back, stiff as a board in the grass by the riverbank, like a possum playing dead.
"G-Gh… gh… demon… demon god… great demon king…"
Though unconscious, Zenitsu continued muttering incoherently.
Zoro stood up and straightened his collar again. Glancing at the few dead fish floating on the water's surface, he casually scooped one up and, with a light flick of his fingernail, sliced open its belly.
"Hm? What are you talking about? I was just washing my face."
He feigned ignorance, though his gaze had grown noticeably sharper than before. He shot Tanjiro a sideways glance.
"Don't make a big deal out of nothing. These fish look pretty plump—just right for breakfast."
Tanjiro looked at Zoro's completely nonchalant expression, then at the fish floating on the surface—fish that had clearly been "killed by pressure alone." He swallowed hard.
"Were they… scared to death by someone washing their face? That's impossible…"
The sense of awe in Tanjiro's heart rose to yet another level. If before he had merely thought Zoro possessed extraordinary swordsmanship, now he faintly felt that within this green-haired man dwelled a truly terrifying beast.
"Mr. Zoro… what kind of battles have you experienced?"
"Plenty. So many I can't even remember them all."
Zoro skewered the fish with a branch and set it over the still-smoldering campfire to roast.
"Forget that, kid. Let's lie in wait here for the next few days. Since there's water, anyone who wants to survive—whether human or demon—will eventually come here."
He took a bite of the half-cooked fish, his eyes drifting toward the depths of the forest.
"And I'll use this chance to properly hone my 'blade.'"
He wasn't referring only to Wado Ichimonji—but to the soul within him that had been suppressed in this world.