The Wisteria Crest House.
It was said that one of the owner's ancestors had once been saved by a demon slayer, and ever since, they had provided aid free of charge to any demon slayer who came to them.
That being said, Sui had not expected to be treated this well.
"This is way too much..."
Looking at the rice and dishes in front of her, which still looked almost untouched, and then feeling how utterly full her stomach already was, the girl's mouth twitched slightly.
Was that mountain of rice—nearly thirty centimeters high—really meant for human consumption?
On the verge of doubting her entire life, Sui turned her gaze toward Rengoku Shinjuro.
He was currently hard at work, head buried in an oversized custom bowl. From the outside, all she could see was his flame-like hair bobbing up and down, while the dishes on the table vanished at breakneck speed, as though that mane of fire were burning the food clean away.
"Another bowl!" the man shouted, holding up an utterly empty rice bowl.
It seemed his appetite was every bit as formidable as his swordsmanship. Having confirmed that, Sui silently withdrew her gaze.
"Doesn't the food suit your taste?" the man asked, noticing that the rice in front of her had barely been touched.
"It's delicious, but I'm already full..."
Hearing Sui say she was full, a look of surprise appeared on his face. In his worldview, neither he, nor his eldest son, nor his younger son—even his wife—would ever call it a meal after eating so little. Not to mention his fellow demon slayers.
"You're sure it's not just that the food isn't to your liking?" Sui carried herself with a maturity far beyond her years, and Shinjuro could not help but suspect that this was merely the girl being polite.
So he asked again.
"I really am full," Sui said with a bitter smile.
His expression made her feel as though she were the odd one here, and that any normal person ought to be shoveling down mountains of rice like this man.
"Mm... If it doesn't suit your taste, you can say so directly. The head of the Wisteria House is a good man—he wouldn't mind something like that." Shinjuro nodded as he accepted yet another fresh serving.
"Come to think of it..." The man gave Sui another look. "How old are you this year?"
Sui fell silent for a moment.
"Yesterday was my sixteenth birthday."
"I see..." Catching the sudden shadow of sadness in the girl's expression, the man spoke up. "You're quite a bit older than my two boys, but I think they'd really like you!"
"You already have two children?" The point Sui latched onto was completely different from the one he had meant.
There was almost no sign of age on Rengoku Shinjuro's face. He still looked like a man in the prime of his life. It was hard to imagine that someone like him was already married with children nearly her age.
"It's nothing worth mentioning." The man shook his head. "In terms of character and experience, my two boys are far inferior to you. While you were already wielding a blade and slaying demons, those brothers were still training with wooden swords."
Shinjuro smiled.
"You're so talented I almost don't want to hand you over to that old man."
Sui tilted her head in confusion. As she moved, the bangs over her forehead slipped aside, just enough to reveal that bewitching streak of crimson at the corner of her eye.
"The Demon Slayer Corps is an ancient organization with hundreds of members. Though it has never been recognized by the government, it has existed for a very long time. Since ancient days, we have been known as demon hunters," the man explained. "After receiving training from cultivators stationed across the land, members must pass the Final Selection—survive for seven days on Mount Fujikasane, where demons are imprisoned—and only then can they join the Corps. At that point, they are issued a Nichirin Blade for slaying demons, a uniform, and a Kasugai Crow for communication."
"I contacted one of the Corps' more famous cultivators for you. He's the former Thunder Hashira, and also my senior. Men like us ought to die on the battlefield with a sword in hand—but he was unfortunate enough to lose a leg, so he retired and secluded himself on Mount Momoyama as a cultivator."
Shinjuro pointed to the dark blue, almost black uniform he wore beneath his haori. It had a high collar, every button fastened with precision, and the cut was modeled after military attire for ease of movement.
"Lord Rengoku."
At that moment, the room's sliding door opened, and someone appeared in the doorway holding a letter.
"A message for you."
After placing the letters in the man's hand, the visitor quietly withdrew.
"Two letters?" Shinjuro raised a brow, even setting down his chopsticks mid-meal.
In Sui's eyes, the man's expression worsened at a visible rate. His swallowtail brows drew together so tightly they seemed impossible to separate. At the same time, a scorching heat haze seemed to rise around him.
"I had intended to accompany you to meet that old man. It's been a long time since I last saw him." His voice dropped. "But that won't be possible now. I've been assigned a new mission. A Corps member has reported signs of an Upper Rank in the south. I must head there at once."
As he spoke, he handed the other letter to Sui.
He rose to his feet and draped his haori over his shoulders. The flame-like patterns seemed almost to blaze, and even Sui could sense the thick, surging battle intent pouring off him.
"Tomorrow, take that letter north to Mount Momoyama and find an old man named Jigoro Kuwajima. He'll be your teacher."
Shinjuro lifted his sword and gave her that final instruction.
The solemnity around him made Sui feel as though she were standing on a battlefield. Even without knowing what exactly an "Upper Rank" was, she could tell it was a terrifying enemy—one grave enough to make even a Hashira stand at the edge of the abyss.
She rose and bowed to Shinjuro.
"Then I wish you every success in battle."
"Hahahaha! Naturally!" the man laughed, giving her a thumbs-up.
"You take care of yourself too, little one."
He pushed open the door and left. In an instant, the whole room fell quiet.
Sui picked up the letter, opened it, and silently memorized the important place names and the identifying features of the former Thunder Hashira described within.
The old man named Jigoro Kuwajima.
A large scar crossed his face. He was short, walked with a cane, and had retired from the front lines to live in seclusion on Mount Momoyama, where he now trained the next generation in Thunder Breathing.
The letter had also taken the trouble to include a few polite notes—things like how Mr. Kuwajima was very strict, but at heart an exceedingly gentle person.
The tone was clearly not something Shinjuro himself would have written. It was more likely from the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps he had mentioned.
"Still... Breathing Techniques..."
Sui's attention caught on that unfamiliar term.
There was no one here now to explain it to her, so she could only guess.
That night, when she had faced the demons directly, she had already realized one thing:
These creatures were not something ordinary humans could oppose by ordinary means.
Demons could tear through walls with ease and shatter stone. Frail human bodies, in front of them, were little more than food.
But if a group like the Demon Slayer Corps existed for the very purpose of hunting demons, then naturally, they must possess some method of fighting back.
Like Rengoku Shinjuro.
The aura around him was almost unbelievable. Standing before him, Sui felt as though she were facing a silent volcano, unable to imagine how much power lay hidden within that body.
"If demons exist, then naturally there are those who slay demons as well..."
She tucked the letter away, slowly lay down, and closed her eyes.
While she had been reading, someone had entered the room, cleared away the remaining food, and even made up her bedding for her. It had to be said: the people of the Wisteria family were truly devoted to supporting the fight against demons.
In the corner of the room, a candle burned quietly.
Until late into the night.
Until the candle burned out.
Then, in the darkness, the room was suddenly lit by that strange pale-blue glow. A deathly chill, cold as a frozen wasteland, instantly spread through the dimly illuminated space.
The girl half-opened her eyes and gently touched the corner of one eye, where that streak of crimson glowed red as fresh blood.
"Then what exactly... is this thing?"
The girl stared blankly at the wooden ceiling, then suddenly bared her teeth in a grin.
"Whatever it is, at least they're afraid of me."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 135)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 110)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter67)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter85)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 60
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 65
From Junkman to Wasteland 50
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 35
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 40
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 37
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 27
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 26
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 26
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