"Rare blood—such precious rare blood—!"
The thing twisted its neck, extending a long, deformed arm to wedge itself against the door, stopping Sui's instinctive attempt to shut it.
Realizing she couldn't close it, Sui stepped back slowly. The demon followed, squeezing into the room. Only then did she see its full form—
It was enormous.
So large that it had to hunch its massive body just to fit inside.
It stared at her, its warped eyes filled with bloodlust. Muscles bulged grotesquely, veins writhing like serpents beneath its skin. Sui understood that look—it was the gaze of something staring at a feast.
And one it intended to devour completely.
"A thousand people's worth of rare blood… If I eat you, can I kill that damned swordsman?"
"Yes! Eat you—then kill that damned swordsman!"
The demon's nostrils flared as it greedily inhaled the air of the room—more precisely, the air carrying Sui's scent.
An intoxicating fragrance flooded its senses in an instant. Even after devouring hundreds, it had never encountered such a scent. The mere aroma nearly drove it mad.
Its choice had been correct.
No wonder this girl was so special—this "rare blood" was evident even without the smell of fresh blood.
"Hm?"
The demon suddenly froze. With a violent motion, it smashed the table and grabbed the wisteria sachet Sui had placed there, tossing it away.
Without the interference of wisteria, an even richer scent filled its lungs.
Grinning maliciously, it fixed its gaze on the girl who now had nowhere left to run.
How beautiful…
That pale skin, delicate like porcelain—it would surely shatter with a single squeeze. And from beneath that broken skin, crimson blood would spill forth…
The mere thought made its body surge with excitement.
And those eyes—what would they look like filled with tears?
Cry. Then I'll devour you as you wail.
No… that would be wasteful.
Better to tear off your arms first and savor them slowly.
Cry. Why aren't you crying?
Seeing the girl suddenly go expressionless, the demon's thoughts stalled for a brief instant.
Just an instant.
Because in the next moment—
A blade flashed like moonlight over water.
The demon's vision spun.
Lower… lower…
Until all it could see was the hem of the girl's clothing.
What… happened?
Its head hit the ground, rolling to a stop at Sui's feet.
In that moment, its twisted eyes met something even more twisted—
Those Mystic Eyes.
An icy blue bloom unfurled within her pupils, beautiful and terrifying. One glance was enough to awaken a primal fear of death deep within its being.
Sui sheathed her sword.
At the same time, the demon's massive body began to crumble into ash.
"You're crying?"
She noticed a tear trailing from the remaining half of its face.
Clear. Unclouded.
Sui crouched down, resting her blade against the ground. Her ice-blue eyes faded back to normal.
"What are you crying for? I'm the one who should be upset, okay? Look over there—my dinner hadn't even been touched before you smacked it away."
The demon could no longer hear her.
It had already turned to ash.
"A warrior monk from Miro Temple. Turned into a demon three years ago and slaughtered everyone in the temple."
An aged, hoarse voice sounded behind her.
Sui turned.
By the door—pushed open by the demon—stood a short old man. He leaned on a cane, his graying beard bristling like sharp spikes.
"Since I had already retired, I only heard about it through rumors in town. The Corps wanted me to enjoy my later years—teach students and pass the time—so no Kasugai Crow came to deliver the news."
His expression dimmed slightly.
"I went to the temple tonight intending to kill it, only to find it had fled into town…"
He raised his head. In an instant, his dim gaze sharpened—like a long-sheathed blade finally drawn, too sharp to meet directly.
"And then I met you."
His eyes dropped to Sui's sword.
"The blade is fine and ancient, but not forged from Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand. Yet you beheaded a demon and killed it completely without a Nichirin Blade… You must be the child Shinjuro mentioned."
He had recognized her.
"Lord Jigoro Kuwajima."
Sui bowed. She had recognized the former Thunder Hashira long ago.
Kuwajima studied her for a moment before a faint smile appeared.
"Seems those people haven't forgotten this old bag of bones. Sending me quite the gift."
"Come."
He turned.
"To my place. My cooking is ten thousand times better than this inn's."
Sui paused, then smiled softly. It seemed her earlier muttering to the demon hadn't escaped his notice.
She followed him downstairs.
Near the counter stood the innkeeper, his face full of worry.
"Lord Kuwajima… that thing… is it dealt with?"
"It's dealt with."
The old man replied, and the tension in the innkeeper's face finally eased.
"But not by me—by your guest here."
Kuwajima patted the man's stiff shoulder and stepped out. Sui followed, offering a brief thanks for the hospitality before leaving as well.
Under the cold moonlight, her glance back looked almost like that of a spirit from the forest—bewitching and unreal.
The innkeeper watched until their figures disappeared at the edge of town.
Then he collapsed onto the ground with a thud.
After a long while, he finally let out a deep breath.
…
Deep in the silent mountains, thick mist lingered.
Beneath the high-hanging moon, a shadow darted swiftly through the forest—only to pause atop branches at intervals, waiting.
Sui followed behind, breathing heavily.
Everything the old man had said was accurate—painfully so.
Her ability to defeat demons relied entirely on her eyes. Without those Mystic Eyes, her physical strength was even below average for her age.
Yet despite that, the old man showed no mercy.
He would dash far ahead, leaving her behind—then wait calmly by a tree until she caught up, only to speed off again once he sensed her presence.
Long before coming to this world, what Sui had feared most wasn't exams—but the annual physical tests. Every time she saw that bright red running track, a deep, instinctive dread would swallow her whole.
Terrifying.
Winter had just passed. The mountain ground was covered in dry branches and withered leaves, each step she took producing loud, crisp sounds.
Who knew what might be buried beneath them—perhaps even animal droppings.
After an unknown distance, she finally saw a faint light ahead—
And Kuwajima standing at the edge of the forest, waiting.
The old man stroked his beard, sizing her up again. Without even speaking, Sui could practically hear his thoughts:
Is this weak little thing really suited to learn my breathing technique?
"Not bad. Shinjuro does have a good eye—you are indeed suited to learn from me."
Kuwajima spoke slowly.
He tapped her on the head with his cane.
"Don't just stand there. Come eat—let me show you my cooking."