Spring snow melted away.
In the blink of an eye, winter had passed.
One day, when Tanjiro accompanied his father down the mountain again, they found that Oboro's residence was empty.
The gates were locked tight.
He was gone... without saying goodbye.
They remembered Oboro saying he had come from the pleasure districts, so now... he must have returned.
It suited his character perfectly. He had come to witness the Sun Breathing, and meeting their family was merely a coincidence along the way.
Tanjiro felt regretful that he hadn't had the chance to properly bid Mr. Oboro farewell.
But to Kamado Tanpei, Oboro knew his end was approaching... and a man of such strength did not need pity.
He had his own pride.
"Let's go, son."
Looking at the closed gate, Tanpei patted his son's shoulder, ready to leave.
Just then, a servant ran over holding a square box.
"This is what that gentleman left behind before he departed... to be exact, it's for Tanjiro." The man handed over the item.
"Thank you."
Tanpei took it and opened the lid. Inside lay a black haori.
It was exactly the same as the one Oboro wore. Such clothing was reserved for nobility, made of precious materials that commoners could never afford.
It was meant for Tanjiro to wear when he came of age.
"Father..."
Tanjiro wanted to say something but stopped.
"Costly as it is... it is his wish."
...
For Oboro, finding demons was an easy task.
Even without contacting the Demon Slayer Corps, he could gather information on numerous "strange incidents" through the Shogunate's channels.
This connection was also how Ubuyashiki Kuno was able to quickly mobilize members to hunt demons across the land.
Moreover, Oboro himself was a high-ranking official in the Magistrate's Office—essentially the highest law enforcement authority.
His condition, however, was becoming increasingly critical.
"Sir... we have arrived."
The next evening, several samurai holding torches escorted Oboro to a rural village in the Edo region.
They had been dispatched from Edo Castle... Mount Kumotori was actually not far from the capital.
"Seirin-machi."
One of them introduced the village.
Night had fallen completely. Yet, a place that should have been bustling was eerily silent, completely different from what they had heard.
Seirin-machi was located on a major trade route. Day or night, caravans and merchants passed through constantly, and refugees heading for the capital often stopped here.
Although small, with only about a hundred households, it was essentially a red-light district, lively especially at night, filled with taverns and wandering entertainers. There were many places like this, all existing simply for survival and profit.
But recently, things had gone wrong. Reports stated that many travelers passing through had vanished without a trace.
The Magistrate sent investigators, but they found no leads.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Oboro coughed violently, his face gaunt and skeletal, looking almost terrifying.
His body was as thin as a stick, requiring two maids to support him just to stand.
The samurai exchanged glances but said nothing.
They didn't understand why this high official from the North Magistrate suddenly took an interest in this remote village, insisting on coming personally.
If not for his status, they would never have bothered traveling all this way to such a godforsaken place.
The Shogunate was in chaos; rebellions were breaking out everywhere. They had more than enough cases to handle in the city, who cared about what happened outside the walls?
People died in Edo every day—drunkards, brawling samurai, criminals.
The death toll and trouble there were far worse than anything happening in Seirin-machi.
Oboro looked at the village shrouded in darkness, dotted with a few scattered lights, and smiled faintly.
There was definitely a demon here... and a big one at that.
He could smell the thick scent of blood wafting through the air... coming from inside the village.
Many had died...
Usually, solitary or weak demons couldn't cause such widespread havoc. Most demons acted alone, moving from place to place, afraid to stay in one spot too long lest they attract the Demon Slayer Corps.
They hit and ran.
Furthermore, under Muzan's rule, to prevent any demon from gaining too much power and threatening his position, he forbade them from gathering or forming factions in one area.
During his stay at Mount Kumotori, besides consuming Blue Spider Lilies, Oboro spent most of his time poring over case files from the Edo region, sifting through information for clues.
Cases like this, where people disappeared, were often ignored by the government; compared to war, such losses were negligible.
And ordinary people lacked the ability to see the truth, so cases were usually left unsolved.
In the world of Demon Slayer, one way to gauge a demon's strength was not just by how many swordsmen or Pillars they had killed, but also by the scope of their territory and the scale of their killings.
Demons like Daki, Douma, or Rui on Mount Natagumo—members of the Twelve Kizuki—all had their own established "territories" where they ruled without fear.
Ordinary demons weren't worth Oboro's time. If he was going to make a move... he wanted something significant.
"With this blood concentration... at least dozens have died here..."
Oboro's eyes gleamed.
"Let's go in."
He spoke softly.
The samurai led the way into the village.
"Strange..."
As soon as they stepped onto the main road, the samurai felt an unsettling feeling.
The village was small, with only one main street. Even if business was slow, it shouldn't be completely deserted... not even a dog in sight.
In these times, you couldn't walk anywhere without seeing drunkards or refugees.
Clatter.
Just as one samurai reached out to knock on the door of a wooden house, a red lantern hanging outside a small shop several meters away suddenly lit up.
An old man slid open the paper door and poked his head out. "Esteemed gentlemen! This way please!"
"Hmm?"
The lead samurai walked over, frowning. "What's going on? Where is everyone? The last time I came here, this place was packed."
"Ah, you see, sir... every early spring, we get a sickness here, caused by pollen from the mountains. Those infected get red rashes and terrible itching. To prevent spreading it, everyone has closed up early. Those who could leave did, and those who couldn't are resting indoors, waiting for it to pass before serving travelers again." The old man smiled obsequiously as he ushered them inside, his eyes flickering briefly when he saw Oboro.
"An infectious disease?"
The samurai looked uneasy.
"Don't worry, sir, I'm fine..." The old man quickly reassured.
It was a simple tavern, small and wooden, with only a few tables and chairs. Nothing compared to the establishments in the city, but good enough for travelers.
The old man lit candles and busied himself, serving plates of pickled vegetables and rough, grainy sake.
Oboro was helped to his seat first.
Seeing how the samurai and maids attended to this sickly young man, and the expensive haori he wore, the old man realized his status was extraordinary.
"Sir."
Once seated, the samurai looked to Oboro.
"Pay no attention to me. Do as you please."
Oboro said calmly.
Relieved, the samurai began to eat and drink.
After a long journey, even though the village was desolate, having a place to rest, eat, and drink was better than nothing.
The alcohol quickly went to their heads, their faces flushing red.
Oboro and the two maids, however, did not touch a thing.
"Shopkeeper..."
Oboro called out to the old man who was warming wine by the stove.
"Yes, sir?"
"I noticed... back there, southeast of the village, there's a fairly large building. It doesn't look like a house... is it a shrine?"
"Ah yes... It was built not long ago. Since this sickness plagues us every year, we villagers can only pray for safety, sir." The old man's eyelids twitched, but he kept smiling.
Oboro said nothing more.
The old man let out a silent sigh of relief.
The smell of blood was definitely coming from that shrine... and the bodies were fresh.
Furthermore, the entire village's population was likely gathered there right now.
And the demon too!
Was it some kind of cult?
Or perhaps, like Douma's Eternal Paradise cult, it had become an organized religion?
If so, even better.
The bigger the commotion, the more powerful the demon hiding in the shadows must be.
Thud!
A moment later, without warning, the samurai who had been laughing and talking suddenly slumped forward, their heads hitting the wooden tables, unconscious.
The maids were shocked. They had only drunk one cup each! How could they pass out so fast?
Then, the old man, who had been facing away from them, changed his expression. His eyes turned cold and cruel, and he pulled out a sharp knife, turning slowly around.
He looked at Oboro and the maids with a sadistic grin.
Two women and a dying man... this would be easy.
He had done this many times before.
"So... you're all in this together."
Oboro sighed inwardly.
He was bored. He thought the old man would have some clever tricks up his sleeve... but this was so low-level.
Couldn't they be more creative?
This pathetic trickery would only fool these foolish samurai.
Blinded by their status, they believed themselves superior, thinking commoners would never dare defy them.
Such arrogance and prejudice.
"I'll give you whatever you want."
"I am an official of the Shogunate..."
Oboro raised his hands, pretending to be afraid.
He was ready to teach this old man and the demon behind him a lesson.
If you're going to make a move... at least make it interesting.
He knew how to give people a surprise they wouldn't forget...
____________________
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