Inside Akaza's Dojo
The gifts had been delivered.
The polite greetings exchanged.
Akaza told them to look around as they pleased, while he himself sat down on a cushion and resumed his meditation.
But—
…
The dojo, once cold and silent, now looked like it had been invaded by three demolition-grade huskies.
"Whoa! Third Uncle! This wooden dummy is hard!"
Inosuke swung a wooden sword wildly at the training post in the center of the hall, wood chips flying everywhere.
"What's this? What's this?!"
In a corner, Zenitsu dragged out a dust-covered box—it was a sandbag Akaza had prepared for future disciples.
"It's so heavy! My back's about to snap! Third Uncle, do you usually sleep wearing this?!"
Meanwhile, Tanjiro held a rag, wiping here and there as he spoke earnestly.
"Akaza-san's dojo may be old, but it has a very classical feel!
If we clear away these cobwebs and fix that floor over there—"
"ENOUGH!!!"
A furious roar exploded through the hall, accompanied by a burst of fighting spirit that shook dust loose from the rafters.
Akaza—who had been sitting cross-legged on his cushion, summoning the greatest willpower of his life to ignore them—finally snapped.
A pink afterimage flashed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three dull thuds.
One moment, the three boys were running amok.
The next, they were neatly pressed onto three cushions in the middle of the dojo, like chicks being grabbed by the scruff.
"Sit. Still."
Veins bulged on Akaza's forehead as his golden eyes locked onto them.
"I invited you here as guests.
Not to tear my dojo apart.
Move again, and I'll hang you at the entrance."
The three immediately sat straight, obedient as quails.
"Yes, Third Uncle!"
Akaza took a deep breath, calmed himself, then sat cross-legged across from them.
He poured tea for all four of them.
"Talk."
He took a sip, eyes sweeping over the three.
"You brats—why do you have time to run here instead of staying in the Demon Slayer Corps?
No missions? Or did that Ubuyashiki give you a long vacation?"
Inosuke sat cross-legged, shrugged casually, and grabbed a pastry from the table.
"No missions. No vacation."
Mouth full, he spoke indistinctly.
"We got fired."
"Pff—"
Tanjiro had just lifted his cup to drink and instantly sprayed water everywhere.
Akaza's hand froze midair.
He paused, as if he hadn't heard clearly—or didn't want to believe it.
"Fired?
You?"
Shock flashed through his eyes—then he burst out laughing.
"Hahaha… hahahahaha!!"
Akaza laughed loudly.
"That's the funniest joke I've heard in centuries!
Are those Hashira blind? Or did a door crush their brains?
Chasing away top-tier combat power?
Are they tired of living?!"
When the laughter faded—
The air in the dojo suddenly congealed.
The temperature plummeted.
Akaza's smile vanished. He looked at Inosuke, his voice becoming eerily calm—almost gentle.
But beneath that gentleness was killing intent steeped in seas of corpses.
"What happened?
Did your identity get exposed?"
His fingers traced the rim of his teacup, his tone as light as if he were asking about dinner.
"Do you need me to go kill them for you?"
"Pff—cough cough!!"
This time it was Zenitsu who sprayed his tea, choking as tears streamed down his face.
He stared at Akaza in horror.
That look wasn't a joke.
He was seriously considering it.
"No need."
Inosuke waved his hand, swallowed his pastry, looking unconcerned.
"Not for now.
Cutting ties is fine.
They don't bother me, I won't bother them."
Akaza studied him, his gaze lingering.
With his eyes, he could easily see through the clothes—
the fresh injuries hidden beneath.
Crack.
The teacup in Akaza's hand crumbled into powder.
He said nothing more, only a chilling glint flashing in his eyes.
"Enough of that."
He brushed the ceramic dust from his hands and changed the subject.
"Since you were kicked out—where are your parents?
And that noisy Daki, the gloomy Gyutaro, and that floor-sweeping Kaigaku?
Why is it just you three?
They don't care about you?"
At that, Inosuke's eyes lit up.
"Heh, Third Uncle, you don't get it."
He leaned closer and bumped Akaza's shoulder with a grin.
"The old man went chasing his wife.
My mom went out to relax.
They're in Edo right now—Yoshiwara District!"
"As for that idiot senior brother… told him to come, but he wouldn't. Had to sweep."
Inosuke lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"It's not far from here, you know.
So what do you think, Third Uncle?
Miss them?
If you do, we can go right now."
"Who misses them?!"
Akaza bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, ears metaphorically standing up, cheeks faintly red.
"Who would miss those idiots?!
Dōma's annoying to death!
That Daki never shuts up!
I hide from them when I can!
I'm peaceful here—don't know how comfortable I am!"
He turned his head away sharply.
"I'm not going.
Go yourselves.
Don't bother me."
…
Fifteen minutes later
On the main road leading to Yoshiwara—
"Third Uncle! Look at that lantern, it's so pretty!"
"Third Uncle! I want candied hawthorn!"
"Third Uncle! Slow down, we can't keep up!"
Three boys chattered endlessly around a pink-haired man in a brand-new white martial uniform.
Akaza carried three large bundles, black lines dancing across his forehead—but he still slowed his pace to match their short legs.
"Shut up! You're too loud!"
He scolded them, yet casually bought Zenitsu a skewer of candied hawthorn and yanked Inosuke back when he tried to run off again.
"I'm just going to take a look!"
He explained stiffly as they walked.
"Absolutely not because I miss them!"
Under the lantern light, one tall figure and three small ones cast long shadows.
A Forest Ten Li from Yoshiwara
A white figure streaked through the woods like a gale—so fast only afterimages remained.
Sanemi Shinazugawa.
At this moment, he was like a blade drawn from its sheath, radiating violent hostility.
He was going to Yoshiwara.
To dig out the truth with his own hands.
Suddenly—
Sanemi skidded to a halt, dust billowing.
He didn't turn around. He stared into the darkness ahead, his voice squeezed through clenched teeth.
"How long are you planning to follow me…
Shinazugawa Genya?!"
The forest fell silent save for rustling leaves.
"Still hiding?"
Rage flashed through Sanemi's eyes.
He drew his Nichirin Blade in one smooth motion and hurled it backward without looking.
Whoosh!
Wind Breathing wrapped around the blade like a green comet slicing through the night.
Thunk!
The sword skimmed past a tree trunk and embedded itself deep into the earth beside it, the hilt trembling.
"Ah!"
A cry rang out.
A tall figure slowly stepped from behind the tree.
Genya lowered his head like a child who'd done something wrong, clutching his shotgun tightly.
"B-Brother…"
Sanemi turned, veins throbbing at his temples as he glared at the persistent shadow.
"I told you, didn't I?
Don't follow me.
Can't you understand human language?!"
He strode over aggressively, as if he were about to tear Genya apart.
Genya trembled—but he didn't back down. He lifted his head, tears in his eyes, stubbornly meeting his brother's gaze.
"I'm not leaving!"
He shouted.
"Are you going to risk everything alone again?!
Mr. Uzui said that place is dangerous! There's a powerful female demon there!
If you go alone, you'll die!
I want to help!
I'm not the useless crybaby I used to be! I—"
Bang!
Before he could finish—
Sanemi was already in front of him.
He lifted his leg and kicked Genya hard in the stomach.
The force sent Genya flying back, slamming into a tree with a dull thud.
"Cough—!"
Genya curled up, clutching his abdomen in agony.
"Help me?"
Sanemi looked down at him coldly, like he was staring at a stranger.
"You?
A useless piece of trash who can't even use Breathing Techniques?
A lowlife who has to eat demons to fight?
Get lost!"
He pointed fiercely in the opposite direction.
"Stop following me!
Or I'll kill you myself!"
With that, Sanemi yanked his blade from the ground, didn't spare Genya another glance, and sprinted toward Yoshiwara.
Not a trace of hesitation in his back.
Genya slumped against the tree, watching him disappear, tears finally spilling over.
"So you still… won't forgive me?"
He wiped his eyes, gritted his teeth, and forced himself up.
"Even if you kill me…
I'm still following."
That clumsy figure melted back into the darkness.
Yoshiwara Entertainment District
Deep into the night—the liveliest hour of the pleasure quarters.
Neon lights, flowing silk, laughter and wine everywhere.
Men seeking pleasure and courtesans heavy with makeup filled the streets.
Amid the crowd, a small figure in tattered clothes stood out starkly.
Lower Rank Six — Masasaburō.
Muzan had sent him here.
He caused no disturbance. In Yoshiwara, strange-looking people were common enough, and if you didn't look closely, he resembled nothing more than a sickly beggar child.
Masasaburō stood in the middle of the street, staring around in confusion.
Too many people.
Too much powder and alcohol masking the scent he sought.
"Mom… where is Mom…"
He muttered, eyes hollow and feverish.
"Kill the Divine Child's mother…
and Mom can go to the Pure Land…
Mom will forgive me…
She'll praise me for being a good, filial child…"
Like a hunting dog, he weaved through the crowd.
Searching for a woman with a scent and face similar to the Divine Child.
A breeze passed.
A trace of that familiar scent—
Gentle.
Warm, like sunlight.
Masasaburō's nose twitched sharply.
Those vertical pupils locked onto a direction.
Not far away, at a doorway—
A woman in a pale purple kimono stood smiling, holding a little girl's hand as she accepted candy from a courtesan.
Her smile was so gentle, so kind—like a bodhisattva from a painting.
Her face…
resembled the Divine Child Inosuke seated on the high platform—seven parts alike.
Hashibira Kotoha.
Masasaburō's mouth split into a grotesque grin, stretching to his ears, sharp fangs exposed.
"Found… you…!!!"
Lowering his body, using the crowd as cover,
he crept soundlessly toward that gentle silhouette.
The storm—
was about to break.
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