Shing!
From the moment the hilt was drawn to the instant the blade slashed out, only a split second passed.
The demon saw only a flash of scorching light along the blade—felt the unmistakable aura of sunlight radiating from it, the very thing demons feared most.
"Nichirin Sword??"
The demon's crimson eyes widened in disbelief.
He had known that what Soma carried at his waist might be a sword or a blade.
But he hadn't cared.
Even if Soma had used it to sneak attack and sever his head, it wouldn't have killed him.
Blades were lethal weapons against frail humans—but to demons, they were of little consequence.
Never had he imagined that this blade would be a Nichirin Sword.
A blade capable of killing demons.
No demon was unfamiliar with Nichirin Swords. They were the weapons used by the Demon Slayer Corps—the tools that ended demons' lives.
But how could such a weapon be in a demon's possession?
Nichirin Swords carried within them the essence that could slay demons, imbued with the hated aura of sunlight. Any demon instinctively loathed them, instinctively avoided them.
The demon couldn't fathom it.
But now, feeling the aura emanating from the steel, he tried to dodge—and found he was far too late.
Soma's strike was too fast. Too precise.
It was so fast the demon saw only a streak of red light before he felt the bone in his neck being sheared through by a searing edge. Then, the entire world began to spin.
In the secluded alleyway, a head sporting a traditional chonmage flew into the air. The body standing on the ground, now headless, erupted into a geyser of crimson blood from the stump of its neck.
Thud!
The head hit the ground and rolled several times. Even as it came to rest, its eyes remained wide open, staring at Soma in disbelief.
It could not believe he would be killed over something as trivial as a piece of "food."
Nor could he believe he would die so easily.
...
Crimson blood pooled on the ground, looking cold beneath the moonlight.
Soma calmly sheathed the Nichirin Sword and wrapped it once more in cloth.
This demon had been careless—or rather, overly confident in the resilience of a demon's body.
After all, demons were not as fragile as humans. A human, no matter how strong, could be killed by a child with a blade if struck in a vital spot.
Among demons, such a thing was almost unheard of.
And it was precisely that carelessness and confidence that doomed him. By the time he realized Soma had drawn a Nichirin sword capable of killing demons, it was already too late.
As Soma finished wrapping the sword, the severed head began to disintegrate. In those wide, staring eyes, one could still see deep regret.
But regret changed nothing.
As the head and body slowly dissolved into nothingness, a foul stench spread through the air—along with something else.
A trace of sorrow.
Ordinary people couldn't sense that sorrow. Demon Slayer swordsmen who severed demons' necks with Nichirin swords wouldn't notice it—or even if they did, they wouldn't care about the grief of a dying demon.
But Soma, being a demon himself, could sense it.
He smelled the sorrow of this demon.
Within that sorrow was pain, regret, despair…
This sorrow was not grief over the end of his life.
It was the pain and sadness that surfaced at the moment of death—when he finally remembered the memories of when he had once been human.
Perhaps this demon, too, once had happiness of his own… happiness he personally destroyed, until he became something so twisted he could no longer recognize himself.
But no matter how deep the pain, it could only dissolve into endless despair—and then into nothingness.
Standing beside Soma, Kanao Tsuyuri tilted her head as she watched him stare at the demon. Her pink-violet eyes followed the demon's head as it gradually disintegrated. She saw the tears that fell from its eyes.
"It looks like he was crying," she said softly.
Sensing the sorrow lingering in the air, Soma replied in a low voice, "He has every reason to."
With that, he took Kanao's hand and quickly left the alley.
...
...
"It smells awful…"
"Why does it smell so bad? Hurry, let's get out of here."
"Did someone dump waste nearby?"
Passersby covered their noses and hurried away, grumbling in complaint.
Before long, the disturbance drew the attention of certain individuals.
Furukawa Hiroshi arrived at the alley with several companions.
"It's the stench left behind when one of those damned demons dies," one swordsman said, his face full of disgust. "Even in death they reek. They shouldn't exist in this world. They should all be left to burn in the sun."
"But why did a demon die here? Did someone from our side act?" another swordsman asked in confusion.
Furukawa Hiroshi crouched down to carefully inspect the spot where the demon had perished. "It hasn't been long. The scent in the air is still strong."
He then looked up. "Are there any other teams nearby besides us?"
The swordsmen shook their heads. They weren't sure; communication between Corps members was handled strictly by Kasugai Crows to prevent the headquarters' location from being compromised.
Many years ago, a demon had once followed the trail of a Demon Slayer and located the headquarters, launching a surprise attack.
Though the Corps was not annihilated in that battle, the backbone of their forces—those who practiced Sun Breathing—were all killed.
As a result, Sun Breathing lost its lineage.
To this day, there were no swordsmen in the Corps who practiced it anymore.
And among all breathing styles, Sun Breathing had been the greatest threat to demons.
Knowing they couldn't easily determine the movements of other teams, Furukawa Hiroshi turned to the Kakushi who had accompanied them. "Have any other squads contacted you recently?"
Typically, when Demon Slayers arrived in a region, local Kakushi would assist them.
Revealing the whereabouts of other swordsmen was normally forbidden within the Corps, but the Kakushi understood that the situation was unusual. After hesitating briefly, he nodded.
"Recently, only Miss Kanae and Miss Shinobu have been in contact."
"The 'Flower Hashira,' Kanae Kocho?" one swordsman exclaimed softly.
Female swordsmen were rare in the Demon Slayer Corps, and those who rose to the rank of Hashira were rarer still.
Among them was the Flower Hashira, Kanae Kocho.
...
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