Soma withdrew his gaze and closed the window, then led Kanao downstairs from the second floor.
"Is there anything you need to pack?" he asked, looking back at Kanao following him.
Kanao shook her head.
The girl had owned nothing to begin with, so naturally there was nothing to pack.
"Then in a little while, we'll leave this place."
Soma spoke softly before walking over to the mirror in the room. He picked up the comb resting there and beckoned to Kanao.
Kanao immediately came obediently to stand before him. Her beautiful pinkish-purple eyes were filled with dependence.
For no reason at all, a heavy feeling settled in his chest. Before, when he had been alone, nothing mattered—he had no one to worry about. But now, he had concerns.
Suddenly, he found himself worrying: if he were to die, how would this dazed, withdrawn girl survive on her own?
However, he soon chuckled to himself. If he were dead, he wouldn't feel a thing; the very concept of "worry" would cease to exist. If he were gone, there would be no point in fussing over such things.
"Uncle is going to comb your hair," he said, patting the head he hadn't tended to all day.
Kanao was a very obedient and well-behaved girl. She quietly turned around.
Soma lifted the comb and began gently tidying her hair. Compared to when they had first met—when it had been dirty and tangled into clumps—her hair was now much cleaner. Though some strands were still yellowish from malnutrition, most of it was black and smooth.
If she continued to eat properly and regain her health, her hair would surely grow long, thick, and glossy black in the future.
As he tended to her hair, Soma spoke casually, "If we run into danger, don't worry about Uncle."
Kanao blinked, not fully understanding.
"If one day Uncle isn't by your side, remember to take good care of yourself. Don't always be so absent-minded. Other people won't deliberately look after you. You have to learn to listen to your own heart…"
He didn't know whether she understood or not. He simply continued speaking quietly.
When he finished and pinned the butterfly hairclip he had bought earlier into her hair, he realized that at some point she had grabbed onto the corner of his clothes, clutching it tightly.
He stared for a moment, slightly stunned, then lightly tapped her head. "You're holding so tight you've wrinkled my clothes. Let go."
Kanao, always obedient to his words, released her grip almost immediately. But her eyes remained fixed on him, as though he might disappear in the next second… as though he might abandon her.
Sensing her dependence, Soma fell silent for a moment. Then he tapped her lightly on the head again.
"Don't look at me like that. It makes my chest feel all tight."
Kanao immediately lowered her head.
Soma found a thick coat in the room and draped it over her shoulders so she wouldn't feel cold traveling at night.
He also put gloves on her small hands. After looking her over from top to bottom, he finally nodded in satisfaction.
Only then did he pack his own things. First was the Nichirin Sword. He carefully wrapped it in cloth, then put on a coat-like outer garment and concealed the sword inside so it wouldn't be obvious he was carrying a weapon.
However, when the Nichirin Sword rested close against his chest—near his heart—he felt a wave of panic and shortness of breath.
Especially when he faintly sensed the warmth radiating from the blade, an intense unease rose within him—
as if, in the next moment, he might be plunged into a terror of death.
He slowly closed his eyes, suppressing the discomfort rising in his chest and enduring the nausea that made him want to vomit.
As a weapon forged specifically to kill demons, the Nichirin Sword was clearly unsuited for a demon to carry. In fact, keeping it close for a long time would gradually weaken a demon's body.
This was likely the reason no demon had ever wielded a Nichirin Sword.
But for Soma, he needed this weapon. Not because it was exceptionally sharp or superior—but because it was capable of killing demons.
He was wary of the Demon Slayer Corps.
But he was equally cautious of other demons.
After finishing his preparations and confirming nothing had been overlooked, he prepared to leave. For a demon like him, this place was no longer safe. He had to leave the city as soon as possible.
…
Holding Kanao's hand, he stepped out of the inn and immediately saw a dōshin accompanied by a man bearing the wisteria crest entering the building to conduct inquiries.
He faintly overheard them asking about recently checked-in guests and whether anything strange or unusual had occurred nearby.
Soma felt a quiet sense of relief that he had left early. If those men had come knocking, the abnormalities about him would have been easy to detect. After all, he had never once appeared at the inn during the daytime—something that would certainly draw suspicion.
Once outside, Soma did not head straight for the city gate. Instead, he blended into the crowd like any other person strolling through the town at night. He even stopped at a food stall and bought two servings of fried oysters.
Fresh oysters coated in flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, fried to a golden crisp—crispy on the outside, tender on the inside—paired with lemon juice and tartar sauce, their flavor was exquisite.
He bought two portions—one for Kanao and one for himself. The two of them walked and ate together, no different from other townsfolk enjoying the night.
Of course, a demon's taste buds could not appreciate such delicacies. To him, it was like chewing wax. Still, he pretended it was delicious.
In this way, they strolled casually without drawing much attention, slowly approaching the city gate.
…
At a stall near the gate, Furukawa Hiroshi sipped tea while observing those leaving the city at night. Soon, he noticed what appeared to be a father and daughter pair walking toward the gate while eating fried oysters.
He saw the man bending slightly, lowering his head as he gently fed part of his own portion to the girl.
Because the man was bent over, his face and eyes were not visible. But Furukawa instinctively felt that such a person could not possibly be a demon. A demon would never treat what it saw as "food" with such tenderness. So he naturally dismissed the thought.
The girl, however, was not bending down, allowing him to see her face clearly.
For a fleeting moment, a sense of familiarity stirred within him. It reminded him of the girl he had once seen in Taro Town.
But the girl in Taro Town had been dirty, expressionless, and pitiful.
The girl before him now had delicate features, blinking pinkish-purple eyes, and clean clothes. At a glance, it was clear she was well cared for.
"Same age, different fates…"
Furukawa Hiroshi shook his head slightly. One was a princess cherished and protected; the other…
He sighed inwardly. Flowers may resemble each other, but people are different. The same kind of person can be born into entirely different destinies.
He suddenly thought of himself. Others his age might already have found someone they loved, started families of their own, and lived happily.
And he—
was walking a path of demon hunting and bloodshed, uncertain whether tomorrow or the day after he might fail to see the sun rise again.
...
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