Knock… knock…
The sound of knocking echoed through the warm, quiet home, drawing the attention of all three family members as they looked toward the door.
Living deep in the mountains, it was rare for anyone to visit—especially at night.
So at first, no one moved to answer it.
Knock… knock… knock…
The sound grew more insistent, accompanied by a young boy's gentle voice from outside.
"Is anyone home? Please, could you open the door?"
"Dad, I'll go take a look."
Seeing that his father made no move to stand, Yamashita Kenzō glanced at him for permission.
Yamashita Yūsuke didn't respond. He simply sat there, head lowered.
Taking the silence as consent, Kenzō cautiously made his way to the door. He opened it just a crack, peering out warily.
Through the narrow gap, he saw a boy standing outside—a boy dressed in a green-and-black checkered haori. His hair was a deep crimson, his eyes the same shade, and a distinct scar marked his forehead. A pair of hanafuda earrings hung from his ears.
Sensing the boy's gaze, the visitor smiled—a warm, disarming smile that instinctively put others at ease.
"Please open the door. There's something important I need to tell you."
Tanjiro's voice was soft, almost pleading.
Kenzō hesitated. He glanced back at his father, who still sat unmoving, clearly unwelcoming of strangers. His own tone hardened slightly.
"Sorry. It's too late. Please don't linger around our house."
"I really need to speak with you," Tanjiro insisted, a hint of urgency creeping into his voice. Seeing that the door remained barely open, he lowered his tone and added, "A demon may have already entered your home. Your family is in danger. Please, open the door. If something happens—"
Before Kenzō could respond, the man sitting inside slowly lifted his head.
His eyes had turned an even deeper shade of crimson, and the hand hidden within his sleeve had begun to darken, taking on a bluish-black hue.
Yet he made no move.
Kenzō turned back—and under the flickering candlelight, he caught sight of it.
His father's hand.
What should have been normal skin had become discolored, unnatural. His fingernails—once ordinary—had lengthened into sharp, beast-like claws.
In that instant, memories flooded Kenzō's mind.
All the small, unsettling changes in his father lately…
The growing strangeness.
The subtle wrongness he had tried to ignore.
Somewhere along the way…
His father had already become something else.
Something the people outside were searching for.
A demon.
"I don't care who you are, but don't knock on our door in the middle of the night," Kenzō snapped, turning back toward the crack in the door, his voice filled with anger and something deeper—fear, perhaps. "There's no demon in this house. No demon at all!"
"Just leave!"
Bang!
He slammed the door shut and bolted it firmly.
"Dad, I won't let anyone from outside come in."
After securing the door, Kenzō walked back toward his father, forcing calm into his voice. "It's alright… I've driven them away."
"…Mm."
Yūsuke nodded faintly.
He looked at his son—the faint fear hidden in the boy's eyes—and then at his wife, who remained completely unaware of everything.
Slowly, he lowered his head.
Drip.
A large tear slipped from the corner of his eye, falling to the floor with a soft, hollow sound.
"Dad… why are you crying?"
Kenzō stepped forward instinctively, concern overtaking him.
Crash!
With a thunderous impact, the door was smashed open.
Tanjiro burst inside, sword already in hand, his gaze locking instantly onto the man seated within.
"Get away from him! He's a demon!"
Even as he spoke, Tanjiro surged forward. In one swift motion, he grabbed Kenzō and pulled him back behind him, then brought his blade down in a decisive, merciless strike toward Yamashita Yūsuke.
The man shot to his feet.
With a violent motion, he hurled the chair he had been sitting on straight at Tanjiro—while his own body leapt backward, retreating in the same instant.
With a single strike, Tanjiro split the chair hurled at him cleanly in two. The blade cut through empty air, missing its true target, but he didn't hesitate—his feet pressed hard against the ground as he surged forward, ready to continue his attack.
Yet after only two steps… he stopped.
The boy who had spoken to him through the crack in the door threw himself forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Tanjiro's waist, clinging to him with all his strength as he shouted desperately toward the demon—
"Dad, run! Hurry, run!"
There was no fear in his voice.
Only worry. Only concern.
All of it directed toward the demon.
In the next moment, the woman in the kimono came to her senses as well. Though she still didn't fully understand what was happening, she grasped one thing clearly—the swordsman before her intended to kill her husband.
Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees in front of Tanjiro.
"Please, I'm begging you—don't hurt my husband! He's a good man, he's gentle… he would never harm anyone!"
Tanjiro's grip tightened around the hilt of his Nichirin Sword.
The sight before him—the pleading mother, the desperate child—stirred something deep within his chest. It reminded him of his own father, Kamado Tanjuro… and the way he himself had once looked at him.
The boy's feelings for his father…
…were no different from his own, back then.
"Dad, run!"
Kenzō held on tighter, despite the obvious difference in strength. Even as Tanjiro pried his arms loose, he clung on stubbornly, refusing to let go, refusing to let this swordsman harm his father.
Yamashita Yūsuke's crimson eyes flickered as he looked at his kneeling wife, then at his son desperately holding Tanjiro back.
Those blood-red eyes were filled with reluctance.
With attachment.
Then, without hesitation, he turned and leapt toward the window, smashing through it in a single motion as he fled into the night.
Tap…
Footsteps sounded from behind Tanjiro.
Soma entered the house, still holding Kanao's hand. The moment he stepped inside, his gaze swept across the chaotic scene—
The boy clinging to Tanjiro.
The woman kneeling in desperate supplication.
Both of them…
…begging for the sake of a demon.
What a beautiful scene.
What a deeply moving scene.
He made no move to pursue. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the broken window and spoke softly—
"Run… go on, run. But if you escape, what will happen to your son? What will happen to your wife?"
"Grr—!"
The sound of hurried footsteps in the distance came to an abrupt halt.
Farther away, hidden within the grass, Makomo—who had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike and sever the demon's head in a single blow—was forced to hold herself back, her patience stretched thin.
The demon stopped.
Slowly, he turned back toward the house.
Through the flickering light spilling from within, he saw the man standing in the doorway, holding a young girl's hand.
From him… came a familiar presence.
"You… you're a demon too?"
Yamashita Yūsuke's voice was filled with confusion.
"Oh?" Soma lifted his gaze slightly, a teasing note in his tone.
"I'm a demon?"
He gave a light shrug. "I certainly don't know anything about being a demon."
Then he glanced down at the girl beside him, his voice softening.
"Kanao, am I a demon?"
"You're Uncle," she mumbled quietly.
At her reply, Soma looked back up at Yūsuke.
"Not long ago, there was a demon who slaughtered an entire family and devoured them without mercy… that was you, wasn't it?"
As he spoke, his gaze drifted briefly to the boy clinging to Tanjiro, then to the woman still kneeling on the ground, pleading.
He seemed to ponder something seriously.
"Tell me… if such a tragedy were to happen to your own family, what do you think it would feel like?"
"I imagine… you would be heartbroken. In agony. Overwhelmed with grief… wouldn't you?"
He turned again, meeting the trembling figure standing outside.
"Well? Why did you stop running?"
"I'm not going to chase you."
"You could still escape, you know."
"Really… you truly could."
..
Drop some POWERSTONES to push the story forward!
PS: Read Advance Chapters at https://www.patreon.com/c/ReadJin