Chapter 15 – The House Where Wisteria Blooms
"So strong… just what rank is he…?"
Among the three who hadn't been able to join the fight, the female Demon Slayer stared at Asuka in disbelief, unable to reconcile his calm demeanor with what she had just witnessed.
Asuka looked as unruffled as ever—calm, composed, as if nothing of consequence had happened.
But in truth, his lungs were on the verge of exploding.
The countless blood arrows unleashed by Akatsunuma's Blood Demon Art had pierced his body. Every breath tore at his injured lungs, and that was before accounting for the brutal strain of high-intensity Total Concentration Breathing.
His once emerald-green training uniform had long since been soaked crimson. An ordinary person would have collapsed from such wounds—perhaps even died on the spot.
Yet Asuka's vitality had always been abnormally resilient.
More than that, he forced himself to empty his mind, sinking all awareness into the rhythm of his breathing. By using air pressure to constrict the damaged vessels within his body, he slowed the bleeding by sheer will—a crude, stopgap measure, but effective enough to keep him standing.
Even so, it did nothing to hide the fact that his complexion was growing steadily worse.
"Hey! You—are you alright?!"
The short-haired swordsman, Rintarō, was the first to snap out of it. He rushed over, staring at the dark red blood running down Asuka's sleeve and dripping onto the Nichirin blade, his brow tightly furrowed.
"This won't do! You need treatment—now!"
"..."
Asuka didn't answer. He only rolled his throat once, swallowing down the metallic sweetness rising in his mouth.
He adjusted his breathing again and pushed off with his aching right leg, preparing to leave.
He still had to reach Mount Fujikasane.
He still had to participate in the Final Selection his teacher had spoken of.
"Wait!"
The young man who used Water Breathing stepped forward in a blur, blocking his path. "Your injuries are far too severe! Where do you think you're going? You can't keep moving like this!"
Asuka lifted his gaze to him—cold, distant as ever.
"Move," he said, forcing what he thought passed for a gentle tone, trying to slip past.
"Are you heading to Mount Fujikasane?"
The female slayer glanced at Asuka's uniform, then at the direction he was trying to go. Her voice softened.
"You can't. In your condition, going there would be no different from suicide."
Rintarō swallowed his pride and added urgently,
"Yeah! You're strong—I admit that! But if you go into the selection with injuries like these, you won't even last three days!"
"I never imagined you were still a trainee who hasn't passed selection yet… I thought you were at least a Kinoe rank squad leader…"
At that point, the leading young man spoke up gently.
"My name's Shinsuke. As you can see, I'm a Demon Slayer. This is Akemi, and that loudmouth over there is Rintarō."
He looked at Asuka earnestly.
"You're a Wind Breathing swordsman—and you're powerful. That demon, Akatsunuma… she'd devoured at least fifty people. Fast, cunning, and her Blood Demon Art was a nightmare. The three of us hunted her together for a long time and never managed to finish her."
So she was a Greater Demon, not one of the Twelve Kizuki?
A flicker of surprise crossed Asuka's eyes. His internal assessment of the Twelve Kizuki's danger rose another notch.
But Greater Demon or Twelve Kizuki—it made no difference.
They were all just obstacles on the road to power.
His goal had never changed.
Revenge.
"Which is why," Shinsuke continued, his voice firm and sincere,
"your survival matters—to the Demon Slayer Corps, and to our master. Power like yours shouldn't be wasted. It shouldn't die pointlessly in the selection while wounded."
"The master needs swordsmen like you."
"The master…?"
The title was unfamiliar to Asuka. It sounded like the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps.
He remained silent, but the resistance in his heart had already begun to soften.
These people are Demon Slayers… that means they're on the same side as Teacher Arasaki.
Can they be trusted…?
And what Shinsuke said wasn't wrong.
Forcing himself onward in this condition really might kill him.
Seeing Asuka's silence—and the barely concealed dizziness that made his body sway—Shinsuke knew his words had reached him.
"There's a place not far ahead where we can get help," he said quickly.
"I'll take you there."
He reached out to grab Asuka's arm—
—but Asuka jerked away instinctively.
"Kh—cough!"
The violent movement finally broke what he'd been holding back. A mouthful of dark, congealed blood burst out as he doubled over, his vision swimming as he nearly collapsed.
The three Demon Slayers' faces changed at once.
"Quick! Support him!"
"…No need."
Bracing himself, Asuka forcefully waved away Akemi and Rintarō's hands. Leaning on his Asauchi, he straightened again through sheer will.
"…Lead the way."
---
The so-called recovery point was a quiet courtyard hidden away from the main road, nestled against the forested hills.
Its walls were covered in blooming wisteria flowers. Their rich fragrance—hated by demons—hung thick in the air, carrying an oddly soothing, calming presence.
The courtyard was small: two tatami rooms and a simple medicine shed.
A kind-faced middle-aged woman, whom the Demon Slayers addressed as Aunt Matsumoto, was in charge of the place.
Wisteria motifs were painted along the walls—a mark that this household had once been saved by the Demon Slayer Corps. In return, they offered what help they could to any slayers who came by.
When Aunt Matsumoto saw the three slayers arrive supporting a blood-soaked, limping Asuka, she gasped and hurried them into a clean tatami room.
"Oh my… this child is badly hurt!"
With one look, her experienced eyes grasped the severity of his injuries.
Seeing the unnatural rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the suppressed coughs, and the uniform soaked through with blood, her expression grew even more serious.
"Hurry—open his clothes. Carefully. Don't touch the wounds."
She issued instructions rapidly.
"Young man, fetch a basin of clean warm water.
Akemi, go to the medicine shed—bring my needles, thread, and salves.
Shinsuke, hold his shoulders. It'll hurt while I clean the wounds—make sure he doesn't move."
Shinsuke nodded and approached Asuka cautiously, softening his voice.
"Hang in there. Aunt Matsumoto is excellent with injuries—it'll be over soon. You have to cooperate, or infection will make things worse."
Asuka didn't wait for him.
Frowning, he undid his clothing himself, revealing a lean, powerful torso covered in both fresh and old scars. Blood streamed from the gaping wounds, making Aunt Matsumoto's brow twitch.
The hole in his chest was horrifying—torn flesh peeled outward, damaged lung tissue visibly rising and falling with each breath.
The puncture through his right thigh went down to the bone, bleeding slowed only by his breathing technique.
His shoulders and back bore several deep gashes of varying depth—each one shocking to behold.
"…No need to hold me. Just do it."
"This child…"
Though she knew nothing of Asuka's past, Aunt Matsumoto could sense his resistance. She sighed and gently shook her head at Shinsuke.
She laid out warm water, clean cloths, needles, thread, cooling herbal ointments, and several pills on the low table in front of Asuka, then spoke gravely:
"Child, this will hurt. But your internal injuries must be treated and stitched properly, or they'll become far worse. Do you understand?"
"…Thank you."
After a brief silence, Aunt Matsumoto gestured for the slayers to leave. The three exited quietly, closing the door behind them.
Only Aunt Matsumoto and Asuka remained inside.
From the room came muffled groans of pain and sharp, drawn breaths—again and again.
Several hours later, Aunt Matsumoto finally slid the door open, her forehead slick with sweat as she let out a long breath.
"…What a strong child. He'll be alright now."
"Akemi, go make some hot soup and rice," she added softly.
"Everyone's exhausted."