Shuya froze for a second.
He stared down at Akaza kneeling in front of him, studying the Upper Rank's face carefully. Faced with that raw, desperate plea, a thought crossed his mind.
Did he finally remember his human life?
No. The idea died in less than a heartbeat. If Akaza had truly remembered everything, he wouldn't be kneeling here begging. He would've done what he did in the original story—suppressed his own regeneration and killed himself the moment he lost his head.
So this wasn't full recollection. It was that frustrating tip-of-the-tongue feeling. Important memories hovering just out of reach, close enough to hurt but not close enough to grab.
Shuya gave a small nod.
"Alright."
He manifested the contract scroll and tossed it in front of Akaza. The parchment hit the ground with a soft rustle.
Akaza picked it up without hesitation and read it. Even if his human-era literacy wasn't great, the Nen contract made the meaning crystal clear the second his eyes touched the words.
While Akaza read, Shuya glanced at Muzan, still trapped in his grip. A quiet wave of relief washed through him. Good thing Akaza had charged in when he did. If that full-power punch had landed on Muzan's head instead, the Demon King probably would've died on the spot.
And that would've been a massive waste.
Killing Muzan too early was like slaughtering the goose before it finished laying golden eggs. As long as Muzan stayed alive, Shuya could keep harvesting his blood—blood that could turn people into demons or fuel future contracts. At the very least, he needed to drain the bastard dry before finishing him off.
Tamayo was already gone, her side of the deal unfinished. But the contract with Yoriichi still demanded Muzan's death. Shuya wasn't about to screw that up either.
"I accept."
Akaza's voice pulled Shuya's attention back. A glowing orb the size of a basketball rose from Akaza's chest and floated straight into Shuya's body.
Akaza's Blood Demon Art was now his.
Shuya looked at the kneeling demon and felt certain his guess had been right. No more hesitation. He locked eyes with Akaza, adjusted his stance, and threw a punch that perfectly recreated the one from earlier—the exact angle, the exact force that had blown Akaza's head apart the first time.
Boom!
Akaza's skull exploded like an overripe watermelon. Blood sprayed across the ground.
In that instant, inside Akaza's mind, the world lost all color. A violent ringing filled his ears.
Then the memories came flooding in.
Flashes of his human life. His father, who never wanted to be a burden. Master Keizo, who pulled him back onto the right path when he was lost. And Koyuki—his fiancée, who never once looked down on his past.
Everything.
No… I'm not Akaza.
My name is Kotetsu.
Kotetsu of the Soryu Dojo!!
"Kotetsu!"
A strong, familiar voice exploded inside his head.
Kotetsu snapped his head up. In front of him stood a middle-aged man with a sparse beard, eyes gentle.
"Master Keizo?"
Kotetsu stood there, stunned, unsure what to do with his hands.
"Kotetsu."
Another voice called out. A woman in a kimono appeared beside the master, smiling at him.
"Koyuki?"
Kotetsu's mind went blank.
Master Keizo's voice was firm but warm. "What are you spacing out for, brat? It's time to go."
Koyuki reached out her hand. "Come with us, Kotetsu. We've been waiting for you."
"Oh—right! Wait for me, I'm coming!"
Kotetsu scratched his head, then hurried after them without looking back.
As he walked, the Upper Rank Three appearance completely faded from his body. He was once again the young man in the white dojo uniform—Kotetsu.
The three figures walked together toward the light and disappeared.
All of it happened inside Kotetsu's spirit world.
In reality, Shuya watched Akaza's headless body slowly lose its life force and go still. The punch shouldn't have been fatal… but Akaza's body clearly wasn't regenerating anymore.
Shuya felt the Blood Demon Art he'd just taken settle fully inside him, the last restrictions gone. That confirmed it. The punch had worked. Akaza had remembered everything.
He felt a small pang of disappointment, though. He'd tried using In the whole time, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever passed for heaven or hell in this world. But he saw nothing. No souls of Keizo or Koyuki waiting. No spirit leaving Akaza's body.
Shuya shook his head and let out a slow breath. The result was what mattered. Akaza got his peace.
He turned back to Muzan.
The Demon King looked like he was having a full existential crisis. Shuya didn't hear any dramatic "Akaza!" screaming like in the original story. Something felt off about that.
After a moment's thought, he manifested a large glass jar and stuffed the still-inflating Muzan inside. It looked exactly like one of those sci-fi containment tanks filled with nutrient liquid.
Thud!
A drumbeat echoed.
Shizuka Marikawa stood on the head of one of her massive wooden dragons. She tapped the taiko drum behind her again, and the dragon slowly carried her toward Shuya.
"Heya~" she called out cheerfully as she jumped down. The dragon and drum vanished the moment her feet touched the ground.
Her eyes immediately went to Tamayo's body on the floor. Then she walked over to Shuya, voice soft.
"Little Shuya… Tamayo-san, she…?"
They'd only known each other a little over a month, but Shizuka and Tamayo had formed a real friendship. Shizuka had always thought Tamayo was a good person—gentle, patient with her laziness, and easy to talk to.
Shuya gave a small nod, his tone flat. "She's dead."
Shizuka knew him too well to be fooled by that calm voice. Shuya wasn't heartless. If he had been, he wouldn't have looked so furious earlier. He wouldn't have almost killed Muzan on the spot.
This was the first time she'd ever seen him truly angry.
Normally he was so easygoing, almost… like a gentle old mountain goat?
The mental image hit her out of nowhere and she suddenly snorted, trying (and failing) to hold back a laugh.
Shuya: "???"
He stared at her. One second she looked sad, the next she was laughing for no reason. His gut told him she was definitely making fun of him in her head.
He poked her cheek. "What's so funny, Shizuka-nee? Care to share?"
"Huh?"
Shizuka nodded on instinct, then quickly shook her head.
Shuya raised an eyebrow. So which was it?
She rushed to explain. "I wasn't thinking anything!"
"Really?" Shuya gently pinched the soft skin of her cheek. "I don't buy it. You were definitely roasting me in your head just now."
"I was not!"
Shizuka tried to sound righteous, but her eyes kept darting away. She couldn't look him in the face.
Shuya leaned in. "You think I believe that?"
"I think you should have basic trust in me," she said, blinking innocently.
Then she reached out, wrapped both arms around his head, and pulled him straight into her chest.
Shuya didn't argue. If Shizuka was pulling this move, she clearly had her reasons.
And those reasons were very, very soft.
Shizuka smiled. This was her ultimate weapon against him—her special anti-Shuya noble phantasm.
She gently stroked his hair, holding him like a mother comforting her child. Her voice was warm and low against his ear.
"Tamayo-san died so suddenly… You must be really upset, right, little Shuya? It's okay."
"I've been watching all her research these past few days. Whether it's the reversion drug or the longevity drug… if you give me time, I can finish them for you."
"So you don't have to be sad. I've got this."
Even though Shizuka was usually the lazy one and was genuinely sad about Tamayo too, right now she was doing everything she could to comfort him. She wanted that tight, painful feeling in his chest to ease.
Shuya went still for a moment. Then he spoke quietly against her chest.
"…Thanks, Shizuka-nee."
Tamayo's death hurt. But the people still here mattered more.
Shizuka was right. The drugs, the longevity research—given enough time, they could figure it out. Or find something close enough.
This was only the second world he'd crossed into. The future still belonged to all of them.
Shizuka kept stroking his hair. "So cheer up, little Shuya. We still need you."
Right on cue, the other contractors started arriving, one after another, after finishing their own fights.
First came Rika Minami, humming as she dragged several tied-up Lower Moons behind her.
She smirked at the sight of Shuya buried in Shizuka's chest. "Oh? I look away for five minutes and you two are already going at it?"
Shuya lifted his head just enough to look at her. "You're done already?"
"Mm-hm." Rika nodded, looking pleased with herself. Once she saw Shuya had gone after Muzan, she knew Shizuka was safe. She'd cleaned up the rest of the small fry and brought these ones back as presents.
Next was Saeko Busujima. She didn't bring Kokushibo's body—just a deeply satisfied smile and the massive surge of power she'd gained from killing him.
Yuriko Takagi arrived with Rui in tow, three grotesque zombie-like demons gripping the spider demon tightly. She'd used her necromancy ability to turn and control them.
Saya Takagi and Rei Miyamoto showed up together. Saya looked annoyed—she'd accidentally killed Gyokko because the fish demon was too disgusting. Rei carried Lower Moon One's body impaled on her spear, but her expression was even worse. In the dream world she'd seen Takashi, slapped him away without hesitation, then seen a fake Shuya appear. That had pissed her off so badly she'd thrown her spear straight through the demon's head.
Last to arrive were Kanae and Shinobu.
Now every contractor who had been at the Butterfly Mansion was gathered in one place.
Kanae looked at the glass jar where Muzan was still frantically trying to expand and break free. She tilted her head.
"So this is the legendary Demon King Muzan Kibutsuji? He looks kinda like that pufferfish Shinobu keeps as a pet."
(Shinobu's goldfish was literally named Fugu.)
She waved at the jar with a bright smile. "Moshi moshi~ Muzan-san, you doing okay in there?"
Shinobu didn't join in. After finally killing Doma and avenging her sister, a lot of the weight on her shoulders had lifted. Instead of staring at the jar, she quietly counted the women around her.
One, two, three…
Besides her and Kanae, there were already six other contractors here. And that was without counting Nezuko and Mitsuri. If everyone was together, the number would easily be in double digits.
Of course Mr. Scumbag would have this many women.
What really bothered her, though, was how big most of them were.
She looked down at her own feet, then at her slim frame.
She weighed less than forty kilograms.
Shinobu's fingers curled slightly at her sides.