Chapter 99: Hung Up and Beaten
After witnessing the sparring match between Akira, Sabito, and Giyuu, Shinjuro found his own fighting spirit stirred. He pulled the briefly rested Sabito back into the training yard for a bout of their own, while Akira returned to his seat between Kanae and Makomo to watch.
Although Sabito had only just been promoted to Hashira and was still young, lacking the seasoned experience of a veteran like Shinjuro, his talent was obvious. After only a few brief exchanges, he had already begun to grasp the rhythm and patterns of Shinjuro's Flame Breathing, slowly but surely turning the tide and putting the older man on the defensive.
Shinjuro's strength was certainly not to be underestimated; he was a man who had clawed his way to the top, step by bloody step. But it was his misfortune to be the last Hashira of the previous generation, now surrounded by a cohort of prodigious talents.
The moment Gyoumei became a Hashira, Shinjuro lost all desire to spar with him. Then came Akira, who could also thoroughly suppress him in a fight. Even Kanae, who had the shortest training time among the current Hashira, was already a sliver stronger than him. And Makomo, while perhaps less overtly overwhelming, could still fight him to a standstill, all while possessing the immense advantage of youth and a vast potential for growth.
Shinjuro, however, was already at the zenith of his physical prime. In a few more years, his body would begin its inevitable decline, and his strength would wane.
He was keenly aware of this fact. It was why, even for an optimist like him, a deep sense of loss settled in his heart as he watched one gifted young Slayer after another surpass him. He, who had once stood proudly at the apex of the Demon Slayer Corps, was now the lowest-ranked among the current Hashira. The psychological whiplash was something anyone would struggle to endure.
Perhaps this was the root of his relentless criticism of his son, Kyoujurou. While Kyoujurou's own talent was greater than his father's, it paled in comparison to the true geniuses Shinjuro now stood beside. In his mind, if he had praised and encouraged Kyoujurou from the beginning, the boy would have grown up complacent. Then, upon becoming a Hashira, the shock of being surrounded by his betters would have been a far greater blow than the one Shinjuro himself was now weathering.
An upbringing built on hardship and criticism was certainly not a gentle path for a child, but it ensured that those who survived it would be anything but mediocre.
After exhausting every technique short of the Rengoku clan's most desperate, life-risking forms and still finding no way to reverse Sabito's oppressive advance, Shinjuro finally conceded.
"Ah..." he sighed, his voice a mixture of relief and a faint, lingering helplessness. "It truly is the era of you young people now."
"A few years ago, the entire Demon Slayer Corps was supported by you alone, senior," Akira offered gently. "You should be happy to see it transform into the powerful organization it is today. Without you holding the line, we juniors might never have had the chance to grow so smoothly."
Shinjuro's eyes widened slightly, and a hearty laugh boomed from his chest. "You're right! Haha, I suppose I was still of some use after all."
Just like that, he shook off the shroud of melancholy, his passionate spirit blazing forth once more.
And with that, the Hashira Meeting concluded.
...
In the days following the meeting, Akira became a veritable wanderer.
He had carefully planned his route: starting from the Butterfly Mansion, he would make a significant detour through Asakusa before heading towards his final destination, Mount Kumotori.
In truth, Mount Kumotori and Mount Sagiri were not far from each other; an ordinary person could walk the distance in a matter of days. At Akira's pace, the journey from the Butterfly Mansion to Mount Kumotori should have taken no more than two or three days.
But he refused to go unprepared. He was determined to visit Asakusa first, hoping to find a certain demon—one whose Blood Demon Art could grant a form of invisibility. If he could locate and deal with that demon, his mission to secure the Kamado family would proceed far more smoothly.
Thus, a simple two-day trip was intentionally extended into a journey of over a month.
For such a long expedition, Akira had requested a fresh supply of newly developed poisons and medicines from Shinobu, planning to find a few unlucky demons along the way to test their efficacy.
And "unlucky" was precisely the word for them.
For the first two days, however, it seemed Akira's own luck was rather poor. He wandered through the nights without encountering a single demon.
On the third night, as he passed a small grove on the outskirts of a town, a faint, mournful roar cut through the silence. At the same moment, Ink Shadow, his crow patrolling the skies above, sent down a signal confirming a demon had been found. Man and bird immediately converged on the source of the sound.
As he ran, Akira's expression grew strange. Ink Shadow's description of the scene was bizarre.
"A demon, hung up," the crow had reported, "being beaten by a white-haired boy."
'White hair... beating a demon while it's strung up...' The description immediately brought to mind a certain hot-headed character from the original story. The pieces fit perfectly.
When Akira finally arrived, the scene before him was exactly as he had imagined.
A ferocious-looking demon was bound by thick ropes tied around its ankles, its entire body hanging upside down from a thick tree branch. Its arms had been severed at the shoulders and were only just beginning to slowly regenerate.
Below it stood a white-haired boy, looking to be about Akira's age. He clutched a blood-stained axe, his gaze fixed intently on the struggling creature.
"You damn brat! If you've got any guts, you'll let me down!" the demon shrieked.
"You sneaky bastard!"
"You have Marechi blood! You should have just let me eat you and get stronger! Instead, you used it as bait to ambush me! You dishonorable scoundrel! Humans aren't supposed to be like this!"
"You're noisy," the boy grunted impatiently. He raised his hand, bringing the axe down in a vicious arc. The blade sliced across the demon's already hideous face, opening a fresh, bloody gash that made it look even more terrifying in the gloom.
The boy, however, seemed completely unfazed.
"Aaargh—! You damned brat, you cut me again! You can't kill me! Once I break free from this cursed trap, you're dead!"
"I told you," the boy growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You're noisy."
With that, another swing of the axe landed, this time on the demon's arm, which had just started to regrow.
"Aaargh—! I'll kill you! Kill you! You can't kill me! You just wait!"
"Oi," a calm voice cut through the demon's frantic screams. "Need any help?"
After confirming there were no other threats nearby, Akira slowly emerged from the shadows at the edge of the clearing.
"If you don't want to die, get lost!" the white-haired boy snapped, whipping his head around to glare at Akira. His voice was a fierce, guttural snarl.
He only wanted to keep this newcomer, who looked so young, away from the danger. But he was hopelessly inept at expressing himself, and so he fell back on the only method he knew: a terrifying demeanor meant to scare the other person away.
Besides, his primary focus had to remain on the demon hanging before him. As the creature had boasted, he couldn't kill it. All he could do was keep it suspended here and wait for the sun to rise. Until then, he had to watch it constantly, ensuring it didn't break free from the ropes. He had already disposed of more than one of these man-eating monsters using this very method.
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