Chapter 33 – Target
Pharmacy.
By the time Shinobu Kocho stepped out of the building, Hikaru was already waiting outside.
He stood quietly at the edge of the road, blending in with the flow of passersby. And yet, his black haori and calm, poised demeanor made him stand out like a ripple in still water.
—At least, that's how Shinobu felt.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," she said softly as she walked up to him, her voice light as ever. Her neatly tied hair swayed with each step, and the lavender-blue tips fluttered gently in the evening breeze.
"Not at all," Hikaru replied casually. "I just got here."
But then—he caught a subtle twitch in her nose.
"There's demon scent on you."
Her tone was as calm as ever. A gentle smile graced her lips.
But something about her gaze—those violet-blue eyes—carried a quiet disapproval.
Hikaru fell silent for a moment. The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
—Is she… a dog?
And why did that sentence sound so wrong in his head?
He held the thought. As a Hashira and a skilled medic, Kocho Shinobu had an incredibly sharp sense of smell.
Not quite on Tanjiro's supernatural level, but sharp enough to detect the faintest trace of demon presence nearby.
Even so, her reaction was a bit... much.
"Ah, I ran into a demon earlier," Hikaru said nonchalantly. "Took care of it on the spot. Just a small fry. Nothing to worry about."
But clearly, that answer didn't satisfy her.
Shinobu tilted her head slightly, as if pondering something, then smiled again—letting the matter slide.
"In that case… do be more careful next time, will you?"
Her voice remained gentle as she turned away.
"Come on. Let's go."
"There's a Wisteria House up ahead. We'll be spending the night there."
"Tomorrow morning, the next Kakushi squad will arrive. I'll have to return to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters after that."
—Tomorrow, huh…
Hikaru gave a quiet nod.
He didn't say anything more.
And neither did Shinobu.
They walked together in silence, side by side, until they arrived at the gate of a large traditional residence—one of the Wisteria Houses scattered across the land.
Along the way, Hikaru simply watched the world go by.
The lamplights. The horse-drawn carts. The sounds of footsteps and quiet conversation. Tokyo's modern night was alive with activity.
But his thoughts wandered far from it all.
He was thinking about the future.
About his place in this world.
About the demons—and the Demon Slayer Corps.
Since the day he woke up in this strange new world, Hikaru had always felt that this wasn't the end of the road. If traveling across dimensions was possible even once… then it could happen again.
And perhaps…
The Heroic Spirit Achievement System was the key to continuing that journey.
To unlock it, he needed to accomplish something legendary.
"…Is killing Muzan the goal?"
He didn't know for sure.
But for now, wiping out Kibutsuji Muzan—the source of all demonkind—was the most concrete, monumental objective he could see ahead.
Slaying a monster who'd lived for a thousand years wouldn't be easy.
Even with power beyond that of ordinary humans, it would still take resolve. Effort. Strategy. Determination.
He had to earn that achievement with his own hands.
Anything less would be meaningless.
If this world was real, then relying on "scripts" or "story beats" would only hold him back.
He had to carve it out himself.
Of course, he'd considered using modern weapons—guns, explosives.
But demons were far too powerful to be taken down with conventional firepower.
The only weapons that worked were those forged from the special ore found on the highest peaks—the same ore that made the Nichirin Blades.
Too rare to be wasted on disposable bullets.
And Breathing Styles… couldn't simply be passed down.
If they were that easy to teach, the Demon Slayer Corps would've become an army by now.
If he could think of it, surely the Hashira had too.
With a quiet sigh, Hikaru kept walking.
Above, the stars shone in the night sky.
He also remembered that this world had lands beyond Japan—great kingdoms and ancient empires to the west.
But from what he'd learned, the timeline of this world had shifted.
Unlike his original world, the global superpowers here had never collapsed. Some had even gone through social reforms and embraced democracy earlier than anyone else.
They stood tall at the peak of global civilization.
And Hikaru?
He didn't need to get involved with them.
Pride and admiration—yes.
But this still wasn't his home.
This wasn't where he belonged.
"…We're here."
Shinobu's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Without realizing it, they had entered a quieter neighborhood at the heart of Tokyo. The streets were empty. The lights glowed a soft golden hue—far gentler than the city's earlier glare.
Before them stood a classic-style residence with a small garden.
The gate bore the familiar emblem of the Wisteria Flower. Vines crept along the walls, their blooms gently swaying in the night breeze.
Shinobu knocked.
A young woman opened the door and greeted them warmly.
Up above, a kasugai crow flew overhead, keeping watch with its sharp, glassy eyes.
"Please come in!"
"Dinner is ready!"
"You may change clothes!"
"Please rest well!"
As always, the welcome from the Wisteria House was heartfelt and sincere.
Hikaru bowed politely in return.
And Shinobu—ever the smiling butterfly—kept her serene expression throughout.
The night passed quietly.
Later, in their guest room, Hikaru sat on the wooden floor, watching as Shinobu unrolled the futons and got ready for bed.
"…So, why is there only one room?" he asked, eventually.
Shinobu, already lying down, answered with her eyes closed.
"Ah, apparently the others were damaged during a demon attack not long ago… But it's fine, right?"
She opened one eye and gave him a playful look.
"It's not like it makes a difference, does it?"
Her violet gaze sparkled—completely unapologetic.
Hikaru sighed.
"Right…"
He understood. Wisteria Houses were sacred grounds for the Demon Slayer Corps, but that also made them targets.
Retired Slayers often guarded them—old folks who once wielded blades with terrifying skill.
Still… if demons attacked, destruction was almost unavoidable.
Which meant—this room was the only one left intact.
Shinobu had already fallen asleep.
Two futons, side by side.
Hikaru didn't sleep. He lay quietly, staring at the wooden ceiling above.
Then—
"…Nee-san… don't leave me…"
A soft whisper broke the silence.
Shinobu's voice. Dreaming.
Hikaru frowned slightly and looked toward his sword, still resting near his hand.
Moonlight spilled through the window.
The blade reflected the light—but only faintly. Its edge shimmered like glass.
Because it wasn't meant to be seen.
A sword without form.
And in the stillness, Hikaru murmured to himself:
"Demons… Heroic Spirit Accomplishments, huh…"
He turned to look at the girl sleeping beside him.
Shinobu's usual smile was nowhere to be seen.
Only a soft, helpless whisper escaped her lips.
"…Nee-san…"
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