Dusk settled as the sun's dying rays stretched across the land.
The crimson glow draped over the earth like gauze, casting the mountainside cabin in elongated shadows.
Kuwajima Jigoro placed a steaming pot of rice on the wooden table in the yard and called inside:
"Tendo! Dinner!"
"Coming!"
A nimble, monkey-like figure swung down from the roof.
"Got nothing better to do than climb roofs, boy?"
Grumbling, the old man served himself a bowl before shoving the entire pot toward his disciple.
"Running low on rice. Make do with this."
"Go buy more in town after eating."
"Got it!"
Tendo nodded, picking up his chopsticks.
Though just one pot, it'd fill him halfway.
His appetite had been poor lately—one pot sufficed.
From a distance, the two similarly sized figures contrasted sharply: one eating a single bowl leisurely, the other devouring the pot head-down.
In these times, a pot per meal wasn't something ordinary folks could afford.
Thankfully, the Ubuyashiki family's generous stipend left them with endless funds—otherwise, master and disciple might've starved long ago.
After the meal, Jigoro handed over money, and Tendo sprinted down Peach Mountain—another part of training.
Peach Mountain Town, a modest settlement about five kilometers away, took him ten minutes to reach without breaking a sweat.
At the counter of the rice shop, the owner handed Tendo Kazama a large sack of rice.
The bag, which would normally require an adult to carry with both hands, was lifted effortlessly by Tendo with just one arm.
For him, using one hand was still somewhat strenuous, but manageable—he treated it as weight training.
"Tendo, your strength has grown again. You'd be a great worker if you joined my shop," the rice shop owner remarked, both amazed and envious.
Damn this innate talent for labor!
Tendo sighed inwardly.
If it weren't for the old man who had picked him up, he'd probably be starving by now.
At the thought, he silently thanked the old man for three seconds.
"Uncle Yamamoto, I'm meant to save the world! Working a job is out of the question!"
"See you!"
The owner shook his head, disappointment written all over his face.
This was the 869th failed recruitment attempt—another day losing a potential star employee.
"Tendo, hurry home today. The town hasn't been safe lately!" The rice shop owner had watched Tendo grow up, and knowing how easily distracted the boy was, he felt compelled to remind him.
Hearing this, Tendo Kazama, who had already walked several meters away, stopped in his tracks.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared right in front of the owner, startling him.
"Uncle, what do you mean by 'not safe'? Explain!"
Seeing the blazing intensity in Tendo's eyes, the owner was dumbfounded.
Shouldn't normal people be scared?
Ah, well.
This kid was anything but normal.
"Listen, there's been a serial killer on the loose. Over a dozen people have died already. Rumor has it the victims were all missing their internal organs. It's terrifying."
The owner's voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with fear, as if worried he might be next.
"Alright, alright. Get home quickly today. No wandering around—go straight back!" he urged earnestly.
"Got it. Take care, Uncle!"
Before the owner knew it, Tendo was already down the street, waving goodbye with his back turned.
What the rice shop owner couldn't see was the smirk on Tendo's face—his eyes burning with fervor, excitement, and a thick, murderous intent.
In this world, besides deranged killers, there existed another kind of man-eating monster.
Bodies missing parts? Most likely the work of a Demon.
Tendo had spent his whole life yearning for real combat.
In preparation, he had even sneaked out with a kitchen knife hidden on him before leaving home today.
****
Night fell.
The last traces of light vanished into the woods as the cold moonlight spilled in.
A chilling wind rustled through the trees, carrying a faint, metallic scent of blood.
From the shadows of a dense thicket, a pair of crimson eyes snapped open.
A grotesque, fanged humanoid creature lurked there, gnawing on a bloodied arm.
Suddenly, its body shuddered violently. Its dark, bluish nose twitched, and an insatiable greed flashed in its savage red eyes.
The severed limb dropped from its jaws as its fangs clashed violently, producing a sickening click-clack sound.
"Rare Blood… Such a rich scent. How lucky!"
"Hahaha!"
"Once I devour this Rare Blood, it won't be long before I'm promoted to the Twelve Demon Moons! My lord will value me even more!"
The Demon's heart swelled with delight at the thought of future promotions and rewards.
Tendo Kazama strolled leisurely along the forest path, the dim moonlight barely illuminating his way.
Sigh.
Why hasn't a Demon attacked me yet? Could it really just be a serial killer?
The thought that this country had more psychopaths than monsters left him feeling a little dejected.
If a normal person knew what he was thinking at this moment, they would surely think he had gone mad.
Not going home in the dead of night, actually wishing to be attacked.
Mad!
Truly mad.
Little did he know, in the pitch-black woods, the very Demon he longed for was watching him from the shadows.
The Demon's drool pooled on the ground like a small waterfall—this wasn't something it could control.
It was the instinct to devour humans, pure intuition.
This human before it was simply too fragrant, driving the Demon wild with desire.
Its intuition told it that devouring this little brat would be worth more than eating hundreds of humans.
It had never encountered Rare Blood with such overwhelming allure before.
Just watching from afar made every cell in its body tremble with excitement.
For it, such delectable Rare Blood belonging to a frail little child was nothing short of a divine blessing.
Where should it start eating?
The head or the feet?
No, no—first, it would drain the blood. Not a single drop of such precious Rare Blood could be wasted.
The Demon was like a fanatical believer, its icy gaze shamelessly raking over Tendo Kazama.
That gaze was like a lion staring at a newborn fawn—this would be a hunt with no suspense.
An unarmed human child, itself lurking in the shadows, plus its Blood Demon Art.
How could it fail?
How could it lose?
The Demon knew there was no way it could fail.
This human was as good as eaten—even if Muzan himself showed up, it wouldn't matter. That was its decree.
Delicious prey, savor the terror of death.
The Demon's lips curled upward, nearly splitting its face to the ears.
But who was the prey, and who was the hunter? That remained to be seen.
It thought itself the hunter with victory assured, unaware that it was, in fact, the true prey.
When the moon hung high, the Demon struck. To be safe, it chose to attack from behind.
After all, such Rare Blood came once in a millennium—it had to be cautious.
Just then, the Demon realized the child it had deemed certain to die in its mind had turned around.
Their eyes met. In Tendo's gaze, it saw fanaticism, excitement, thirst—and above all, icy killing intent.
What terrifying eyes!
Between us, who is the Demon?
Who is the true prey?
For a fleeting moment, this thought crossed the Demon's mind.
It couldn't understand why a human's first reaction upon seeing it wasn't fear but excitement.
Was this human insane?