"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I don't know!"
"I don't know!"
...
"AAAAAHHHH—!"
The Demon's head, pinned to the ground by half a kitchen knife, howled madly. The name "Muzan Kibutsuji" was like a curse, a spell engraved in the genes of every Demon.
Just hearing it was enough to drive him insane. He no longer wanted to eat the human before him—he just wanted to survive.
Tendo Kazama shook his head and sighed helplessly. Look how scared the poor thing was. Time to show it what real fear felt like.
"Hey, hey, hey!"
He slapped the Demon's head several times, barely managing to calm it down.The Demon's gaze was vacant, its entire head trembling. The creature before it wasn't human—it was a devil, a monster.
Tendo reached into his robe and pulled out a paper packet. As he unwrapped it, he muttered to himself:
"Let's have a little chat about your boss."
"Like where it's currently residing, for instance."
"Otherwise, I'll just have to stop your bleeding for you!"
As he spoke, Tendo Kazama spread open the paper packet, revealing fragrant purple powder inside.
"This is wisteria flower powder. Want some? Stops bleeding fast!"
His face wore an innocent smile, but to the Demon, it was the grin of a devil—truly terrifying.
"Devil! You monster!"
"Stay away from me!"
"Aaaaah!"
The Demon's face contorted as it shook its head wildly.
Tendo gripped the Demon's face, forcing its mouth open. "The ordinary people you killed—were they just as scared when they died?" he murmured.
"They were innocent. That's why I say Demons are truly despicable creatures."
As a transmigrator, Tendo inherently despised ninety-nine percent of Demons. Not just because he stood on humanity's side, but because he loathed their wanton slaughter of innocents.
With that, he shoved the wisteria powder into the Demon's mouth.
To ordinary people, wisteria was just a beautiful flower. But to Demons, it was deadly poison.
Tendo drew his half-broken cleaver as the Demon's head began convulsing, its surface bubbling with purple blood in extreme agony.
The moment it killed its first human, it should have known its own death would come someday.
Boom!
With a loud explosion, the Demon's head dissolved into a pool of purplish-red blood. Nearby lay a headless corpse that continued twitching unnaturally, as if still alive.
When the sun rose, everything would vanish without a trace.
The warm sunlight nourished all living things—except for Demons.
Tendo Kazama hoisted a rice sack over his shoulder with one hand and leisurely made his way toward Peach Mountain, humming a cheerful tune.
"Time to go home!"
The bright moon hung distant in the sky like a clear spring suspended at heaven's edge, its waterfall-like moonlight spilling into the lush peach grove.
Before a small wooden house, Kuwajima Jigoro sat at the doorway, muttering threats.
"That damn brat, always fooling around. I'm definitely going to beat him this time!"
"Do you know what time it is? Has he forgotten about coming home?"
"He'll be the death of me!"
Beneath his angry expression shone worried eyes—just like any elder concerned about their wandering child.
"Where's my sword?"
The old man grumbled as he searched for his wooden sword. Suddenly, a small figure appeared at the edge of the peach grove.
"Old man, I'm back!"
"Just so you know, there's a reason my clothes are torn!"
Hearing this, the old man jerked his head up. He wanted to rush over and embrace his disciple immediately, but pride held him back. What came out instead was a scolding laced with concern.
"You damn brat! Where have you been gallivanting this time?"
"Just wait till I give you a beating!"
With that, the old man marched over with his wooden sword.
Then he noticed the bloodstains on Tendo Kazama's chest and the claw marks on his clothes—and instantly understood everything.
"You encountered one of those things!"
"Yeah, it ruined my clothes. So I ruined it back!"In an instant, all blame and anger dissipated. The old man, breaking his usual demeanor, ruffled his disciple's hair with a hint of pride in his voice and said:
"Well done! As expected of my disciple!"
Then, his tone shifted as he earnestly advised, "Remember, safety comes first!"
Tendo grinned and boasted, "I'm so strong, there's nothing to worry about!"
"Keep bragging!"
The old man gave his silly disciple a light smack and urged him to go to sleep.
Late at night, Tendo was already fast asleep, snoring away, while the old man clumsily mended clothes in his room.
"This needlework is harder than slaying the Twelve Demon Moons. I should just go to town and get the brat a few more sets of clothes," he grumbled. Sewing was truly not something a grown man like him was cut out for.
At dawn, Tendo was still sound asleep, while the old man got up early to cook.
Suddenly, he paused his work, his gaze sharpening as he looked toward the distant peach grove.
A tall figure emerged from the grove, and the old man, Kuwajima, couldn't help but feel puzzled.
Peach Mountain rarely had visitors, and the disciples he trained were all handpicked by him.
Sensing no killing intent from the figure, the old man wiped his hands and quickly stepped out of the kitchen.
Just then, the first rays of morning sunlight pierced through the layers of clouds like a giant golden hand, gently caressing the mountainside of Peach Mountain.
From the sky, the entire mountain resembled a vast painting. The lower half was bathed in golden radiance, dazzlingly bright, while the upper half remained shrouded in a faint, mysterious darkness.
The unfamiliar figure stood at the boundary between light and shadow, wearing a smile brighter than the sun itself.
Only when the man drew near did the old man finally get a clear look at his appearance.
He had long yellow hair with red tips, like flickering flames, and beneath thick black brows were piercing, lively eyes.
Over his brown Demon Slayer Corps uniform, he wore a white haori adorned with flame patterns at the hem.
Just one glance at his cheerful, fiery smile was enough to be infected by his energy.
Such overwhelming presence—this man was a Hashira.
As a former Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, the old man immediately recognized him: the current Flame Hashira, Rengoku... Rengoku something.
Having lived in seclusion for so long, old man Kuwajima couldn't recall the name.
Just then, a booming voice rang out as the fiery man bowed politely and said:
"Kuwajima-senpai, I am Shinjuro Rengoku!"
"The current Flame Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps has come to pay you a visit!"
"Oh!" The old man suddenly remembered—the last time he'd seen this kid, he was still in diapers. "You've grown so big now!"
"I even held you when you were little."
The previous Flame Hashira had been on good terms with old man Kuwajima, and he had visited the man's home. It was just a shame they hadn't seen each other in so long.
After losing his leg and retiring to seclusion, the old man had rarely kept in touch with the outside world. He truly hadn't expected his old friend's son to visit so suddenly.
"Come on in, kid. Have some breakfast?"
"Thank you, Kuwajima-senpai!"