The mud-stained demon realized he'd been played, played with the name of his own boss, no less. Simply eating this human wouldn't cut it anymore. He had to tear him to pieces.
He dropped to all fours and kicked off with his hind legs like a hunting beast. Veins bulged. His eyes jutted, livid with rage at Ryuzaki.
Then, like an arrow loosed from the string, he shot straight for the boy. By now, Ryuzaki had already sprinted a good distance.
Running, Ryuzaki pressed a hand to his chest. A faint green glow bloomed beneath his palm, a soft light that felt alive.
Even he didn't know what this ability was. He only knew it was innate, and that spending mental focus let him knit flesh back together.
Demons had Blood Demon Arts in this world. Was it so strange that someone reborn into it had a bit of divine favor? Besides, plenty of Demon Slayer Corps fighters had their own strange traits.
The gentle green light flickered out. The pain in his chest vanished. The broken ribs felt… whole. His head, though, thrummed with a dull buzz.
Just when he thought he'd gotten away, the demon's warped shriek clawed up from behind.
"Kid, when I catch you, I'll rip your fingers off one by one. Then your toes. I'll take you apart piece by piece."
The voice raised gooseflesh along Ryuzaki's arms. He glanced back, and the demon was less than a hundred meters away. For a second, he wondered if he was just slow.
Then he thought it through. He's on all fours. I'm on two legs. Of course, he's faster.
Ryuzaki stopped dead. The sudden move threw the demon off for a beat.
"Smart," the demon said smugly. "You know you're dead, so you stopped. For that, I'll ease your punishment a little."
Ryuzaki sighed. "I wasn't tricking you just now. You just don't look very bright."
"You're begging to die!"
With a roar, the demon pounced. Ryuzaki planted his left foot and sank his weight. A faint, circular pattern seemed to whirl underfoot as his steps coiled, borrowing the demon's momentum and returning it in kind. The beast flew.
A tree ahead crashed down. The demon pile-drove into the earth, face-first into the mud, finally living up to "dirt demon." Ryuzaki exhaled a long, hot breath and withdrew his left foot.
Seeing the demon's head stuck in the ground, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, well, snacking on dirt now? Starving, are we?"
The demon still reeled. The instant he'd touched the boy, his force felt stolen, then hurled back at him. "Weird" was the only word that fit.
Suddenly, the soil around his buried head lifted and hovered. As he rose, five compact earthen spheres formed in the air. He twisted his crooked neck back into place, and his face hardened.
Ryuzaki knew only two things killed demons: sunlight and Nichirin Blades. Well, there was also Shinobu's poison.
In danger, think of Shinobu. Even if that was just his own little mantra.
The problem was, night had fallen. His battered blade was broken. Poison? He had no idea how to "use" that. Tricky.
"Kid, you're good. Good enough to make me use my Blood Demon Art," the demon said, the playful curl returning to his mouth. "Your death will be worth it."
"Tch. You think you can even hit me? Nyeh."
Ryuzaki stuck out his tongue. The demon raised a hand, and one orb drifted to his palm. He shoved, and a sphere the size of a drum hurtled toward Ryuzaki. The boy slipped sideways and let it whistle by.
The tree behind him wasn't so lucky. A trunk as thick as a bowl's rim snapped and toppled. Just a test shot.
"Not bad," the demon chuckled, "but let's see you dodge the rest."
Ryuzaki didn't plan on giving him more chances. He clenched the broken short blade and charged. He could dodge, sure, but stamina ran out. A demon didn't.
Four earthen spheres spat out at once. The demon had underestimated how flexible Ryuzaki's body was. The boy twisted into shapes no normal human could manage, letting each shot shave past him.
As he slipped the last one, the demon appeared right in front of him, grinning widely.
"Kid, I never said I couldn't move."
The punch slammed into Ryuzaki's chest. He cratered into the ground. A follow-up kick scythed for his head.
He tightened his grip on the broken blade, and the sword form came on its own.
It felt natural. Effortless. He remembered the endless drills, five hundred swings a day, tai chi. He'd never managed a true technique before. Even with the Sun Breathing forms committed to memory, training had taught him just how brutal the progenitor style really was.
Sun Breathing, Second Form: Clear Blue Sky.
From low to high, a circular slash wreathed in searing flame carved through the demon's ankle. The foot came off. Ryuzaki's life, narrowly, stayed on.
The demon howled, a raw, tearing sound. Sun Breathing didn't just cleave demons; the wounds it left barely healed, and even when they did, the burn never stopped.
Feeling the fire gnaw at the stump, the demon hacked off his entire right leg. When Ryuzaki swung again, the demon sprang backward, opening distance.
Ryuzaki knew that strike wouldn't land a second time. The ribs he'd just mended were cracked again. He forced himself upright, every nerve screaming. Being in the Corps was a death wish of a job. No wonder so many Hashira died young.
Warmth surged up his throat. He spat a mouthful of blood, salty, metallic, foul.
That hit was vicious. If he hadn't bled off the impact with his footwork, he'd be a corpse already.
His blood might taste rancid to him, but to the demon it was sweet. The instant the scent reached him, the demon's eyes lit up.
"Well, well, you're Marechi," he laughed. "Didn't expect that. I don't know why someone outside the Corps is using breathing styles, but today is the day you die."
Compared to a Marechi, a missing leg meant nothing. The demon practically drooled.
Ryuzaki hadn't expected it either. Just his luck. Marechi,rare-blooded humans whose blood counted for a hundred ordinary people when a demon fed, spiking their power.
Good news for demons. Bad news for humans. After all, a demon would always go for the rare blood first.
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