The fire crackled faintly as the child dozed off, curled in a makeshift bed of grass and leaves. Toji sat nearby, Split Soul Katana across his lap. His half-lidded eyes scanned the forest, expression lazy but senses razor-sharp.
The air shifted. Heavy. Wrong.
From the treeline, a voice slithered through the dark.
"Interesting… so you're the one who's been killing my kind."
A tall figure emerged, pale skin gleaming under the moonlight, crimson eyes burning with hunger. Across his iris, the kanji for Lower Rank Six glowed faintly.
"I am Mukagoji," the demon said, licking blood from his hand. "You should feel honored to die before me."
Toji rose smoothly, smirk tugging at his scarred lip.
"Big talk for someone who smells like rot."
Mukagoji chuckled, then bit his own wrist. Blood poured, but instead of dripping, it spread outward, dispersing into the air. In seconds, the clearing filled with a thick blood mist, coating everything in crimson fog. The fire sputtered out, snuffed under the suffocating haze.
"Try fighting when you can't see," Mukagoji taunted. His voice echoed strangely through the mist. "Every step you take, every breath you make—it's all mine now."
A claw slashed out of nowhere. Toji bent at the waist, blade flashing. The strike missed, but a second came from the opposite side. Toji twisted, parried, sparks flashing. His movements weren't rigid or patterned—his style was wild, fluid, improvisational.
"Cute trick," Toji muttered. "But mist won't save you."
His foot shot out, kicking the ground with monstrous force. Dirt and ash scattered, twisting the mist's flow. The distortion revealed a flicker of movement—Mukagoji lunging low. Toji pivoted, blade slashing downward.
Mukagoji's arm flew off, dissolving before it hit the ground. He hissed but grinned, the limb already regenerating.
"Sharp. Fast. You fight like an animal, not a man."
Toji smirked. "Funny. Animals live longer than loudmouths."
The demon blurred through the mist, slashing from blind angles. Toji didn't panic. His body reacted faster than thought—sidestepping at impossible speed, weaving through strikes, countering with brutal efficiency. Each parry was followed by a kick, each slash by a twist of the wrist to redirect force.
Finally, Toji bent low, disappearing into the fog. Mukagoji's eyes darted. "Where—?!"
Shhk!
The Split Soul Katana cut across his chest, carving deep into soul as well as flesh. Mukagoji staggered, coughing blood that evaporated into more mist. His body trembled.
"What… is this blade…?!"
Toji's grin widened, wolfish. "The kind that doesn't care how many tricks you've got."
In one fluid burst, he surged forward, moving like a shadow tearing through the fog. Mukagoji tried to raise another wall of mist, but the Katana cleaved his neck clean.
The demon's head rolled, mouth still twisted in disbelief. His body crumbled into ash, the mist vanishing with him.
Toji exhaled slowly, wiping the blade on his sleeve. "Blood mist, huh. Not bad. But predictable once you've seen through it."
He glanced back at the child, still sleeping soundly despite the fight. For a moment, his face softened. A fleeting ghost of tenderness.
Then he sheathed the Katana and smirked.
"This world just keeps throwing new toys at me. Guess I'll stick around a while."