The sun hadn't yet risen, but Toji was already on the move. The child trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
"Where are we going?" the kid asked, voice still groggy.
Toji glanced back with a smirk. "Where the money is."
He wasn't stupid. Villages plagued by "monsters" would pay anything for salvation. He'd seen the desperation in their eyes—farmers clutching broken tools like weapons, mothers whispering prayers into the night. All it took was one attack for their whole lives to crumble.
And Toji knew how to sell himself.
---
By midday, he reached a modest town nestled between rice fields and mountains. News of the ruined village had already spread; the locals murmured about demons, curses, or vengeful spirits. Fear clung to them like sweat.
Toji leaned casually against the post of a tea shop, Split Soul Katana at his hip, expression bored. But when he spoke, his voice carried.
"Heard you've got a problem with monsters."
The villagers turned, startled by his presence. Toji's appearance was intimidating enough—broad shoulders, scarred lip, predator's eyes—but the weapon at his side drew them in.
An elder approached cautiously. "And… you are?"
"Doesn't matter who I am," Toji said, smirking. "What matters is I can kill the things that butcher your people. But I don't do charity."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some scoffed at his arrogance. Others, desperate, clung to the hope his words carried.
The elder's hands trembled. "If… if you can protect us, we'll pay whatever we can."
Toji's smirk widened. "That's what I like to hear."
---
That night, he waited. He didn't waste time with prayers or traps. He sat in the middle of the rice fields, Katana across his lap, eyes half-lidded.
When the demon came, it was fast—skulking through the tall grass, eyes gleaming with hunger. But Toji had already calculated its path from the way the wind bent the stalks.
He moved the instant it lunged. His speed was monstrous, his blade fluid. The Split Soul Katana cut cleanly, the demon dissolving into ash before it even realized it had been hunted.
Toji wiped the blade, smirking.
"Too easy."
---
By dawn, the town knew peace. They also knew Toji's price. Farmers pooled coin, merchants bartered goods, mothers offered heirlooms. Toji took it all without hesitation.
Wealth filled his pack. The thrill of the hunt kept his blood alive.
As he left the town behind, the child jogged at his side, clutching a small pouch of leftover rice given in gratitude.
"You really took everything," the kid said.
"Damn right I did." Toji stretched lazily, grinning. "If they want safety, they'll pay for it. World's always been that simple."
The child frowned. "But… you saved them too. Doesn't that matter?"
For a moment, Toji's grin faded. His scarred lip tightened, and his gaze turned cold.
"No. Money matters. Power matters. Everything else is noise."
But as the child walked ahead, Toji's smirk crept back. His voice lowered, almost to himself.
"…Still. It's not so bad hearing someone call you a savior once in a while."
He adjusted the Katana on his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the horizon. There were more villages, more demons, more fear to exploit. And with every kill, with every coin earned, Toji carved a place for himself in this strange new world.
Not as a hero. Not as a Slayer.
But as a man who runs away from child support