Chapter 74 – Natagumo Mountain (2)
Zenitsu's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. His teeth clattered as he clutched his knees, curling into a ball.
"D-dead… he's dead! I told you this forest was dangerous! I don't—I don't want to go in! I'll die! I don't want to die!"
His words tumbled out between sobs, his whole body shaking as though the very shadows pressed against his skin.
Tanjiro stood stiff, fists clenched. The image of that dying Demon Slayer's face lingered in his mind, his broken voice crying "Why not the hashiras?" The fear in his tone was not the fear of death—it was the terror of something beyond mortal reach.
If even the hashiras might struggle here… what awaited them in this mountain?
The air thickened again, carrying the sharp sting of blood.
Beneath it lay something worse—an odor twisted and foul, heavy with the stench of demons.
Tanjiro's stomach churned, but he steadied his breathing.
If we wait for the hashiras, it will take hours. Hours these people don't have.
He thought of the survivors who might yet cling to life. Of his comrades bleeding alone in the dark. Fear gnawed at him, but he forced it down. I'm a Demon Slayer. I can't turn away.
"I'm going," he said firmly.
"Hmph. Too slow!" Inosuke shoved past, muscles tense beneath his bare chest. His voice growled from beneath the boar's head.
"I'll go first. Whatever Headbutt can do, I'll do better. What Headbutt can't do, I'll still do!"
Tanjiro blinked in surprise. "Inosuke…"
Inosuke jabbed a finger at him. "You two just sit there and tremble. Leave the real fight to me." And with that, he bolted into the forest, his body a blur of wild strength.
Tanjiro glanced back at Zenitsu, still curled up in terror. He hesitated, then said nothing. His sandals struck the earth, and he followed Inosuke into the dark.
For a moment, Zenitsu sat frozen.
Then a terrible realization struck him. "Wait… did they just—abandon me?" His voice cracked. "Aren't we partners? How could they just leave me like that? If they tried to convince me—if they begged—I might've gone!"
The Kasugai crow on his shoulder cawed harshly, unable to watch his despair. "Ka-ka! Stop whining! They're your comrades, aren't they? If you care, chase after them!"
Zenitsu groaned, throwing his head back. "Easy for you to say! You're just a bird. You don't understand humans."
The crow puffed up angrily, pecking at his hand until Zenitsu yelped. "Ow! Stop it! You're not cute at all! Nezuko's way cuter, even though she's a demon!"
At her name, his eyes widened.
Nezuko.
Tanjiro had rushed into that cursed forest—with Nezuko still in the box on his back.
Zenitsu's heart slammed like thunder. His fear exploded into sudden, frantic energy. "No way! He left Nezuko alone there? That's cruel!" His voice cracked as he stumbled to his feet, clutching his sword.
"Nezuko! Nezuko! I won't let anything happen to you!"
He tore down the path, but his panic betrayed him. In his frenzy, he veered off course and disappeared into a different trail, utterly separated from his comrades.
…
Meanwhile, deeper in the woods, Tanjiro and Inosuke pressed on, guided by the coppery scent of blood. Their sandals scraped against roots and fallen leaves until, beneath the twisted roots of an ancient tree, they found a figure slumped against the trunk.
A Demon Slayer, still alive.
Tanjiro approached slowly, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm Tanjiro Kamado, Demon Slayer Corps. We're here to support you."
The man flinched violently, hand flying to his sword hilt. His eyes widened when he registered Tanjiro's uniform—and then fell into despair.
"Gui rank…? Why not a hashira? It doesn't matter how many low-ranks they send. It's useless!"
Tanjiro's brows furrowed. "Useless?"
Before he could ask more, Inosuke charged up, snorting beneath the boar mask. "You calling us useless?!" He slammed a fist into the man's face, ignoring Tanjiro's gasp. Then, grabbing him by the hair, he hauled him upright. "I think you're useless, weakling! Now talk! What happened here?"
The injured Slayer trembled, eyes darting to the beast's mask looming over him. His fear cracked whatever defiance he had.
His words spilled out—the report his crow had carried earlier.
Tanjiro's chest tightened as the truth sank in. So it's like that…
"Your name?" Tanjiro asked softly.
"…Murata," the man whispered.
Tanjiro nodded. "We'll find the others. Hold on, Murata."
With his sense of smell guiding them, Tanjiro led the way, weaving through the oppressive forest. Hours seemed to blur, every shadow heavy with threat, until a sound rippled through the stillness.
Ping…
It was faint but sharp, like the pluck of a steel wire drawn taut.
Murata's face drained of color. "That sound… When it came before, that's when everyone lost control. That's when they—when they turned on each other." His voice cracked.
Tanjiro's stomach clenched.
His hand slid to his hilt, eyes scanning the dark. Inosuke crouched low, muscles tense.
The rustle of leaves.
Figures emerged into the moonlight—wounded Demon Slayers. Their heads hung low, their steps stiff.
Without a word, they raised their blades.
"Wait—!" Tanjiro cried, leaping aside as steel slashed down where he'd stood. "Wake up! Please, don't!"
But they did not hear. Their blades swung mercilessly, their movements unnatural, aimed for throats and hearts with killing precision.
Inosuke snarled, parrying a strike.
"Tch! Anyone swinging at me is the enemy!" His knee shot out, kicking one opponent sprawling.
The man crashed beside Tanjiro, groaning.
"Inosuke!" Tanjiro shouted. "They're our comrades! Don't kill them!"
"Hah! If they want to die swinging, that's their fault!"
Nearby, Murata staggered under a blow, nearly cut down from behind.
At the last instant, Tanjiro intercepted, blade flashing, while Inosuke hurled another aside.
The three regrouped, panting. Murata's hands shook, but his eyes widened as he stared at them.
These two… were far stronger than ordinary rookies.
Then, before his relief could settle, the fallen Slayers twitched. Limbs jerked like marionettes, dragging them upright once more.
Tanjiro's nose twitched. Something sharp and foreign threaded through the air. He turned, eyes narrowing. The scent… silk.
He slashed downward. His blade severed a glimmering strand that stretched from a comrade's back. The Slayer collapsed instantly.
"I knew it!" Tanjiro shouted. "They're being controlled by threads! Inosuke, cut the threads on their backs!"
"Fine!" Inosuke roared. He vaulted high, blades flashing. His dual swords shredded the silken lines, dropping the puppets one by one.
On the ground, pale spiders skittered from the fallen bodies, their round bellies swollen. Tanjiro's nose caught the same strange fragrance. His jaw tightened. The spiders are the carriers… someone is controlling them.
"Inosuke! Don't waste time with the spiders. We need the one pulling the strings!"
Inosuke growled, but his eyes gleamed with excitement. "Hah! Just what I was thinking."
He slammed both hands to the earth, crouching low. His breathing shifted, his body sinking into stillness before exploding with energy.
"Beast Breathing, Seventh Fang—Spatial Awareness!"
A pulse radiated from him, invisible yet sharp. Inosuke's senses expanded like waves through water, mapping every tremor, every shift of the forest.
The shapes of trees, stones, and prey filled his mind's eye.
Then he grinned beneath the mask. "Found her."
Not far ahead, in a clearing strung with glistening webs, a pale figure sat upon a round stone.
A woman. Skin as white as the spiders that crawled at her feet. Hair and clothes equally Demonly, as though she were woven from silk herself. Threads trailed from her fingers, winding into the forest, binding prey unseen.
Her lips curved faintly, eyes empty yet tender. "I'm tired… but it's all right. Mama will protect you."
...
Join my P@treon for advance chapters and special content!
[email protected]/Victor_Hale