Following behind the demon, Tanjiro stepped out into the night. The cold, desolate moonlight fell upon him, and he could not help but shiver slightly. As the weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him, his teeth clenched unconsciously.
He hated the fact that the second-in-command of the so-called Renyi Syndicate had set his sights on his mother. He knew well enough that these men were no good—thieves and murderers who committed every manner of cruelty without restraint. And yet… even so, to take a life so decisively—
That was something his heart could not easily accept.
Perhaps… perhaps among them were those whose sins were not so grave. Did they all truly deserve death? Was ending their lives the only answer?
His thoughts tangled into a chaotic knot.
Thud—
Suddenly, the figure ahead of him stopped.
Lost in his thoughts, Tanjiro failed to react in time and collided into him.
"S-sorry…"
Gripping the handle of his axe, he lowered his head, his voice trembling faintly.
Soma glanced back at him, then wordlessly pulled him into the shadows off to the side. Kanao followed close behind, silent as ever.
"S-sir…?" Tanjiro asked, confusion flickering across his face.
But Soma merely narrowed his eyes, gazing into the distance. Then, turning back to Tanjiro, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
"It seems we won't need to go looking for them after all."
"What…?"
Tanjiro frowned, not understanding.
"They couldn't even wait a single night," Soma said lightly. "They've already come to take revenge for what happened earlier."
His gaze drifted meaningfully toward Tanjiro's tightly clenched hand around the axe.
Tanjiro was no fool—far from it. It was only his innate kindness that held him back, that made him hesitate at the threshold of violence. But now, hearing those words, he lifted his head abruptly and followed Soma's line of sight.
Under the pale wash of moonlight, a group of figures emerged in the distance, moving quickly toward them. Each one carried a weapon, their silhouettes jagged and menacing.
At their head was none other than Hasegawa Satoshi—the second-in-command of the Renyi Syndicate whom Soma had encountered earlier that day.
…
"Boss, we've looked into it," one of the men said quietly as he stepped closer to Hasegawa, a coil of rope slung over his shoulder. "The one who took Yoshizawa Ryo's arm only showed up in town a few days ago. He rented a house on the east side; he's loaded and spends money like water."
"No word on his background?" Hasegawa asked, gripping his blade tightly, his expression dark.
"That sword… it was too fast. He might be one of those old-era samurai."
"We couldn't find anything," the man replied. "All we know is that he came to town to treat the girl traveling with him. Beyond that—nothing."
"Then keep digging."
Hasegawa narrowed his eyes. The memory of that strike—the one he could barely even see—still lingered, sending a chill through him. And more than that, it was the man's indifference to life, the sheer coldness of it, that made him hesitate.
But the incident had already happened.
As the second-in-command, he couldn't simply swallow his pride and do nothing. If he did, what would his subordinates think? His authority would crumble.
If he couldn't deal with that monster of a man—
Then surely, he could deal with a household filled with nothing but women and children.
"Once we're inside," Hasegawa said coldly, "tie them all up. I'll ask a few questions first—find out where that bastard came from."
"Got it, boss," one of the men snickered. "And after that… how does the boss plan on enjoying himself?"
A crude laugh rippled through the group.
Hasegawa's eyes darkened, his mind conjuring the image of Kamado Kie's graceful figure. A flicker of heat stirred within him.
"Don't worry," he said, voice low and greedy. "There'll be plenty to go around. I'll take first pick—after that, you can all have your fun."
"Boss, that Kamado brat's a bit fierce though."
"Hah," Hasegawa scoffed. "Just a half-grown whelp. Even a wolf cub can be pinned to the ground. Once he's down, he'll have no choice but to watch."
Their laughter echoed faintly in the night, coarse and unrestrained—like beasts already convinced of their prey.
"Hah… not only does that Lady Kie have her charms," one of the men sneered, his voice thick with lewd amusement, "but I saw that brat's little sister today as well—she's quite the beauty. Still untouched, I'd wager."
"Ha! Boss, looks like you're in for a hell of a night," another chimed in, stepping forward with a fawning grin.
"Everyone will get their share," Hasegawa Satoshi replied generously, though his eyes burned with a different kind of hunger. In his mind, images flickered unbidden—the mature grace of Kamado Kie, the delicate beauty of Nezuko—and he swallowed unconsciously.
Tonight, he would make sure to vent every ounce of fear and humiliation he had suffered during the day upon the Kamado family.
…
Hidden in the darkness, Tanjiro heard every word.
Each sentence struck him like a blow, his breathing growing heavier, more erratic with every passing moment.
"Well?" Soma tilted his head slightly, watching him. "Your family has done nothing but live quietly, honestly—and yet this is what they're met with. Even now… can you still not raise that axe?"
"Ha…" Tanjiro's breath came faster.
"Do you remember what your father taught you?" Soma's voice lowered, yet every word fell clearly into Tanjiro's ears. "Remember... the Breathing!"
The boy's mind jolted.
Fragments of memory surged forward—the snow-covered night, his father's steady voice echoing through the cold:
Tanjiro, remember the Breathing! Always remember the Breathing!
Not just once, but many times before, his father had taught him the same lesson.
And then, he remembered something else—
The day his father had pressed a hand firmly over his own, nails digging into flesh, guiding him… showing him that strange, almost transparent world.
Right now, he couldn't reach that "Transparent World" his father had shown him, but the rhythm of his breathing began to stabilize and smooth out.
He focused.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Air filled his lungs, deeper and deeper, until his chest felt as though it might burst. And in that instant when he released it, something within him changed—his blood surged, his body seemed to ignite with strength he had never known.
Nearby, Soma watched in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the shift.
"Go," he said softly. "Begin."
Tanjiro tightened his grip on the axe.
Under the pale moonlight, he looked upon the members of the Renyi Syndicate. The hesitation in his eyes wavered—then hardened into something fierce.
"It's… your fault," he murmured under his breath, as though trying to convince himself.
Then, without another word, he moved.
He did not charge in recklessly. Instead, he circled around them, silent as a shadow, approaching from behind.
Soma watched it all unfold.
Then, in an instant—
Tanjiro struck.
The axe flashed through the night, and before anyone could react, a man's head was severed cleanly from his body.
The head flew, trailing blood, while the headless corpse collapsed heavily to the ground.
The laughter that had filled the air moments before shattered into chaos.
Before they could even comprehend what had happened, Tanjiro had already surged forward, his axe rising and falling in swift succession—two more men fell almost instantly.
Panic erupted.
The remaining members of the Renyi Syndicate turned pale, fear overtaking their earlier arrogance.
"He's just one brat! Don't be afraid, kill him!" Hasegawa shouted, trying to steady his men. The thugs, initially paralyzed by the ambush, began to regain their footing.
With so many of them, why should they fear one kid?
And yet…
The sight of Tanjiro, axe dripping with blood, standing beneath the cold moonlight, was enough to send a chill through their bones.
"DIEE!"
Tanjiro roared.
In that moment, something in his mind aligned with a distant memory—his father striding through a snowstorm, axe in hand, hunting a man-eating bear.
"DIEE!"
With another shout, Tanjiro leapt forward, charging straight at Hasegawa. His axe rose high, then came crashing down.
In the darkness, the blood-stained blade gleamed with a savage edge.
Hasegawa's eyes widened in terror. He raised his sword instinctively to block—
But the force behind the blow was overwhelming.
The moment the axe struck, a tremendous strength surged through his arms. His grip faltered, the blade slipping from his hands and clattering uselessly to the ground.
The axe did not stop.
It cleaved downward, splitting through bone and flesh—cracking open his skull and driving deep, all the way to his neck, where it lodged firmly between his shoulders.
Blood erupted.
It splashed across Tanjiro's face, warm and vivid.
Tears streamed from the boy's eyes, mingling with the blood, tracing silent paths down his cheeks.
Under the cold, merciless moonlight—
He looked like a beast finally released from its cage.
...
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