In this world, there is right and wrong.
But right and wrong are ultimately a very subjective conclusion.
From humanity's standpoint, demons who fed on humans were wrong. From a demon's standpoint, what was wrong with hunting for food?
Right and wrong depended on whose side one stood on.
If one stood on Hiroshi Furukawa's side, then it was a heroic swordsman protecting humanity, purging evil demons, only to be cruelly slaughtered by one.
But if one stood on Soma's side, then it was a being who had never once indulged in bloodlust, persecuted without reason by humans who shouted for his death. If he did not kill them, they would kill him.
For the sake of survival, he killed those who sought to kill him.
To keep on living, he struck back.
What crime was there in that?
It was clearly one act of violence inflicted by an aggressor upon a victim, yet the victim was held to such impossibly high standards?
"Right and wrong depend on whose side I stand on?"
Makomo raised her head and stared blankly at Soma, but the pain on her face did not lessen at all.
"But Hiroshi Furukawa and the others still died by your hand!"
That was a fact that could not be changed.
The deaths of Hiroshi Furukawa and the others were completely different from when Soma had killed Kanao's parent.
Soma had killed Kanao's father. That should have made him the person Kanao hated most, yet everything Kanao had experienced since childhood meant she had never received parental love. All she had known was a stomach that was never full, cold that never ended, and beatings that never stopped.
Again and again, that abuse had long since stripped Kanao of any affection for her parents. Or rather, the very concept of parents had already vanished from her heart.
So when Soma killed Kanao's father, Kanao felt nothing at all.
Even regarding the matter of her father's death, her emotions did not waver.
Nor would she feel that her uncle had done anything wrong.
Or perhaps, in Kanao's world, no matter what her uncle did, it would never be wrong.
It would only be right.
But Hiroshi Furukawa and the others were different.
They had once traveled with Makomo to hunt demons. During that demon hunt, she had received their concern and care.
Demon hunting was dangerous. There had even been several times when her companions had saved her without regard for their own safety.
Those friendships once forged through life and death, the care she had once received from Hiroshi Furukawa and the others, the experience of fighting demons together...
To Makomo, those things could not be treated the way Kanao treated her father's death—as though they did not matter, as though the people involved were expendable.
"Hiroshi Furukawa and the others did die by my hand. But what else could I have done? Soma spread his hands and looked at Makomo. "Tell me. If you were me, what would you have done? Teach me a solution."
Makomo opened her mouth.
She wanted so badly to say a way to resolve it.
But after opening her mouth, she could say nothing.
"Was I truly wrong?"
Soma looked at Makomo, sadness in his voice. "If there was truly something wrong, then it was because I am a demon. So I am wrong."
"Because I am a demon, does that make me wrong?"
"Because I am a demon, should I be hunted down even if I have done nothing?"
"Even if I bitterly endured the bloodthirsty urges of a demon, even if I worked hard to hold on to the boundaries that once belonged to a human, even if every single day I suffered torment no ordinary person could imagine…"
"Not only did I have to resist a demon's desires, I also had to be hunted by demon slayers like you."
...
At this moment, Soma's voice was filled with desolation.
And that made Makomo's delicate body tremble.
It seemed that
she had always ignored this question.
Perhaps from the first time she met Soma, what she saw had always been the human side of him. He was gentle to others, always patient, deeply knowledgeable, and kind to everyone…
But she had ignored that these were not traits that belonged to a demon.
A demon born with desires impossible to suppress had struggled out from the mire.
During that time, what cruel, painful, and terrifying things had he experienced?
Just thinking about it made Makomo's heart ache for Soma.
And even more, she felt how cruel and heartless her questioning of him today had been.
How could she have interrogated him over these things? How could she have distanced herself from him these past days?
Yes, Hiroshi Furukawa and the other swordsmen had died by Soma's hand.
That fact could not be changed.
But this was not Soma's fault.
Hiroshi Furukawa and the others had killed demons because they were demon slayers. That did not seem wrong. After all, the demons of this world deserved to be killed. Demons who fed on humans should all die beneath blades.
But—
Soma was different.
He was different from those other cruel demons.
So why had Hiroshi Furukawa and the others treated Soma the same as any other demon?
The real mistake…
Should it not be that Hiroshi Furukawa and the others tried to kill Soma before understanding anything?
True, that was what demon slayers were supposed to do.
But did that mean they could kill without caring about anything else?
Without caring that this demon had never harmed a person.
Without caring that even after being forced to become a demon, he still held fast to a human's boundaries.
Without caring what kind of pain this demon was experiencing.
Without caring what kind of torment this demon endured in order to hold on to his heart.
Did hunting demons mean they could ignore everything and simply shout for slaughter?
At this moment, Soma bent down, picked up a piece of firewood, and tossed it into the hearth. Looking at the flames burning inside, he lowered his eyes.
"If you think I deserve to die…"
His voice carried desolation and disappointment.
He gently untied the Nichirin Blade at his waist and handed it to Makomo.
"If you believe that simply because I am a demon I must die… that being a demon is wrong… that a demon has no right to exist in this world…"
As he spoke, he raised his head and looked at Makomo.
"Then let it be you who ends my life."
"I accept it."
As he said this, Soma slowly closed his eyes.
The Nichirin Blade settled into Makomo's palm. The instant her fingers touched the hilt, it burned like fire. She jerked back as if shocked and dropped the sword.
Clang!
It struck the floor with a clear, ringing sound.
Soma said nothing. He simply bent down, picked the blade up again, and slowly drew it from its sheath. The polished edge gleamed with a cold, deadly light.
Makomo's face went pale with panic.
"If you truly believe I should die, Makomo," he said gently, "then pick up the sword and kill me."
His eyes were soft as they looked at her—those wide, helpless eyes that looked like a lamb's.
"If it is you who kills me… I think I could die without any regrets."
"It is just… a little disappointing. Perhaps Makomo has never stood on my side. Perhaps she has never considered what I once went through, nor considered me…"
"Forget it. Let it end. I accept this result."
"After all, I am a demon."
He sighed softly.
Then he slowly closed his eyes, as though waiting for Makomo to bring down that cruel slash upon him.