Chapter 92: The Three-Man Squad
Cold rain soaked the Tokyo night. It also soaked through the clothes and the
dwindling hope of the young girl named Nobuko.
"Huff—huff—huff—"
Her frantic breathing and the white mist escaping her lips were barely visible
in the downpour. She struggled to stifle every sound, terrified that any noise
would act as a beacon for the monster behind her.
The demon possessed some unknown trick; it always found her, no matter where she
hid. Along the way, every pedestrian and night watchman they'd encountered had
been slaughtered by the beast. It was a predator of absolute, crushing power.
Nobuko couldn't tell if it was the winter rain or her own tears of terror
streaming down her cheeks. She was nearing her limit.
I shouldn't have gone out tonight! I shouldn't have taken that shortcut through
the alley! Is this my punishment for stealing? Have the gods abandoned me?
She stumbled across a large bridge. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if
trying to break free. Her lungs burned like a broken bellows.
The terrifying shadow that had been glued to her trail... seemed to have
vanished?
"I—I made it across... I'm safe..."
She collapsed onto the muddy ground at the far end of the bridge, ignoring the
filth soaking into her kimono. The monster hadn't followed. Perhaps it had run
into the legendary "Section 9" monster-hunters she'd heard rumors about in the
black market?
She'd assumed the stories about a secret government unit of samurai and
priestesses were just urban legends. But she had met the monster. The "enemy" of
those legends was very, very real.
"What do you mean, 'safe'?"
An icy voice whispered directly into her ear.
In an instant, Nobuko's entire body went rigid. Goosebumps exploded across her
skin, and a wave of paralyzing numbness washed over her brain.
The monster!
The pale, muscular demon in the tattered Western suit stood right beside her
like a ghost.
"Any further and we enter someone else's 'Hunting Ground'," the demon hissed.
"I'd rather not get into a territorial dispute with a local over a piece of
dessert."
Nobuko tried to scramble away, but the demon's hand clamped around her throat,
pinning her down. It had no intention of letting her run any further.
Despair consumed her. The demon's cold fingers gripped her jaw with enough force
to make her teeth ache, forcing her mouth open. His other hand began to mutate,
transforming into a slick, obsidian-black fleshy whip aimed at her lips. He
liked to inject his digestive fluids directly into the prey, letting the meat
soften before he drank.
Someone... please... save me...
Nobuko let out a silent, soul-crushing wail.
Almost simultaneously, a whistle of displaced air tore through the rain. A
streak of fire as bright as a falling star cut through the dark.
[Flame Breathing, First Form: UNKNOWING FIRE!]
"Release that maiden, demon!"
The fleshy tentacle was severed. Stung by the impact, the demon leaped back
several paces, hissing in annoyance.
"Who's there?!"
He looked up. Standing between him and the girl was a youth with hair like
roaring flames. His eyes were wide and filled with an intense, burning spirit.
He held a katana and wore plain light-colored robes.
Not a Demon Slayer?
The demon didn't see the uniform he hated so much. He grew suspicious. A
wandering ronin with a blade in this day and age? No, wait... that pain. It was
a Nichirin blade.
His arm rippled and regrew in seconds. "Who are you, brat?"
The golden-haired boy assumed a textbook mid-guard stance. His voice was as loud
as a temple bell.
"My name is Kyojuro Rengoku! I am a swordsman in training!"
Swordsman in training? The demon frowned.
Then, he noticed a second figure in the rain.
It was a boy with bandages wrapped around the lower half of his face and a small
white snake coiled around his neck. He had rare heterochromatic eyes—one yellow,
one turquoise. He walked past Kyojuro and helped the fallen Nobuko up, offering
a few low-voiced words of comfort.
However, the sight of the white snake made the poor girl shake even harder.
The boy with the snake seemed awkward with women. After a few brief words, he
turned his attention back to Kyojuro.
"Kyojuro. If you hadn't shouted, you might have already taken its head."
"A valid point, Iguro!" Kyojuro shouted back. "But a swordsman should slay a
demon with honor and a loud spirit!"
But the "Raid Party" wasn't full yet.
A third set of footsteps echoed on the bridge. Unlike Kyojuro's explosive entry
or the silent approach of the snake-boy, these steps were leisurely and
measured. A man walked out of the rain as if taking a stroll in a park.
The demon narrowed his eyes.
Another weirdo.
This one wore the official Corps uniform, reinforced with metal armguards. He
carried three Nichirin Swords at his waist and was draped in an assortment of
odd trinkets and gear.
This one is a real Demon Slayer.
"Three at once? I suppose I've been making too much noise lately," the demon
muttered.
Natsuya, the newcomer, acted as if he hadn't even heard the demon speak. He
looked at Kyojuro and the boy with the snake.
"Standard protocol, guys."
"But this time, Iguro, you go in with him. This mob is significantly stronger
than the strays you've fought. He's a Spatial-Type; Kyojuro will struggle to
solo him."
How does he know my Blood Demon Art?! the demon thought, a chill running down
his spine. Has he been stalking me?!
No one answered him.
Kyojuro straightened his back. "UNDERSTOOD, NATSUYA-ANIKI!"
Obanai Iguro placed the girl by a bridge pillar and drew his own Nichirin Sword,
stepping up beside Kyojuro.
"Since Kokonoe-senior has requested it... let us coordinate once more, Kyojuro."
The newcomer was, of course, Natsuya. The two boys were the "apprentices"—or
rather, the XP-leeching party members—that Lord Shinjuro had entrusted to him
for "polishing."
The first was the "Owl Cub" Kyojuro. The second was Obanai Iguro, a boy Shinjuro
had rescued years ago who was a close family friend of the Rengokus. He was a
year older than Kyojuro and was finishing his final training under his own
Cultivator. When he heard Shinjuro had regained his fire, he had rushed to
visit, only to be promptly handed over to Natsuya for "training from hell."
Natsuya's "training" involved Nikaido-style full-contact sparring and field
missions. He let the boys do the heavy lifting for most of the fight to build
their "Game Sense." Unless it was a total scrub, Natsuya usually stepped in at
the 1% HP mark to secure the kill and the XP.
The boys had been confused by this "Kill-Stealing" habit at first, but they
eventually rationalized it as Natsuya's deep, bottomless hatred for demons—that
he simply had to be the one to personally end every monster's existence.
Natsuya's casual dismissal of him infuriated the demon.
"Another arrogant Slayer?" He bared his fangs. "Do you think you're different
from the watchmen or the other 'Otsu-rank' fools I've devoured? Sending two
children to test me while you stand back... the hubris is disgusting."
In a blur, the demon vanished.
A split second later, he appeared behind Kyojuro's left shoulder with a sadistic
grin, his claws aiming for the boy's heart.
Aside from basic limb mutation, his pride and joy was his Blood Demon Art:
High-Speed Warp. When he first awakened it, he thought he was just fast. But
over decades, he realized he was actually "displacing" the air and leaping
across space to any point within his line of sight.
He could jump up to a hundred meters instantly. If he marked a target with his
saliva, he could warp to them regardless of distance. This was how he had
tracked Nobuko so efficiently.
No one reacts to a warp! That was his experience.
I'll kill the yellow-haired brat first and make you pay for your arrogance!
But he was wrong.
Kyojuro reacted at the final frame. His blade ignited with a massive surge of
fire, catching the demon's claws mid-thrust.
"MONSTER! YOUR ABILITY IS IMPRESSIVE!" Kyojuro shouted. Even as he was pushed
back by the force, his eyes remained bright. "IF ANIKI HADN'T WARNED ME, I MIGHT
HAVE LOST A LIFE-BAR!"
Almost simultaneously, a fluid, rippling slash like the surface of a pond swept
toward the demon's back.
The demon spun to parry. Blood sprayed from his forearm as the blade bit deep,
but his dense bone structure jammed the sword. He triggered his warp again,
flickering away from the pincer move.
What is with these kids? the demon thought. They're physically weak, but they
fight like veterans.
Under the dim moonlight, he finally noticed the details he'd missed.
Aside from the Slayer who hadn't moved yet... why were these two boys covered in
bruises? Their faces were swollen and their bodies were clearly battered.
(They looked like they had been through a week of boss-fights before they even
found him.)
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