Chapter 100: What Kind of Wolf?
Tokyo was once again plagued by a serial-killing demon.
According to the Kakushi's reports, several competent swordsmen had vanished in
the area. The task force assigned to the investigation consisted of Natsuya,
joined by his two "interns," Obanai and Kyojuro.
The night wind carried a sharp chill.
Obanai Iguro's gaze, moving in tandem with Kaburamaru around his neck, scanned
the surroundings. His eyes flickered with the same cold sensitivity as a serpent
tracking thermal shifts. Vigilance and paranoia were etched into his very
marrow—the scars of a childhood spent in a cage, groomed as a sacrifice.
He was stubborn and suspicious, habitually keeping everyone at arm's length. But
lately, standing next to these two, that rigid shell of self-preservation had
developed some subtle cracks. When Natsuya or Kyojuro occasionally stepped in
front of him, momentarily blocking his line of sight, he no longer felt that
instinctive, spike of panic.
He looked first at the teenager draped in a mismatched assortment of gear.
Kokonoe Natsuya.
A Demon Slayer only a few years older than himself, yet an enigma that Obanai
couldn't solve. He wasn't exactly cynical; it was more that Natsuya seemed to
view the world with a detachment that bordered on clinical indifference.
In Obanai's limited experience, people like this were either high-born nobles
who had seen everything, or ancient monks who had renounced the world.
Natsuya was a walking contradiction. Even now, on a mission that had swallowed
Rank 2 Slayers, he radiated a freakish level of relaxation. He was idly chewing
on a stem of grass as if they weren't hunting a monster, but merely taking a
midnight stroll.
But Obanai had seen the face behind the mask. He was terrifyingly strong—so
strong that even if Obanai, Kyojuro, and Shinobu teamed up, they couldn't even
make him sweat. His medical skills were divine; he had stabilized Lady Ruka when
every other doctor had failed. And his knowledge? It was incomprehensible. The
way he could manually "tune" their Breathing Styles wasn't something a normal
swordsman—or even a Cultivator—could do.
Obanai instinctively circulated his Water Breathing. Thanks to Natsuya's
"Patch," the power felt smoother, more "obedient," as it flowed through his
veins.
Is this the power of a 'Master of Arts' as Shinobu calls him?
Aside from the occasional weird gibberish he spouted or his habit of spacing out
mid-conversation, Natsuya was a nearly flawless Senior. Obanai had fully
acknowledged his strength.
Compared to Natsuya, Kyojuro was much more "real." At least Obanai felt he was a
human being. The eldest son of Lord Shinjuro was a golden retriever in human
form—high energy, honest, and pure-hearted. Despite being younger than Obanai,
his searing Flame Breathing and swordsmanship were already on par with his own.
Currently, Kyojuro was walking ahead, animatedly discussing things like "The
Will to Protect," "Burning Passion," and "The Essentials of Bushido" with
Natsuya.
Even though Natsuya was clearly AFK and staring into space, Kyojuro kept yapping
with intense earnestness, seemingly unconcerned about alerting any lurking
demons.
Normally, Obanai would have loathed such a loud, bright person. In the blinding
light of their optimism, someone like him—who lived in the damp, dark corners of
the world—usually felt only exposed and uncomfortable.
But perhaps it was the lack of malice in Kyojuro's eyes, or the fact that he was
the son of his savior, Shinjuro. It allowed the "Snake" who had crawled out of a
cage of filth to feel a clumsy but direct sense of warmth.
Obanai reached up, his fingertips touching the bandages covering his mouth.
Beneath them lay a jagged split that ran across his face—the brand of his cursed
bloodline.
It didn't hurt anymore. But he still couldn't face it.
A wave of emotion hit him. I'm a creature of the shadows, yet because they don't
know the truth, I can stay at the Rengoku estate. I can train with Kyojuro and
Shinobu. And I can be treated as an equal by a weirdo like Natsuya.
If possible... I hope these two idiots and Lord Shinjuro can keep living for a
long time.
Obanai's Breathing Style flickered for a microsecond as his mind wandered.
Before he could recalibrate, the air changed.
From the shadows of a brick wall to their side, a pool of darkness suddenly
condensed. A pair of massive hands erupted from the void.
A Demon!
"Two targets identified!"
The voice was raspy, like a starving wolf howling across a wasteland. Radiating
a thick, concentrated malice, the demon lunged from the shadows toward Natsuya
and Kyojuro.
Obanai snapped into focus. "DON'T SPACE OUT!"
He drew his Nichirin Sword, slashing toward the intruder. Almost simultaneously,
Kyojuro's flames detonated in front. Water and Fire triggered as one.
Their blades reached the demon before its claws could connect. In the mess of
clashing light, Obanai caught a glimpse of Natsuya's right hand—it had started
to move toward his hilt, then relaxed.
That stupid Senior... he's making me worry for nothing.
Obanai focused entirely on the blade, pouring his core strength into the edge!
Hit!
But the tactile feedback was wrong. The Nichirin Sword didn't bite. A muddy,
sludge-like shadow had enveloped the demon, acting as a physical barrier that
kept the steel from reaching the skin. Looking closer, Obanai saw tiny, gnashing
teeth within the shadow, actively "biting" and grinding against his blade.
What the hell is this?!
Obanai hesitated, instinctively wanting to pull back and reset.
"Standard Protocol!"
Kyojuro's roar snapped Obanai back.
Battle practice goes to us. Decapitation for XP goes to Senior.
If one hit doesn't break the shield, just keep DPSing!
[Flame Breathing, Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation!]
Searing orange light exploded. Kyojuro was a projectile of fire, his heated
slashes tearing through the air and actually burning away a few strands of the
writhing shadows.
"Don't resist me! Damn it... Calm down. Calm down. CALM DOWN!"
The demon ignored the burns and swung a right hook at Kyojuro. But it wasn't a
claw swipe. It was a black, metallic rectangular box.
Obanai had seen similar objects in Natsuya's collection.
"IT'S A FIREARM! KYOJURO, DUCK!"
Obanai transformed his blade into a liquid stream, a winding river that cut
through the space between Kyojuro and the demon.
[Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance!]
BANG!
The gunshot rang out, but Obanai's redirection strike knocked the barrel
off-course. The bullet whizzed past the Owl Cub's shoulder, missing him by an
inch. Both boys were momentarily stunned.
If Natsuya hadn't been flaunting his Colt pistol every chance he got, they would
have been completely blindsided by a demon using a Western firearm.
Aren't demons supposed to use Blood Demon Arts? Why is he using a gun?
The two boys focused on their target. A tall man with jagged, predatory teeth
and a mass of spikey, black hair. His eyes were clear—no numbers. Not a member
of the Twelve Kizuki.
Obanai/Kyojuro: Together, we can take him.
The duo prepared for a follow-up charge.
"Every time I see you swordsmen, it makes my blood boil! I want to take you
apart and interrogate you piece by piece!"
The demon looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. Suddenly, he pressed
the handgun against his own temple.
He pulled the trigger.
BANG!
A spray of demonic brain matter painted the wall. The two juniors froze in
shock. Even Natsuya, watching from the side, blinked.
Is this mob... glitching?
[Hairo ???] [Power Level: 135 (Body: 66, Tech: 59, Mind: 10)] [Blood Demon Art:
Umarokaku - Shadow] [Blood Demon Art: Umarokaku - Exotic Space]
This is the first time I've seen a demon with such a high Tech stat, Natsuya
noted. But those skills... they don't seem to have anything to do with
firelocks.
While Natsuya analyzed the data, the demon's head finished regenerating.
"There... much clearer now."
He shook his head, his gaze locking onto the duo. Slowly, he reached into the
shadows of his coat and pulled out a brand-new Arisaka Type 38 Rifle.
He leveled the barrel at Kyojuro.
"I don't know why, but that yellow hair of yours... it really pisses me off."
He pulled the trigger.
☆☆☆
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