Late at night, in Kyoto, on Mount Kurama.
Dark clouds smothered the moon, and the mountain lay like a wash of ink.
Night spilled thick across the ridges, their outlines dissolving into endless black. The spine of Kurama wound through the darkness before vanishing into the mist.
A small village sat there, home to generations of herbal gatherers. A single mountain path connected it to Kyoto. Each year, heavy snows sealed the mountain shut; now, in the heat of summer, the herb trade was brisk. With the night wrapped around him, Kaga Tomoaki returned to the village carrying an empty bamboo basket.
"That's strange," he muttered.
There were forty households in the village, yet not a single one showed a light.
Was it simply too late? he wondered, pulling his sleeves tighter. Nights in the deep mountains were never warm.
"Mother, Father! I'm home!" Tomoaki pushed open the door—and froze.
The house was in ruins. Blood had spread across the floorboards in dark red sheets.
His mother's head lolled beside the stove. In her arms, the swaddling cloth held only a mangled mass of flesh.
His pupils trembled as he staggered backward, only for his heel to sink into something warm and slick.
"No… no…"
He looked down and saw what remained of his father.
The old herb gatherer who could once bind a wild boar with his bare hands had been gutted, his chest cavity hollow, broken white ribs starkly exposed.
"Father! No… how could this…" Tomoaki's mind went blank.
A wave of icy terror swept through him.
This home, once so warm, had become an abyss. He wanted to run, to flee at once, immediately—but his legs refused to move.
He stumbled into an overturned table, and another body tumbled into his arms. It was his five-year-old younger brother, the one who had only recently begged him to take him to Kyoto someday to see the city.
A gust of mountain wind blew in through the shattered window, scattering the clouds over Mount Kurama.
Moonlight poured down.
And then Tomoaki heard a bell.
Not the clear chime of ordinary bronze, but a shrill, grating tremor that set his teeth on edge.
Stiffly, he turned toward the sound. In the pale light spilling through the window, he saw a gaunt young girl curled up in the corner, hair hanging loose, quietly sobbing.
It was his little sister, Kaga Shiko.
Shiko was alive!
The herbalist's son rushed toward her. "Shiko, Shiko! Are you all right? What happened?!"
The girl looked up, her eyes unfocused. "Ah! Big brother, big brother, is that you? Big brother… it was a man, a man with a sword. He killed Father, Mother… everyone in the village… all of them! Waaaah…"
At last she could hold on no longer and collapsed into Tomoaki's arms.
"Shiko! Shiko!" He shook her shoulders frantically, then exhaled in relief. She hadn't died—she had only fallen asleep from sheer mental exhaustion.
Then came a heavy thud from outside.
Tomoaki went rigid. Shiko had said the murderer was a man with a sword. That meant he might still be there, waiting outside for anyone else to return.
Grabbing the woodcutter's hatchet from the house, he crept into the shadows.
Moonlight revealed a figure outside.
A swordsman clad in dark, practical clothing stood there, long sword in hand, scabbard at his waist. He looked somewhat advanced in years, but his gaze was sharp as a hawk's as it swept across the village.
When he turned, Tomoaki caught sight of the man's empty sleeve. One arm was missing.
"There are still survivors. Thank goodness," the man said in a low voice.
Tomoaki darted back out of sight.
He'd been seen.
The one-armed swordsman sheathed his blade and stepped into the house.
He really had noticed him!
In that instant, the boy's heart pounded like a war drum. Gripping the hatchet with both hands, he hacked down with all his might at the man's head.
"What are you doing, boy?!" The man raised his sword and blocked the blow, frowning at him.
"Murderer!" Tomoaki roared, eyes bloodshot.
Then came a furious barrage of attacks.
As an herb gatherer, Tomoaki spent his life scaling cliffs and traversing dangerous slopes; his stamina and reflexes were excellent. Yet strangely, the so-called killer in front of him, for all his skill, seemed hesitant to strike back. He only defended.
"Boy, you—"
"Shut up! Die, die, die!" Tomoaki screamed as he attacked.
"I am no murderer." The man parried while speaking. Despite having only one arm, his technique was superb. "The one responsible is a demon we've been tracking. Boy, you've got it wrong! Stop!"
"Shiko told me herself! Don't think you can fool me!" Tomoaki bellowed.
"Shiko? There's another survivor?" The man's gaze swept past the boy into the darkness of the house.
And he saw the emaciated girl.
His pupils widened at once.
Because she was smiling at him.
In the darkness, her eyes glimmered with an eerie light.
A demon.
But there were no rank markings in her eyes. That meant she wasn't one of the Twelve Kizuki.
He could handle this.
"Run, boy!" The swordsman stopped holding back. As Tomoaki lunged again, the man sidestepped and kicked him hard, sending him flying out of the house. At the same time, air surged through his nostrils.
"Wind Breathing, Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm!"
His upward slash birthed a whirlwind of cutting wind. In an instant, the house and a dozen surrounding homes were blown apart. Splinters and dust filled the air, blinding the boy until the gale died away.
When it did, he stared in shock at the flattened ruins. The sword-bearing man stood atop the wreckage, battling a shadowy figure. Terrifying shockwaves burst outward one after another, sweeping all the way to the distant woods.
"This… this has to be a joke…" Tomoaki whispered, overwhelmed by the sheer destruction.
"Wait… no. Shiko's still inside!"
He scrambled upright—but then, in the debris of the overturned house, he saw a corpse floating in a large water vat. The face was swollen and bloated, but Tomoaki recognized her at once.
It was Shiko.
A freezing terror shot straight up his spine and into his skull. His blood seemed to congeal.
Shiko… had already died?
She had drowned in the vat.
Then who had spoken to him?
"So cold… so cold!" he muttered, clutching at his clothes. He could no longer feel his own body heat.
"You're so careless, big brother."
A sweet, youthful voice rang out.
With it came the one-armed swordsman, crashing down nearby.
A pristine white fox tail had pierced straight through his chest. He lay in a pool of blood.
Shiko skipped toward the boy, happily munching on the swordsman's severed sword arm as though it were a snack.
Her face began to change. Color rippled over it like a shifting dream until it hardened into a fox mask.
"You really must thank your own carelessness for this little performance," the fox-masked girl said, a slender tongue slipping through the cracks of the mask to lick Tomoaki's face. "As repayment… I'll let your whole family be reunited inside my body."
The fox opened its mouth.
And just before darkness swallowed him, Tomoaki saw three white tails swaying behind her.
"Delicious indeed."
The fox-masked girl now walked barefoot along a shattered mountain road. A shrine maiden's robes draped around her, and from beneath the hem trailed three skeletal fox tails. Fresh blood clung to their tips, giving off a sweet scent, like candied fruit soaked in corpse-water.
"Delicious indeed?"
A tall figure emerged from the darkness, dressed in a dark crimson suit. Beneath the black curls, a pair of plum-red eyes shone with a chill deeper than the underworld.
The fox-tailed girl slammed to her knees in the gravel. All three tails drooped as if severed.
"Good evening, Lord Muzan."
For a hundred li around, every insect fell silent. Even the wind froze. The laws of nature themselves seemed to kneel before the apex predator of the food chain.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
The original demon.
"Miwazuki, I hear you killed a Hashira?" Muzan's nail traced lightly across the girl's throat. Blood welled up at once, only to heal just as quickly. The demon called Miwazuki showed not the slightest fear. Instead, she pressed her face into his palm.
"It was the Flame Hashira, my lord. Are you pleased?" she asked softly.
"Lower Rank One, the White Serpent, has been killed by the Demon Slayers. Tell me—what good is it for those Lower Ranks to live so long?" Muzan murmured. Suddenly his hand clamped around Miwazuki's throat. Yet the fox demon looked almost blissful under the pressure, the smile beneath her mask only widening. "I am not like those lowly Lower Ranks, Lord Muzan. I wish to kill every last member of the Demon Slayer Corps for you."
At such flattery, a faint note of satisfaction appeared on Muzan's pale face.
Then his plum-red pupils narrowed into slits, and every tree on Mount Kurama gave off a shriek too sharp for human ears to bear.
The pure color in the girl's eyes warped, as though an invisible chisel were carving through flesh and blood alike.
"Well done. But not well enough."
Muzan spoke lightly.
The next instant, the entire forest seemed to boil.
Countless pale tendrils burst forth from his hand.
"There is now an opening among the Lower Ranks. Become the new Lower Rank demon."
His fangs pierced Miwazuki's body, and demon blood began pouring into her in a ceaseless torrent.
"Do not disappoint me."
Rank markings appeared within the girl's eyes. One side bore the words Lower Rank; on the other, a burning Six.
"If you are dissatisfied with that position, you may challenge those above you in a Blood Battle. I would quite enjoy seeing what you can do. If you kill enough Hashira, even an Upper Rank seat may not be beyond your grasp."
The Demon King patted her cheek and turned away into the dark.
Beneath the moon, Miwazuki cradled her face in one hand, reveling in the demon blood surging through her.
"This… this is what it truly feels like to be alive. Big sister, do you see? Kohaku is living very well now."
"Big sister, you must wait until Kohaku finds you. This is the power of eternal youth. Then we can be together forever and ever… never to part again."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter108)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter82)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter144)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 99
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 95
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 99
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 92
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 47
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 44
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 43
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 26
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