It was a "person" with the physique of an adult male, but twisted into a distorted posture. His skin was an unnatural bluish-gray, and his fingernails were long and black.
He grinned, revealing sharp teeth. His cloudy eyes glinted with greed under the moonlight as he stared fixedly at Shirakawa—or more accurately, at his body.
"De… delicious…" A raspy, sticky voice squeezed out of the demon's throat, filled with uncontrollable ecstasy.
"Brother… you smell so good…"
A rare blood constitution that automatically attracts monsters—it was truly a kind of trouble that couldn't be avoided no matter where one went.
Shirakawa complained inwardly, but his expression remained calm as he quietly observed the demon.
The demon licked his lips, and his gaze finally shifted from Shirakawa to Nezuko, who was held in his arms.
"As long as I eat you… and the one in your arms…" His voice suddenly faltered. The greedy expression on his face froze for a moment before turning into confusion. "Eh?"
The demon tilted his head, unable to understand what he was seeing. "You… why are you holding a demon?"
Shirakawa didn't answer.
He glanced toward where the demon had been hiding earlier—the path leading to the village at the foot of the mountain.
"Were you planning to go to that village?" Shirakawa spoke, his voice cold and clear in the silent night.
He found it a little strange. Sakonji Urokodaki regularly cleared this area, so how could a demon slip through and get this close?
The demon snapped back to attention and let out a strange laugh. "I was… but now that I've met you, there's no need anymore."
"Eating you is worth a hundred… no, two hundred ordinary people!" His eyes burned with frenzy again, thick saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Shirakawa sighed.
To be honest, if he had encountered this demon alone, he would've wanted to play with it a bit—test his abilities in a normal state, gather some information, and figure out what made a demon capable of slipping past Sakonji Urokodaki's senses.
After all, this was the first "complete" demon he had faced alone in the truest sense. (The demon head at the temple didn't count.)
But—
He looked down at Nezuko in his arms. Freshly washed, she smelled faintly sweet and felt soft.
Holding Nezuko like this while sleeping… even his dreams would probably be sweet.
How could he allow this filthy, foul-smelling, drooling demon to dirty her?
Not even a speck of dust was acceptable.
Shirakawa's gaze grew calm.
He bent down and gently placed the heavy cloth bag by the roadside.
Then he adjusted Nezuko in his arms, supporting her with one hand while his other hand slowly gripped the hilt of the horizontal sword at his waist.
Clang—
The crisp sound of the blade being drawn pierced the night.
Under the moonlight, the straight blade shimmered with an eerie pink glow.
Seeing this, the demon sneered hoarsely. "Heh… you still want to resist? With those thin arms and legs… and carrying a burden…"
Shirakawa didn't take any stance. He simply took a deep breath and casually swung a horizontal slash toward the demon.
The motion looked slow… almost careless.
The demon laughed louder, full of contempt. "I haven't even moved, and you're already flailing your sword out of fear? You—"
His voice abruptly stopped.
Because something changed.
A pale pink vapor, carrying a faintly sweet and ambiguous scent, flowed out from Shirakawa's nose and mouth. It instantly wrapped around his sword arm and climbed onto the blade like a living thing.
Buzz—
The blade emitted a low hum.
The pink vapor surged.
It condensed. It extended. It took shape.
In the blink of an eye, the originally ordinary blade was enveloped in a dazzling, almost burning pink energy.
The energy stretched forward wildly, forming an enormous blade in the forest clearing—
A giant blade of pink light.
Its length…
Easily over twenty meters.
"Color Breathing Style, First Form: Heroine."
The pink light flared like flames, outlining the massive blade. It illuminated the night with a hazy glow and reflected in the demon's face, which instantly twisted in terror.
"Wha—?!"
The demon barely managed to utter a broken sound.
The giant blade had already swept silently across his neck.
Because of its immense size, there was no sensation of being cut.
It was as if an eraser had wiped him away.
Everything from his neck down to his waist vanished instantly.
This wasn't a simple decapitation—more than half his body had been completely crushed.
Only his head remained, falling beside two lonely legs.
Moments later, both turned into black ash and scattered in the wind.
By then, Shirakawa had already sheathed his sword. He bent down, picked up the cloth bag, and adjusted Nezuko back into a comfortable princess carry.
As if nothing had happened, he continued walking up the mountain path.
When he returned to the hut, Tanjiro had not yet come back.
Shirakawa put away the items he had bought and started a fire to prepare a simple meal.
After quickly finishing his portion, he served another and brought it to Sakonji Urokodaki, who was temporarily staying in the storehouse.
After returning, Shirakawa began preparing the bedding.
He "naturally" placed his futon very close to Nezuko's.
Close enough that, with just a stretch of his arm, he could pull her—along with her futon—closer to himself.
Satisfied, he nodded and headed out to the mountain to call Tanjiro back.
From afar, he could hear rhythmic sounds—
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Approaching, he saw Tanjiro drenched in sweat, teeth clenched, repeatedly striking the giant round boulder. Sparks flew, but only shallow marks were left behind.
"Time to eat!" Shirakawa called out.
Tanjiro stopped and turned, panting heavily. His face was covered in sweat and dust, looking both miserable and determined.
"Got it… I'll be there in a second." He wiped his sweat and glanced at the unmoving boulder. Frustration flickered in his eyes, but his determination quickly reignited.
"Hurry up. Wash first—you stink. Don't let that smell reach Nezuko."
Shirakawa waved him off and stayed behind.
With a light push from his feet, he leaped onto the massive boulder.
Sitting cross-legged, he pulled out a small sake flask and a bag of peanuts wrapped in oil paper from his robe.
He uncorked the flask and slowly drank while eating, enjoying the quiet moonlit snow.
The peanuts were crispy, crunching softly in his mouth.
The sake warmed his throat.
Everything around him was silent, save for the wind and falling snow.
Soon, the flask was empty, and only a few peanuts remained.
After tossing the last one into his mouth, Shirakawa put everything away and brushed the crumbs from his hands.
He didn't get up immediately.
Instead, he sat there, his gaze sweeping across the empty clearing.
"It's been a year…" he murmured, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "Still not willing to come out and talk to me?"
The night wind passed through, shaking loose snow from the treetops.
No answer came.
Only the steady rhythm of his own breathing filled the silence.
After waiting a few seconds, Shirakawa shook his head with a faint, bitter smile and jumped down from the boulder, preparing to leave.
Before he could take two steps—
A soft, faint voice drifted from behind.
"You… just killed a demon?"
Shirakawa paused.
With his back still turned, a flicker of joy flashed in his eyes, quickly suppressed.
He slowly turned around.
Under the moonlight, at the edge of the giant boulder, a slender figure had appeared at some unknown time.