Chapter 27: Everything is a Cruel Reality
"Demon!!! I will definitely... kill you!!!"
The malice and curse contained within that voice caused even him, a demon, to feel an inexplicable chill.
But soon, the demon shook his head, let out a sneer, and opened his wide mouth,
biting down toward Masashi's mangled body...
"Die, this is the fate of the weak!"
He was already impatient to taste this most delicious flesh born of despair.
In his mind, he had already begun to fantasize about devouring this demon slayer,
envisioning his strength skyrocketing, perhaps even receiving blood from That Man and becoming a true Lower Rank demon.
However, at the very instant the demon was about to bite through Masashi's skin,
a gust of wind carrying a strange floral fragrance abruptly swept through the blood-scented forest.
"Flower Breathing, Third Form: Honorable Shadow Plum."
A cold, clear voice, like a mountain spring flowing over smooth pebbles,
softly drifted into the demon's ears.
In the next second, the demon felt the world before his eyes suddenly begin to spin.
Masashi's despairing face, which had been right in front of him,
was now rapidly receding and spinning in a bizarre fashion.
He saw the pitch-black night sky, the scattered stars, and the tree shadows lengthened by the moonlight,
he even saw petals of pink plum blossoms, so brilliant they seemed woven from light and shadow,
dancing lightly in the air.
Finally, his gaze fixed upon a familiar body.
It was a headless green torso, still maintaining the posture of clawing forward,
but the neck was as smooth as a mirror, with dark red blood gushing out like a wineskin that had lost its stopper.
That's... my body?
The demon's head slammed heavily onto the ground, rolling several times before coming to a stop beside a mud-stained rock.
Only then did the intense pain strike with delayed realization.
"How is this possible... how is this possible..."
The demon widened his murky eyes, staring fixedly at the figure that had suddenly appeared on the battlefield.
It was a young girl dressed in a Demon Slayer Corps uniform, wearing a Haori over it that was as brilliant as butterfly wings.
Her long black hair fell smoothly behind her, adorned with purple butterfly hairpins on both sides.
The Nichirin Sword in her hand possessed a soft peach hue.
It's a Hashira!
That suffocating pressure—she was absolutely a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps!
"Why... I was so close to becoming one of the Twelve Kizuki...
Clearly, as long as I ate this person, I could have been promoted to a Lower Rank..."
Bloody tears flowed from the demon's eyes, a manifestation of extreme unwillingness and resentment.
He recalled how he had hidden for decades, finally reaching his current level with great difficulty.
He had eaten so many people, not even sparing children, using any means necessary to grow stronger.
Just moments ago, he was wantonly mocking those two weak demon slayers, enjoying the pleasure of being a predator.
But why, in the blink of an eye, had the hunter become the prey?
"I won't accept this! I won't accept this!
That Man hasn't given me his blood yet, how can I die like this!"
The demon tried to control his body to stand up, tried to make his head return to his neck.
But under the strike of the Nichirin Sword, which was imbued with the power of the sun, his regenerative abilities were completely suppressed.
His body began to crumble and dissipate bit by bit, like burnt paper ash.
"Damn... damn Demon Slayer Corps... damn Hashira..."
With one final curse filled with malice,
the demon's head turned completely to ash, scattering into the night wind.
After the demon dissipated, Kanae Kocho immediately sheathed her sword.
She ran quickly to Masashi's side,
kneeling on the blood-stained mud, not caring at all that the filth soiled her exquisite Haori.
"How are you? Hang on!"
Kanae Kocho looked at Masashi's empty shoulders;
where his arms should have been, only hideous wounds remained, with blood still gushing out.
A trace of pity and pain flashed through her eyes.
"Ah... ah..."
Masashi opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but could only produce raspy throat sounds.
The intense pain, excessive blood loss, and massive Spiritual shock had already pushed him to the brink of collapse.
His vision was blurred, and he could only vaguely see the woman before him who had descended like a goddess.
Is it Lady Flower Hashira?
He had seen her once from a distance at the headquarters... was it she who saved him?
But... brother... brother is dead...
Masashi wanted to turn his head to look at Masaki's remains, but he no longer had the strength.
Just then, a steady sound of footsteps came from the shadows of the forest.
Masashi forced his heavy eyelids open, and through his blurred vision,
he saw a tall figure approaching.
It was a handsome young man,
but those eyes...
Those eyes lacked the spirit a human should have; the pupils were vertical, emitting a beast-like aura.
It's a demon!
That's... a demon!
Tatsu slowly walked to Kanae Kocho's side, quietly looking at the tragic scene on the ground.
"Kanae."
Hearing this form of address, Masashi felt an even greater shock in his heart.
Kanae?
This demon actually addressed Lady Flower Hashira by her name?
And Lady Flower Hashira didn't have any reaction at all?
Could it be... could Lady Flower Hashira be controlled by this demon?
Or perhaps...
Masashi wanted to struggle to get up, wanted to loudly warn Lady Flower Hashira to be careful,
but he only felt his vision go black, and all consciousness was completely severed as if submerged by a tide.
"Must... kill him..."
This was Masashi's final thought before falling unconscious.
Seeing Masashi pass out, Kanae Kocho sighed softly.
She quickly took some hemostatic powder from her robes, skillfully and gently sprinkling it on Masashi's wounds,
then tore off the lining of her Haori to perform a simple bandaging for him.
"The injuries are very severe; both arms have been completely severed,
there's excessive blood loss, and he's suffered an immense Spiritual shock."
Kanae Kocho said in a low voice while treating the wounds, her brow furrowed slightly.
Tatsu stood to the side, silently watching it all.
He could feel the gaze that Demon Slayer Corps member had cast toward him before losing consciousness.
It was hatred.
A hatred that went deep into the bone, a life-and-death enmity.
He had looked at him as if looking at the murderer of his father.
Tatsu didn't feel angry; instead, he found it somewhat ironic.
He didn't eat people and could even be said to have been passively dragged into this conflict between humans and demons.
But in the eyes of these demon slayers, as long as one was a demon, it was an original sin, and they should be exterminated.
"Tatsu."
After finishing with the wounds, Kanae Kocho looked up at Tatsu.
"We have to find a clinic to save him.
If he doesn't receive further treatment in time, his life will be in danger."
Kanae Kocho said somewhat apologetically,
"I'm not carrying enough medical supplies right now; I can only do simple blood stanching."
Tatsu looked at Kanae Kocho and remained silent for a moment.
Once that member woke up, he would surely try to kill him.
But seeing Kanae's eyes full of trust, Tatsu ultimately nodded.
"Alright."
...
One day later.
The night was as dark as ink, with a crescent moon hanging high in the sky, casting down a cold radiance.
This was a clinic located in a remote small town.
Masashi lay on a tatami mat, his consciousness gradually awakening from the chaos.
He had a very long dream.
In the dream, he and his brother Masaki were still in their hometown,
the two of them running along the ridges of the fields, their laughter echoing through the valley.
His brother held two freshly picked wild fruits in his hand, smiling as he handed one to him, saying:
"Masashi, eat quickly, this one is the sweetest."
But then, the scene suddenly changed.
A huge bloody hole appeared in his brother's chest,
blood gushing out like a fountain, staining that lush green field red.
His brother fell in a pool of blood, looking at the sky with hollow eyes, his mouth still murmuring:
"Masashi... run..."
"Brother!"
Masashi snapped his eyes open, panting heavily, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
What met his eyes was an unfamiliar ceiling, with a dim oil lamp emitting a soft light.
He subconsciously wanted to prop himself up, but suddenly felt an empty sensation from his shoulders,
followed immediately by a piercing pain.
He froze.
His gaze slowly moved down, and he saw two Nichirin Swords placed in front of the tatami mat.
Both had green blades, glinting with a faint luster under the lamplight.
Those were his and his brother's swords, specially crafted for them by the swordsmiths after they passed the Final Selection.
The two swords lay there quietly, like two tombstones.
His arms...
were gone too.
Below his shoulders, there was nothing.
Only thick bandages wrapped around the wounds, emitting a pungent smell of medicine.
Memories flooded back like a tide.
The mountain forest, the demon, his brother's death, his severed arms, the humiliation of being pinned to the tree...
None of it was a dream.
Everything was a cruel reality.