Blue Stone Town: People Twisted by a Demon!

Giyu Tomioka quietly drank his miso soup, the savory, slightly scalding liquid sliding down his throat.

The oppressive silence in the shop, the villagers' glances that were both evasive and burning... All the fragments came together in his calm mind.

Suddenly, his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly for an instant, and a sharp glint flashed deep in his ice-blue eyes.

It's here!

The next second—

Crash!

The indigo noren curtain was yanked aside and torn down!

The dim twilight outside revealed a crowd of figures packed in the doorway.

Most were young and middle-aged men. Instead of swords, they held hoes, woodcutting axes, sickles, and even spatulas and kitchen knives.

Their crude weapons reflected a cold, hard gleam in the faint light of the lantern outside.

Their faces showed a mixture of fear, numbness, shame, and a viciousness warped by desperation.

Every eye was fixed on the only "outsider" in the shop—Giyu Tomioka.

Almost simultaneously, the customers at the few tables who had been eating in silence sprang to their feet.

Their stools scraped harshly against the floor.

The little tavern was surrounded inside and out in an instant. Even the air seemed to stop moving.

Only Fujino, the owner behind the counter, was pale as paper, his lips trembling as the rag in his hand fell to the floor.

Giyu set down his soup bowl unhurriedly. Its base met the wooden counter with a soft tap that sounded exceptionally clear in the dead silence.

Without turning around, he rested his untroubled ice-blue eyes on Fujino's wrinkled face, which was full of struggle and pain.

"So,"

Giyu said, his voice as flat and cool as ever.

"What exactly happened here?"

His gaze was not piercing, yet it had a power that seemed to see through people, leaving Fujino nowhere to hide.

Fujino shuddered all over and dropped his head, his shoulders heaving violently.

A few seconds later, he raised his reddened eyes, which were filled with murky tears, profound fear, and... the apology of a man with nowhere else to turn.

"I'm... I'm... terribly sorry!! Sir!!"

Fujino's voice was hoarse and broken. He bowed deeply to Giyu, nearly knocking his forehead against the counter.

"We... we had no choice... We could only... only do this!!"

As he confessed through his tears, the expressions in the eyes of the tense-faced villagers inside and outside the shop shifted violently.

The hands gripping their "weapons" bulged with veins from the strain. Some even looked away, unable to bear looking at Giyu's young yet calm face.

Haltingly, his account punctuated by fearful sobs, Fujino told him of a nightmare that had lasted a year and a half:

About two years ago, a rather imposing martial arts dojo had quietly appeared in the deep mountain forest behind Blue Stone Town. It was called the "Ironfast Fist Dojo."

At first, the townspeople merely assumed some eccentric martial artist had chosen to settle there and thought little of it.

Then, on a rainy night a year and a half ago, the nightmare descended.

A figure entered the town like a ghost. With inhuman strength and speed, it carried off and devoured more than ten people in the space of two hours.

The horror and terror of that night still haunted the townspeople.

But what came afterward was even more frightening.

The "monster" did not leave. Instead, it appeared again and announced its "rules" in an icy voice:

It needed offerings—not livestock, but powerful warriors.

Every three days, one such warrior had to be offered to the dojo in the mountains.

If the offerings were made on time, it would stay hidden in the mountains and leave the town alone.

If an offering was late, or if anyone tried to seek outside help and reveal its existence, it would come down from the mountain again and slaughter people indiscriminately until it was satisfied.

"It... it said it liked to 'spar'... liked watching warriors struggle and fight, and then..."

Fujino's voice was full of fear and humiliation.

"We tried to resist. We secretly sent the town's only instructor away..."

"But the next day, the instructor's... remains were thrown at the entrance to town..."

"And three families who tried to escape at night and report it to the authorities... Every one of them... disappeared..."

"We had no choice... We really had no choice!"

A villager outside the door suddenly roared, tears and snot streaming down his face.

"We're just ordinary people who farm and fish! How are we supposed to fight a monster like that?!?!"

"If we don't do what it says, everyone will die!!"

"Today... today is the day another offering is due..."

Fujino looked at Giyu in despair.

"We waited three whole days, but no other travelers came by, much less any warriors... Not until you... you came in carrying a sword..."

In other words, the "demon" that had taken up residence here not only ate people, but also had a clear set of rules that came close to toying with its prey.

It could restrain its desire for large-scale slaughter and use fear and rules to keep an entire town penned up, providing it with high-quality food on a regular basis.

Giyu listened, his face still largely expressionless, but his heart sank slightly.

A demon that could suppress its instinctive appetite for a long time, make and enforce rules, and had distinct "hunting" tastes...

This was certainly no ordinary lower-rank demon that had only recently been turned.

Its intelligence, strength, and control over its own power far surpassed those of the opponents he had encountered on Mount Fujikasane and Defiled Wood Mountain.

It might even be more troublesome than the Rotten Wood Demon, which had known how to use the terrain to its advantage and hide underground.

For what it displayed was a composure and malice closer to that of a "predator."

This time, I'm afraid I've got a real tough nut to crack.

Giyu calmly assessed the situation.

At the same time, however, an icy anger silently spread through him, like a cold current rising from the bottom of a deep pool.

"I understand."

Giyu spoke coolly, interrupting Fujino's apology and the villagers' commotion.

His tone was so calm it was almost unbelievable, as though he had just heard an ordinary story.

The villagers froze, apparently not expecting such a reaction from the young warrior.

No angry reproach, no terrified struggle...

"You... you don't blame us?"

Fujino murmured, the guilt in his eyes nearly spilling over.

Giyu did not answer directly. Instead, he swept his gaze over the villagers around him, their expressions complicated and their hands gripping their "weapons" tightly.

Their eyes held a deep-seated hatred for the demon, but even more than that, they held fear that reached into their bones, along with a sense of baseness and self-loathing at having to prey on the weaker to survive.

They were not born evil, just ordinary people whose spirits had been broken by extreme terror and who had been forced to make a cruel choice.

The Demon Slayer Corps' swords slew man-eating demons, and they also slew those who did evil.

But these villagers were far from "evil."

They were just... too afraid.

So afraid that they had lost the courage to resist, able only to cling to life under the rules set by the demon, and had even become the pitiful enforcers of those rules.

Resist?

With their strength and state of mind, facing a demon like that would be no different from mass suicide.

Run away?

They had probably tried long ago, at a heavy price.

Seek outside help?

Perhaps they had tried, but the message might never have gotten out, or it might have been dismissed as an absurd tale even if it did. Or perhaps the people it brought could not fight the demon, and instead provoked it into bringing even greater disaster.

Understanding did not mean agreeing.

But Giyu knew that there was no point in clashing with these villagers, who were ruled by fear.

His target was the demon in the mountains.

And though the villagers' actions were pitiful, they happened to give him a "reasonable" opportunity to approach the demon.

"Go ahead."

Giyu spoke calmly, even extending his hands slightly in front of him.

"Use a stronger rope!!"

His actions took everyone completely by surprise.

The villagers outside exchanged looks, unsure whether to lower their raised farm tools or keep holding them up.

The few people inside the shop were even more at a loss.

The man dressed as a ronin opened his mouth, then finally lowered his bamboo staff in dejection and said softly:

"S-sorry."

Fujino looked into Giyu's clear, calm, ice-blue eyes, as though he saw something he could not understand.

"Sir..." Fujino's voice caught.

"There's no need to say more."

Giyu cut him off. "The rope."

At last, in a strange atmosphere, several villagers stepped forward trembling and carefully bound Giyu's hands in front of him with coarse, sturdy hemp rope.

The rope was neither too loose nor too tight, enough to restrict his movements without immediately causing discomfort.

Throughout the process, Giyu offered no resistance and did not even frown. He merely adjusted the angle of his wrists to make it easier for them to bind him.

Even stranger, from beginning to end, not one person suggested taking the sky-blue Nichirin Blade from his waist.

Noticing Giyu's calm glance at the blade, Fujino checked the knots and explained in a low voice, with fear and a trace of absurdity in his tone:

"Th-that dojo master... It, it specifically ordered that... the warriors offered to it must bring their own weapons."

"It said... before enjoying them, it liked to have a fair and proper spar first... It said that was what made it interesting..."

Strange tastes.

Giyu made the assessment indifferently.

This demon was not only powerful and governed by rules; it also pursued some perverse sense of "ceremony" or "entertainment."

It treated human warriors as prey to be toyed with, enjoying the sight of their desperate struggles.

That sort of mentality was often more dangerous and unpredictable than that of a merely bloodthirsty demon.

His face remained impassive, though he rolled his eyes halfway, almost imperceptibly, feeling a trace of annoyance at how tedious such perverse tastes were.

Night had completely shrouded the mountain forest.

The lights of Blue Stone Town had been left far behind. Only a few faint pinpricks remained, and soon they too were swallowed by the dense shadows of the trees.

A silent, strange procession walked along the rugged path leading deep into the mountains.

Fujino led the way, his back hunched as he carried a windproof oil lamp whose light reached only a few steps ahead.

Behind him was Giyu Tomioka, his hands bound with rope.

Behind Giyu and on either side of him walked the seven or eight strongest villagers.

Giyu walked steadily, his steps even lighter than Fujino's as the latter carried the lamp.

He silently observed his surroundings, noting the direction of the mountain path, the changes in vegetation, and the direction and concentration of the increasingly distinct demonic aura in the air.

He could also clearly sense that the fear of the villagers beside him was rising exponentially as they ventured deeper into the forest.

Their teeth chattered uncontrollably, making soft clicking sounds.

Their eyes were vacant, their pupils dilated with fear as they repeatedly scanned their surroundings in panic, as though the demon might pounce from anywhere at any moment.

They were not pretending.

This was a reflex carved into their bones, accumulated over countless "offering" trips during the past year and a half.

Their fear of the demon in the mountains had become a part of their lives.

Giyu understood that completely.

After "coexisting" with such a being for a year and a half, living day and night under the shadow of a possible slaughter, it was already a sign of resilience that their spirits had not been utterly crushed and that they could still retain their basic humanity.

Their fear was real, and it was pitiful.

"We're... we're almost there..."

Fujino's voice came from up ahead, dry as sandpaper rubbing together.

He stopped, and the light of the oil lamp revealed a relatively open clearing in the forest ahead and, at its far end, the massive outline of a building looming in the darkness.

By the faint lamplight, Giyu got a clear look at the "Ironfast Fist Dojo."

It was more proper and imposing than he had imagined.

Two heavy doors were tightly shut, and four large gilded characters had been carved in a bold, sweeping style into the horizontal plaque above them.

"Ironfast Fist Dojo."

The lettering was strong and vigorous, even conveying the fierce strength of a martial household, a strange contrast to the identity of its evil master.

The dojo occupied a considerable area. It stood silently in the night like a massive beast lying in wait, radiating a chilling sense of oppression.

At the mere sight of the dojo, the villagers' last shred of courage seemed to drain away.

"We... we're here..."

Fujino's voice shook terribly.

The villagers behind him began to back away as one, the fear in their eyes almost tangible, as though the entrance to hell lay behind those doors.

In the end, only Fujino remained, barely managing to stand where he was, though his face was deathly pale and his legs trembled.

He turned to face Giyu and bowed deeply, deeply, nearly pressing his forehead to his knees.

At last, his tears broke through the dam and fell onto the cold ground before him.

"I'm truly... so... sorry!! Sir!!"

His sobs were filled with the despair of being powerless to change anything and a deep sense of guilt.

"We... we really... had no other choice!!"

"Please... please..."

He choked up and couldn't get the rest out.

Was he asking for forgiveness?

Or asking him... not to resent them after death?

Neither seemed to mean anything.

"It's all right."

He spoke, his voice unusually clear and steady in the silent mountain forest, carrying a strange, soothing power.

Fujino looked up in astonishment. Through his blurred, tear-filled eyes, he saw only the young swordsman's eyes, clear and icy blue even in the darkness.

"I came here for it."

With that, Giyu looked away from Fujino and the villagers.

He flexed his bound hands slightly, then set off straight toward the martial arts hall's gate.

"Creeeak... grrrk..."

The grating sound of the heavy hinges turning broke the dead silence of the mountain forest.

Giyu Tomioka's face was calm and untroubled, his gaze sharp as a blade. Without hesitation, he stepped into the deep darkness.

Behind him, after he entered, the gate slowly swung shut again, as though pushed by an invisible hand. It closed with a dull thud, completely sealing off the inside from the outside.