Who Is the Hunter?

The sun gradually sank in the west, casting its last rays across the earth.

This layer of fiery red light covered the land like a thin veil, and the small wooden cabin halfway up the mountain was silhouetted by the setting sun.

Kuwajima Jigoro carried a large basin of steaming rice and set it on the wooden table in front of the yard. He called out toward the house.

"Tendo, time to eat!"

"Oh!"

Hiruma answered, and a figure as nimble as a monkey swung down from the roof.

"What were you doing on the roof with nothing better to do, you brat?"

Kuwajima Jigoro said irritably. As he spoke, he filled a bowl for himself and pushed the entire basin of rice in front of his disciple.

"We're out of rice at home, so eat this for now."

"Go buy more in town after you finish."

"Oh!"

Hiruma nodded, then picked up his chopsticks. Even though there was only one basin, it was enough to fill him up about sixty percent.

His appetite hadn't been great lately, so one basin was enough.

From a distance, two figures of roughly the same height could be seen—one eating a bowl of rice unhurriedly, the other burying his head in the basin, wolfing it down.

In this era, feeding someone a whole basin of rice per meal wasn't something just anyone could afford. It was thanks to the generous benefits from the Ubuyashiki Family, with more money than they could spend, or else this old man and young boy would have starved long ago.

After the meal, Jigoro gave him some money, and Hiruma sprinted down Mount Peach. This was also part of his training.

Mount Peach Town was a medium-sized town about five kilometers from the mountain. He could run there in ten minutes without even breathing hard.

At the counter of the rice shop, the owner hoisted a large bag of rice and handed it to Hiruma. What took two hands for an adult to carry, Hiruma lifted with one.

For him, one hand was still a bit strenuous, but it was manageable. He treated it as weight training.

"Tendo, you've gotten stronger again, kid. You'd be a great worker if you came to my shop," the rice shop owner said, both surprised and envious.

Damn, I was born to be a laborer!

Hiruma felt a little helpless. It was a good thing the old man had picked him up, or else he probably wouldn't even have enough to eat.

Thinking this, he silently thanked the old man for three seconds.

"Uncle Yamamoto, I'm going to save the world. Working a job? Not happening!"

"See you!"

The owner shook his head, his face full of disappointment. This was his eight hundred and sixty-ninth failed recruitment attempt—another day of missing out on a good employee.

"Tendo, get home quickly today. Things aren't safe in town lately!" The rice shop owner had watched Hiruma grow up, and knowing the kid liked to play around, he warned him.

Hearing this, Tendo Hiruma, who had already walked a few meters away, stopped. In the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of the owner, startling him.

"Uncle, what do you mean by 'not safe'? Tell me more!"

Seeing the blazing curiosity in Hiruma's eyes, the owner was dumbfounded. Shouldn't a normal person be scared?

Forget it, this kid's not normal. He's what you'd call abnormal.

"I'm telling you, there's been a psycho killer on the loose lately. Over a dozen people have been killed. I heard the victims had their organs ripped out. It's terrifying."

The owner lowered his voice, even trembling a little. He was scared out of his wits, terrified he might be next.

"Alright, alright. Go home now. Don't run around today, get back early!" the owner urged earnestly.

"I got it. Take care, Uncle!"

Hiruma had somehow appeared on the street far away, his back to the owner, waving goodbye.

What the rice shop owner couldn't see was the corner of his mouth curling up, the fervor in his eyes, the excitement, the thick killing intent.

In this world, besides psycho killers, there were also man-eating demons.

A body with missing parts was most likely the work of a demon.

Hiruma had been craving real combat his whole life. That was why, before leaving today, he had secretly hidden a kitchen knife.

Night fell.

The last trace of light vanished into the forest. Cold moonlight flooded in, and a chilly wind swept through the trees, carrying a faint chill and the elusive scent of blood.

In a dark thicket, a pair of scarlet eyes snapped open. It was a humanoid monster with a blue face and fangs, chewing on a bloody arm.

Suddenly, its body trembled violently. Its blue-black nose twitched, and an uncontrollable greed shot out from its fierce red eyes.

The severed limb dropped. The sharp fangs in its mouth clashed together, making a crunching sound.

"Rare Blood... such a rich scent. What luck!"

"Hahaha!"

"After I eat this Rare Blood, in no time I'll rise to the Twelve Kizuki, and the master will value me even more!"

Thinking about his future promotion and pay raise, the demon felt overjoyed.

Tendo Hiruma strolled along the forest path, with only the faint moonlight lighting the way ahead.

Alas!

Why hasn't a demon attacked me yet? It can't really be a psycho killer, can it?

The thought that this country was still full of psychos left him feeling a little disappointed.

If a normal person knew what he was thinking right now, they'd definitely think he was insane.

Not going home in the dead of night, actually hoping to be attacked.

Crazy.

Truly crazy.

Little did he know, in the pitch-black forest, the demon he longed for was watching him from the shadows.

The demon's drool pooled on the ground like a small waterfall—it couldn't control it. It was the instinct to devour humans, pure intuition.

This human before it smelled so delicious that the demon couldn't resist.

Its instincts told it that eating this brat was worth more than devouring hundreds of people.

It had never seen a Rare Blood with such overwhelming allure. Just looking at him from afar made every cell in its body cheer with joy.

To it, such a delectable Rare Blood being a frail little child was nothing short of a gift from heaven.

Where should it start eating?

The head or the feet?

No, no, no—first drain the blood. Such precious Rare Blood, not a single drop could be wasted.

The demon was like a fanatical worshiper, its cold gaze brazenly fixed on Tendo Hiruma.

That look was like a lion staring down a newborn fawn—this would be a hunt with no suspense.

A defenseless human child, itself lurking in the shadows, plus its Blood Demon Art.

How could it fail?

How could it lose?

The demon knew it was impossible to fail. This human was as good as eaten. Even if Muzan himself showed up, it wouldn't matter—it said so.

Delicious prey, savor the fear of death.

The demon's mouth curled upward, nearly splitting to its ears.

But who was the prey and who was the hunter? That remained to be seen.

It thought it was a hunter with victory in its grasp, little knowing it was the true prey.

When the bright moon hung high, the demon made its move. To be safe, it chose to strike from behind.

After all, a Rare Blood like this was a once-in-a-millennium find—caution was warranted.

Just then, the demon realized that the child it had already marked for death in its mind had turned around.

Their eyes met. In Hiruma's gaze, it saw fervor, excitement, hunger, and a chilling killing intent.

What a terrifying look!

Between him and me, who is the real demon?

Who is the true prey?

For a split second, that thought flashed through the demon's mind.

It didn't understand—why did this human look at it with excitement instead of fear at first sight?

Was this human insane?