Flame Pillar Comes to Visit

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I don't know!"

"I don't know!"

"Aaaaaaah!"

The demon head pinned to the ground by half a kitchen knife howled madly. The name "Muzan Kibutsuji" was like a curse, a spell branded into the very genes of every demon.

Just hearing that name drove it insane. It no longer wanted to eat the human before it; it only wanted to live.

Tendo Hiruma shook his head and sighed helplessly, watching how terrified the thing was. Time to show it what real fear meant.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

He slapped the demon head a few times, barely managing to calm it down.

The demon's gaze was vacant, its entire head trembling. This guy wasn't human—he was a devil, a monster.

Hiruma pulled a paper packet from his chest, muttering to himself as he opened it:

"Let's just chat about your boss, alright?"

"Like where it's holed up these days, that sort of thing."

"Otherwise, I'll have to stop your bleeding for you!"

As he spoke, the paper packet in Tendo Hiruma's hand unfolded, revealing purple powder with a fragrant aroma.

"This is wisteria flower powder. Want some? Quick bleeding control!"

A harmless smile hung on his face, but in the demon's eyes, it was like a devil's grin—truly terrifying for a demon.

"Devil! You monster!"

"Stay away from me!"

"Aaaaaah!"

The demon's face twisted as it shook its head like a mad thing.

Hiruma pinched the demon's face, pried open its mouth, and murmured, "The ordinary people you killed were just as scared before they died, weren't they?"

"They were innocent. That's why I say, demons really are disgusting creatures."

As a transmigrator, Hiruma loathed ninety-nine percent of demons from the core. Not just because he stood on the side of humans, but because he hated how they slaughtered the innocent.

With that, he shoved the wisteria powder into the demon's mouth.

Wisteria flowers were just pretty blooms to ordinary people, but to demons, they were deadly poison.

Hiruma pulled out the half kitchen knife. The demon's head began to convulse, its surface covered in purple blisters, writhing in agony.

The moment it killed its first person, it should have known that one day it would be killed too.

Bang!

With a loud crash, the demon's head dissolved into a pool of purplish-red blood. Not far away lay a headless corpse, still twitching uncontrollably, as if it were still alive.

When the sun rose, everything would vanish into smoke.

Warm sunlight nourished all living things—except demons.

Tendo Hiruma hoisted a rice sack onto one shoulder and strolled unhurriedly toward Peach Mountain, humming a cheerful tune.

"Time to go home!"

The distant moon hung like a clear spring at the edge of the sky, its waterfall-like light pouring into the lush peach grove.

In front of the small wooden cabin, Jigoro Kuwajima sat by the door, muttering harsh words.

"That brat, always fooling around. I'm definitely going to beat him!"

"What time is it now? Doesn't he even come home?"

"He'll be the death of me!"

His angry face held worried eyes, just like any elder fretting over a child out late.

"Where's my sword?"

Old man Kuwajima grumbled as he searched for his wooden sword. Suddenly, a small figure appeared at the edge of the peach grove.

"Old man, I'm back!"

"Fair warning—the torn clothes have a reason!"

Hearing this, the old man jerked his head up. He wanted to rush over and hug his disciple, but his pride held him back. In the end, it came out as a scolding laced with concern.

"You little brat, where the hell have you been fooling around?"

"Just wait till I beat you!"

With that, the old man picked up his wooden sword and walked over.

He noticed bloodstains on Tendo Hiruma's chest and claw marks on his clothes, and instantly understood everything.

"You've seen that thing!"

"Yeah, it messed up my clothes, and I killed it!"

In an instant, all the blame and anger vanished. The old man, for the first time ever, ruffled his disciple's head, a hint of pride in his voice as he said:

"Good work, as expected of my disciple!"

Then, his tone shifted, and he earnestly advised: "Remember, safety comes first!"

Hiruma grinned, boasting: "I'm so strong, there's no need to worry!"

"You and your bragging!"

The old man gave his foolish disciple a light smack and urged him to go to sleep.

In the dead of night, Hiruma was already snoring away, while the old man was still in his room mending clothes, his movements clumsy and awkward.

"This needlework is harder than cutting down a Twelve Kizuki. I'll have to make a trip to town and get the brat a few more sets of clothes."

The old man grumbled to himself; needlework really wasn't something a man like him could handle.

At daybreak, Hiruma was still fast asleep, and the old man got up early to make breakfast.

Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing and fixed his gaze on the distant peach grove.

A tall figure emerged from the peach grove, and Jigoro Kuwajima couldn't help but feel puzzled.

Peach Mountain rarely had visitors, and the disciples he trained were personally selected by him.

Sensing no killing intent from the figure, the old man wiped his hands and quickly walked out of the kitchen.

Just then, the first rays of dawn pierced through the layers of clouds, like a golden hand gently caressing the mountainside of Peach Mountain.

From the sky, the entire Peach Mountain looked like a massive painting. The lower half of the mountain was bathed in a golden glow, dazzlingly bright, while the upper half was immersed in faint black shadows, mysterious and deep.

That unfamiliar figure stood at the boundary between light and darkness, a smile on his face brighter than the sun itself.

It wasn't until the man drew closer that the old man could make out his features.

He had long yellow hair with red tips, like dancing flames, and beneath thick black brows were a pair of piercing, spirited eyes.

Over his coffee-colored Demon Slayer Corps uniform, he wore a white haori with flame patterns at the edges.

Just one look at him, and you'd be infected by his cheerful, fiery smile.

What an imposing presence. This man was a Pillar.

As a former Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, he recognized the man's identity at once: the current Flame Pillar, named Rengoku... Rengoku something.

Having been in seclusion for too long, Jigoro Kuwajima couldn't remember.

Just then, a bold and spirited voice rang out. The fiery man bowed and said politely:

"Senior Kuwajima, I am Rengoku Shinjuro!"

"The current Flame Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps has come to pay you a visit!"

"Oh!" Jigoro Kuwajima suddenly realized. Last time he saw this kid, he was still in diapers. "You've grown so big!"

"I held you when you were little."

The previous Flame Pillar and Jigoro Kuwajima had a good personal relationship. He had visited the other's home as a guest, but it had been a long time since they'd last met.

Add to that the fact that Jigoro Kuwajima had been living in seclusion due to his broken leg and rarely contacted the outside world—he truly hadn't expected his old friend's son to suddenly come calling.

"Kid, come in and sit down. Have some breakfast?"

"Thank you, Senior Kuwajima!"