Yaha slowly lowered his fingers.
The suffocating, blood-red glow in the air faded like an ebbing tide.
The massive White Bone Shrine dissolved into wisps of black cursed energy, scattered by the night wind without leaving a trace.
The ruins were so quiet that a pin drop would have been audible.
Kyojuro Rengoku slowly loosened his grip on his sword hilt. His crimson Nichirin Blade slid back into its sheath with a crisp click.
The Flame Hashira, whose temperament had always burned like fire and whose pride knew no bounds, now put aside every trace of his aggression. He strode toward the center of the ruins.
His leather boots crunched over scattered bricks and tiles as he quickly checked several townspeople lying limp on the ground along the way.
The flesh clinging to their bodies had vanished completely, and their skin had regained its healthy color. Not even the tiniest scratch could be found anywhere on them.
Rengoku stopped three paces behind Yaha.
He gathered his haori and dropped heavily to one knee on the ground, amid muddy water and rubble, his back still perfectly straight.
"To destroy ten thousand demons without harming a single person-with such a divine technique, you have earned my wholehearted respect! I, Kyojuro Rengoku, concede!"
His booming voice echoed in the night wind.
There was no guardedness, no wariness, only pure awe and respect.
Yaha did not even turn his head.
He slipped his hands back into his pockets, still gazing at the distant stretch of night sky that had been shorn clear, a mocking sneer on his lips.
Beside a withered tree in the distance, Shinobu Kocho stood silently.
She watched the dark-red ashes scattered across the ground drift away on the wind. The Mutant Demon, powerful enough to trap a Hashira in a hopeless battle, had not retained even a single intact scrap of flesh before this boy.
Everything she knew about pharmacology and demon regeneration had been crushed to pieces.
Looking back, her attempt to test Yaha in the forest that night seemed utterly ridiculous.
This nasty boy, who never missed a chance to mock her, had casually accomplished a miracle they could never reach even by staking their lives.
Before dawn, the Hidden Corps arrived at the scene.
They swiftly cleared the ruins and arranged shelter for the civilians. The top-secret intelligence concerning Blue Stone Town was compiled into a report and rushed back to Headquarters by Kasugai Crow.
The Nine Hashira soon received the chilling battle report.
Beneath a covered walkway, the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, stared fixedly at the strip of parchment in his hand.
Veins bulged on the back of his hand. His grip suddenly tightened, shattering the coarse porcelain teacup with a crash. Sharp fragments pierced his skin, and blood dripped between his fingers, but he merely clenched his back teeth and said nothing.
In an inner room, Kagaya Ubuyashiki quietly listened to Amane's report.
Not a trace of worry appeared on his face, covered in purple curse scars. Instead, a relieved smile spread across it.
"He truly is the blade that can sever our thousand-year fate." Oyakata-sama's voice was soft, yet carried an unshakable conviction.
On the journey back.
The three of them built a campfire in a sheltered part of the forest. Orange flames licked the pine branches with a crackle.
Kyojuro Rengoku sat cross-legged beside the fire, his back straight, firelight dancing in his golden eyes.
"The strong must protect the weak. That is the responsibility we are born with!" Rengoku declared his conviction openly, his tone firm. "Young Yaha, your power was born to protect others!"
Leaning against a thick pine trunk, Yaha rolled his eyes.
"Quit putting me on a pedestal."
He casually kicked a pebble into the fire, sending sparks flying. "That damn demon was just too noisy. It was keeping me from sleeping."
Instead of taking offense at his nasty attitude, Rengoku burst into hearty laughter.
Yaha frowned. Normally, he would have kicked someone that loud straight into the fire.
But looking at Rengoku's open, honest face, untouched by even a hint of darkness, he resisted the urge to raise his foot for once. He merely turned his head toward the shadows beyond the firelight.
Shinobu Kocho sat quietly on the other side.
She studied Yaha's slightly pale profile in the firelight. The backlash from opening his domain for the first time had left this monster with a rare trace of weakness.
She picked up her canteen, poured a cup of warm water, and rose to offer it to him.
"I owe you one this time."
Shinobu Kocho's voice was soft. The usual facade had vanished from her violet eyes, replaced by a complicated, searching look.
Yaha glanced at her, took the cup without ceremony, and drained it.
Right on cue, the system's mechanical voice rang out in his mind.
"Ding. Host has completed an overwhelming kill. Roleplay level has reached 52%." "[Domain Expansion] has entered a seven-day cooldown." "Advanced ability-[Open (Flame Arrow)]: progress bar unlocked."
Yaha stared at the translucent panel at the edge of his vision, a bloodthirsty red gleam rising in his eyes.
Low-grade trash like the Lower Ranks had nothing more to offer him.
Now that he had unlocked this flame, it was time to scorch those lofty Upper Ranks.
A few days later, on Mount Sagiri.
Through the cold morning air came a rapid clatter of wooden swords from deep within the bamboo grove.
Spurred on by Yaha's absurd strength, Giyu had thrown himself into training that bordered on self-torture. His Water Breathing had grown longer and more sustained, and his wooden blade trailed a faint frosty mist with every swing.
Sabito was swinging his sword just as desperately. His pride as a swordsman refused to let him stop, though sweat had long since soaked his training clothes.
Yaha watched from behind a tree for a while.
"Water Breathing isn't meant for chopping firewood." Yaha scoffed. His voice was quiet, yet it pierced both their ears with perfect precision. "Your openings are big enough to fit a cow through, and you swing as slowly as turtles."
Not bothering to watch any longer, he shook his head and turned toward the cabin.
Inside, Tsutako was mending clothes by the dim light of an oil lamp.
When Yaha entered, she picked up a brand-new black haori, carefully smoothed its creases, and handed it to him.
The haori's stitching was exquisitely fine, with several discreet wisteria blossoms embroidered in silver thread around the collar.
"What lousy taste. Wearing something like this would only make me look cheap." Disgust written all over his face, Yaha lifted the garment with two fingers and curled his lip.
Yet when he pushed open the wooden door and stepped outside, the black haori was already fitted snugly over his body.
The cold wind stirred its broad sleeves, making the wisteria pattern flicker in and out of sight.
Late that night.
Heavy clouds obscured the moonlight, leaving Mount Sagiri so quiet it seemed cut off from the world.
A black Kasugai Crow suddenly cut across the night sky, flapping down onto Yaha's windowsill with a sealed miniature red bamboo tube in its beak.
Yaha opened his eyes and sat up on the tatami.
He took the bamboo tube, broke the clay seal with his thumb, and unrolled the top-secret scroll.
Disappearances had been occurring frequently aboard the Mugen Train. The Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku, had been ordered to investigate.
At the very bottom, one line had been heavily marked in vermilion-the Hidden Corps had detected a terrifying aura along the railway, indicating Upper Rank activity.
Yaha's fingers slowly tightened.
The parchment scroll crumbled to powder in his palm.
In the darkness, a savage, dark-red glow rose in the depths of his pitch-black eyes. Black cursed markings silently spread from beneath his collar like living creatures.
He knew all too well what would happen next.
The wheels of fate were poised to crush that sweet-potato-loving owl at this very moment.
But if there was one thing he hated most in this life, it was someone else toying with the rules right in front of him.
"An Upper Rank?"
Yaha gave a cold laugh, his smile savage and feverish.
He threw back the covers and snatched up the black Nichirin Blade beside his bed.
He was getting involved, whether anyone liked it or not.
With him around, no one was taking that noisy owl away.
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