As it turned out, even after killing countless demons, when confronted with something that assaulted the senses like a scene from a holographic horror movie... you could still lose your nerve.
Haruto felt as though his heart had stopped that instant. Only when the ache in his arm registered did he realize how outrageous his last move had been.
Over a hundred slashes in an instant. That was far beyond his limits.
With that single move, he had pushed past the ceiling of his swordsmanship that he had long hoped to break through.
To think the barrier he had struggled against for so long had fallen under these circumstances. He did not know whether to laugh or cry.
The hundred-odd slashes that had erupted like a blast of air minced the headless body into a mass of flesh resembling slime.
Rank demon blood splattered across the ground. Haruto stared wide-eyed at the pile of minced flesh, still shaken.
"Obon has come.
What's there to celebrate?
There are no new clothes,
And no sash to wear.
The child keeps crying.
I wish I could leave soon,
And get away from this place..."
The head lying on the ground began singing again.
But its voice was no longer melodious. It had grown hoarse.
The grating nursery rhyme echoed through the dark night. Compared with the previous verse celebrating Obon, this part sounded far more mournful and bitter.
I wish I could leave soon,
And get away from this place...
Eight years after Yūki had left, the hardships of life had crushed Saori's resolve as a young woman raising a child alone.
She had wanted to leave Hirano, perhaps even leave her child behind, and seek a new life.
Perhaps that was when a vicious demon had appeared and, through false promises