Branches lashed painfully across the fleeing demon's face. His hideous features were tinged blue and purple, and blood kept seeping from his wounds as he ran for his life.
"Huff! Huff! Huff..."
He gasped for breath, the exhaustion weighing on his body growing heavier by the moment.
Demons ordinarily felt no fatigue, but that was only when they were uninjured. When wounded, their bodies prioritized healing.
Wounds meant little to a demon. Even a severed arm or a pierced heart could heal quickly. But things were different when the weapon was a Nichirin Blade, forged from crimsonred iron sand and crimsonred ore that absorbed sunlight.
Wounds inflicted by a Nichirin Blade, which possessed the special ability to inhibit a demon's regeneration, healed very slowly.
For a demon who had not known exhaustion in so long, the return of that sensation brought overwhelming panic and fear.
It was the feeling of approaching death.
Run. Run for your life.
As that thought filled his mind, an even greater resentment welled up inside him. He had clearly sensed Su Mu's presence earlier. If Su Mu had joined forces with him, things might not have gone so badly. They might even have turned the tables and killed these demon slayers together. But the moment Su Mu sensed what was happening, he had left without hesitation, showing no intention of treating him as a companion or even one of his own kind.
What a fool!
Do you think these demon slayers will spare you once they've killed me?
How laughable.
Whoosh!
A flash of steel came from behind. The fleeing demon screamed and tumbled to the ground.
One of the pursuing Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen had hurled his Nichirin Blade without hesitation. It struck the demon's thigh as he ran, making him lose his balance and fall.
Hiroshi Furukawa did not waste the opening his teammate had created. He was already charging in, his blade flashing like clear autumn water, without a single wasted word.
Now!
"Flame Breathing, second form: Rising Scorching Sun!"
Gripping his sword with both hands, Hiroshi Furukawa sprang into the air mid-stride and swung his Nichirin Blade. His sword accelerated explosively, the blazing slash sweeping straight toward the demon's neck.
The demon sensed the danger and tried to dodge, but it was too late. The keen blade was already against his neck.
The demon suddenly felt his neck grow light, as though he were flying through the sky. Then he saw his own familiar body, blood gushing like a fountain from its headless neck.
So my head has been cut off.
His head struck the ground with a dull thud.
Hiroshi Furukawa landed at the same moment. He dropped to one knee, bracing his sword against the ground with one hand, and panted heavily.
His companions caught up from behind. Seeing that the demon had been slain, they all broke into smiles.
One Demon Slayer Corps swordsman looked at the hideous head their captain, Hiroshi Furukawa, had severed. Remembering his fallen companions, he strode forward in fury and stamped on it again and again, his teeth clenched.
"Demons... these damned creatures should never have existed in this world."
Hiroshi Furukawa and the others were all panting heavily. None of them stopped him from venting his anger.
Although his head had been severed, the demon's powerful vitality kept him from dying immediately. His eyes could still move, his ears could still hear, and his nose could still draw breath.
The Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen paid little attention to this. Demons might possess tremendous vitality, but however powerful they were, death was only a matter of time once a Nichirin Blade severed their necks. They could already see the head beneath the swordsman's foot slowly disintegrating.
As the demon's remains dissolved, a foul stench began spreading through the air.
"These vile demons stink even after they're dead."
With disgust written across his face, the swordsman who had been trampling the demon's head kicked it away.
The disintegrating head rolled through the grass, giving off a foul stench as the demon's life slowly ebbed away.
As his life faded, the human memories he had gradually lost began returning, little by little. Before becoming a demon, he too had once had a wonderful family, a gentle wife and a well-behaved child. But after he became a demon, the taste of blood had destroyed all that happiness.
His gentle wife had held him tightly as he devoured her flesh, hoping he would soon come to his senses. Weeping, she had begged him to spare their child and eat only her...
Those memories, which he had gradually forgotten after becoming a demon, resurfaced one by one.
Pain, boundless pain, grief.
Endless sorrow.
All of it rose within the demon as death approached.
Tears mingled with the blood in his eye sockets and fell silently. All those beautiful things, all the happiness that had once been his, had been destroyed after he became a demon.
An air of sorrow spread as the demon died, but none of the Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen present sensed it. They smelled only the foul odor in the air. Had Tanjiro Kamado been there, perhaps he could have smelled that lingering sorrow and felt it.
Ordinary people, however, could not sense such things. They could smell only the foul stench a demon gave off as he died.
"This demon-hunting mission is finally over."
One swordsman began bandaging his wounds as he caught his breath. There was sorrow on his face for the companions who had died, but also relief that he himself was still alive.
"Boss, I heard you're treating Lord Kyojuro to a meal once the mission's over."
A swordsman limped up to Hiroshi Furukawa, anticipation brightening his face. This was the Flame Hashira, after all, someone every swordsman admired.
"Yes."
Hiroshi Furukawa nodded, a faint smile softening his tense face.
"Could you take us along?"
The limping swordsman looked at him pleadingly. The others turned toward him as well, their faces full of anticipation. This was Kyojuro Rengoku, the Hashira who had slain the Flute Demon of the Twelve Kizuki.
"No problem."
Looking at his companions, Hiroshi Furukawa agreed without hesitation.
"But wouldn't Lord Kyojuro mind? After all, he only agreed to meet with you, Boss
."
The limping swordsman sounded worried.
"Don't worry. It'll be fine. Lord Kyojuro will only be happy that I brought you along."
Hiroshi Furukawa shook his head. To him, Kyojuro Rengoku was someone who cared for others like an older brother. He always wore a smile and brimmed with enthusiasm, offering his juniors care and guidance. There was no need to worry about any of that.
Everyone smiled at his words and relaxed.
Only Hiroshi Furukawa remained grave, his head lowered as he inspected the surroundings.
"Boss, what are you still looking at?"
The limping swordsman approached Hiroshi Furukawa and asked with a smile, "Once we're back, let's go drinking in the Entertainment District. I hear there's a new courtesan who's incredibly beautiful..."
Hiroshi Furukawa seemed to notice something. He suddenly crouched and touched a footprint on the ground, then raised his head and narrowed his eyes.
"Boss, what's wrong?"
Seeing Hiroshi Furukawa's solemn expression, the limping swordsman looked puzzled.
"I'm afraid this demon-hunting mission isn't over yet."
Hiroshi Furukawa rested his hand on the hilt of his Nichirin Blade, his gaze as sharp as its edge.