"Swish!"
From drawing the hilt to swinging the blade, it all happened in an instant.
The demon saw only the blade's searing flash and felt the aura of sunlight radiating from it-the very thing demons feared.
"A Nichirin Blade?!"
The demon's crimson eyes widened in disbelief.
He had known that Su Mu might be carrying a saber or a sword at his waist.
But he had not given it much thought.
Even if his opponent ambushed him with a blade and cut off his head, it would not kill him.
Blades were lethal weapons against frail humans, but they were of little use against demons.
He had simply never imagined that this blade would be a Nichirin Blade.
A Nichirin Blade capable of killing demons.
Every demon knew about Nichirin Blades. They were the weapons the Demon Slayer Corps used to fight them, the blades that could slay them.
But why would a demon carry a weapon capable of killing his own kind?
These Nichirin Blades contained properties that could kill demons, along with the aura of sunlight they loathed. Almost every demon instinctively despised them and kept well away.
The demon could not understand it.
But now, as he sensed the aura within the Nichirin Blade, it was already too late to dodge.
Su Mu's blade was too fast. Far too fast.
So fast that the demon saw only a streak of red before a cutting pain shot through the bones in his neck. Then his entire world began to spin.
In the secluded alley, a head with a shaved pate flew into the air. The body remained standing where it was, crimson blood spurting from its severed neck.
"Thud!"
The head struck the ground and rolled several times, its wide eyes still fixed on Su Mu, as though it could not believe what had happened.
He could not believe that Su Mu would kill him over a mere scrap of "food."
Still less could he believe that he would die so easily.
Crimson blood flowed across the ground, the moonlight lending it an eerie chill.
Looking at the demon's head on the ground, Su Mu slowly sheathed his Nichirin Blade, then wrapped it in cloth again.
This demon had been far too careless. Or perhaps it was not carelessness, but confidence in his demonic body.
After all, demons were not as fragile as humans. A human body was so frail that even the strongest person could die if he let his guard down and a child stabbed a vital spot with a sharp blade.
Such things almost never happened among demons.
And because of that carelessness and confidence, by the time the demon saw that Su Mu had drawn a Nichirin Blade capable of killing him, it was already too late.
By the time Su Mu put away his blade, the head he had severed with it was slowly disintegrating. Deep regret still lingered in those staring eyes.
But no amount of regret could change anything now.
As his head and body slowly disintegrated, a foul stench began to spread through the air, accompanied by an air of sorrow.
Ordinary people could not smell that sorrow. The Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen who severed demons' necks with Nichirin Blades would not smell it. Even if they did, they would not care, nor could they spare any sympathy for a dying demon's grief.
But Su Mu, being a demon himself, could smell it.
He could smell this demon's sorrow.
Pain, remorse, and despair mingled within it...
This sorrow did not come from the end of his life. It was the pain and grief left behind when, at death's door, he finally remembered the life he had once lived as a human.
Perhaps this demon, too, had once destroyed his own happiness with his own hands, until he became so changed that he could no longer recognize himself.
But however much he suffered, he could only fade into nothing with boundless despair.
Kanao Tsuyuri stood beside Su Mu. Seeing her uncle staring at the demon, she tilted her head and looked at him too. Her pinkish-purple eyes watched his head slowly disintegrate and saw the tears dripping from his eyes.
"He looks like he's crying."
Kanao Tsuyuri spoke softly.
Smelling the sorrow in the air, Su Mu replied in a low voice, "He should be."
With that, he took Kanao Tsuyuri's hand and quickly left.
"It stinks..."
"Why does it smell so awful? Let's get out of here."
"Did someone take a dump nearby?"
People passing through the alley covered their noses and hurried away, grumbling as they went.
Soon, the disturbance caught the attention of those who knew what to look for.
Hiroshi Furukawa arrived in the alley with several companions.
"It's the stench those damned demons leave behind when they die."
One swordsman smelled the foul odor in the air, his face full of disgust. "Those damned demons stink even after they die. They shouldn't exist in this world. Every last one of them should be burned alive by the sun."
"But why did a demon die here? Did one of our people kill it?"
One swordsman voiced his confusion.
Hiroshi Furukawa crouched where the demon had died and examined the spot carefully. "The demon hasn't been dead long. The smell is still strong."
Then Hiroshi Furukawa looked up. "Are there any other teams nearby besides ours?"
The swordsmen shook their heads. They were not sure. Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen always relied on individual communications through Kasugai Crows, a precaution meant to prevent the location of the Corps' headquarters from being exposed.
Many years ago, demons had tracked down the headquarters through the Corps' swordsmen and launched a surprise attack.
Although that battle had not destroyed the Demon Slayer Corps, every swordsman who practiced Sun Breathing-the mainstay of their fight against demons-had died in it.
As a result, the legacy of Sun Breathing had been lost.
By now, not a single swordsman in the entire Demon Slayer Corps practiced Sun Breathing.
And swordsmen who practiced Sun Breathing posed the greatest threat to demons.
Knowing he could not learn the whereabouts of the other nearby teams, Hiroshi Furukawa turned to the Hidden Ones who had accompanied them. "Have any swordsmen from other teams contacted you lately?"
Normally, whenever Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen arrived somewhere, they needed assistance from the local Hidden Ones.
Revealing other swordsmen's whereabouts was forbidden within the Demon Slayer Corps, but the Hidden Ones also knew that this situation was unusual.
After a moment's hesitation, one nodded. "Only Miss Kanae and Miss Shinobu have contacted us recently."
"Do you mean the Flower Hashira, Kanae Kocho?"
One swordsman could not help exclaiming softly. Female swordsmen were already rare in the Demon Slayer Corps, and even fewer had become Hashira.
The Flower Hashira, Kanae Kocho, was undoubtedly one of them.