Destroyer of Demons

Time passed day by day in this peaceful yet fulfilling routine.

Until the morning of the fifteenth day.

"Ding-dong-ding-dong-"

An eerie chiming of wind chimes broke the tranquility of the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters.

Rokuya had just finished breakfast and was sitting in the corridor drinking tea when he heard extremely agitated footsteps outside the gate.

"Where's that newly appointed whatever Kai Hashira?! Get out here!"

With a furious roar, a man charged into the courtyard, wearing a traditional yukata, a bamboo hat hung with wind chimes, and an extremely comical Hyottoko mask over his face.

On his back was a two-meter-long object wrapped in layer upon layer of coarse cloth.

"He's here." Rokuya set down his teacup and rose, a trace of anticipation flashing in his eyes.

Haganezuka Hotaru, a master swordsmith from the Swordsmith Village that served the Demon Slayer Corps exclusively. An obsessive who valued swords more than his own life.

"You're Takanashi Rokuno?"

Haganezuka Hotaru strode up to Rokuya and stared fixedly at him through the holes in his mask, his voice brimming with hostility and agitation.

"That's me." Rokuya nodded calmly.

"I'm Haganezuka Hotaru! I'm here to deliver your sword!" He abruptly slammed the cloth-wrapped bundle from his back onto the ground with a dull thud. It was clearly extremely heavy.

Then Haganezuka Hotaru launched into a rapid-fire barrage of complaints, gesticulating wildly. The wind chimes hanging from his hat clanged so loudly they made one's head ache.

"You little bastard! I heard from the Kakushi Corps that you used this sword to cut down fifty demons in a cave, including a three-meter-tall mutated demon! Is that right?!"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea how hard demons' bones are?! Do you know how much demon blood corrodes a blade when you cut through fifty demons' necks in succession?! Especially that mutated demon-its scales and bone spurs could absolutely chip an ordinary Nichirin Blade!"

Haganezuka Hotaru grew more worked up as he spoke, even beginning to stamp his feet. "Your sword may be made of an extremely unusual material and weigh a hundred and fifty kilograms, but! In such intense, nonstop combat, without any maintenance or respite, you must have rolled its edge, right?! You must have left irreparable scratches on the blade, right?! But tell me, how did you manage not to leave a single mark?"

As a master swordsmith, he had to inspect and clean the entire blade before engraving it. When this sword had been delivered to him half a month earlier, his mind had been filled with thoughts of how to repair the slash marks and rolled edges that were certain to be there.

Back in the Swordsmith Village, when Haganezuka Hotaru took out the sword. When the final layer of coarse cloth was lifted, and that familiar, ink-black, hundred-and-fifty-kilogram blade was exposed to the sunlight.

Haganezuka Hotaru's movements suddenly froze. It was as though the entire world had been paused at that moment.

Haganezuka Hotaru crouched there like a statue, staring fixedly at the blade before him.

"This... this is impossible..."

From beneath the mask came Haganezuka Hotaru's hoarse, incredulous murmur.

As though caressing the most delicate infant, he reached out with trembling hands and gently stroked Shura's broad, sharp blade, inch by inch.

From the hilt to the guard.

From the middle of the blade all the way to its tip.

No chips.

No rolled edges.

Not the slightest scratch.

There were not even any dull spots left by the corrosion of demon blood!

The entire cutting edge was smooth, sharp, and polished like a mirror, reflecting a chilling, deep-blue gleam in the sunlight. How could this possibly look like a deadly weapon that had slain fifty demons in a single night and cleaved through hard bone spurs three meters tall?

It looked for all the world like a brand-new weapon fresh from quenching at the forge, its newly sharpened edge not yet used!

"A miracle... this is a divine miracle!!!"

Haganezuka Hotaru suddenly roared as though he had gone mad, then began engraving.

Returning to the present, "You... how exactly did you do it?!" Haganezuka Hotaru tilted his head up, his normally comical face now filled with fervor and a pilgrim's devotion. "In combat at that level, even the finest Hashira using Total Concentration Breathing would wear down the blade through tiny deviations in angle! But your sword... why doesn't it show a single trace of stress?!"

Rokuya looked down at the swordsmith clinging to his thigh, an almost imperceptible trace of amusement flashing in his eyes.

How had he done it?

But of course, Rokuya would not explain with words alone.

He bent down slightly and gripped the hilt with one hand. A sharp clang rang out like a dragon's cry.

With one arm, he effortlessly lifted the hundred-and-fifty-kilogram Shura and pointed it straight at the heavens.

Near the guard, four bold, sweeping characters brimming with murderous intent stood out on the blade-

[Destroyer of Demons]!

"Because my sword cuts only what it should, without a trace of force left over." Rokuya's voice was calm and confident.

"Good! Good! Good!" Haganezuka Hotaru scrambled to his feet in excitement. He looked at Rokuya as though looking at an unrivaled piece of rare metal. "Takanashi Rokuno! No... Lord Kai Hashira! I take back what I said! You're not merely a powerful swordsman, but a genius who has mastered his weapon perfectly!"

Haganezuka Hotaru bowed deeply, his voice carrying unprecedented fervor and anticipation. "In your hands, this sword will never gather dust. I have a powerful premonition..."

The swordsmith abruptly raised his head, his eyes behind the mask's holes fixed on Rokuya.

"With it in your hands, you'll surely cut off the head of the strongest demon in this world! You surely will!"

Rokuya looked at the four characters spelling "Destroyer of Demons," gleaming coldly in the sunlight, and gently rubbed his fingers over the hilt. He could feel the Shadow Battle Axe's armor-piercing law entering into some wondrous resonance with those four characters.

"The strongest demon's head, huh..."

Rokuya turned to look at the rolling mountains in the distance. Countless sins and tragedies lay hidden there, as did the destiny he had to bring to an end.

"May your words come true."

Rokuya turned his wrist and slid Shura back into the specially made scabbard on his back with a clang, his broad, dark-blue haori snapping in the wind.

"That's exactly what I have in mind."

Within the tranquil courtyard of the Ubuyashiki Estate, the fragrance of wisteria drifted gently in the breeze.

"As the Demon Slayer Corps' strongest fighters, Hashira-level swordsmen must not only provide support wherever crises arise, but also take responsibility for guarding a region in ordinary times." Kagaya Ubuyashiki sat upright where the corridor's shadows met the sunlight. A gentle smile, soothing as a spring breeze, rested on his face, half of which had been ravaged by purplish-red curse markings.

Before him, Takanashi Rokuno sat squarely on the stone steps with his legs spread. Beside him, the terrifying Shura, two meters long and weighing a hundred and fifty kilograms, lay quietly in its specially made, broad scabbard. Even motionless, the jet-black scabbard radiated an oppressive presence that made hearts tremble, as though an ancient behemoth were imprisoned within, ready to devour someone at any moment.

As Rokuya stuffed a rice ball into his mouth-his twentieth that day-he asked indistinctly, "So, Master, where has my patrol territory been assigned?"

Ever since he had activated Demon Form's passive ability and integrated the [Shadow Battle Axe]'s armor-piercing law, he had found that his body was like a bottomless black hole, consuming enormous amounts of energy at every moment. A rice ball that could fill an ordinary person was no more than a tiny snack to him.

"Tokyo Prefecture." Kagaya Ubuyashiki softly uttered those words, a hint of gravity in his voice.