A test against demons

Inside Infinity Castle, rows of test tubes stood before Muzan, dark red liquid swaying gently within the glass vessels.

He bent over and stared at one of the test tubes, holding a slender syringe between his fingertips as he slowly dripped a drop of newly prepared medicine into it.

The moment the medicine touched the cells, the color rapidly faded from dark red to grayish white. Then-nothing.

The cells did not fuse, multiply, or produce any of the reactions he had hoped for.

He stared at the motionless clump of grayish-white matter, a muscle twitching at the corner of his eye.

Then, without warning, he sneezed.

It was an extremely loud, extremely abrupt sneeze that echoed several times through the empty room in Infinity Castle.

Muzan froze in place, still holding the syringe, his expression shifting from concentration to blankness, then from blankness to an exceedingly rare look of bewilderment.

He had lived for who knew how many years. When had he last sneezed?

He could not remember at all. Perhaps he never had.

"What's going on...? With my body, catching a cold should be impossible."

He looked down at the syringe in his hand, then at the lifeless clump of grayish-white matter in the test tube, and flipped it over.

The entire table, along with its test tube racks, medicine bottles, and everything else, overturned onto the floor.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through Infinity Castle, spreading in overlapping waves.

"Another failure..."

His voice was quiet, yet it made Nakime, who stood outside the door, hold her breath.

"What went wrong this time? The ingredients? The proportions? Or-"

He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he had already regained his usual unflappable composure.

"Nakime, clean this up and bring in a new batch of materials."

Meanwhile, dusk on Mount Fujikasane had given way completely to night.

Zongyan headed in the direction Tanjiro had left. Before long, he found Tanjiro and the short, plump boy sitting beneath a large tree, tending to their wounds.

The left sleeve of Tanjiro's haori had been torn open. He sprinkled some of the wound medicine Zongyan had given him onto the injury on his shoulder and bandaged it as quickly as possible.

As Zongyan approached, Tanjiro raised his head and looked up at him.

"Mr. Zongyan, you haven't gone far?"

"No, I just looked around." Zongyan stopped a few steps beside him and looked at the wound on his shoulder. "Finished treating it?"

"More or less. Thank you for the medicine." Tanjiro lowered his sleeve and brushed the powder off his hands.

"No problem. Which direction are you two heading next?"

Tanjiro thought for a moment, then spoke.

"I want to head toward the mountainside. There are quite a few demons on this mountain, and I want to take down as many as possible so fewer people get hurt."

Zongyan looked at him, reviewing Tanjiro's route in the original story in his mind.

That included spending seven days on Mount Fujikasane, using his sense of smell to track demons, fighting his way along, and finally that scene with Sabito and Makomo... He should still have that scar from Sabito's blade.

After a moment's thought, he said, "Then I'll walk with you for a while."

Tanjiro paused. "Aren't you with the Demon Slayer Corps...?"

"I'm not, but I'm pretty curious about the demons on this mountain too."

Zongyan spoke very casually, as though he did not take the demons seriously at all.

Tanjiro looked at his clothes, then at the sword at his waist, and nodded.

"All right. I smell a demon over there. Something's not right. Let's hurry!"

With that, Tanjiro tightened his grip on his sword's hilt and ran briskly toward the source of the scent.

Zongyan followed him, keeping a few steps behind.

After the three passed through a dense stretch of woods, a relatively open clearing appeared ahead.

Moonlight filtered through gaps in the canopy, illuminating the figure in the middle of the clearing.

An utterly hideous demon stood at its center, traces of dark red still clinging to the corners of its mouth.

It had no normal human shape. Its torso resembled countless rotting roots tightly tangled and twisted together, with innumerable arms of varying thickness sprouting wildly in every direction, overlapping in layers and raised high.

More than a hundred hands and elbows swayed gently in the night breeze, casting an enormous, twisting, writhing shadow over the ground.

Old fragments of swords lay scattered across the ground, along with long-faded strips of cloth, clearly left by swordsmen who had died here in the past.

Nearby, a boy taking part in the selection trembled all over with fear, slumped on the ground and unable even to flee.

Several thick arms were already reaching for him.

Tanjiro's pupils contracted sharply. He pushed off the ground and shot forward, knocking the boy aside and shoving him behind the bushes.

The enormous hands slammed into the ground, sending dirt and broken stones flying.

All of the demon's attention instantly settled on Tanjiro's face.

The fox mask carved by Sakonji Urokodaki himself stood out starkly in the moonlight.

A murky voice mingled with countless howls emerged from the gaps between the demon's innumerable arms. It was impossible to tell which part was speaking, and the venomous resentment accumulated over forty-seven years almost spilled over.

"That mask... You're Sakonji Urokodaki's student."

One arm after another slowly extended forward, the joints making teeth-grating creaks as they ground together.

"I've been trapped here for forty-seven years. I've eaten fifty people in total. Thirteen of them were Urokodaki's students, all wearing fox masks like that one."

A chill instantly shot up Tanjiro's back, and his heart pounded hard against his chest.

The demon continued murmuring, its voice filled with sick pleasure.

"I remember every one of them. That Makomo, and that boy who wore only half a fox mask. Sabito, I think his name was."

"Back then, he swung his sword at me, but in the end, didn't I crush his head with my own hands?"

Sabito. Makomo.

Scenes of his training on Mount Sagiri flooded Tanjiro's mind in an instant.

The boy's hearty laughter and the girl's gentle encouragement were all vivid before him.

Towering fury swept through his mind in an instant.

Anger burned away his reason, completely disrupting the rhythm of his Total Concentration Breathing.

His chest heaved violently, and the hand gripping his Nichirin Blade trembled uncontrollably.

"Shut up!!"

Tanjiro roared and charged straight at the demon, heedless of the danger.

Cold steel flashed up and down as his Nichirin Blade severed several incoming arms in succession.

But flesh churned and writhed at the severed wounds, and fresh arms grew back in the blink of an eye, endlessly.

Arms filled the air like a raging tide, striking, clawing, and strangling from every direction.

Tanjiro could only keep swinging and slashing, his mind consumed by the urge for revenge, completely neglecting his defense.

One enormous arm seized an opening and slammed into Tanjiro's chest and abdomen with tremendous force.

Bang-!!

A violent crash erupted, and Tanjiro hurtled backward like a stone with its string snapped.

Seeing Tanjiro flying backward, Zongyan immediately darted forward and caught him.

The tremendous impact sent intense pain sweeping through Tanjiro's entire body and across his front, and even his Nichirin Blade flew from his hand.

In his daze, he seemed to hear the voice of his dead younger brother Mou echoing in his ears.

"Don't let anger consume you."

The voice was like cold water poured over his head.

Tanjiro gritted his teeth hard and forcibly dragged his awareness out of the chaos.

Just as his senses returned, he saw that Mr. Zongyan, who had been standing nearby all along, had actually picked up his Nichirin Blade.