Tanjiro stared at his own hands in disbelief.
For a brief mont, he could do nothing but clench and unclench his fingers, feeling the subtle but undeniable change running through his body. His muscles felt tighter. Lighter. More responsive. It was as if so hidden weight had been stripped away.
When he finally ca back to himself, he hurriedly asked, "Asuramaru, what did you just do to ?"
Alex answered at an unhurried pace, clearly pleased with himself.
"One of my abilities. From now on, every ti you kill a demon, I can digest part of its power and feed it back to you."
His tone grew even more matter-of-fact.
"So if you want to get stronger, keep killing demons."
After giving that simple explanation, Alex also carefully observed the results through his control over the sword.
The effect was obvious.
That thirty percent feedback just now was roughly equivalent to half a month of Tanjiro's hard training. His body had been strengthened across the board, not explosively, but solidly, in a way that would only beco more valuable in real combat.
Still, Alex had one question.
"System, is there any limit to this enhancent?"
[Ding! The stronger the Sword Master's body becos, the more Demon Power must be consud through Feedback to continue enhancing it.]
Alex understood imdiately.
So the further Tanjiro advanced, the greater the cost.
That was reasonable enough.
A little annoying, but not a real problem.
anwhile, in the outside world, Tanjiro slowly adapted to the change pulsing through his limbs. After a few breaths, he finally sheathed his sword, bent down, and picked up the cloth bag left behind on the ground.
When he opened it, his expression stilled.
Inside were hairpins.
All kinds of them.
Small, delicate, ordinary things.
Belongings of girls who would never co ho.
Thinking of the missing girls and the demon's behavior, Tanjiro already had a good idea of what had happened. In truth, he was almost certain of it.
But Tanjiro was Tanjiro.
Even now, he could not bring himself to crush the last thin thread of hope in another person's heart.
So he turned, walked over to the stunned Kazumi, and held the bag out with both hands.
"I have to go," he said quietly. "Please take this. Maybe one day... you'll et that young lady again."
Kazumi's eyes imdiately filled with tears.
His trembling hands received the cloth bag. The mont he opened it, the first thing he saw was a bow-shaped hairpin he recognized at once.
His vision blurred.
In that instant, he understood what Tanjiro ant.
But as long as the truth was not spoken aloud, hope could still survive in so corner of his heart.
His shoulders shook as he called after Tanjiro's retreating figure.
"Thank you... thank you so much..."
His voice broke.
"I believe that day will co too..."
Hearing that, Tanjiro turned back and offered him a small, gentle smile.
Then he lifted a hand and waved.
"I'll leave that young lady in your care."
With that, he turned and walked away down the empty street.
But the calm in his expression did not reach his heart.
His brows were knit tightly together, and a naless fire burned inside his chest.
After witnessing tragedy like this again and again, that anger had finally found its true target.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
Inside the blade, a system notification rang out at once.
[Ding! Negative emotions detected from Tanjiro. Obtained 20 Emotion Points!]
...
Alex glanced over his current Emotion Points.
Just a little more, and he would be able to unlock another ability.
So while Tanjiro walked, Alex began calculating again, weighing which ability would be the most worthwhile to unlock next.
As for the outside world—
Morning arrived.
A Kasugai Crow circled overhead before descending and landing on Tanjiro's shoulder. After steadying itself, it opened its beak and spoke in its hoarse, chanical voice.
"Next destination: Asakusa, Tokyo Prefecture! There are reports of a demon lurking there. Proceed imdiately!"
Tanjiro broke out in a cold sweat.
"Eh? Another mission already?"
The pace was so tight it left him montarily rattled.
Even so, he did not hesitate for long. He imdiately set off for Asakusa in Tokyo Prefecture.
By the ti he reached the assigned location, night had already fallen again.
Tanjiro stood on a lively, brightly lit street, Nezuko drowsily walking at his side, and stared with wide eyes at the city before him.
It felt like an entirely different world.
Electric lights.
Wide streets.
Bustling crowds.
The old and the new seed to coexist here in a way that made everything feel both strange and dazzling.
Tanjiro looked around, visibly overwheld.
"Have towns already developed this much...?"
Inside the sword, Alex was also quietly marveling.
If he rembered correctly, this should still be the Taisho era. Yet Asakusa already carried the air of a new age. Western-style buildings stood beside older structures. Technology was creeping into everyday life. It gave the whole city a strange rhythm, half familiar and half foreign.
But Alex's attention soon shifted elsewhere.
They had arrived.
Which ant if events played out as expected, they would et Muzan soon.
Just thinking about that made his mood brighten imdiately.
The question was not whether they would et.
The question was what he should say when they did.
As Tanjiro walked through the crowded streets, he looked exactly like a country boy stepping into the city for the first ti, eyes snagging on everything around him.
Maybe because he felt so out of place, he eventually pulled his hood up and led Nezuko away from the busiest parts of town, drifting toward the quieter outskirts.
There, under a lone streetlamp, stood a food stall.
The bald owner sat behind it, calmly smoking a pipe.
Tanjiro, already feeling the weight of the day in his bones, approached and said sowhat listlessly, "Sir, one bowl of yamakake udon, please."
The owner answered briskly, "Coming right up."
Not long after, Tanjiro sat on a wooden stool beside the stall and accepted the steaming bowl. He took a sip of the broth.
Warmth spread through him imdiately.
He let out a long breath of relief.
And at that exact mont—
A scent drifted into his nose.
A scent he would never, ever forget.
Tanjiro froze.
His expression changed so violently that the bowl slipped from his hands and shattered on the ground. Noodles, broth, and broken ceramic splashed across the street, but he did not spare them a single glance.
He was already breathing hard.
That scent—
Why was it here?
Why now?
It was the scent from that day.
The scent from his ho.
Without thinking, Tanjiro bolted.
He ran through dim alleys and cut across streets, weaving through the crowd with mounting urgency. The farther he went, the stronger the scent beca.
Stronger.
Closer.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
Then, in the heart of the crowd, Tanjiro saw him.
A man in a black suit and a black-and-white hat, standing with his back turned.
The source of the scent.
Without ti to think, Tanjiro's hand shot out and pressed down on the man's shoulder.
Alex, who had been waiting for this mont for far too long, moved at once.
The instant contact was made, he activated Body Control and seized temporary command of Tanjiro's body.
Tanjiro himself did not lose consciousness. Instead, he was pushed into a strange observer's state, like a passenger watching from inside his own body.
His startled voice rang out inwardly.
"Asuramaru, what's happening to ?"
Alex had already slipped completely into character.
"If you're even a little careless against this monster, you'll die," he said coldly. "Leave the rest to ."
In the outside world, the man turned.
His face ca into view.
Under slightly furrowed brows were those iconic crimson eyes, beautiful and terrible like polished gemstones.
No mistake.
This was Muzan Kibutsuji.
Alex slowly withdrew his hand, then expressionlessly lowered the hood.
For a single instant, their eyes t.
And then—
A soft voice broke the tension.
"Daddy, who is he?"
Muzan turned slightly.
A little girl with twin tails could be seen nearby, and in his arms he held her with practiced gentleness, the perfect image of a kind father. He looked back again and offered a mild, cultured smile.
"Is there sothing I can help you with?"
If Tanjiro had still been in control, he might have faltered at that smile.
Alex did not.
He had been waiting for this exact mont.
He let his face turn cold and remote, his expression carrying just a trace of anger buried beneath indifference. Then, in a low voice, he spoke the words that had long since been prepared.
"Toying with human emotions... what is so entertaining about it?"
His stare sharpened.
"Where is the pleasure in it?"
The instant Muzan heard that voice—heard that tone—sothing deep inside him lurched.
Then he saw the scar.
The earrings.
And from the depths of mory, a figure rose like a nightmare clawing its way out of the grave.
The swordsman who had branded terror into his very soul.
The man who had haunted him all his life.
Alex looked straight at him and asked, in a voice gone cold enough to cut flesh,
"What do you think human life is?"
His gaze did not waver.
"Why don't you rember?"
At those words, Muzan Kibutsuji's soul trembled.
His body reacted before his mind could suppress it.
He began to shake. Just slightly at first, then more visibly, as the fear carved into him by that one man was dragged screaming back to the surface and magnified without rcy.
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
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