Inside the sword, Asuramaru had already confird it through Perception.
The Mugen Train was no ordinary train.
A demon's presence had spread through the steel fra, the wheels, the walls, and the scentless spaces between the carriages. It was subtle, hidden beneath coal smoke and the noise of machinery, but to Asuramaru's senses, it was unmistakable.
The train itself had taken on the form of a demon.
Or more precisely, a demon was rging with it.
Lower Moon One—Enmu.
Asuramaru could not yet tell how far the fusion had progressed. Perhaps Enmu had only begun taking root. Perhaps his flesh had already crawled through most of the train's body, hiding beneath wood panels and iron plating like a parasite buried under skin.
Either way, it did not matter.
Tanjiro was no longer the boy who had struggled desperately on Mount Natagumo. With Asuramaru's assistance, and with every ability unleashed, killing Enmu would not be difficult.
One strike would be enough.
The real problem was not the demon already on the train.
It was the one who would appear afterward.
Akaza.
Upper Rank Three.
That was the enemy who required caution.
Outside, the five of them had already boarded the Mugen Train and taken seats in the fourth carriage.
Kyojuro Rengoku chose the front seat first, his fla-patterned haori settling around him like a banner.
"Sit here, Tanjiro!"
His voice was as bright and steady as ever.
Tanjiro hesitated for a mont, then sat beside him by the window.
Across from them, Inosuke had already pressed both hands against the glass, his boar mask nearly touching the window as he stared out at the moving platform.
"This steel beast's body is amazing!"
"You idiot, don't hit the glass!" Zenitsu hurried over and tried to pull him away. "If you break it, they'll make us pay for it!"
When Inosuke refused to move, Zenitsu had no choice but to open the window himself, hoping that would satisfy the lunatic before he decided to challenge the train to single combat.
On the other side, Sanemi Shinazugawa sat with his arms crossed, glaring at the two of them with visible displeasure.
Those brats…
Especially the yellow-haired one.
He really made Sanemi's fist itch.
anwhile, Rengoku folded his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead with a solemn expression.
"Co be my Tsuguko, Tanjiro!" he declared. "I will train you with everything I have! If you train under , you can be completely at ease!"
Tanjiro blinked.
"Mr. Rengoku, that isn't how this conversation works. Also… where exactly are you looking?"
Rengoku was facing forward with full seriousness.
Tanjiro was sitting right next to him.
Zenitsu's face twitched.
Inosuke slapped the window again.
Sanemi looked like he was reconsidering whether murder between comrades was truly prohibited.
The train moved on.
Steel wheels clattered over the tracks. Steam rolled past the windows, and the last traces of twilight slowly vanished behind the glass.
Before long, night swallowed the world outside.
The Demon Slayers' expressions shifted.
Night ant demons could move.
Night ant hunting grounds.
But just then, the door at the rear of the carriage opened.
A thin conductor walked in, holding a ticket puncher in one hand. His face looked pale and tired beneath the dim carriage lights.
"Tickets, please."
Tanjiro looked at him, still sowhat confused.
"What is this for?"
"The conductor punches the tickets after checking them," Rengoku explained patiently. "It prevents people from boarding without paying."
"I see."
The conductor approached them.
Rengoku handed over his ticket first.
Click.
The puncher bit a neat hole through the paper.
No one noticed that the characters printed on the ticket shifted faintly the instant the hole was made.
Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Sanemi handed over their tickets one after another.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Each ticket was punched.
Each one changed.
None of them noticed.
But inside the sword, Asuramaru knew exactly what had happened.
These tickets were the dium Enmu used to activate his Blood Demon Art.
He did not warn them.
For one thing, the journey to Akaza's location was still long. For another, if Tanjiro and the others wanted to dream for a while, there was no harm in letting them.
Asuramaru could wake them at any mont.
So he rely watched in silence.
Have a good dream, Tanjiro.
The mont the tickets were punched, sleep settled over them like a silent snowfall.
One by one, their breathing deepened.
Their eyes closed.
Their heads lowered.
The carriage fell quiet.
Inside Tanjiro's mind, a gentle dream unfolded.
He was no longer wearing the Demon Slayer Corps uniform.
There was no sword at his waist.
No wooden box on his back.
No blood on his hands.
He knelt in the familiar room of his old ho, surrounded by warmth he had lost long ago.
His younger siblings were there.
His mother was there.
The voices he had buried beneath grief and duty returned as if nothing had ever happened. Laughter filled the room. Small hands tugged at his sleeves. His family gathered around him as though the nightmare had never begun.
Tanjiro smiled.
It was a happy smile.
A fragile one.
Asuramaru watched quietly from within the dream.
He did not disturb him.
While Tanjiro enjoyed that reunion, Asuramaru took the opportunity to study the structure of Enmu's Blood Demon Art.
After observing it, he almost wanted to laugh.
Enmu's dream was crude.
At most, it opened a small chamber inside a person's mind and sealed the target within it. Compared to Asuramaru's own control over the ntal world, it was shallow and fragile. The dream could be shattered easily if one understood the structure.
Forced sleep probably operated on the sa principle.
Unfortunately for Enmu, he had chosen the wrong target.
With Asuramaru here, Tanjiro was essentially immune.
…
At the front of the train, in the first carriage, a severed hand crawled across the floor.
It was Enmu's hand.
An eye opened on the back of it. A mouth stretched across the palm. Before it stood four human children, two boys and two girls, each with a worn, hollow look on their faces.
Each of them held a sharp awl.
The mouth on the hand opened, and Enmu's lazy, sweet voice spilled out.
"Soon, their sleep will grow deeper. When that happens, tie yourselves to them with the ropes I gave you. Be careful not to touch their bodies directly. Strong Demon Slayers can awaken from even the smallest outside stimulus."
The four humans listened in silence.
None of them looked well.
"The dream isn't infinite," Enmu continued. "Find the boundary. Use the awls to cut through it and enter the subconscious. Once you find the spiritual core, destroy it."
His voice softened, almost affectionate.
"I can't leave the front of the train yet. So if you want to keep dreaming beautiful dreams, work hard for ."
The four tightened their grips on the awls.
For the sake of the dreams they had been promised, they had already made their choice.
Soon, they entered the carriage where Tanjiro and the others slept.
Each chose a target.
Tanjiro.
Rengoku.
Zenitsu.
Inosuke.
As for Sanemi, they ignored him for the mont.
His scar-covered body and ferocious sleeping expression were simply too intimidating.
No one wanted to go near him.
…
In Tanjiro's dream, he had returned to his old ho.
He knelt in the room, surrounded by his family.
The warmth was real.
Too real.
His younger siblings laughed and played nearby. His mother watched him with the sa gentle expression he rembered from long ago.
Yet even in that happiness, Tanjiro's hand kept drifting toward his waist.
There should have been sothing there.
Sothing important.
Sothing he could not afford to lose.
His fingers brushed empty air.
His brow furrowed slightly.
Why did it feel like he had forgotten soone?
Sowhere he could not see, a young boy stood at the edge of the dream with an awl clutched in his hand.
He looked pale and weak, but his eyes were fixed on the shimring boundary before him.
"Is this it?"
He raised the awl and stabbed it into the dream's edge.
The boundary split.
The boy stepped through.
Beyond the dream lay Tanjiro's subconscious.
The mont he entered, he froze.
A boundless ocean stretched before him.
The sky above was clear and blue, with soft white clouds drifting lazily overhead. The sa sky was reflected on the surface of the endless water below, so calm that heaven and sea seed to rge into one.
There was no darkness here.
No malice.
Only warmth.
The breeze brushed his cheek.
For a long mont, the boy forgot why he had co.
"Is this… his inner world?"
His voice trembled.
The place was too beautiful.
Too peaceful.
Behind him, a voice spoke.
"It's beautiful here, isn't it?"
The boy stiffened.
He turned sharply.
A figure stood behind him, crimson eyes watching him with quiet displeasure.
Asuramaru.
Long dark-purple hair frad his face. His presence was too beautiful to be human and too dangerous to be mistaken for harmless. The boy stared at him, montarily dazed.
Almost without thinking, he answered.
"It's… astonishing. So vast. And… warm."
Asuramaru gave a small nod.
"Well said."
Then he stepped forward.
"But since you ca here, please die."
He raised one hand.
Black smoke surged from his body, twisting in the air before forming sharp thorns that shot toward the intruder.
The boy's face drained of color.
He closed his eyes, trembling, waiting for death.
But the pain never ca.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw a hand made of soft light blocking the thorns in front of him.
It was gentle.
So gentle that his eyes imdiately filled with tears.
Asuramaru stared at the luminous hand.
Then he sighed.
"Subconsciously protecting others, even when they ca to harm you…"
His gaze shifted toward the sleeping soul at the center of this world.
"That's definitely your style, Tanjiro."
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
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