"Really?"
The relief on Tanjirou's face lasted only an instant before it softened into concern.
"Asuramaru, I don't want you forcing yourself to do sothing you don't want to do. We're equals. I've never thought of myself as your master."
The thought was clear, steady, and sincere.
To Tanjirou, Asuramaru had never been an object hanging at his waist. He was not a tool to be ordered around, nor a weapon to be used and discarded. They had fought together, survived together, and trusted one another through deathly battles.
They were companions.
Close friends.
Inside the sword, Asuramaru heard every bit of that sincerity and gave a soft laugh.
"Then consider this my choice."
Tanjirou understood.
A gentle smile spread across his face.
"Thank you, Asuramaru."
He quickly slipped into an empty alley off the main street. The mont the shadows swallowed him, the sword at his waist slid from its sheath on its own.
Black smoke spilled into the air.
It gathered, twisted, and took shape, gradually condensing into a slender figure that descended lightly before them.
This ti, Asuramaru's appearance was different from before.
Instead of his usual attire, he wore a simple, plain kimono without ornantation. Even his features had been subtly adjusted. His face looked softer, more innocent, almost like that of a naive young boy whose beauty leaned too close to delicacy for most people to tell at a glance.
And yet, that only made him more eye-catching.
The alley fell silent.
Zenitsu stared.
His eyes went round.
His lips trembled.
The next mont, his whole body shook as though struck by heavenly revelation.
Asuramaru had appeared.
Asuramaru had appeared right in front of him.
Zenitsu wanted to rush forward. His legs twitched. His hands lifted. His soul practically left his body and tried to fling itself into a dramatic confession.
Sohow, by what little survival instinct he had left, he held himself back.
Instead, he took a stiff step forward, extended his right hand with a seriousness rarely seen on his face, and blushed all the way to his ears.
"Um... I'm Zenitsu Agatsuma. Miss Asuramaru, may we be friends?"
Tanjirou, standing beside him, looked as if he had swallowed a stone.
He wanted to say sothing.
He truly did.
But Asuramaru was faster.
"Correction," Asuramaru said, ruby-red eyes resting on Zenitsu's face with quiet amusent. "You got one thing wrong. I'm male."
The alley went still.
Zenitsu's hand remained frozen in midair.
His expression cracked.
Then shattered.
"Eh...?"
His face slowly drained of color.
"Male...?"
His voice grew weaker and weaker, as if every syllable were being dragged out of the ruins of a collapsed dream.
"Asuramaru is... male...?"
The truth landed harder than any demon's Blood Demon Art.
Zenitsu stood there, hollow-eyed and trembling. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Sothing inside him had clearly been severed, and unfortunately, it was not sothing Tanjirou could fix with bandages.
Tanjirou hurried over.
"Zenitsu? Are you all right?"
No response.
Tanjirou gently shook his shoulder.
"Zenitsu?"
Still nothing.
Zenitsu only stared blankly ahead, muttering to himself.
"No... impossible... Asuramaru can't be male... that's impossible..."
Tanjirou sighed.
He had known Zenitsu might struggle to accept the truth.
He had not expected him to break this thoroughly.
But ti was short. Daki would not wait for them to resolve Zenitsu's emotional disaster.
Tanjirou took the remaining half bottle of marechi blood from Zenitsu's hand, then turned to Asuramaru and held it out.
"I'm counting on you, Asuramaru."
Asuramaru accepted the small bottle without another word.
Then he turned and walked out of the alley.
The mont he stepped onto the street, eyes began to gather.
Even in Yoshiwara, where painted beauties and graceful courtesans could be seen everywhere, Asuramaru stood out. He looked too clean for this place, too untouched by the night air. Under the glow of the lanterns, his plain kimono only made his delicate features more striking.
Whispers followed him almost imdiately.
"Where did that child co from? So pretty..."
"Is that a boy or a girl?"
"Look at that face. How can soone be that beautiful?"
"Where is he going?"
"That direction... isn't that Kyogoku House?"
Asuramaru ignored them all.
He entered Kyogoku House naturally, his movents neither hurried nor hesitant. In an unobserved corner, he tipped the small vial and let the marechi blood drip onto his arm beneath his sleeve.
The scent spread.
Subtle to humans.
Intoxicating to demons.
Then, pretending to have lost his way, he wandered up to the third floor and pushed open the door to one of the rooms.
Several geisha inside were in the middle of dressing. They froze at the sight of him.
Asuramaru imdiately lowered his head.
"I'm sorry. I entered the wrong room."
His voice was soft, just flustered enough to appear harmless.
Before the stunned won could respond, he stepped back and slid the door shut.
The commotion was small.
But for the demon hiding nearby, it was enough.
In another room, Daki's eyes opened.
The scent reached her first.
Marechi blood.
Her gaze sharpened with greed.
At first, she thought that ugly little creature had returned.
The thought alone made her lips curl with disgust.
But when she pushed open the door and looked into the corridor, what she saw was not Zenitsu.
It was a beautiful child she had never seen before.
Daki's expression changed.
The disgust vanished.
Her eyes brightened.
In all her years hiding in the Entertainnt District, she had devoured countless beauties. Oiran, attendants, young won praised by entire streets, girls whose faces made n forget their nas. Yet compared to the figure before her, those won suddenly seed dull.
And that scent.
Rare blood.
Sweet, rich, and tempting.
A slow smile curved Daki's lips.
"What a cute little one."
Asuramaru turned toward her.
Daki stepped fully into the corridor, her posture elegant, her voice honeyed.
"Did you enter the wrong room? Why don't you co sit with for a while?"
Asuramaru's eyes widened slightly.
He took half a step back, playing the part perfectly.
"N-no... I'm leaving."
Then he turned and fled down the stairs like a frightened child.
Daki did not move right away.
Across the corridor, the geisha who had heard the earlier noise had opened their doors and looked out. The mont Daki's gaze swept over them, their faces paled and they hurriedly retreated into their rooms.
Daki paid them no mind.
Her attention remained fixed on the direction Asuramaru had gone.
Her tongue brushed lightly over her lips.
"How could I possibly let you escape?"
By then, Asuramaru had already left Kyogoku House.
He paused briefly on the street, allowing himself to be seen, then slipped into the crowd.
In the alley nearby, Tanjirou turned to Zenitsu.
"Zenitsu, we have to go."
Zenitsu remained standing there like a statue, his soul still trapped sowhere between denial and grief.
Tanjirou hesitated, then clenched his teeth.
"Zenitsu, be careful."
With that, he turned and chased after Asuramaru without looking back.
The route had already been planned.
Asuramaru walked openly through the crowd while Tanjirou followed from the shadows, keeping just far enough away not to draw attention. The Entertainnt District was still bright and noisy around them, its streets filled with laughter, music, and the shuffle of wooden sandals.
Asuramaru played his role well.
He slowed now and then to glance at a street performance. He paused by a stall as if curious about the goods. He looked exactly like a child who had wandered too far into the sleepless city and was too dazzled to realize the danger behind him.
But his pace never truly slowed.
Less than fifteen minutes later, the bustle began to thin.
The lanterns grew fewer.
The noise faded behind them.
Soon, Asuramaru had left the heart of Yoshiwara and reached its quiet outskirts.
This place felt like a different world. There were fewer electric lights, and the road ahead was dim beneath the night sky. The wind moved coldly through the empty street. At this hour, almost no one lingered here.
For Tanjirou and the others, it was the perfect battlefield.
Asuramaru walked alone beneath the weak glow of a distant lamp.
He could clearly sense Daki following.
She was fast, confident, and utterly unaware that she was the one being led.
A mont later, before Asuramaru could reach the exact rendezvous point, a figure descended from the eaves ahead of him.
Daki landed lightly in the middle of the street, blocking his path.
She was no longer dressed as an oiran.
Now she wore a black, tight-fitting outfit. A cherry-pink obi wrapped around her waist, and four sash-like appendages extended from her back like living tentacles. Her beautiful face was painted, a cherry blossom pattern decorating her left cheek.
In her pale green eyes, the mark of her rank was clearly engraved.
Upper Moon Six.
Daki looked down at Asuramaru, her smile widening with unconcealed hunger.
"I don't eat withered old things. I don't eat ugly things either."
Her voice was sweet, but the malice beneath it was thick enough to chill the air.
"But you..."
She took a slow step forward.
"A beautiful little one like you is a first."
Her eyes glead.
"You're so cute, I almost feel sorry for you."
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
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