What is a demon?
In Roy's eyes, a demon has never really left the category of "human."
It's the sum total of all the darkest human emotions—brutality, cruelty, madness—compressed into one and then magnified by Muzan's blood. Like "post-mortem nen" is born from obsession and resentment…
Because it couldn't get, once it becomes a demon it claws desperately to make up for that lack.
Roy's nose twitched; he immediately "smelled" the Swamp Demon's scent, spread his En, and in an instant locked onto its position—along with its inner voice and its past.
Just like it said to Tanjiro in the original story: "You have to eat women when they're young. When they get older they get ugly and taste bad…"
Roy sharply caught the deep inferiority that lay at the bottom of the Swamp Demon's heart.
Because he was poor, old, ugly, and timid, he never married. Not once in his entire life did he hold a woman's hand. All he could do was secretly peep at and stalk young girls from the shadows, to try and vent the pressure bottled up inside…
Living like a walking corpse like that… better to just die.
"Sun Breathing: Second Form, Clear Blue Sky…"
The blade slid from its sheath, turned crimson, and fire blossomed on the steel. A single arc of flame-wreathed sword light flashed.
On the alley wall, a muddy patch of swamp suddenly welled out. With a gurgle, two demon heads rolled free, followed by the main body with twin horns dropping onto the ground. Roy walked over unhurriedly, point of the blade tilting down as he stabbed it into the demon's mouth.
For a moment his gaze sharpened. Through the Swamp Demon's blood-red eyes, he saw another pair of eyes.
They belonged to a boy dressed like a little lord, wearing a small suit with suspenders and polished leather shoes, a book cradled in his hands. He stood in a tastefully decorated yet unmistakably luxurious study, with two or three maids standing behind him.
Muzan, huh?
Hekiken… those hanafuda earrings…
The two of them looked at each other through the Swamp Demon's pupils, both stunned for half a heartbeat.
Roy recovered first. His ink-black eyes lit up, twin suns igniting within them as he stared hard through the Swamp Demon's gaze.
In that instant, Muzan saw two suns. His heart lurched; he staggered back several steps, the book in his hands flying from his fingers as he collapsed to the floor.
The sun… Sun Breathing… that swordsman… he's a successor of Yoriichi…!
Bang!
Muzan's blood inside the Swamp Demon detonated.
The Swamp Demon itself burst like a watermelon struck by a hammer, exploding into chunks.
That faint blood-bond line connecting it to Muzan snapped completely.
The panel chimed:
[Life Energy +10…[Monster Codex] entry added…]
[Swamp Demon: D-class monster]
[Physique: 103 (note: an ordinary human is 1)]
[Blood Demon Art: Swamp Space (note: spatial-type ability. Centered on the Swamp Demon, it can open a swamp from any solid surface within ten meters—walls, floors—and emerge from it, achieving short-range spatial crossings)… extracted.]
[Blood Demon Art: Clones (note: creates real bodies using prepared corpses as anchors; demon blood is divided and shaped)… extracted.]
The Burning Gaze faded from Roy's eyes.
He slid the blade back into its sheath. "Ran pretty fast."
As that thought turned in his mind, he accepted the two streams of information the panel pushed at him.
A pool of muck opened under his feet. Roy sank down into it and, a moment later, surfaced from a wall ten meters away. He continued drifting up and down, sometimes diving underground, sometimes popping out of alley walls, moving through streets and alleys by way of swamp-space, familiarizing himself with Swamp Space.
After a little while, he left the Demon Slayer world, returning once more to the Hunter world.
…
"Young master…"
"Young master…"
"What's wrong, sir?"
Tokyo.
Inside a gaudy mansion.
The maids had seen their master fall—the young lord's delicate arm extended to be helped up, but a heartbeat later their heads were gone.
Muzan, in the form of a boy, sat on the floor covered in blood, clutching his chest and gasping for air. For hundreds of years since that man with the flame-marked face had died, he had never felt fear like this again.
Those hanafuda earrings. That blade wrapped in blazing flames. Those twin sun-bright eyes stabbing straight into his heart. In one instant he was thrown back into that bamboo grove where he first met Yoriichi.
That night, the bamboo rustled in the wind.
He mocked him as just another swordsman. Yoriichi cut him into more than eighteen hundred pieces.
Yoriichi had asked him, "What do you see life as?"
Balm and mark, Hekiken and earrings—hundreds of years had passed, and Muzan still did not dare forget.
"Nakime, summon the Upper Moons. I want…"
"That swordsman… dead!"
The boy's blood-red eyes bulged with veins, his delicate face twisted with rage.
He crawled up through the puddle of blood, saying this.
That night, the wind over the city changed. It was not like any ordinary night.
Demons devoured people; Demon Slayers hunted demons. Upper and Lower Moons shifted and converged from different corners toward the same point. Ubuyashiki Kagaya listened to Himejima Gyomei chant scripture, held a hand-warmer, and watched the stars.
People and demons all showed their many faces.
And the one stirring the currents, as always, at the moment the grandfather clock in the corner chimed…
At 4:30 a.m.:
Roy slipped through the prism tunnel of dreams, out of the Demon Slayer world, and back into the Hunter world. His eyes opened right on time.
This time, after stepping out of the Demon Slayer realm, he did not get up. Instead, still lying on the soft mattress, he let a patch of swamp spread across the bed, sank straight down, and emerged from the stone corridor outside his door.
Swamp Space ignored terrain; within ten meters he could move freely. It was, he realized, even more useful than he'd imagined.
Roy smiled slightly, stretched, and began his morning run around Kukuroo Mountain.
He jogged down the corridors, around corners, under the stars, out through the castle gates and down the mountain path.
After he left, in the dim little room inside, an old man lay in a rocking chair under a blanket, listening to anime. Maha's eyes, almost always closed, opened a sliver. He smiled coldly at a dark corner.
"Some brat's hiding technique is better than someone-else-who's-supposed-to-be-a-grandpa's."
The "darkness" rippled. A shock of white hair emerged; Zeno stepped out, hands clasped behind his back, bowing respectfully.
"Grandfather."
Maha shut his eyes again, refusing to look at him, only sneering, "Well, if it isn't Zeno Isaac."
"Finally willing to come home from Daddy Netero's?"
~~~
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