Soutarou burst forward in a fraction of a second.
His sword whistled through the air, aiming straight for her throat.
She lifted her arm with effortless grace.
CLANG.
His blade met her skin, but the impact sounded like metal striking metal.
His katana bounced off her without leaving a mark. Not even a scratch.
The demon chuckled, her voice like broken glass scraping together.
"How do you suppose you'll kill me? Chopping at me with a dead—"
Soutarou roared, cutting her off.
His right leg drove into the ground, sending dirt exploding beneath his heel.
He yanked his katana back and swung again.
All the strength in his body poured into the blade. His muscles screamed in protest. The katana struck her skin, and this time it bit deeper.
A thin line of crimson welled along her forearm.
The demon's laughter died instantly. Her eyes widened, her expression shifting from amusement to shock.
She sprang backward, creating distance between them.
"Not bad," she purred, raising her arm to touch the shallow cut. "But barely a scratch."
She lifted her head and froze.
Soutarou held up her severed forearm, blood dripping from it onto the ground.
"Not bad?"
The demon stared at the stump where her arm had been.
Then back at him.
Her cheeks flushed—not with anger, but with something entirely different. Her breath quickened. Her pupils dilated.
"Amazing..." she whispered, breathlessly, almost reverently. "You're strong."
She swayed slightly, as though intoxicated.
"What's your name?"
Soutarou said nothing. He dropped the severed arm and straightened himself, raising his blade.
Miwaka stood behind him, staring with her jaw dropped.
"He... he actually hurt a Jōkyu..."
The demon's arm began to heal, flesh weaving itself back onto bone, sinew reconnecting with wet, organic sounds that made Miwaka's stomach turn.
She moved.
Fast.
Soutarou barely saw her coming.
He focused, trying to channel the surge of energy into his blade. He felt it thrumming in his grip, but no glow appeared on the steel.
Why won't you just work?
He swung at her neck. She moved like a serpent, her body twisting mid-lunge as though her spine had no bones.
Her claws slashed toward his face.
He jerked back. The claws flashed past, missing by a fraction of an inch.
Then he thrust his sword forward, concentrating on the energy he felt building inside.
She caught it.
Not with her hand. With her armpit, clamping the blade between her arm and ribs, trapping the steel.
Her hand shot out before he could react, grabbed his collar, and yanked him against her.
Their faces were inches apart.
Her breath was warm against his skin. Her eyes burned into his, crimson and hungry.
"You're not using ki," she said, her voice low and intimate. "You know you can never kill me without it."
"Shit," Soutarou muttered, trying to wrench himself free. She's got me. She's too fast.
"Or..." Her smile widened, lips parting dangerously. "Do you just want to dance with me?"
"You're not my type." Soutarou shot his hand out and grabbed her throat, squeezing as hard as he could.
Her expression shifted. Her lips parted further. Her cheeks flushed deeper, eyes half-closing, breath quickening. "You want me too—"
"RUN! NOW!" Soutarou screamed over his shoulder.
Silence.
He gritted his teeth. I'm supposed to kill it, not tell her to run.
No footsteps. No movement. He continued gripping the demon's throat.
The words tasted bitter in his mouth. "I said RUN, DAMMIT!"
Still nothing.
Is she dead? His heart lurched.
The demon's face twisted from excitement to disgust.
She shoved him off and kicked him squarely in the chest.
Soutarou flew backward through the air and landed hard on his feet, skidding. He looked up.
Miwaka stood exactly where he'd left her, frozen, trembling, eyes wide with horror.
Rage flooded through him. He lunged forward, grabbed her arm, and squeezed.
"Why didn't you run?!"
"S-so you're that type of man?!" the demon shrieked.
Both Soutarou and Miwaka went still.
The demon stood there with fists clenched, face red, eyes glistening with... tears?
"We fell in love and you're already cheating! I HATE YOU!"
She stomped her foot like a petulant child.
The ground cracked beneath her.
Violet light burst from the point of impact, spreading like a spiderweb of glowing veins across the forest floor. Lines that pulsed with raw power.
The recognition came unbidden—not a proper memory, but something deeper. Soul memory.
Soutarou's eyes widened. I've seen this before.
He released Miwaka's arm and gripped his katana tighter.
This is where it gets hard.
He couldn't use ki. From now on, her attacks would be invisible to him. He wouldn't know what they did or how they worked until they struck him.
This is about to turn bad. His jaw clenched. But I just have to save her. That's all. Or maybe this time... I'll get it right.
"Hey." His voice was steadier than he felt. He didn't look at Miwaka, keeping his gaze locked on the demon. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But if you want to leave here alive, when I say run, you run."
"But..." Miwaka's voice trembled. "How will you kill her?"
Silence.
"I've heard of you," she said, barely more than a whisper. "Every new recruit has. We're all warned... not to end up like you."
Soutarou gritted his teeth so hard they ached.
That's how far my name has fallen. The prodigy, now used to frighten recruits.
"I couldn't run because..." Miwaka said, her voice soft but steady. "I'm no demon slayer if I run and leave a fellow slayer to die."
She raised her head, looking up at him.
"You're giving your all even though you know you can't win... That's the type of slayer I want to be."
Soutarou felt something in his chest tighten, then ease.
A genuine smile tugged at his lips. Someone was inspired by him. Not pitying. Not mocking. Inspired.
He glanced at her briefly. "What's your name?"
"Miwaka."
"I'll pin her down. You focus on one clean strike. Don't hesitate. Just take the opening when it comes."
She nodded, tightening her grip on her katana.
"Good." His smile sharpened. "Let's finish this together."
The demon stood opposite them, twitching. Veins bulged on her forehead and neck, pulsing in rhythm with the glowing web beneath their feet.
"Unacceptable," she hissed. "You're flirting with her right in front of me! Just die!"
"You talk too much."
Soutarou was already moving, his blade slashing toward her throat.
She flowed like water. Her nails lashed out from the side.
He blocked, steel clashing against bone in an ugly screech.
Her other hand came up low, aiming for his ribs.
He pivoted, lifting his leg to intercept.
The impact spun him through the air.
He slammed into a tree. The bark exploded outward.
Time slowed.
He caught a glimpse of the demon charging furiously toward Miwaka, claws outstretched.
Shit.
She's going for Miwaka. Too fast. Can't reach her in time.
His eyes snapped to his blade. It was the only thing he could do.
He hurled his katana.
The blade spun end over end and pierced through the demon's hand.
She shrieked.
Soutarou launched himself from the tree. The sole of his boot struck the hilt of his embedded sword, driving it deeper through her hand and into the earth.
He balanced on the hilt, pinning her like an insect.
"Now, Miwaka!"
Miwaka leaped, sword drawn high above her head, determination blazing on her face.
All she had to do was bring the blade down.
"You WHORE!"
The demon tore her own hand off, ripping through flesh and bone. She sprang aside just as Miwaka's blade sliced through empty air.
The force of the missed attack made Miwaka stagger. Her katana flew from her grip, clattering across the ground.
Soutarou dropped from his perch, crouching. He yanked his katana free and rose to his feet.
"We'll get her next time," Miwaka said, breathing hard.
The demon stood several paces away, head bowed, shoulders shaking.
Her newly regenerated hand dripped blood onto the purple-lit ground.
"Husband-kun..." Her voice was soft now. Broken. "You don't want to repent. So I have no choice..."
She lifted her head. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but her smile was manic, unhinged.
"I have to kill you. Along with her. I wanted to love you. But you refused by loving another woman..." Her voice cracked. "I'm hurt."
"What's wrong with her?" Soutarou muttered.
Miwaka whispered back, "She's insane."
Soutarou tightened his grip on his sword. But something nagged at him, like a sense of déjà vu, a warning that he'd been here before.
Have I... met her?
Images flickered through his mind, disjointed and out of focus, memories seen through smoked glass.
White hair. Crimson eyes. A name he couldn't quite grasp.
His head throbbed.
What... What is this?