Time flew by.
Six years had passed since Inosuke last encountered Murata.
Now thirteen years old, Inosuke was in the midst of his growth spurt, tall and well-proportioned. His face had inherited all of Kotoha's finest traits—so beautiful that even the female believers of the cult dared not look at him directly, lest a single glance stir improper daydreams.
But the moment he opened his mouth, that beautiful illusion shattered completely.
Doma had thoroughly warped his way of speaking.
Put simply—his mouth was vicious.
...
Eternal Paradise Faith
"Boss Takahashi."
Inosuke sat cross-legged, high upon Doma's former seat as cult master.
He idly played with two gold koban in his hand, producing crisp clinking sounds. Behind him stood a folding screen painted with scenes of hell.
Kneeling before him was a pot-bellied middle-aged man—the owner of Takahashi Rice Shop, the largest rice merchant in town.
"Y-Young Master…"
Takahashi wiped cold sweat from his brow.
"This year's harvest really was poor. I only raised the price by ten percent…"
He hadn't even finished speaking.
"Ten percent?"
Inosuke curled his lips.
He could sense the faint tremor in Takahashi's body—the telltale sign of lying.
"Sato."
Inosuke called lazily.
At his side, Steward Sato immediately flipped open a ledger and recited without expression:
"Takahashi Rice Shop. Hoarded five thousand koku of old rice. Secretly colluded with ronin to block grain routes, causing rice prices in town to triple.
Last month's profit: three hundred taels of gold."
Takahashi's face instantly turned deathly pale.
"F-Forgive me, Young Master! My subordinates did it behind my back!"
"Enough. Drop the act."
Inosuke waved his hand impatiently and casually grabbed an apple from the table, taking a bite.
A bone-chilling killing intent instantly enveloped Takahashi.
This was pressure Inosuke had honed from years of imitating Doma—
a compulsory skill for the Young Master of the Eternal Paradise Faith.
"Don't—don't kill me! I'll pay! I'll atone!"
Takahashi kowtowed frantically, terrified out of his wits.
"Now that's more like it."
Inosuke smiled and held up three fingers.
"Five hundred taels of gold, as compensation for the cult's mental damages.
Also, distribute porridge in the western slums for three months.
"And if I find even a grain of sand mixed into that porridge, I'll chop you up and mix you in to feed the pigs."
"Yes, yes, yes! Thank you for sparing my life, Young Master!"
Watching Takahashi scramble away, Inosuke stretched lazily.
"Sato, record those five hundred taels under the charity fund.
Three hundred taels—buy clothes for the old man and my mother.
The remaining two hundred, I've got plans for."
"Yes, Young Master."
Sato gazed at his young master with eyes full of admiration.
These past few years, under the Young Master's rule, the Eternal Paradise Faith had remained mysterious in reputation—but the surrounding area's public order had become astonishingly good.
Because… every local bully had been blackmailed and crushed by the Young Master himself.
The Young Master was the most terrifying of them all.
Sato watched the youth whose aura now increasingly resembled the cult master, nodding like a pecking chick.
...
After dealing with business, Inosuke felt unbearably bored.
That perverted old man Doma had been glued to his mother lately, the two practically stuck together in the rear hall all day.
"Let's go down the mountain and take a walk."
Inosuke patted the twin blades at his waist.
...
The Town Below the Mountain
Dressed in eye-catching attire, with two extravagantly styled blades at his waist, Inosuke swaggered down the street. Passersby all hurriedly avoided him.
"Waaah! Help!
I don't want to die! I don't want to commit seppuku!"
Inosuke frowned.
That familiar voice—wasn't it that crybaby again?
Following the sound, he saw the scene outside a dango shop. A blond boy was clinging desperately to a girl's leg, sobbing with snot and tears smeared across his face.
"Don't abandon me!
I even borrowed from loan sharks for you!
If you toy with my feelings and dump me, I'll die to prove it! Waaaah!"
The girl looked utterly disgusted.
"Are you insane?! I don't even know you! Let go!"
It was thirteen-year-old Agatsuma Zenitsu.
Years had passed, and not only had he failed to improve—he'd somehow gotten worse.
"Shut up!"
Inosuke strode over without hesitation and kicked Zenitsu square in the ass.
"YOW!"
Zenitsu shrieked as he flew off, rolling several times through the snow before stopping.
Clutching his backside, he jumped up, tearfully shouting:
"Who?! Who kicked me?!
Did the debt collectors catch up to me?!"
When he finally saw who stood before him, his voice cut off abruptly.
The boy before him was prettier than a girl—but those emerald-green eyes gleamed with ferocity.
Most terrifying of all were the twin blades at his waist.
Just one look screamed danger.
"Y-you… who are you?!"
Zenitsu trembled violently, instinctively hiding behind the girl.
"I'm your creditor."
Inosuke crossed his arms, wearing a mocking grin.
"You were too loud and hurt this Young Master's ears. Pay up."
"P-Pay?!"
Zenitsu's tears threatened to fall again.
"I don't have money! I already owe a mountain of debt!
If you're going to kill me, just do it quickly!
But please don't cut my face—I want to be handsome in my next life…"
Just as Zenitsu was about to close his eyes and await death, a gentle yet firm voice cut in.
"Please, wait!"
A red-haired boy carrying a charcoal basket pushed through the crowd and stood in front of Zenitsu.
He wore a black-and-green checkered haori, had a scar on his forehead, and eyes clear as water.
Kamado Tanjiro.
"Young Master,"
Tanjiro looked at Inosuke, his nose twitching slightly, surprise appearing on his face.
"It's you?"
He recognized him.
Though years had passed and the boy's height and bearing had changed, that unique scent was unforgettable.
The benefactor who had once tossed him a gold koban at his lowest point.
"Oh? Charcoal seller."
Inosuke looked at Tanjiro and smirked.
"Long time no see. You're still the same."
"Um…"
Tanjiro scratched his head shyly.
"Thank you for that gold koban back then. Because of it, I bought winter clothes for my younger siblings. I'll slowly pay you back!"
"Pay me back?"
Inosuke snorted.
"Money this Young Master gives out is never taken back. However…"
He pointed at Zenitsu cowering behind Tanjiro.
"This blond thing is giving me a headache. Since you want to repay me, come have tea with me. Bring this useless tagalong."
...
Moments later, the three arrived at the town's most luxurious teahouse.
Inosuke booked the best private room, filling the table with exquisite sweets and expensive tea.
The three sat together in an oddly tense atmosphere.
Inosuke sprawled like a mountain bandit.
Tanjiro sat upright, stiff with politeness.
Zenitsu huddled in the corner, stuffing dango into his mouth while sneaking terrified glances at Inosuke's blades, shaking nonstop.
"So… your name is Hashibira Inosuke?"
Tanjiro said sincerely, holding his teacup.
"That's a great name. I'm Kamado Tanjiro. This blond one is Agatsuma Zenitsu."
"Who cares what you're called."
Inosuke tossed a pastry into his mouth.
"I'm in a good mood today, so I'm treating you to a full meal.
Once we're done, you're both my underlings."
"PFF—!"
Zenitsu spat his tea out.
"U-Underlings?! Who wants to be your underling?!
You look like a yakuza boss! Following you would get us killed—absolutely killed!"
"What did you say?"
Inosuke narrowed his eyes, resting a hand on his sword hilt.
"You got a problem?"
"N-no problem at all! Big brother's the best! Please enjoy your tea!"
Zenitsu instantly prostrated himself, the movement so smooth it hurt to watch.
Tanjiro, on the other hand, thought seriously for a moment before speaking.
"Inosuke-kun, I'm very grateful for your hospitality, but I need to go home and take care of my siblings. I can't become your underling and walk a dark path.
"But… we can be friends."
"Friends?"
Inosuke froze.
That word didn't exist in the Eternal Paradise Faith.
There were only believers, food, that idiot father, and the one mother who gave him warmth.
"What's a friend? How much is it worth?"
Inosuke tilted his head.
Tanjiro smiled—a warmth like winter sunlight.
"A friend is someone who stays with you when you're sad, and protects you when you're in danger."
"Hah?"
Inosuke scoffed.
"Only weaklings need protection.
The strong just eliminate danger outright.
"That's what my dad taught me."
Though his words were dismissive, as he looked into Tanjiro's untainted eyes, a strange feeling welled up inside him.
Not unpleasant.
Almost like that fleeting sense of safety from riding on his father's shoulders as a child.
"Wow! This daifuku is amazing!"
Zenitsu had completely abandoned resistance, converting despair into appetite, cheeks puffed up like a hamster.
"Big brother, since you're so rich, could you lend me some money to pay off my debts? I'll be your ox or horse for life!"
"Scram."
Inosuke kicked Zenitsu's stool.
"My money only raises strong people, not useless trash.
If you can survive one slash from me, I'll pay off your debts."
"Then I'll just go die!"
Zenitsu screamed again.
Watching these two clowns, Inosuke suddenly felt that coming down the mountain hadn't been so bad.
Far more interesting than listening to hypocritical believers confess their sins.
At dusk, the three finally exited the teahouse.
"Inosuke-kun, it's getting late. I need to hurry home."
Tanjiro hoisted his empty charcoal basket and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for the meal… If you ever get the chance, please come visit my home. It's up in the mountains, nothing fancy—but my mom makes great rice balls. My family all knows about you, and they're very grateful."
Inosuke looked at Tanjiro, the smile on his face slowly fading.
His heightened tactile sense picked up something in the wind tonight—a faint, ominous scent of blood.
It wasn't aimed at Tanjiro, but it lingered in the air, as if something dangerous was stirring.
"Gonpachirō."
Inosuke suddenly called out.
"Huh?
My name isn't Gon—"
Before Tanjiro could finish, Inosuke stepped forward, straightened his haori collar, and slipped a handful of dried wisteria flowers into it.
"Remember what I say."
Inosuke's voice was low and serious.
"If you smell blood, don't look back. Don't hesitate.
Take your family and run—run toward wherever there are wisteria flowers."
"Eh?"
Tanjiro froze.
"Why are you suddenly saying this?"
"Because…"
Inosuke lifted his head, gazing toward the mountains slowly being swallowed by darkness.
"Demons are about to come out."
Before Tanjiro could ask more, Inosuke turned and kicked Zenitsu, who was still chewing his last dango.
"Let's go, blondie. This Young Master will escort you partway—wouldn't want you getting eaten by wild dogs before paying your debts."
"Big brother, you're such a good person! Sharp tongue, heavy hands, but you're a good person!"
Zenitsu wept with gratitude.
Inosuke waved his hand behind him without turning back.
This meeting might have been just a ripple in the river of fate.
But for Inosuke—who had never had friends—
This was the first time, in this twisted world, that he touched a trace of warmth belonging to someone his own age.