Silently, they finished burying both the old man… and the demon.
Neither had a name.
At least, none that anyone here knew.
And once death came, everything about them—their traces, their stories—would slowly fade from the world, as if they had never existed at all.
Kanao stood quietly by the grave.
Something felt… off.
Strange.
Uncomfortable.
In the past, death had never stirred anything in her. Even when she had watched her own father die at Soma's hands, she had felt nothing.
Nothing at all.
But now…
Now it was different.
That old man—
She hadn't known him. They had only met once, over a single bowl of wontons at his small stall. She didn't even know his name.
The clearest memory she had was his hunched figure, carrying his burden as he walked away… and Soma's quiet remark about how hard life was.
That was all.
And yet…
Seeing his body like that—lifeless, discarded—something twisted inside her chest.
Was it because of the old man?
…Or because of the demon?
Maybe both.
Or maybe…
It was because of Soma.
Because he was a demon.
And somewhere deep down, she had believed—
Even if other demons weren't as kind as him… they shouldn't be that bad.
But they were.
They were nothing like him.
Not even close.
"Uncle…" Kanaho said, standing before the grave, tilting her head up at him. "Other demons… they're really awful. They don't even have any manners."
"…Yeah," Soma replied, nodding faintly. "Most demons failed as humans… and they're just as much of a failure as demons."
"Then… what kind of demon counts as a 'successful' one?"
A voice suddenly echoed from behind them.
Soma's heart jolted.
In an instant, he pulled Kanaho to his side, blade drawn, and turned sharply—
Nothing.
Just empty space.
Only a gust of wind stirred fallen leaves across the ground, making his nerves tighten.
He spun back around—
And froze.
There, in front of the freshly made grave… stood someone.
No—
Not someone.
A demon.
It wore a magenta short-sleeved jacket with black line patterns on the back, white hakama pants cropped at the calf, and a red belt tied at his waist. It was barefoot, with red prayer beads adorning his ankles.
Its arms were exposed—muscles honed to an almost perfect form. Its nails, both fingers and toes, were stained a deep blood-red.
Short, peach-colored hair.
Just from that silhouette alone… Soma felt an unsettling sense of familiarity. His grip on the Nichirin Sword tightened instinctively.
The demon simply stood there before the grave, as if lost in thought.
Moonlight spilled down gently.
It raised a hand, as though trying to grasp something—
But found nothing.
The next moment, it clutched its head in frustration.
"Every time I see a grave… I feel like I've forgotten something important," it muttered, voice strained. "But I can't remember. No matter how hard I try… I just can't remember!"
It tugged at its peach-colored hair, as though trapped in an endless cycle of confusion.
Soma didn't lower his guard for a second.
Then, slowly, the demon turned around.
Its face came into view—marked with intricate patterns. Its golden eyes were rimmed with blue; in one eye, the kanji for "Three" was etched, while the other bore the mark of "Upper Rank."
Upper Rank Three of the Twelve Kizuki: Akaza.
A demon of overwhelming power—one of the strongest among the Twelve Kizuki. The only one who could truly surpass him… was Upper Rank One, Kokushibo.
"So...what kind of demon do you think can be called… a successful one?"
Akaza looked up, his gaze settling on Soma.
His eyes briefly flicked to the Nichirin Sword in Soma's hand—
And then moved on, as if it were nothing worth noticing.
"…I don't know."
Soma shook his head.
"You don't know either?"
Akaza spread his hands with a faint, mocking smile. "I thought you might."
Soma said nothing. His grip tightened around the hilt of his Nichirin Sword as he pulled Kanaho behind him.
Akaza's eyes flicked to that small movement—and he let out a quiet chuckle.
"I've seen plenty of demons… but this is the first time I've seen one like you."
Demons devoured humans.
That was the natural order.
Protecting them?
That was something he had never seen before.
"Relax," Akaza added, almost casually. "I don't eat women. I'm not like Doma—picking on weak, helpless girls like some pathetic coward."
His gaze dropped to the blade in Soma's hand.
"…Doesn't it hurt? Holding that thing?"
A Nichirin sword—imbued with the power of the sun. To demons, it was instinctively repulsive. Just being near it was enough to make their skin crawl.
Soma remained silent.
Akaza tilted his head slightly, studying him.
"…Ah. I see."
A grin spread slowly across his face.
"You're using it to suppress yourself, aren't you? Borrowing the sun's power to keep your instincts in check."
His golden eyes locked onto Soma's crimson ones.
"…You're weak."
The words fell flat and cold.
"So weak… and yet you're still clinging to something. What are you even holding onto? What's the point?"
As he spoke, Akaza lowered his head slightly. But in the next instant, his figure was already right before Soma's eyes.
He had moved without warning.
The whistling fist was already descending. Soma, who had been on alert, only had time to raise his blade before the fist slammed into him.
Boom—!
The blow struck his chest, sending his entire body flying backward. He crashed to the ground with a heavy, dull thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Cough, cough…"
Before the dust could even settle, Soma was back on his feet. He clenched his fists, but his Nichirin Sword had been knocked far away.
"So weak... truly. How can someone as pathetic as you claim that other demons are failures?"
Akaza shook his fist slightly. As he spoke, his figure vanished again, only to reappear right beside Soma.
Too fast. So fast Soma couldn't even track him with his eyes.
So this… is the strength of the Twelve Kizuki… Soma murmured inwardly, gritting his teeth. He raised his own fist and swung forward without hesitation.
At that same moment, Akaza's fist came flying as well.
Their fists collided, and the sickening crack of shattering bone echoed almost instantly. In that single moment, Soma's fist was pulverized.
And then, Akaza seized Soma's arm. He slammed him down, bent over, and drove a fist into his abdomen, crushing his ribcage in an instant.
"Cough, cough…"
Soma lay collapsed on the ground, utterly powerless.
The gap in their strength was insurmountable.
This was the chasm between an ordinary demon and one of the Twelve Kizuki. A gap so vast it was despairing.
"Weak. Far too weak. Your bones are like glass."
Akaza stood in place, shaking his fist. "A demon as weak as you… how could you possibly conclude that other demons are failures?"
"How did you come to that conclusion?"
"I thought you were stronger. You're far too fragile."
"Now, let me tell you. The failures among demons are weaklings like you. Understand?"
Akaza crouched down, lifting Soma by the scruff of his neck, pulling his face close. "Do you understand?"
Akaza was about to say more when he seemed to sense something. He looked down. At some point, the girl the demon had been protecting had picked up the fallen Nichirin Sword.
Her pink-violet eyes were fixed on him, unwavering.
Then, wordlessly gripping the blade with both hands, she ran toward him and swung.
In that instant…
Something flickered within him.
A man-eating demon protecting the human it was supposed to eat. And the human who was to be eaten, choosing to protect the man-eating demon in return.
Both were so weak.
So fragile.
But watching the girl charge at him fiercely with the Nichirin Sword, a familiar feeling surged in his mind. So very familiar.
It seemed… he had once felt this way before.
It seemed… there was once a girl who cared for him like that. A girl just like the one before him. Just as fragile.
It seemed… he had once made a promise…
But he couldn't remember.
It seemed that if he just kept getting stronger—if he reached the pinnacle of strength—he would be able to protect something. What was it? What was he supposed to protect?
"Stronger... I must become stronger," Akaza muttered.
The Nichirin Sword came swinging down, its sharp edge cutting into Akaza's body. But it only produced a dull sound.
It managed to slice just a thin layer of skin on his thigh.
"So weak. Really, so weak. Your strength is far too weak. Even with a demon-slaying blade, it's useless."
Akaza looked down at the girl hacking at his leg with the Nichirin Sword.
"Pathetically weak."
He then turned his gaze back to Soma.
"Both of you are so weak. How can you possibly protect each other?"
With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent Soma's body flying like a ragdoll, crumpling to the ground.
The girl's eyes reddened intensely in that moment. Gripping the Nichirin Blade tightly, she hacked at Akaza's body with desperate fury.
Akaza stood still, letting the girl strike him. His powerfully built body was so resilient that even standing still and letting someone chop at him with a blade would barely cause serious injury.
His body was simply too robust.
"Cough, cough…"
Soma struggled to rise from the ground. He watched Kanao, who seemed to have gone mad, and said quietly:
"Come back."
The girl, who had seemed lost in a frenzy, stopped as if someone had pressed a button. Her eyes red, she shot one last look at Akaza, then silently returned to her uncle's side, struggling to help support him.
Blood flowed from Soma's chest wound; a few drops fell onto the girl's cheek, mingling with the crimson liquid that traced down from the corner of her eye.
"Cough, it's fine. For a demon, this is just a minor wound."
Soma patted the girl's head reassuringly.
Kanao didn't speak. Her pink-purple eyes remained locked on Akaza, like a wounded tigress baring its fangs.
"Tch… Those wounds might be minor for a demon, but for one as frail as you, it's different."
Akaza crossed his arms and stood still, watching the pair—one human, one demon. "You've never eaten a human, have you?"
His tone was calm.
Soma didn't answer. He simply focused on tending his wounds.
"Just like me, then. Refusing to grow stronger that way."
Akaza's voice dropped, quieter now.
"But a demon who doesn't feed will only grow weaker over time."
"You can train, sure. You can get stronger that way… but it's slow. Painfully slow."
"Eating humans, on the other hand? That's quick. Efficient. Even if it caps your growth eventually… for someone like you right now, it's the fastest path."
Soma looked up at Akaza—the demon who would, in the future, kill the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku. Then he lowered his head again.
"Interesting. Truly interesting."
Akaza suddenly clapped his hands, a grin spreading across his face. "To hold onto your convictions even now… I'll admit, I respect that."
"…Heh."
Soma flexed his hand slightly.
The fist that had been shattered moments ago was already healing, bones knitting back together.
For demons, wounds didn't matter.
As long as their neck wasn't severed by a Nichirin Sword—
They wouldn't die.
"A fascinating little newborn demon," Akaza said, narrowing his eyes. "And a human child who cares so much about a demon…"
His gaze flicked briefly to Kanao.
"I'm curious," he continued. "How long can you keep this up?"
He smiled faintly.
"…Though I doubt it'll be long. Sooner or later, the Demon Slayer Corps will find you… and take your head."
He rolled his shoulders, stretching slightly.
"Hurry and get stronger, little demon."
Then suddenly—
Akaza looked up.
"Tch… those annoying hounds again."
His tone turned irritated.
He shifted his gaze back to Soma, a faint grin returning.
"Watch closely, little demon."
"I'll show you… what a successful demon looks like."
Thump, thump, thump...
The ground trembled.
From the distance, a group of Demon Slayers in uniform rushed forward at full speed.
Akaza vanished.
In the next instant—
He reappeared right in front of them.
His fist, already mid-swing, smashed into one of the slayers' heads before anyone could react.
A scream tore through the night—
And the man's skull burst apart.
"It's Upper Rank Three, Akaza!"
Even as fear flashed across their faces, the Demon Slayer swordsmen still gripped their Nichirin Sword and charged forward.
…
It wasn't a battle.
It was a slaughter.
A one-sided massacre.
A squad of nearly ten Demon Slayers was wiped out by Akaza alone in mere moments. Blood painted the earth crimson, the air thick with the metallic scent of death.
"Too weak… far too weak."
Akaza flicked a swordsman away like a ragdoll, his voice laced with disappointment.
"Not a single one of them could even take a hit."
He turned back, as if to say something—
"See? This is what—"
But the "little demon" he'd been addressing wasn't even watching.
Soma had already turned away, carrying the girl on his back, heading into the distance without a second glance.
Akaza paused, then shook his head with a faint chuckle.
"So you're like me, huh? No interest in slaughtering the weak."
He clicked his tongue.
"Fair enough. There's no thrill in it. Only the strong are worth fighting."
He stretched his shoulders slightly.
"Honestly, I don't even like killing them. It's just… they're annoying. If I don't deal with them, they keep coming."
Yet even as he spoke, his feet had already begun to move, following after them.
…
Inside a dark, cavernous cave, Akaza stepped in with his hands clasped behind his back.
The interior was pitch black, but to a demon, darkness posed no obstacle.
As he walked deeper, he saw Soma had already set the girl down and begun tidying the space. The girl—Kanao—was helping as well, moving quietly at his side.
Akaza leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching.
In all his years as a demon, this was the first time he'd seen something like this.
Strange.
Intriguing.
It wasn't the weak demon himself that interested him—Akaza had never cared for the weak.
And yet… something here held his attention.
Maybe it was the girl.
Or maybe not.
He couldn't quite tell.
Perhaps it was the way that human child had fought—risking everything to protect a demon.
That desperate, unwavering resolve…
It felt familiar.
Like something buried deep in his past.
Something he should remember—
But couldn't.
The frustration gnawed at him.
A fire crackled to life in the cave.
Under its flickering light, Akaza watched as Soma began… cooking.
For a moment, he blinked.
Then he burst into laughter, bending forward slightly.
"Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!"
"You do realize, don't you? Food like that is useless to us."
"We're demons. We don't eat human food."
Soma glanced up at him—just once.
At this demon who had long since forgotten what it meant to be human. A creature driven by nothing but the pursuit of strength.
Then he lowered his gaze again and continued working, silent as ever.
The rice finished cooking. He carefully spread it out to dry, preparing it into travel rations and setting it aside.
Akaza narrowed his eyes, still watching.
"So it's for the girl, huh? Thoughtful."
He smirked, turning his gaze toward Kanao, who was glaring at him with open hostility.
"But what's the point?"
"Does she even know what you are?"
"That you're a man-eating demon?"
"Aren't you afraid she'll end up as your meal one day?"
Kanao ignored him.
Soma ignored him.
When everything was done, Soma sat by the fire and quietly wiped down his Nichirin Sword, stroke after careful stroke.
Akaza's brow twitched.
An inexplicable irritation rose in his chest.
He took a step forward, ready to beat the weakling into the ground again—
But then he stopped.
His eyes shifted to the girl, standing protectively at Soma's side.
After a moment, he stepped back.
Leaning against the wall once more, he continued to watch.
Kanao glared at him a little longer before turning back to the fire. Soon, she heated some water and carefully brought a small cup over to Soma.
He paused his movements, accepted it, and drank slowly.
Such a simple act.
And yet—
Akaza found himself staring.
A strange sense of familiarity washed over him.
Like he had once lived through a moment just like this.
But no matter how hard he tried—
He couldn't remember.
It was suffocating.
"I'm still… too weak." Akaza clenched his fist.
Then, without another word, he turned away and began training.
Punch after punch tore through the air, his movements growing faster, more violent.
"Weak… too weak…"
"Only by becoming stronger… strong enough…"
"I'll remember."
"I have to become stronger!"
His voice echoed through the cave as he pushed himself relentlessly.
At the far end, Soma quietly pulled Kanao back, keeping their distance to avoid the shockwaves of Akaza's training.
And from the shadows, he watched—
This Upper Rank demon, driven by nothing but a single, consuming obsession:
To become stronger.