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🕑 Added 2025-07-06 16:51:32 +0000 UTCChapter 161: Demon Subjugation Team
“Why’s a Kinoe-ranked swordsman attending a Hashira Meeting?”
Upon seeing the newcomer, Shinazugawa Sanemi frowned, his irritation clear. The other Hashira shared curious glances—ordinary Demon Slayer Corps members didn’t have the clearance to be here.
“What’s your deal?” Shinazugawa demanded bluntly, his expression sour. After Oyakata-sama’s estate was exposed this morning, a Kinoe swordsman had the gall to show up at the Hashira Meeting that afternoon? Was there no discipline left in the Corps?!
“I’m here in place of my father!” Rengoku Kyōjurō declared loudly. Ever since he ruptured his eardrums on a mission, he’d developed a habit of speaking at full volume—a side effect of his hearing loss.
“You don’t have that kind of authority. Even if the Rengoku family has held the Flame Hashira title for generations, rules are rules!” Shinazugawa snapped, unimpressed by Kyōjurō’s response. Sure, Kyōjurō’s distinctive appearance confirmed his identity, but he still had no right to represent his father, Flame Hashira Rengoku Shinjurō, at a Hashira Meeting.
“I’ll explain to Oyakata-sama!” Kyōjurō shot back, unfazed by Shinazugawa’s intensity. Truth be told, he hadn’t had much interaction with the Hashira. This was his first time facing so many of them at once.
The Hashira’s gazes fixed on Kyōjurō, their overwhelming presence thrilling him. He was determined to join their ranks one day.
“You cocky little—!” Shinazugawa’s expression darkened at Kyōjurō’s bold attitude, but before he could explode, Ubuyashiki Yōya stepped out, forcing him to hold his tongue and ignore Kyōjurō for now.
Yōya emerged from the room, his steps steady and strong. For once, he was alone—a rare sight, as his improved health no longer required constant care.
The Hashira immediately paid their respects to Oyakata-sama, their faces brimming with visible shock. The sight of a healthy Ubuyashiki Yōya stunned them, except for Shinazugawa, who’d already been through this shock earlier.
“It feels wonderful to see you all again,” Yōya said, settling onto a cushion. He studied the Hashira closely. The Mist Hashira, Tokitō Muichirō, was absent, but he’d met the others before losing his sight. They’d all grown so much since then.
“Oyaka-sama, your illness…” Shinobu Kochō spoke up, her expression the most shocked of all. As the head of the Corps’ medical wing, the Butterfly Mansion, she had some expertise in medicine. Oyakata-sama’s condition was deemed untreatable—how could he have recovered so completely?
“It’s been temporarily cured, thanks to Riku-san,” Yōya replied with a smile, glancing at Shinobu. At just sixteen, this young woman had taken over her sister’s role, shouldering the Corps’ medical responsibilities admirably.
“Riku-san?” The name caused the Hashira to pause, but one reacted faster than the rest—Water Hashira Tomioka Giyū, who’d been quietly standing to the side.
“Is he here?” Giyū asked. His familiarity with the name stemmed from his mentor, Urokodaki Sakonji. As Urokodaki’s student and the one who recommended the Kamado siblings, Giyū knew more about Riku than the others.
“That demon who doesn’t eat humans and isn’t afraid of sunlight?” Giyū’s words sparked recognition among the Hashira. They all turned to Oyakata-sama, their expressions a mix of concern and anticipation.
“Yes, Sanemi has already met him,” Yōya confirmed with a nod, prompting the Hashira to glance at Shinazugawa. It wasn’t surprising that Sanemi, who’d been stationed at headquarters, had encountered him first.
“He seems trustworthy enough. I tested him with my rare blood, and he didn’t even flinch. I’ve accepted his existence,” Shinazugawa said after a pause, reluctantly acknowledging Riku. No matter how much it irked him, he couldn’t deny the facts.
“…” The Hashira exchanged glances, clearly stunned by the sudden revelation. Even Shinazugawa Sanemi had approved of him? A demon unaffected by rare blood? Could a demon who didn’t eat humans and wasn’t afraid of sunlight really exist?
Rengoku Kyōjurō, standing a step behind the Hashira, was utterly confused. He couldn’t follow Oyakata-sama and the Hashira’s conversation. Who was this Riku-san?
As the Hashira grappled with shock and confusion, Riku emerged from the room, stepping to Yōya’s side. Instantly, he became the center of attention, every pair of eyes scrutinizing him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
“Riku-san, these are the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps,” Yōya introduced, listing them off: Rock Hashira, Sound Hashira, Wind Hashira, Water Hashira, Insect Hashira, and finally, Rengoku Kyōjurō.
“This is Rengoku Kyōjurō, son of Flame Hashira Rengoku Shinjurō and a Kinoe-ranked swordsman. He’s here in place of his father for this meeting.”
Yōya’s expression softened as he looked at Kyōjurō. The young man was set to succeed his father as the next Flame Hashira.
The Flame Hashira title had been passed down through the Rengoku family for generations. When Shinjurō suddenly gave up, Yōya feared the line might end. Thankfully, Kyōjurō had risen to the challenge through sheer effort, ensuring the Flame Hashira position wouldn’t remain vacant.
In fact, Yōya had been closely monitoring Kyōjurō’s progress. When his precognitive abilities activated yesterday, he knew this Lower Moon demon was meant for Kyōjurō.
To become a Hashira, one must either slay fifty demons or defeat a member of the Twelve Kizuki. So far, the Hashira had only defeated Lower Moon demons. Upper Moons were far too powerful, and even Hashira risked death facing them. Shinobu’s sister, the former Flower Hashira Kanae Kochō, had fallen to Upper Moon Two.
Riku nodded, greeting the Hashira. He could tell their expressions were complex—his existence clearly shook them to their core.
“Riku-san will be joining us as a close ally,” Yōya announced, officially confirming their partnership with Riku.
“Oyaka-sama… he’s still a demon. Can we really trust him?” Sound Hashira Uzui Tengen spoke up, his face full of doubt.
Even though Shinazugawa, who held a deep grudge against demons, had no objections, Tengen felt compelled to remind Oyakata-sama as a Hashira.
Unlike most Hashira, Tengen’s story had little to do with demons. He’d joined the Corps, moved by Oyakata-sama’s charisma, and was willing to fight for him.
“Tengen, rest assured, Riku-san is trustworthy,” Yōya said with a smile, his expression reminiscent of their first meeting. Back then, Yōya’s face wasn’t fully marred by illness, and his eyes still shone—just like now. It hadn’t been that long, really.
“Understood, Oyakata-sama,” Tengen nodded, saying no more. Setting aside everything else, Riku’s ability to heal Oyakata-sama’s illness and spare him that torment earned Tengen’s respect.
If Riku truly didn’t eat humans or harm others, Tengen could accept the existence of such a unique demon.
Giyū remained silent, unwilling to doubt Riku. Urokodaki had vouched for him, detailing everything in a letter. Giyū trusted his mentor’s judgment implicitly.
Rock Hashira Himejima Gyōmei clasped his hands together, reciting a Buddhist chant. As the strongest Hashira and the one most trusted by Oyakata-sama, he despised demons. Yet his rationality told him a demon unaffected by Shinazugawa’s rare blood was extraordinary. He couldn’t overturn Oyakata-sama’s decision or prove Riku was a man-eating demon.
With no grounds to object, Gyōmei chose to accept it silently. Having been wrongfully accused himself once, he knew the pain of being unable to defend oneself and refused to falsely condemn Riku.
Of the five Hashira present, four had either supported or accepted Riku. Only one remained: Insect Hashira Shinobu Kochō.
Her face bore a familiar smile—one that sent chills down Riku’s spine. A perfect, fake smile, all surface and no substance. Riku immediately recognized her as the one he’d met when he first became a demon—the Insect Hashira, Shinobu Kochō.
But Shinobu clearly didn’t recognize him. Riku’s human-like form was a far cry from his demonic one, and his charisma had shifted from negative to positive.
Though not much time had passed, the current Riku was worlds apart from the one Shinobu had encountered.
Of course, if Shinobu thought it through, she could connect the dots—Riku’s ties to the Kamado siblings, combined with the “immortal encounter” story from their last meeting when he vanished before her eyes, would reveal his identity.
Riku didn’t mind if she figured it out. Her recognition would only make his “immortal encounter” story more seamless, as he’d disappeared right in front of her.
“I have no objections,” Shinobu said with a smile, her voice soft and gentle, like a kind neighbor. With no one else objecting and Oyakata-sama’s decision made, she couldn’t change anything, no matter how reluctant she felt.
“Good. Now, let’s discuss the matter of Flame Hashira Rengoku Shinjurō,” Yōya said, smiling as he moved to the next topic, seeing that Riku’s matter was settled.
“Kyōjurō, why don’t you explain?” Yōya prompted, looking at the bewildered Kyōjurō.
“My apologies, Oyakata-sama. My father is still drowning his sorrows in alcohol every day, refusing to leave the house or fulfill his duties,” Kyōjurō said bluntly, though he was being kind. The current Flame Hashira, Rengoku Shinjurō, had completely given up, losing faith in the Corps—and in his own abilities.
“Oyaka-sama, let Rengoku Shinjurō retire fully,” Shinazugawa said directly. A Flame Hashira like that was useless, no longer the inspiring leader he once was but a burden instead.
“Seconded. Let him retire flamboyantly,” Tengen agreed. Shinjurō was beyond saving.
“Seconded. Amitābha,” Gyōmei added, tears streaming down his face as he clasped his hands. As the longest-serving Hashira, he’d worked alongside Shinjurō, who was once cheerful and passionate, not the broken man he’d become.
Giyū and Shinobu also agreed. They had no personal ties to Shinjurō, but he was clearly unfit to remain a Hashira.
“…” Yōya fell silent. Shinjurō had requested to retire long ago, but Yōya hadn’t wanted to accept, hoping he’d recover after some rest. Yet years later, Shinjurō hadn’t moved past his wife’s death, sinking deeper into despair.
Yōya desperately wanted Shinjurō to pull himself together. The Flame Hashira wasn’t too old to retire, and his experience was invaluable.
“Oyaka-sama, if I can become the Flame Hashira, I’m sure my father will find his spark again!” Kyōjurō interjected, seeing everyone ready to give up on his father.
Though his father was a mess, neglecting to train him and his brother and even belittling them, Kyōjurō didn’t resent him—he felt for him.
Shinjurō had become this way because of his mother’s death. As his son, Kyōjurō believed it was his duty to help his father recover, for his health’s sake. Drinking day and night wasn’t sustainable.
“Hah? Are you joking? That’s not exactly a flamboyant joke,” Tengen scoffed, amused by Kyōjurō’s confidence. Becoming a Hashira wasn’t that easy.
“You—” Shinazugawa started, reflexively wanting to challenge Kyōjurō’s strength. He was already annoyed by Kyōjurō’s disregard for protocol, and now this bold claim? He was ready to teach the kid a lesson about humility, but he stopped himself.
Getting humiliated after doubting someone’s strength had already happened this morning. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
“I’m not joking, Oyakata-sama. I’m confident,” Kyōjurō continued, seizing the moment as Shinazugawa faltered.
“Very well. It just so happens a suspected Twelve Kizuki demon has appeared in the Rengoku family’s jurisdiction in Tokyo. Kyōjurō, prove it to us,” Yōya said warmly, endorsing Kyōjurō’s resolve. He’d been waiting for Kyōjurō to step up.
“Oyaka-sama! A Twelve Kizuki demon? Is it really appropriate to send a Kinoe swordsman?!” Shinazugawa blurted out, unable to hold back. Wasn’t Riku supposed to handle this mission yesterday? Sending a Kinoe swordsman against a Twelve Kizuki was a death sentence!
“Hm, Sanemi’s concern is valid. Riku-san, would you be willing to lead this subjugation team? You don’t need to do much—just back Kyōjurō up,” Yōya said, nodding as he took Shinazugawa’s suggestion and turned to Riku with a smile.
“Of course, no problem,” Riku agreed readily. Yōya was clever, layering one plan atop another, leaving Shinazugawa speechless.
Sure enough, Shinazugawa shut his mouth. Riku had already proven his strength—a Lower Moon demon would be no issue for him.
With Shinazugawa silent, the other Hashira understood. They knew the Wind Hashira’s style well—he’d clearly witnessed Riku’s power firsthand.
“Then it’s settled. Riku-san, Kyōjurō, please lead the subjugation team and depart immediately to slay the demon,” Yōya said, seeing no further objections.
“Yes, Oyakata-sama!” Kyōjurō responded enthusiastically. Though he wasn’t the team’s leader, Oyakata-sama’s intent was clear: Kyōjurō would assemble the team, with Riku as a safeguard. If they couldn’t defeat the Twelve Kizuki demon, Riku would step in.
This arrangement implied a lack of faith in his abilities, but Kyōjurō understood. He hadn’t proven himself yet. For safety and to minimize casualties, having a backup was necessary.
“Riku-san, I look forward to working with you,” Kyōjurō said, bowing politely as they left the courtyard. Despite his doubts about Riku’s identity, he trusted Oyakata-sama’s judgment.
“Likewise,” Riku nodded. He didn’t mind playing bodyguard—especially since Yōya promised rewards. If Yōya didn’t deliver, Riku would act as he saw fit.
Riku followed Kyōjurō as they left headquarters. Kyōjurō had already sent messages via Kasugai Crow to the other Demon Slayer swordsmen, instructing them to gather on the outskirts of Tokyo. They just needed to hurry over.
Tokyo was vast, and finding a demon wouldn’t be easy. The subjugation team was sizable, but Kyōjurō remained calm and confident.
Chapter 162: Overdoing the Charm
Rengoku Kyojuro, though not yet a Hashira, is undeniably powerful. His strength comes from a mix of natural talent and relentless hard work. As the eldest son of the Rengoku family, even without his father Shinjuro’s guidance in recent years, Kyojuro has mastered the Breath of Flame by studying the scrolls left by his ancestors. His skill surpasses most, and he already possesses the strength to become a Hashira.
Riku follows Rengoku Kyojuro, traveling day and night to reach a meeting point on the outskirts of Tokyo. Many Demon Slayer Corps members are already gathered there, but one person stands out immediately.
“Why is her uniform different from the others?” Riku asks Rengoku, eyeing a girl who clearly isn’t just another background character. Her hair is a striking mix of cherry-blossom pink braided into three long plaits, with grass-green tips—a vibrant contrast to the standard Demon Slayer uniforms.
“Oh, that’s my disciple. She’s now a full-fledged member of the Corps. That snow-white haori was my gift to her when she passed the Final Selection,” Rengoku says, glancing at the girl. Her name is Kanroji Mitsuri, a prodigy who joined the Demon Slayer Corps just six months ago. After training under him for only half a year, she passed the Final Selection with flying colors.
“Uh…” Riku’s mouth twitches. Sure, the snow-white haori is nice, but it’s not what makes her stand out. It’s her bold, open-chested uniform and short skirt—completely unlike the standard long-sleeved shirts and pants worn by other female slayers, which don’t have that… dramatic chest slit.
“Rengoku-sensei! You’re here!” Kanroji Mitsuri spots Rengoku and bounds over with a radiant smile. Her movement is, well, eye-catching, to say the least. Let’s just say her outfit highlights her… assets in a way that most couldn’t pull off.
“Mitsuri, is everyone here?” Rengoku asks. As her mentor, he’s essentially her tsume-shi (trainer), and he’s extra protective of this pure-hearted girl on her first mission.
“Everyone’s here, and the morale is super high!” Mitsuri replies, her light-green eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed. She’s got a mole under each eye, adding to her charm—a perfect blend of explosive figure and adorable face.
Mitsuri glances at Riku with curiosity. Who’s this handsome guy? He’s not wearing a Demon Slayer uniform.
“Alright, everyone, gather up! Let’s go over the mission,” Rengoku calls out, his voice booming with enthusiasm. His warm, sun-like presence instantly lifts the group’s spirits. He’s the kind of leader who can connect with anyone—man, woman, young, or old—because he’s so attuned to people’s emotions. Everyone likes him.
The Demon Slayers assemble, all eyes on Rengoku. As a Kinoe-ranked swordsman, he’s already well-respected, and many recognize him. The Hashira are usually too busy with their vast territories, gathering intel on demons, and honing their swordsmanship to lead teams like this. They typically operate solo.
“Pair up in twos and search for traces of the demon. If you find anything, send a message via your Kasugai Crow immediately. Do not act recklessly. Our target could be one of the Twelve Kizuki—extremely dangerous. Prioritize your safety,” Rengoku says, emphasizing caution. “Also, ensure civilians are evacuated to avoid collateral damage.”
The team listens intently, and Rengoku continues, hoping to execute this mission flawlessly.
“Yes, sir!” the slayers respond in unison. Though Rengoku isn’t officially the team leader, Riku has stayed silent, and the others are curious about his identity but hesitate to ask since Rengoku hasn’t introduced him.
“Mitsuri, you’re with me. Riku-san, will you join us?” Rengoku asks. As Mitsuri’s mentor, he naturally pairs with her for her first mission. He’s not sure about Riku’s plans and doesn’t assume he can order him around, but he’s glad Riku hasn’t tried to take charge.
“I’ll stick with you,” Riku says. He knows to follow the “prophet’s” guidance—since this is Rengoku’s test, sticking with him is the way to trigger the plot.
“Great, let’s move out!” Rengoku says, pleased with Riku’s cooperative attitude. He’s confident he can handle things without needing Riku, who’s here as backup.
Tokyo’s nightlife is buzzing—bright lights, bustling streets, and the lively hum of people. Riku takes a deep breath, savoring the atmosphere. It feels more authentic than Night City’s.
“So lively!” Mitsuri exclaims, her eyes wide. It’s her first time in a big city like Tokyo, and everything feels new and exciting.
“Wait here a moment. I’m going to check that alley,” Rengoku says, darting into a dark lane.
Mitsuri obediently stops, and Riku stays put too, not sensing any demonic presence in the alley.
Thud! Mitsuri freezes as a small boy bumps into her and falls to the ground. Despite her delicate appearance, Mitsuri is no frail maiden—she’s a powerhouse.
“Waaah!” The boy starts bawling, tears and snot streaming down his face. Mitsuri, flustered, reaches out to comfort him. With five younger siblings, she’s no stranger to soothing kids.
“Get away! Don’t touch him!” a woman shouts, her voice sharp with panic. Mitsuri looks up to see a woman in her thirties, likely the boy’s mother, rushing over.
“Uh, I’m sorry—” Mitsuri starts to apologize, but the woman isn’t having it. She scoops up her son and glares at Mitsuri with hostility.
“You weird-haired woman! Don’t you dare try to kidnap my child! I’m calling the police! I’ll have you thrown in jail!” the mother yells, her words irrational, as if Mitsuri’s pink hair alone marks her as a villain.
“No, I’m not—!” Mitsuri’s face flushes as she tries to explain. She’s no child abductor!
The mother grabs Mitsuri’s sleeve, refusing to let go, probably thinking she can overpower the “frail” girl. “You’re coming to the police station!”
“I’m really not—” Mitsuri pleads, looking to Riku for help. As a Demon Slayer, she can’t harm civilians or draw her blade against them, so she lets the woman hold her.
“That’s enough,” Riku says calmly, grabbing the woman’s wrist. He’d been waiting for Rengoku to step in, as this kind of drama usually cues the hero’s return, but Rengoku hasn’t come back—maybe because Riku’s presence makes him less worried about Mitsuri.
“Let go of me! Are you her accomplice?!” the woman shrieks, fear flashing in her eyes. A lone “weak” girl is one thing, but a strong-looking man changes the equation. She looks ready to scream.
“Your kid bumped into my friend. You’re the ones who should apologize. Don’t think you can bully her just because she’s a girl. She’s being polite by not resisting, so don’t push it,” Riku says evenly. He gets where the woman’s coming from, but her attitude is getting out of hand.
In this era, Mitsuri’s bold outfit and colorful hair do make her stand out. Tokyo isn’t that progressive yet, and the woman’s traditional clothing reflects the conservative mindset. Mitsuri’s vibrant, almost kill la kill-style look doesn’t help her blend in.
“No need to apologize! I didn’t dodge in time and got in the way,” Mitsuri says quickly, waving her hands, her cheeks pink. She just wants to clear up the misunderstanding.
Bystanders start to notice, and someone who saw the incident speaks up, supporting Mitsuri. “What a weird person,” the mother mutters, finally letting go and leaving with her son.
“I’m so sorry, Riku-san, for causing trouble,” Mitsuri says, her face red with embarrassment. Being judged for her appearance stings deeply.
Her pink hair has always caused her grief, especially when it came to arranged marriages. She joined the Demon Slayer Corps hoping to find someone stronger than her, someone who wouldn’t care about her unusual hair, enormous appetite, or superhuman strength—things that have always made her feel out of place.
“Don’t let it get to you, Kanroji-san. You’re actually really cute. People’s narrow-minded views are their problem, not yours. For a Demon Slayer, looks are just a minor detail,” Riku says sincerely. Mitsuri’s pink hair is adorable, especially paired with her pouty, wronged expression. It’s the kind of look that makes you want to tease her just a little.
“Really?” Mitsuri asks, her face still a mix of distress and hope. Riku is the first person to call her cute, despite her “weird” hair that’s always been mocked. In this era, it’s just too unconventional.
“Of course, Kanroji-san. Be confident. Deep down, they find you cute too—they’re just held back by outdated ideas,” Riku says with a smile, encouraging her. Mitsuri’s insecurities stem from those same rigid societal norms.
“Thank you, Riku-san!” Mitsuri bows deeply, her cheeks flushed. His words unlock something in her, and she starts opening up, sharing her struggles—how her hair, appetite, and strength have made her feel like an outsider, especially after multiple failed marriage interviews.
Riku listens, his expression growing odd. Feeling inferior because of failed omiai? Mitsuri’s been so constrained by society’s expectations of what a “proper” woman should be—delicate, soft-spoken, small appetite, dark hair. But she’s the opposite: a powerhouse who could probably bench press a horse.
“Kanroji-san, you’re someone blessed by the gods. You should be proud of your strength. Those who criticize you are just jealous of your gifts. Don’t suppress your natural power—use it to save people,” Riku says, serving up some classic shonen motivational soup. Even without knowing the full Demon Slayer story, he can tell Mitsuri isn’t some nobody. Her hair, outfit, beauty, and status as Rengoku’s disciple scream “major supporting character.”
And, well, Riku’s a guy. If a few kind words can boost a cute girl’s affection points, why not? For someone like Mitsuri, who craves acceptance, his encouragement hits hard.
“Riku-san…” Mitsuri looks at him with starry-eyed admiration, her affection meter practically skyrocketing from “stranger” to “life mentor.” She’s been told her whole life how a girl should be, and Riku’s full acceptance of her true self feels like a revelation. She shouldn’t care about others’ judgments—she should embrace her strength and live boldly.
Boom! An explosion cuts through their conversation, followed by more blasts echoing across Tokyo. The smell of gunpowder fills the air.
“What’s happening?!” Mitsuri freezes, confused. Rengoku bursts out of the alley, his expression grim. These explosions are anything but normal.
“Demons using tech now?” Riku quips, catching the scent of gunpowder. These demons are surprisingly modern, using explosives.
“We need to save people!” Mitsuri snaps into action as screams fill the air. The streets erupt into chaos as people panic, wondering if Tokyo’s under attack.
“Careful!” Rengoku shouts, yanking Mitsuri back just as a bullet whizzes toward her. Riku moves like a flash, drawing his blade from its shadow scabbard and slicing the bullet in half. It’s not a fast shot, and the damage would’ve been minimal—likely fired from a bolt-action rifle, typical of the Taisho era.
“Arisaka Type 38…” Riku mutters, feeling a bit out of place. He sniffs the air and locks onto the demon’s location, the stench unmistakable.
Rengoku charges toward the source—a demon on a nearby rooftop, aiming an Arisaka Type 38 rifle. Rengoku’s quick reaction saved Mitsuri, and now he’s on the offensive.
“Breath of Flame, First Form: Shiranui!” Rengoku’s blade blazes as he slashes at the demon, who leaps back to dodge. The demon doesn’t even glance at Riku, its hateful gaze fixed solely on Rengoku, eyes burning with malice.
Chapter 163: "How Do You Know That Move?!"
"Finally! You've finally shown up!"
The demon stared at Rengoku Kyojuro, practically vibrating with excitement, but his reaction left Kyojuro utterly confused.
"Do I know you?"
Kyojuro felt a bit baffled. He'd never laid eyes on this demon before, so why was it acting like they had some deep-seated grudge?
"You don’t know me?!"
The demon’s eyes widened in disbelief, its expression almost comical in its shock.
This demon had striking features: its sclera were pitch black, with the left iris marked by the kanji for "Lower Two." Triangular patterns adorned its face—above and on both sides—while its bangs formed a series of connected triangles, giving it a sharp, angular look. It wore a military uniform, complete with white gloves and a black cape, with a wolf emblem on its cap.
"Lower Moon Two, a soldier type, huh?"
Riku, observing from the side, noted the demon’s modern military getup, fitting for the era.
"You don’t know me?!" the Lower Moon Two roared, as if insulted beyond belief.
"All of this was for revenge against you! And you say you don’t know me?!"
The demon whipped out a Nanbu Type A pistol, pointed it at its own mouth, and fired. The bullet blew its head apart, but in an instant, it regenerated.
"Whoa, what’s wrong with this guy?"
Riku, perched on the rooftop’s edge, switched to spectator mode. This demon was clearly unhinged—probably traumatized or something.
"This guy…"
Kyojuro was equally dumbfounded. He’d never seen a demon like this, shooting itself in the head right off the bat.
After blasting its own skull, the demon calmed down. It often got riled up over small things, and shooting itself was its way of venting to cool off. Unbeknownst to it, though, the repeated headshots had damaged its brain, leaving its memories fragmented and foggy.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions erupted across Tokyo, smoke rising from multiple locations, making both Kyojuro and Riku frown.
"Could there be more than one demon?"
The scattered blasts made Kyojuro suspicious. In his experience, demons usually operated alone. Was this a coordinated attack?
"Die!"
The demon roared, black shadows swirling around it. A dozen guns emerged from its body, all aimed at Kyojuro.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The guns fired in unison, bullets screaming toward Kyojuro. But these were old-school rifles, like the Type 38 Arisaka—primitive compared to the cyberpunk-era weapons Riku knew. Their power was underwhelming.
Kyojuro dodged swiftly, moving before the shots even rang out. He ducked behind a billboard, shouting to Riku, who hadn’t budged:
"Get out of the way, Riku-san!"
But Riku’s eyes were locked on the demon, wide with realization. At that moment, he finally understood what Ubuyashiki Kagaya meant. This mission was a goldmine for him. This Lower Moon Two was a perfect match—its Blood Demon Art was shadow-based, just like his!
"Are you human or demon?"
Riku’s intense stare didn’t go unnoticed. The demon scowled, not wanting its revenge interrupted. Something about Riku felt off—like a demon, but with a strange twist.
"Guess."
Riku stood, his body shifting. He entered his second form, "Demon Mode." Goat-like horns sprouted, sharp fangs and claws emerged, muscles bulged, and his face turned ferocious. The debuffs from his humanoid form vanished, revealing his true demonic nature.
"You’re a demon?! And you’re with the Demon Slayer Corps?!"
Lower Moon Two, stunned, couldn’t fathom a demon working with the Corps. It was absurd!
"Riku-san…"
Kyojuro, hiding behind the billboard, saw Riku’s transformation. Though he’d known about Riku’s nature, seeing it in person was still a shock, rivaling even the demon’s reaction.
"Lord Ubuyashiki and the Hashira… they’re really working with a demon," Kyojuro thought, shaken but silent. As a non-Hashira, he had no say in such matters. Still, after their brief time together, he found Riku oddly likable—not at all like a typical demon.
A shadow sword case appeared, and Riku drew his thermal katana, its searing heat illuminating the night.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The demon fired another volley at Riku without hesitation.
Vroom!
Riku activated his Sandevistan, charging at Lower Moon Two. The bullets slowed to a crawl in his perception. His thermal katana, Burao, sliced through them effortlessly, each one splitting like paper.
The demon and Kyojuro were both floored. Kyojuro could deflect bullets too, but only a few at a time, and only with intense focus. Deflecting a barrage from a dozen guns? Impossible for him. That’s why he’d ducked behind the billboard. His speed could outrun aim, but not bullets themselves.
Kyojuro realized Riku’s strength. No wonder Ubuyashiki sent him as backup—this guy was a powerhouse.
But Kyojuro wasn’t ready to hand over the fight. "It’s just getting started!" he thought.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Riku sliced through the bullets and closed in on the demon. Burao aimed for its neck, but the demon couldn’t react in time. Its Blood Demon Art kicked in, shadows wrapping around its neck, forming layered shadow shields.
Riku’s blade hit the shadows, feeling like it sank into a dark, bottomless swamp rather than cutting flesh.
"Damn, this feels familiar!"
Riku knew this sensation—his own shadow shield worked the same way. This demon’s Blood Demon Art was eerily similar. It was a massive opportunity!
Boom!
Though the shadow shield blocked a clean decapitation, Riku’s raw strength sent the demon crashing to the ground.
Riku summoned a shadow wolf, which lunged at the fallen demon, jaws wide for a bite.
"What?!"
The demon blocked with more shadows, its face a mask of shock. It hadn’t expected Riku to wield the same shadow-based Blood Demon Art. What were the odds?
"Blood Demon Art: Shadow Wolf!"
The demon manipulated its shadows into wolf-like creatures. Five shadow wolves, smaller and creepier than Riku’s, with eldritch patterns and multiple eyes, charged at Riku’s giant wolf. They even sprouted gun barrels, firing at the larger beast.
Bullets did nothing to shadow creatures, and regular slashes were equally ineffective. Riku’s wolf swiped, scattering the smaller wolves with ease, proving its superior strength.
"I’m Lower Moon Two, Rokuro! Who the hell are you?!"
The demon, Rokuro, rose, its neck wound healed. It stared at Riku, curiosity outweighing its vendetta against Kyojuro.
"Riku-san! I’ve got this!"
Kyojuro charged in, eager to reclaim his fight. "Flame Breathing, Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation!"
He darted toward Rokuro with agile steps. The demon, unfazed, pulled bombs from its shadows and tossed them.
Kyojuro’s sharp eyes caught the bombs instantly. No human could tank explosives, so he abandoned his attack, diving aside.
Boom!
The bombs detonated, collapsing the rooftop and the small building beneath it in a cloud of dust.
Riku had already jumped down, spotting Kanroji Mitsuri waiting anxiously below. He pulled her back to avoid the blast.
"Riku-san!"
Mitsuri called out, then froze. Riku’s demonic form—fierce and unrecognizable—clashed with the charming man she knew.
"Damn you! Don’t interfere with my revenge!"
Rokuro charged, wielding a rifle like a blade, swinging it at Riku’s head.
Clang!
Riku blocked effortlessly, shielding Mitsuri. "Stay back, kid," he said. Mitsuri’s inexperience made her a liability against a Lower Moon. Better she watch from the sidelines.
Riku wasn’t in a rush to finish Rokuro. He recalled his shadow wolf, which had shielded Kyojuro from the blast. Kyojuro, unharmed, burst from the rubble.
Boom!
Kyojuro emerged just in time to see Riku kick Rokuro into a wall.
"Demon! I, Rengoku Kyojuro, am your opponent!"
Kyojuro roared, charging like a ferocious tiger. "Flame Breathing, Fifth Form: Flame Tiger!"
Rokuro couldn’t dodge. Kyojuro’s blade struck its neck, but the shadows protected it, leaving only a shallow cut.
The demon’s shadows surged, wrapping Kyojuro like tentacles.
"Argh!"
Kyojuro, born with immense strength rivaling Mitsuri’s, broke free quickly.
Bang! Bang!
Rokuro retreated, firing and tossing Molotov cocktails. Though Kyojuro used Flame Breathing, real fire was still a threat to his human body, forcing him to dodge while Rokuro shot through the flames.
"This guy’s got quite the arsenal," Riku remarked, watching. Since Kyojuro was determined to fight solo, Riku held back. Ubuyashiki had given him a gift with this demon, but Kyojuro needed this win to become a Hashira.
Riku could tell Kyojuro wouldn’t finish Rokuro quickly—not until the demon ran out of ammo.
"Mitsuri-chan, go help the other Corps members. Evacuate the citizens and tend to the wounded. We’ve got this."
Riku sent Mitsuri off. She was eager but outmatched here. Better she grow through other tasks.
"Got it!" Mitsuri nodded and left, as Kasugai Crows spread out to alert the Corps.
"Die!"
Rokuro, out of rifle and pistol ammo, pulled out a Gatling gun, shocking Kyojuro. Despite constant dodging, Kyojuro was in good shape, thanks to Riku’s shadow wolf shielding him from stray bullets and bombs. Without it, he’d be battered.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Rokuro unleashed the Gatling gun, his shadow wolves harassing Kyojuro, though Riku’s wolf kept them at bay.
Click!
The Gatling ran dry. Rokuro was out of ammo and still hadn’t landed a hit.
"Finally!"
Kyojuro exhaled, charging through the flames, his Nichirin Blade—white hilt, flame-shaped tsuba, black blade with red accents—aimed at Rokuro.
The explosions across Tokyo had stopped, and Rokuro’s shadow wolves elsewhere were defeated by other Corps members. The chaos was all Rokuro’s doing.
Ammo spent, cornered, Rokuro’s memories stirred. He recalled being driven to the brink by Rengoku Shinjuro, a drunken man who’d slashed him mercilessly. Had Shinjuro not been so drunk, Rokuro wouldn’t have escaped.
Then he remembered his past as a Bakumatsu-era samurai, devoted to bushido, skilled with a katana. But after being humbled by firearms, he abandoned his blade, embracing guns as superior.
"Blood Demon Art: Lugu Qiang—War Calamity Wolf Array!"
Rokuro’s face twisted. His shadows spat out a katana—his once-prized possession. Shadows wrapped around him, transforming him into a werewolf-like form.
Clang!
Rokuro’s shadow-wolf form clashed blades with Kyojuro. To overcome his trauma from Shinjuro, he’d grown stronger than most Lower Moons. But he realized Kyojuro wasn’t Shinjuro—far younger, yet even more formidable.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Their blades collided repeatedly. Rokuro’s raw strength was inferior, but his shadows slowed Kyojuro’s strikes, hampering his attacks.
Chapter 164: A Huge Haul
The shadow clings to his body, transforming Rokuro into a towering, wolf-like figure standing upright. Roaring, he swings his samurai sword with ferocity, feeling as if he’s rediscovered the thrill of battle, like he’s been transported back to the era of samurai.
Boom!
After a clash of blades, the two fighters separate, each resetting their stance. It’s Rengoku Kyojuro who pulls back first, needing space to build up his next move.
“I’ll kill you as a true samurai, Rengoku Kyojuro,” Rokuro declares, brimming with confidence despite being thoroughly outmatched. His words make it sound like he could dispatch Rengoku with ease, but honestly, this guy’s got a few screws loose.
Huff! Rengoku’s eyes burn with determination, unfazed by the taunt. He takes a deep breath, ready to launch a fierce attack to end this fight.
To put it in simpler terms, the scene is basically: “I’m charging my ultimate move—what are you waiting for?” In situations like this, the one not preparing a big move is usually waiting to get wrecked. Rokuro, oblivious to the danger, is convinced Rengoku can’t break through his defenses.
“Breath of Flame, Ninth Form: Rengoku!”
The Breath of Flame, passed down through generations of the Rengoku family, is so tied to their legacy that even its ultimate technique is named after them. It’s a breathing style stamped with the Rengoku clan’s mark. And why wouldn’t it be? For centuries, the Rengoku family has never failed to produce a Flame Hashira. When one falls, another rises. Even with someone as disengaged as Rengoku Shinjuro, the family still produced a prodigy like Kyojuro—a testament to their unyielding loyalty.
“Aaah!” Rengoku roars, stomping the ground with explosive force as he charges at the upright wolf-demon with ferocious momentum.
Rokuro, bursting with overconfidence, doesn’t back down. He rushes forward, meeting Rengoku head-on. No earth-shattering collision here—just a swift pass as Rengoku’s blade moves faster. In an instant, he shifts his angle, slicing toward Rokuro’s neck. The Breath of Flame’s sword forms are all about speed and power.
This strike is heavy and precise. If it lands squarely, Rokuro has no chance of surviving. In his wolf-man form, Rokuro’s shadow armor has grown stronger, slowing attacks and boosting defense. But it’s not invincible. A fast enough blade and enough raw strength can break through, exposing his vulnerable neck.
The strike lands hard. Rokuro feels his shadow burning away, as if his entire body is engulfed in flames. Though he doesn’t feel the pain directly, the damage is undeniable—unlike anything he’s experienced before.
“It missed?!” Rengoku’s first thought is shock. He aimed for the neck, but the blade only grazed Rokuro’s side.
Confusion sets in. At the last second, a small shadow wolf darted out, knocking the demon aside. Rengoku assumes it’s one of Rokuro’s summons, unaware that Riku’s giant shadow wolf can split into smaller ones. This was Riku’s doing—he couldn’t let Rengoku end the fight with one clean decapitation.
Rokuro narrowly escapes death, but half his body is nearly severed. The strange, searing pain slows his regeneration, far worse than any wound Rengoku Shinjuro ever inflicted.
“Damn you! I’ll kill you!” Rokuro rages, humiliated by his defeat. Weak, he was tormented by Shinjuro. Now, even stronger, he’s being schooled by Kyojuro?!
Boom! Before Rokuro can act, a massive figure appears beside him, slamming him to the ground with a single blow.
Rokuro’s vision blurs, overwhelmed by the towering presence. Before he can make out the figure, a massive fist smashes into his head.
Pfft! The shadow holds strong at first, but under a relentless barrage, Rokuro’s resistance crumbles. His head is crushed, his limbs torn off. In Riku’s demonic form, the already-crippled Rokuro stands no chance, shredded into pieces in seconds.
Riku summons his shadow wolf, which begins devouring the demon piece by piece. The torn-up remains make it easier to consume, speeding up the process.
Almost instantly, Riku feels the feedback.
[Constitution +1]
This Lower Rank Two demon is clearly a big catch. Barely into the devouring process, the Limit System pings with a notification.
“What are you doing?!” Rengoku turns, blade raised, startled by the terrifying demonic figure. He hadn’t noticed Riku’s transformation.
“It’s me,” Riku says, dispersing the “Rc cells” shell. In a flurry of dissipating cells, he reveals his human form, the cells seamlessly returning to his body thanks to his anthropomorphic ability.
Unlike most transformations, Riku’s doesn’t shred his clothes—not for some convenient censorship, but because of his precise control over “Rc cells.” While he can’t fully reshape them at will, his mastery surpasses 99.99% of ghouls. Practice makes perfect, and the unique healing-type kagune from “Nico the Trap” gave him invaluable experience.
Combined with the “kakuja transplant surgery,” Riku understands ghouls better than most ghouls understand themselves. Practical experience is everything.
“Riku-san?!” Rengoku is stunned. What kind of bizarre ability is this? This guy’s nothing like any demon he’s ever seen.
“Let’s regroup with Kanroji and the others,” Riku says, brushing off explanations. Thanks to his protection, Rengoku’s unscathed and still has energy to spare. With Rokuro neutralized and being devoured, his scattered shadow wolves already eliminated, the other slayers likely don’t need help.
“Right. We need to get the Kakushi moving. This incident’s too big—we’ll need them to cover it up,” Rengoku nods. Honestly, he hadn’t expected this mission to blow up like this. Rokuro had rigged Tokyo with bombs, turning the city into a chaotic mess tonight. The police stations are probably swamped.
As an unofficial, technically illegal demon-hunting organization, the Demon Slayer Corps operates in secrecy. They can’t afford to let the police trace anything back to them. The Kakushi’s job includes cleaning up after battles, ensuring no evidence of demons or slayers remains.
“This Rokuro…” Rengoku hesitates, glancing at the shadow wolf. Though he trusts Riku won’t let the demon escape, he needs to see it die with his own eyes to be sure.
“It’s dead. Your kill,” Riku says bluntly, checking the Limit System’s prompt.
[Ding! Experience +1200]
A Lower Rank Two demon nets a whopping 1200 experience points! Riku freezes, hardly believing it. He’s used to demons giving good XP, but this is insane. Leveling up to his current level only required 1100 points, and this demon gave an extra hundred.
[Ding! Experience maxed out. Level increased to Lv9. Current experience: 999/1300.]
[Gained 1 attribute point.]
[Gained 1 skill point.]
As expected, Riku levels up, and he’s not far from the next one. If a Lower Rank Two gives this much, he can’t even imagine the XP from an Upper Rank or Muzan himself.
Beyond that, two [Constitution +1] prompts pop up, but Riku barely notices. His Blood Demon Art: Shadow has grown significantly stronger, his control over it sharper than ever. He can now summon three large shadow wolves or fifteen smaller ones. He can even use shadows to bind enemies, wrapping them up like some kind of tentacle monster. His wolf-man form is fully mastered, and his shadow storage space has doubled in size.
His shadows are more solid, with improved defense and attack power, and there’s potential for even more applications. As Ubuyashiki Kagaya predicted, this mission was a goldmine. The Ubuyashiki clan’s foresight is almost enviable—no wonder they’re never short on funds.
“It’s dead?” Rengoku looks over. The shadow wolf vanishes, and Rokuro’s remains dissolve completely into nothingness.
Relieved, Rengoku relaxes. This was his chance to prove himself, and he didn’t want any slip-ups. As for credit, he doesn’t care much. Becoming a Hashira is about family honor and inspiring his father to rise again.
“Let’s meet up with the others,” Rengoku says, moving on. The Kasugai Crows soar overhead, relaying messages to the Corps. In open environments like this, their wide field of vision is invaluable for coordinating scattered slayers.
Soon, Riku and Rengoku reunite with Kanroji Mitsuri, who’s helping evacuate the wounded alongside other slayers. Her face glows with fulfillment, warmed by the gratitude of those she’s helped. It makes her feel her work is truly meaningful.
Just as Riku said, appearances are trivial for a Demon Slayer. What they do matters far more. Some of the kids she saved even called her pretty, which thrilled her. She loves this feeling of being appreciated.
Mitsuri joined the Corps to find a stronger husband, not driven by grand ambitions or deep grudges. Like many who join for money or status, she needed time to understand the Corps’ purpose. Some adapt, finding pride in their work; others struggle, unable to find their place, and either die in a mission or retire.
For Mitsuri, who craves acceptance, the gratitude she receives fuels her. Riku’s words—that she can use her natural strength to help others—have ignited her confidence. She’s starting to see him as a wise mentor, guiding her path.
“Riku-san! Rengoku-sensei!” Mitsuri calls out excitedly, eager to share her experiences.
“Nice work, Kanroji-san. You’re really getting the hang of this,” Riku says with a smile, back in his handsome human form, radiating “life coach” vibes.
“Thanks to your encouragement, I feel so much more confident!” Mitsuri beams, her smile bright. Beneath her extraordinary strength, she’s just an ordinary girl—especially in a Corps full of people carrying heavy burdens. Her normal background and everyday worries make her a breath of fresh air. She doubts herself, laughs at small joys, and frets over minor setbacks—a perfectly relatable teenager.
“You’re growing fast, Mitsuri. You’ve got real talent,” Rengoku adds, flashing his signature grin and praising his disciple.
“Hehe!” Mitsuri blushes at their compliments, unable to hide her joy. “I’ll keep doing my best!” she says, clenching her fists with determination before diving back into helping others.
Rengoku coordinates with the Kakushi. Normally, they’d leave the cleanup to them, but this incident’s scale demands extra hands. The slayers are better equipped for tasks like searching rubble for survivors.
Meanwhile, the Kasugai Crows have sent word to Corps headquarters, reporting the mission’s success. Riku’s group leaves Tokyo before the police arrive—since the Corps is an illegal organization, it’s best to avoid official attention.
Chapter 165: The Succession of the Flame Hashira
"Riku-san, why… why did you look so different back there?"
On the way back, Kanroji Mitsuri couldn’t hold back her curiosity. The image of Riku’s ferocious demon form still lingered in her mind, and she wanted answers.
"Because I’m a demon," Riku replied calmly.
Mitsuri’s eyes widened, and she froze, as if she’d just heard something terrifying. It was an answer she’d never even considered.
"No way! Riku-san, don’t joke like that! How could a demon walk around in daylight? I’m an official Demon Slayer Corps member, you know! I know all about demons’ weaknesses!"
After a moment’s shock, Mitsuri shook her head, convinced he was teasing her.
"I’m not joking. I’m a special kind of demon—very special. I’m not afraid of sunlight, and I don’t eat people."
Seeing her reaction, Riku found it amusing and kept his tone even. Mitsuri’s smile stiffened as she started to believe him.
"H-How could there be a demon who’s not afraid of sunlight and doesn’t eat people?"
She stammered, her worldview shaken. Everything she knew about demons came from the Corps—specifically from her master, Rengoku Kyojuro. Could they have been wrong? Maybe Riku was an exception.
"Shh, it’s a secret. Only Lord Ubuyashiki and the Hashira know. Mitsuri-chan, you can’t tell anyone, okay?"
Riku put a finger to his lips and winked.
"Eek!"
Mitsuri clapped her hands over her mouth, nodding frantically to promise her silence. Her movement caused a noticeable ripple across her chest. At just seventeen, she was already strikingly developed, despite not being fully grown in Riku’s eyes.
"Good girl."
Riku chuckled, patting her head. She was tall—nearly 170 cm, towering for a girl in early 20th-century Japan, where the average male height barely reached 160 cm, even after Meiji-era nutrition improvements. Some Hashira, with their extraordinary heights like 220 cm, were truly outliers in a world of 150 cm averages.
"Riku-san… why’d you tell me?"
Mitsuri’s cheeks flushed from the head pat. She wondered why he’d share such a secret instead of brushing her off.
"Didn’t you ask?" Riku raised an eyebrow, as if to say, You brought it up.
"You’d tell just because someone asked?"
Mitsuri blinked, then realized he was teasing her again.
"Haha, honestly, it’s because I trust you, Mitsuri-chan. You’ve got what it takes to become a Hashira. Believe in yourself."
Riku shook his head with a smile. She was adorable—innocent, easy to read, her thoughts written all over her face.
"Really?! I could be a Hashira?!"
Mitsuri’s face lit up. Coming from anyone else, she might’ve brushed it off, but from Riku, it felt credible. She was already seeing him through rose-tinted glasses.
"Keep working hard, and it’s only a matter of time," Riku nodded seriously. He wasn’t just flattering her—Mitsuri’s talent was obvious. Rengoku had told him about her: a seventeen-year-old with raw strength rivaling his own, despite no formal training. In less than six months, she’d passed the Final Selection to become an official Corps member. She was a prodigy.
Rengoku believed that, given time, Mitsuri would surpass him. Her muscle density was superhuman, her starting point higher than most people’s peaks. Talent like hers defied logic—sometimes, hard work paled in comparison.
"I’ll keep working hard!"
Mitsuri beamed, reinvigorated. She vowed not to let Riku down—she would become a Hashira! As for him being a demon, she accepted it easily. She had no personal grudge against demons, and her gut told her Riku wasn’t bad—not even a bad demon.
"Seeing you two get along so well puts my mind at ease," Rengoku said, returning after escorting some Corps members. He was glad to see Riku and Mitsuri chatting happily. Riku’s positivity was perfect for boosting Mitsuri’s confidence.
"Kyojuro, time to head back?"
Riku was eager to return to Corps headquarters. Slaying Lower Moon Two had been a massive boon, and he was hooked on these low-risk, high-reward missions. Could they keep coming forever?
"Yes, Riku-san. I need to report back. Will you join us?"
Rengoku nodded. After learning Riku was only eighteen, he’d started calling him by name, closing the distance between them.
"Of course. You need to prove yourself, and so do I. Not all the Hashira trust me yet. Completing this mission with you guys—without harming anyone—should earn me some credibility, right?"
Riku grinned, half-joking. Despite Sanemi’s rare blood vouching for him, some Hashira remained wary.
Rengoku, having fought alongside him, trusted him completely. Riku hoped Rengoku would become a Hashira—he’d have at least one ally to speak for him. He didn’t expect help, just less suspicion.
As for Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Hashira and Urokodaki’s student, Riku had no hope. One look at Giyuu’s icy face, like everyone owed him money, told Riku he’d be no help—more likely to sabotage than support.
"I’ll report everything honestly," Rengoku said earnestly. He’d seen Riku’s uniqueness: unafraid of sunlight, surviving by consuming himself, not humans.
"Be flexible, Kyojuro. I took the final blow because I didn’t want to waste it. My shadow wolf consumed that demon to boost my energy—it’s better than you just killing it. If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d have beaten it solo. I made that clear in my report. Don’t spill the beans."
Riku hadn’t stolen Rengoku’s credit. Aside from the final blow, Rengoku had defeated the demon single-handedly. In his report to Ubuyashiki, Riku emphasized this, knowing the mission was designed for Rengoku’s promotion. He wouldn’t take that away.
As the nominal team leader, Riku wrote the report. Though he hadn’t known Japanese initially, the system granted him full language proficiency.
"No way! You killed that demon!"
Rengoku’s eyes widened, rejecting the idea. Credit belonged to the one who earned it—how could Riku push it onto him? If anything, Rengoku owed Riku for the shadow wolf’s protection against bullets, bombs, and Molotovs. Without it, he’d have been injured.
"You kid…"
Riku shook his head, chuckling. He’d miscalculated—expecting an eighteen-year-old hothead to accept this was unrealistic. Rengoku’s upright, honorable nature wouldn’t allow him to claim another’s achievement.
"Do what you want. I’m sure Ubuyashiki-san will see your performance."
Riku dropped it. He’d given Rengoku the stage, and the kid had delivered a convincing show. In his letter, Riku clarified that Rengoku could’ve killed the demon, but he intervened to feed his shadow wolf. It was reasonable: eating himself sustained him, but consuming demons boosted his power, making his story more believable and justifying their partnership—he hunted demons to survive without eating humans.
Soon, Riku, Rengoku, and Mitsuri returned to Corps headquarters with some wounded members, transported via hidden routes. Riku walked, having memorized the path.
The injured were sent to the Butterfly Mansion. Most wounds came from Rokuro’s bombs or shadow wolves, with a few unfortunate souls disemboweled before rescue. Their bodies were retrieved by the Kakushi for burial.
The Corps had a cemetery, but those with families were sent home with generous compensation. The Ubuyashiki clan spared no expense. Hashira had unlimited salaries, and even low-ranking slayers earned more than most. Money was why some risked their lives.
At Ubuyashiki’s estate, he awaited them, informed by the Kakushi’s updates.
"Kyojuro, I’m delighted. You’ve proven your strength," Ubuyashiki said immediately, clearly thrilled to have a new Flame Hashira.
As for Rengoku’s hope to inspire his father, Shinjuro, Ubuyashiki had little faith. Years had passed, and if Shinjuro could recover, he would’ve by now.
"From today, Rengoku Kyojuro, you officially succeed your father as the Flame Hashira. Protect the Tokyo region and keep everyone safe."
Ubuyashiki made it official. Shinjuro had long stopped working, approved or not, so his retirement was confirmed.
"My Lord, that’s not right. I didn’t kill Lower Moon Two—Riku-san did."
Rengoku refused, unwilling to take Riku’s credit.
"I know, Kyojuro. Riku-san acted after confirming you could’ve defeated the demon. I allowed it," Ubuyashiki said, glancing at Riku. Their stories aligned.
"But—"
Rengoku hesitated, unsure.
"Riku-san’s situation is unique. He spared that demon for a reason," Ubuyashiki pressed, playing the sympathy card. Riku ate himself to avoid harming humans, and consuming a demon was a rare chance to replenish energy.
Rengoku was stunned. So that’s why Riku’s shadow wolf disrupted his killing blow!
"It’s not that dramatic, but I needed it. Hope you understand," Riku said, avoiding Rengoku’s gaze.
"If that’s the case, I accept."
Rengoku relented. The explanation made sense, and he wasn’t stubborn. He knew he could’ve landed the killing blow.
"Good, Kyojuro. I hope you restore the Rengoku family’s honor," Ubuyashiki said warmly, fond of Kyojuro’s sunny, inspiring nature, much like his father’s once was.
"My Lord, if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave. I want to share this news with my father—I’m sure it’ll lift his spirits!"
Rengoku’s first thought was Shinjuro. He believed this would rekindle his father’s fire.
"…Very well."
Ubuyashiki’s expression was complex but silent. Rengoku’s efforts were likely futile, but he wouldn’t stop him.
Rengoku left, brimming with confidence, as always.
"You don’t think he’ll succeed, do you?" Riku asked Ubuyashiki after Rengoku left. The doubt was obvious, though Rengoku hadn’t noticed—or didn’t care.
"It’s complicated. Shinjuro… it’s just difficult," Ubuyashiki sighed. He’d seen Shinjuro’s despair multiple times. The man’s flame was gone, despite efforts from Ubuyashiki and Shinjuro’s wife, Amane. Harshly put, Kyojuro’s efforts might not spark anything.
"I see. By the way, do you have more records on Kibutsuji Muzan? Or the original Breathing Styles? With the Corps’ history, there’s got to be something."
Riku didn’t dwell on Shinjuro’s issues—it was Rengoku family business, and outsiders shouldn’t meddle. He was more interested in intel. Unfamiliar with the source material, he relied on the Corps, which surely had centuries of records.
Ubuyashiki fell silent. Riku’s words stung because they cut to the truth: the Corps had little to offer. Much of what they knew about Muzan came from Riku himself.
(Chapter End)
