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🕑 Added 2025-06-13 16:16:05 +0000 UTCChapter 66: Better Look at Sagiri-yama in the Distance
“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to learn how to better slay oni?”
Riku’s surprise caught Urokodaki Sakonji’s attention, and he turned to look at him.
“Yes.”
Riku nodded immediately. If Urokodaki Sakonji was willing to teach him, that’d be perfect. Having a professional Demon Slayer guide him would save him from taking countless detours.
More importantly, Demon Slayers surely had ways to track where oni appeared. Riku, on the other hand, was just stumbling around like a blind cat hoping to catch a dead rat. Getting in with Urokodaki would make things way easier.
“Good. Then follow me.”
Urokodaki didn’t say much more. He hoped Riku would come willingly.
Riku’s uniqueness piqued Urokodaki’s interest. The ability to walk under sunlight, even if still wary of it, was enough to make him take notice.
And even setting that aside, Urokodaki wouldn’t let Riku leave.
He needed to personally confirm that Riku wouldn’t eat humans. Without spending time together, he wouldn’t be at ease.
The same went for Kamado Nezuko. Until he verified it himself, Urokodaki wouldn’t trust her either.
Kamado Tanjirou hoisted Nezuko onto his back, ready to go.
Urokodaki glanced at him, then took off running. The old man led the way, with Riku and Tanjirou following behind.
Urokodaki’s strides weren’t large, but his pace was quick, and he soon darted ahead. Tanjirou’s jaw dropped, and he hurriedly chased after him.
Riku followed with ease. No surprise there—Urokodaki was clearly slowing down on purpose, waiting for Tanjirou.
Honestly, Riku was more shocked by Tanjirou’s physical prowess than Urokodaki’s speed. The kid was carrying Nezuko on his back and still keeping a decent pace.
Nezuko was twelve years old. Even if she was light, she had to weigh at least sixty or seventy pounds. That kind of load was brutal, not just for a thirteen-year-old boy but even for an adult.
“You okay? Want me to take Nezuko?”
Riku ran beside Tanjirou, offering a hand. He spoke loudly enough for Urokodaki to hear, but the old man didn’t object.
“No, Mr. Riku. This is my test. I can’t leave Nezuko behind because I’ll always carry her from now on.”
Tanjirou shook his head, firmly rejecting Riku’s help. Though he was already panting just a short while into the run, the kid kept pushing forward.
“No matter what happens, never give up. Didn’t you tell me that, Mr. Riku? I’ve always remembered it.”
Tanjirou smiled at Riku, though the smile was strained.
“…”
Riku’s expression was complex. He wanted to say, As expected of the protagonist, but summing up Tanjirou’s effort and resilience with just “protagonist” felt unfair to the kid.
“Keep it up. You’ve got this.”
Riku gave him an encouraging nod, then stopped distracting him and ran ahead to catch up with Urokodaki.
“Tanjirou’s got an extraordinary grit, and his physical condition is top-notch. He’s perfect for becoming a Demon Slayer, right?”
Riku spoke to Urokodaki as they ran. He owed his connection to Urokodaki to Tanjirou.
Though he doubted Tanjirou would be rejected, saying a few good words wouldn’t hurt.
“He’s too gentle and lacks decisiveness.”
Urokodaki replied. He saw the kid’s strengths, of course, but his “flaws” were just as obvious.
“He’ll grow, and fast. After all, he’s just gone through a life-altering tragedy.”
Riku defended Tanjirou. He could relate to the kid to some extent. His own life-changing upheaval wasn’t much earlier than Tanjirou’s.
Hadn’t he grown quickly too? From a workaholic desk jockey to a ruthless guy who could gnaw his own fingers without blinking, even taking out a few scumbags.
Living in a stable, unchanging environment, growth is slow and linear.
But after a sudden life-altering event, growth can break free from that linearity. Changing completely in just a few days isn’t impossible.
The old Riku would’ve never imagined enduring the pain of shedding his skin for a new one.
Riku’s upheaval only affected himself, but Tanjirou’s family was reduced to just him and his sister. The impact was on another level. The kid might grow even faster than him.
Urokodaki didn’t respond, and Riku fell silent too. He’d put on his mask and ear covers again.
When Urokodaki asked about them earlier, Riku was upfront, explaining they were for blocking sunlight.
Naturally, Urokodaki was puzzled. What did covering a few holes mean? But he didn’t press further. He was a man of principle—since he’d made an agreement, he’d stick to it. Besides, Riku wasn’t going anywhere.
The group—two humans and two oni—kept running. By the time they reached Sagiri-yama and Urokodaki’s cabin, the sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the world.
“…”
Looking at Tanjirou, collapsed on the ground and panting, Riku lost count of how many times he’d been shocked.
A thirteen-year-old kid, running from sunrise to sunset, carrying sixty or seventy pounds on his back.
This kid’s stamina was borderline insane, wasn’t it?
Urokodaki removed his white headscarf, revealing short white hair. He was quietly astonished too.
He’d seen many gifted kids, but Tanjirou was among the best. The kid was exceptional, but it still wasn’t enough.
Riku reached out, pulling the exhausted Tanjirou to his feet. The kid stumbled, legs trembling, but managed to stand.
Seeing this, Riku thought, Now that’s more normal. At least he knows what exhaustion feels like.
If Tanjirou had been completely fine, Riku would’ve started wondering if the kid had some special bloodline, secret technique, or a wise old mentor hidden somewhere.
“Put your sister down and follow me up the mountain. Your test is just beginning.”
Urokodaki spoke to Tanjirou, nearly causing the kid to collapse again.
“Riku, please stay here and look after Nezuko.”
Urokodaki ignored Tanjirou’s horrified expression and turned to Riku. The mountain trial held no meaning for this oni gentleman.
“No problem.”
Riku nodded, taking the basket with Nezuko inside, watching as the old man and the boy left.
Chapter 67: Start with the Basics
Riku settled Kamado Nezuko on the bed inside the wooden cabin. This kid was something else—bouncing along the whole way and still managing to sleep like a log.
“This father and son duo really trusts me, huh? Don’t they know I survive by eating oni?”
Glancing at the peacefully snoring Kamado Nezuko, Riku couldn’t help but mutter to himself. Weren’t they worried he’d just gobble her up? Unbeknownst to him, after walking a short distance away, Urokodaki Sakonji had doubled back with Kamado Tanjiro in tow.
They kept a careful distance from the cabin—close enough to catch the scents wafting from it, but far enough that Riku wouldn’t pick up on theirs. Having slain oni for years, Urokodaki Sakonji’s mastery of his keen sense of smell far surpassed that of the rookie Tanjiro.
“Urokodaki-sensei…”
Tanjiro’s legs felt like they were filled with lead, his head foggy. At first, he didn’t grasp what was happening. But as his mind cleared, his expression grew complicated. He realized Urokodaki-sensei was suspicious of Riku—and maybe even Nezuko.
Urokodaki ignored Tanjiro’s unease. He saw nothing wrong with his caution. After crouching for a while longer, the old man finally stood and left. His nose told him both Riku and Nezuko’s scents were calm—nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“These oni hunters must have their own training system,” Riku mused.
Back in the cabin, unaware he and Nezuko were still under suspicion, Riku was working out. A true grind king, he never let idle time go to waste. As he trained, he reflected on his observations. Urokodaki Sakonji’s physical condition at his age was nothing short of remarkable. It made sense—facing oni, supernatural beings stronger than humans, required oni hunters to have a specialized training system to even stand a chance.
“The real question is, can I, as an oni, practice this system?”
That was the crux of it. Urokodaki hadn’t mentioned anything about it, only saying he’d teach Riku how to kill oni better. Did that mean he could train in it, or did Urokodaki himself not know?
Lost in thought, Riku churned through push-ups until he caught Urokodaki’s scent returning.
“You’re training? Does that even work?” Urokodaki asked, visibly surprised as he watched Riku blaze through push-ups.
“Don’t oni get stronger by eating humans? Can they actually improve through effort?”
“Little by little, it’s gotta add up,” Riku replied, standing and dusting off his hands. He hadn’t gained any stat boosts from training yet, but he firmly believed in its value. Training was a long-term game—nobody got ripped after just a couple of days. That wasn’t training; that was juicing.
“Well said,” Urokodaki nodded approvingly. “No matter the task, persistence is key. Keep at it, and you’ll see results.”
“You use a blade too, right?” Urokodaki asked, glancing at Nezuko to ensure she was tucked in properly before turning his attention to Riku’s sword.
“Uh, not really. It’s just a handy chopping tool,” Riku admitted honestly, not trying to oversell his skills. He handed over the 150-yen blade to Urokodaki.
Urokodaki drew the sword, inspecting it closely. “Fine craftsmanship, unique technique, razor-sharp—a true killing weapon.” His praise caught Riku off guard. For 150 yen? More like 15,000 yen! Unique technique? At that price, it was probably mass-produced in a mold—hand-crafted was out of the question.
“But this blade can’t kill oni. You need a Nichirin Blade, like mine,” Riku added, already aware of the fact. He didn’t strictly need one, though. His goal was to incapacitate oni so his Shadow Wolf could devour them. Killing them outright would ruin his meal. His current blade worked fine for slicing without killing. Still, having a Nichirin Blade as a backup wasn’t a bad idea—if he faced a stronger oni he couldn’t subdue, a quick beheading would be the way to go. Shadow Wolf’s devouring was effective but slow, requiring most of the oni’s body to be consumed before their regeneration stopped.
“Exactly. Only a Nichirin Blade can do it, and you must sever the neck,” Urokodaki confirmed, nodding. “Nichirin Blades are forged from Hihiiro Suna Tetsu (Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand) and Hihiiro Koseki (Scarlet Crimson Ore). They’re the only weapons that can harm oni.”
“I learned that from an oni’s mouth,” Riku said, recalling how one had screamed about Nichirin Blades after being struck, confirming their effectiveness.
“Truth is, I can’t teach you much about oni that you don’t already know,” Urokodaki admitted candidly after a brief pause. “But when it comes to techniques and experience in slaying them, I’ve got plenty to share.”
As an oni hunter, he couldn’t teach an oni like Riku about their own kind—heck, he was tempted to ask Riku for insights. A unique oni like him was a first.
“Want to learn how to wield a blade?” Urokodaki offered, handing the sword back.
“Absolutely, I’d love to!” Riku replied eagerly. Learning from Urokodaki would save him a fortune—and a master like him, who’d spent a lifetime with a blade, wasn’t someone you could just hire. With that kind of money, Riku would rather upgrade his cybernetic parts.
“Good. I’ll teach you how to use a blade, starting from the basics,” Urokodaki said decisively, leading Riku outside to an open area in front of the cabin.
“A sword breaks easily. It handles vertical force well, not lateral. When you swing, the force must be applied vertically along the blade, perfectly aligned with its edge,” Urokodaki explained, drawing his sword and demonstrating with crisp, fluid slashes. The blue blade left trails of light in its wake.
“Now you try,” he said, stepping back.
Riku froze, his expression blank. Was that it? Just… swinging the sword? Had he missed some profound secret, or was this literally just basic slashing?
Chapter 68: Urokodaki's Relief
"No, that was too careless."
After Riku swung his blade, Urokodaki Sakonji shook his head and bluntly pointed out the flaw.
He could tell Riku was being honest, not humble at all—this young man truly had no foundation in swordsmanship.
"..."
Riku listened quietly. He felt his swing carried a strong sense of conviction, but that was all it had—nothing else.
"When you swing your blade, you need to hold back some strength so you can change your move in time," Urokodaki explained. But as soon as he said it, he realized it might not apply to Riku the way it did to normal humans.
When Demon Slayers fought demons, flexibility was key. They couldn’t afford to go all out with every strike, as that would leave them vulnerable. Demons were different—losing an arm or leg meant nothing to them. They were even willing to trade injuries with humans, knowing they could regenerate in the blink of an eye. Humans, on the other hand, couldn’t afford such reckless exchanges. A single injury could drag them down, and losing a limb often meant the end of their career as a Demon Slayer.
Because of this, Demon Slayer swordsmanship emphasized adaptability, far more than in human-versus-human combat. If a demon was willing to risk a limb just to land a hit, the best response was to shift your stance and block. A Demon Slayer only went all out when aiming for the neck—the one strike a demon had to defend against. If that strike failed, the Demon Slayer’s fate was often grim, with little chance of survival.
"I’ll teach you based on my experience, but as for finding a fighting style that suits you, that’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own," Urokodaki said after a moment of thought. As the saying goes, a master can lead you to the door, but the journey beyond is yours. Everyone has their own unique traits and fighting habits, so a one-size-fits-all approach wouldn’t work.
Even the "Breathing Techniques" were adapted by many to suit their physicality, giving rise to various distinct branches. All Urokodaki could offer Riku was his own experience; how Riku made it his own was up to him.
"I understand," Riku nodded, grasping Urokodaki’s point. Even a simple sword swing differed vastly between humans and demons. Demons could afford to go all out since humans had to block or dodge their attacks. But humans needed to be ready to shift and block at a moment’s notice.
It was, without a doubt, an unfairly brutal fight.
Riku figured few Demon Slayers met a peaceful end. Every battle was a dance on the edge of death, and every swing of the blade could be the one that decided their fate. This only made Urokodaki—an old man who’d survived with all his limbs intact—seem all the more impressive.
"Again," Urokodaki instructed, signaling Riku to continue. Though it was just one motion, Riku had plenty of issues—common ones for beginners.
"Keep your center of gravity steady. Hold the midline. Don’t shrug your shoulders—that won’t give you more power; it’ll only hinder your strength."
Using his scabbard, Urokodaki tapped Riku’s body, pointing out flaws. Many of Riku’s movements were instinctive, and his task was to overcome those instincts through practice.
"When you strike, don’t extend your arms too straight or bend them too much. Keep your sankaku-ku (triangular zone) stable. Don’t tuck your elbows in too tight or let them flare out. Maintain your stance, but don’t make it too rigid."
Urokodaki lightly tapped Riku’s arm, and Riku’s lips twitched. He wanted to retort but didn’t know how. Moderate arm bend, huh? Elbows in a moderate position, right? Stance moderately firm, is that it? How’s that any different from a chef saying, “Add a pinch of salt”?
"That’s why you practice—to find that sweet spot where it feels just right. This is the foundation of everything. Master it, and then you can move on to the rest," Urokodaki said, clearly seeing through Riku’s frustration. He’d been through this countless times, teaching countless students, and knew every beginner’s struggle by heart.
"Yes, sir," Riku replied. Though he grumbled inwardly, his body was honest. He kept swinging, gradually refining his form under Urokodaki’s guidance. Overcoming instinctive habits took repetition, but once a movement became muscle memory, those instincts would fade.
And Riku wasn’t afraid of hard work. For a kan-ō (grind king) like him, as long as he could see progress, no amount of effort was too much. What he feared was grinding without results.
"Keep practicing until your body gets it," Urokodaki said after watching a bit longer. Then he turned and headed back to the house, leaving Riku to his training. He didn’t need to hover—Riku’s determination was clear. He wouldn’t slack off, even unsupervised.
As for overtraining? That wasn’t a concern. Riku was a demon, after all. His body was different from a human’s.
Sometimes, Urokodaki wondered what would happen if demons weren’t so scattered and disorganized—if someone trained them systematically. If that were the case, the Demon Slayer Corps would likely have been wiped out long ago. With demons’ physical advantages—their ability to recover stamina by eating humans, their tireless bodies—they’d easily surpass humans in swordsmanship or martial arts if trained. Humans needed rest, leaving them far less time to train.
Thankfully, for some reason, demons didn’t do that.
It was humanity’s fortune, Urokodaki thought.
Riku continued swinging his blade tirelessly through the night, repeating the same motion until dawn. It wasn’t until Kamado Tanjirō returned that his endless practice was interrupted.
"Tanjirō? What happened to you?" Riku sheathed his blade and supported the stumbling Tanjirō, who was covered in bruises and wounds.
"I did it… before dawn…" Tanjirō said, forcing himself to stand in front of the cabin. Seeing Urokodaki inside, a smile spread across his face.
"..."
Riku caught Tanjirō as he collapsed, unconscious the moment he finished speaking.
"You were right, Riku. This kid is cut out to be a Demon Slayer," Urokodaki said after a pause, his voice tinged with emotion. Tanjirō might have flaws, but his strengths shone so brightly they outshone any shortcomings.
"Yeah, even compared to me when I was human, I don’t hold a candle to him," Riku said with a nod, his expression complex but sincere.
He meant it. Even if he compared himself at Tanjirō’s age—or even before he became a demon—he doubted he could’ve matched half of what Tanjirō had achieved.
Chapter 69: Leaving Urokodaki Speechless
Kamado Tanjiro lay on a bed, just like his sister Nezuko. Urokodaki Sakonji’s cabin might be small, but it had a few beds. This wasn’t just a single cabin either—as a trainer for the Demon Slayer Corps, Urokodaki often had kids come through for training. Naturally, they needed a place to stay. But in recent years, most of the kids who showed up had been sent packing by him.
Tanjiro was different. He shared Urokodaki’s keen sense of smell, possessed a resilient spirit, and never gave up. Still, Urokodaki wasn’t sure if the boy could pass his tests.
“Urokodaki-sensei.”
Riku’s voice snapped Urokodaki out of his thoughts.
“What is it?” the old man asked, turning to Riku. This young man was just as unique, and even now, Urokodaki wasn’t entirely sure if teaching him was the right call.
“As per our deal, you teach me how to slay oni, and I’ll share the secret of why I can walk in sunlight,” Riku said, his expression serious. Instead of waiting for Urokodaki to ask, he took the initiative, seizing control of the conversation.
“I haven’t taught you much yet,” Urokodaki replied honestly. Swordsmanship was a lifelong pursuit, and Riku hadn’t even crossed the threshold. The real training hadn’t truly begun.
“I trust you,” Riku said with a smile. He found Urokodaki surprisingly easy to read. The old man seemed to respond well to sincerity, and there was likely a reason for that. “I hope you can trust me too. I want to learn more from you—real skills.”
Riku was laying it all out. To get Urokodaki to teach him the good stuff, he first needed to build mutual trust. Sure, Urokodaki had agreed to train him, but would he really hold nothing back when teaching an oni? Riku wasn’t buying it, no matter how nicely the old man put it.
To gain something, you had to give something. Offering this “secret” to earn Urokodaki’s trust was a no-brainer for Riku—it was practically a free deal. The secret wasn’t something he could hide forever anyway. Urokodaki would inevitably ask, and he’d dig deep. One wrong answer could ruin everything, turning them into enemies.
“…”
Urokodaki fell silent, weighing his response. Riku knew he was thinking it over.
“Alright,” Urokodaki finally said after a brief pause. He’d teach Riku seriously, including the Breathing Techniques. During that time, he trusted his nose would reveal Riku’s true nature. If anything seemed off, he wouldn’t hesitate to act—not just against Riku, but Nezuko too, if needed.
This was exactly what Riku wanted to hear. Without hesitation, he extended his hands and deactivated the skin prosthetic covering them. In Urokodaki’s eyes, the skin peeled back like a snake shedding, revealing the raw flesh beneath.
“This…” Urokodaki’s eyes widened behind his tengu mask, a mix of shock, confusion, and speculation swirling in his mind, though he couldn’t be certain.
“As you can see, this outer layer of skin isn’t mine. It’s made from a special material that shields me from sunlight,” Riku explained simply, trying to make it easy for Urokodaki to grasp. Thankfully, he’d added a removal function to his hand prosthetics for eating and claw-based combat—it came in handy for this demonstration.
“This…” Urokodaki was dumbfounded. At over seventy years old, having lived through the Edo period, the Black Ships, the fall of the shogunate, and the Meiji Restoration, he’d seen his fair share of the world while slaying oni. But this? He’d never seen anything like it.
“How’s it made? Can it be replicated?” Urokodaki asked, zeroing in on the practical question.
“No way to replicate it. I’m not holding out on you—it’s genuinely impossible,” Riku said, his face serious. “This skin is incredibly tough, resistant to fire and lightning, regulates temperature, and can even make me invisible. Honestly, I’ve never heard of any material or technique like this.”
To prove his point, Riku’s body shimmered and vanished, just like the horns on his head.
“That doesn’t prove anything. It could be a Blood Demon Art,” Urokodaki said, shaking his head. Aside from the sunlight resistance, everything Riku described could be attributed to a Blood Demon Art.
“Uh…” Riku froze, reappearing. Okay, that was a fair point.
“But I believe you. My nose tells me you’re not lying,” Urokodaki added before Riku could respond, his expression complex. He figured Riku had already guessed he had this ability, which explained the constant sincerity. But the truth was the truth—Riku wasn’t lying.
Riku smirked inwardly. As expected, he’d suspected Urokodaki had a lie-detecting ability like Tanjiro’s. Honestly, it was the only explanation for why the old man trusted him so easily. For someone who’d survived this dangerous job for so long, being that gullible without a trick like this would be absurd. What Riku didn’t know was that, for a fleeting moment, Urokodaki had doubted his own nose. It seemed impossible, but that doubt quickly faded. At over seventy, his sense of smell had never failed him in all those years. He had no reason to doubt it now, nor could a Blood Demon Art manipulate him so subtly—he was resistant to such tricks, thanks to his own special abilities, including the power to influence others’ minds.
“Thank you for trusting me, Urokodaki-sensei,” Riku said, feigning relief. If Urokodaki had insisted it was a Blood Demon Art, he’d have been out of moves. That nose was a game-changer! Without it, Riku’s plan wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. After all, humans and oni were worlds apart. To veteran oni hunters like Urokodaki, an oni’s words were likely just “ghost stories”—not a single word could be trusted.
“Where did you get this extraordinary skin?” Urokodaki pressed, clearly not ready to let the matter drop. Even if Riku was telling the truth, that didn’t mean he wasn’t hiding something. This was too important not to dig deeper.
“In a… special place. Incredibly special. Like a world completely separate from reality,” Riku said, rolling out his prepared story. It was the truth—selectively so. In front of this human lie detector, he couldn’t afford to lie. One slip, and all the trust he’d built would collapse, and Urokodaki wouldn’t let it slide. But Riku had anticipated this, crafting a story that was entirely true.
If Urokodaki straight-up asked, “Did you cross over from another world?” Riku was ready to grab his hand and say, “Yo, old-timer, you a transmigrator too?!” With Urokodaki’s cultural background and knowledge, he’d likely think of folklore like Urashima Taro, The Peach Blossom Spring, or other mystical encounter tales. It fit perfectly—too perfectly. Urokodaki’s cabin was already filled with eerie fox carvings, hinting at his fascination with the supernatural.
Sure enough, Urokodaki froze. In his seventy-plus years, he’d always been steadfast, but in these few minutes, his certainty wavered for the second time.
Chapter 70: Why Would the Gods Favor You?
“Tell me the details of what happened.”
After a brief silence, Urokodaki Sakonji took a deep breath, steadied his emotions, and pressed for more information.
Riku’s situation was too significant—it involved critical questions. He was the only demon known to be unaffected by sunlight. Urokodaki needed to get the full story and report it to the Demon Slayer Corps’ headquarters.
“After parting ways with Tanjirō, I was traveling through the mountains at night when I encountered a Demon Slayer. She didn’t believe my words and moved to kill me. But as she attacked, my vision blurred, and my body vanished from the forest. I found myself in a bizarre, otherworldly place.
The people there spoke a language completely different from ours, lived lives unlike anything we know, and used objects I couldn’t even begin to understand. This skin I have now? It was normal there. A doctor treated me and gave me this new body.”
Riku recounted the experience, his story sounding like something straight out of folklore, except with a cyberpunk twist. Every word was true, though he left out some finer details.
“I don’t know how I got to that world—one moment, I was just there. And I don’t know how I returned either—one moment, I was back in the forest. I checked the area afterward, and there was nothing special about that forest.”
There wasn’t a trace of falsehood in Riku’s words because, undeniably, he truly had no idea how the crossing between worlds worked. Even if pressed, he couldn’t explain it.
Urokodaki listened, dumbfounded, unable to respond at first. This… wasn’t this just a classic tale of a mortal encountering the divine? Arriving without knowing how, leaving without knowing why, in a strange and wondrous world—mysterious and unfathomable.
Was this kid spinning a story? Did this young man think Urokodaki was some uneducated fool? In reality, all Demon Slayer Corps members received cultural education, and literacy was a basic requirement.
They even used kasugai crows to exchange messages. Urokodaki had learned about the Kamado siblings through a letter delivered by Tomioka Giyū’s crow.
Of course, there were exceptions, but Urokodaki was certainly not one of those illiterate outliers. As a mentor, he was responsible for teaching the children under his care to read and write. Training in Breathing Techniques, literacy, and physical conditioning were all prerequisites for becoming a Demon Slayer.
Fortunately, money was never an issue for Demon Slayers. As a high-risk profession, even the lowest-ranking “Mizunoto” members earned exorbitant salaries, and the Hashira could take as much as they wanted without question.
Urokodaki could hear echoes of various myths in Riku’s tale, but the otherworldly setting was entirely new—something he’d never heard of before.
Did gods and Buddhas truly exist in this world? Urokodaki wasn’t sure. But the Ubuyashiki clan was undeniably cursed, with every newborn child frail and prone to early death. The only way to mitigate the curse was through marriage with the bloodline of the shrine priests, generation after generation, as guided by the divine.
Moreover, the Ubuyashiki clan possessed an uncanny intuition, almost heaven-sent in its precision. It was this keen instinct that had saved the Demon Slayer Corps from total annihilation multiple times, allowing it to endure to this day. That same intuition also enabled the clan to secure ample funding to sustain the Corps.
To Urokodaki, Riku’s experience seemed plausible, or at least not entirely incomprehensible. And while Riku’s story sounded like something out of a kaidan (ghost tale), Urokodaki’s sharpened senses told him the young man wasn’t lying. Every word rang true.
Urokodaki had no doubts. As a former Hashira who’d survived intact to this age, his instincts were honed through countless encounters—each time sniffing out a demon’s presence just in time, each time narrowly escaping danger.
“But why? Why… you?” Urokodaki asked, genuinely puzzled. Why would gods and Buddhas favor a demon like Riku?
It was the same question he had about the Ubuyashiki clan: why did the gods curse them instead of the Demon King?
What did divine favor mean? What kind of mission was Riku meant to carry? Whose side was he on?
“How can a mortal fathom the will of the gods?” Riku shook his head, saying no more. His goal was already achieved—he’d led Urokodaki step by step into his narrative trap. Now, the old man could fill in the rest with his own imagination.
As for whether gods and Buddhas truly existed in this world or what they thought of him, Riku didn’t care one bit. This was his second time in this world, both times uninvited, bouncing back and forth through dimensions.
If there were gods here who cared, they would’ve come for him by now. Since they hadn’t, he’d just do whatever he wanted. Worrying about higher-dimensional beings? He’d rather worry about the [Limit System].
That thing was far more overbearing. Not only did it drag him across worlds at will, but its experience system seamlessly integrated into any world he landed in—clearly a higher level of power.
But what was the point of worrying? Could he just stop using the [Limit System]? There was a good question: fame and glory, or a life of obscurity?
Without the system, he might’ve died a meaningless death at the hands of a Demon Slayer. With it, he could keep leveling up, growing stronger. No one in their right mind would pass that up.
When the system activated, Riku had already made up his mind. No matter what, using it meant he’d come out ahead. He’d already reaped the benefits—whatever came next, he’d deal with later.
“Riku, as promised, I’ll teach you everything I know. But I need to organize your story and report it to the head of the Demon Slayer Corps,” Urokodaki said gravely. This was unprecedented—a demon immune to sunlight, a tale of divine encounters. It was beyond his own understanding. Perhaps the Ubuyashiki clan, who’d led the Corps to this point, would know what it all meant.
He also felt a twinge of pressure. Could he properly guide such an extraordinary being?
“I don’t mind,” Riku said with a nod. It didn’t matter to him. No matter who asked, he’d stick to the same story.
Every word he spoke was true. Even if they had other lie-detection methods, they wouldn’t find anything amiss.
(End of Chapter)
