Chapter 20 – Snow, Blood, Training
It didn't take long for Hikaru to realize something important—
Void Breathing was far more natural for him than Mist Breathing had ever been.
His signature move—Mirror Flower, Water Moon—might've only had one distinct form, but that simplicity made it incredibly flexible. He could weave it into any strike. Any breath. Any movement.
He wasn't sure yet whether this illusion-based technique could cut through the defenses of stronger demons.
But he did know one thing for certain:
Even the smallest distortion in an opponent's perception… could mean the difference between life and death.
There was no such thing as a weak technique.
Only swordsmen who failed to draw out its true potential.
Everything came down to how you used what was already in your hands.
Those thoughts drifted through Hikaru's mind as the night wind brushed past him.
His black haori fluttered in the breeze.
He slowly slid his Nichirin Blade back into its sheath and stood there, staring at the demon's body as it blackened… then crumbled into ash, fading into the night.
He lowered his head, quietly.
Saying nothing.
Moving not an inch.
Because he knew…
Demons were once human too.
Many of them had once lived normal lives—peaceful lives—before the blood of demons twisted them. Before rage and hunger consumed them.
They chose the darkness.
And in return, they had to face its price.
Perhaps, for a demon, death was the only true mercy left.
But even so—killing them never brought Hikaru any sense of satisfaction.
He had no desire to become someone who enjoyed taking lives.
That was why—
He always remained conscious.
Never allowed himself to slip.
Never forgot… that this world was real.
Turning slightly, Hikaru swept his gaze across the dark forest under the starlit sky, searching for any remaining traces of demonic energy.
His eyes narrowed.
"Seems like… this one was alone."
"A leftover from a recent patrol…?"
The location wasn't too far from the Demon Slayer Corps' main headquarters. That a demon had slipped this close was… concerning.
But given how vast the world was—and how secluded the headquarters lay deep in the mountains—there were always cracks.
Maybe…
"This one only arrived recently."
"Could it be… Muzan Kibutsuji is starting to sense our presence? If this was reconnaissance, though… he wouldn't act recklessly."
Thanks to everything he'd learned—both through experience and from this world's original narrative—Hikaru had become fairly adept at predicting enemy movement.
He let out a soft sigh.
For now, Muzan had yet to discover the Corps' true base.
There was no immediate danger.
Brushing the dust off his haori, Hikaru resumed walking.
In the past, he used to emit pressure from his [Anti-Demon] skill to repel low-level demons.
But that wasn't necessary anymore.
With full mastery over Total Concentration Breathing: Constant and his self-developed Hikaru-Style, he could take down most average demons with ease.
Of course… that didn't mean demons were easy to find.
The sun eventually rose again.
Golden light poured through the trees.
And Hikaru encountered no other threats.
The sky remained clear.
His journey continued undisturbed.
Eventually, he arrived at a small village known for its wisteria crest—
"Thank you."
An elderly woman handed him a cup of warm tea.
He sipped slowly, letting the heat settle inside as his breath came out in a gentle cloud.
In the quiet garden, the surface of the pond rippled with the breeze. The afternoon sunlight bathed the scenery in a warm glow.
It made Hikaru close his eyes.
It had been over ten days since he left headquarters.
Summer was long gone.
Autumn had begun its slow descent into its final days.
The air had taken on that unmistakable chill of the season.
He didn't have a specific destination in mind.
He simply followed the Corps' intel—searching for and eliminating demons wherever they were found.
Sometimes, he crossed paths with other slayers.
And without hesitation, he lent them his strength.
That was how it started.
The name of the Void Hashira—once unknown to anyone—began spreading among the Demon Slayer Corps.
Quietly. Steadily.
But none of that really mattered to Hikaru.
All he did…
Was sharpen his blade.
And keep walking forward.
After reaching this village, he decided to rest for a while.
"…Still about two years before the 'main storyline' begins."
"In two years… how far can I grow?"
He sat quietly, pondering.
Enjoying a rare moment of peace.
Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon.
Darkness fell across the village.
Faint lights glowed behind the paper windows, welcoming the gentle night.
After a full night's rest, the next morning—Hikaru resumed his journey.
He left with the quiet stares of the villagers behind him…
…and a black crow soaring overhead.
Training.
Fighting.
Step by step, he continued to climb toward the peak.
—
"Damn you…"
A final growl escaped the demon's throat before its body fell lifeless to the ground.
Hikaru calmly sheathed his blade.
Under the dim moonlight, the headless body began to blacken—disintegrating into ashes.
The demon's twisted face—locked in fear and a final shriek—was no more.
Hikaru looked up and scanned the area.
"…Too late, huh."
Around him were scattered human remains—bones, severed limbs, and the overwhelming stench of blood and metal.
This place had just been a slaughterhouse.
It wasn't the first time Hikaru had seen something like this.
If this had happened earlier in his journey, he might've been overcome with rage—or sorrow.
But now…
He had grown used to it.
Though that didn't mean he had become numb.
Lowering his head, Hikaru bowed slightly.
A gesture of respect for the lives lost.
A silent prayer for their souls.
And a reminder—to himself—
Of the path he walked.
He turned, his black haori trailing behind him in the cold night wind.
Time moved on.
Autumn eventually gave way to winter.
The air froze. Northern winds howled across the land.
The number of demons Hikaru defeated continued to rise—and with every battle, he could feel himself growing sharper.
Each fight honed his instincts.
Each breath refined his technique.
Theory became reality.
And his combat power…
Became something truly aligned with this world.
After slaying another demon, Hikaru called up the familiar screen within his mind.
[Trait Acquired: Anti-Demon (F)]
"…As expected, no improvement."
"Only stronger demons will trigger this skill's evolution."
He wasn't disappointed.
He had predicted it from the start.
The system was just a tool—not something he pinned his hopes on.
He kept walking, following the riverbank—its surface now coated in a thin layer of ice.
In the east, light began to bloom beyond the hills.
Hikaru stopped for a moment, pulled out a ration pack, and quietly replenished his strength.
And then—under the pale morning sun…
His figure kept walking forward.
Like a flicker between dream and reality.
Training.
Fighting.
Until every breath became instinct…
…and every step carried the weight of his will.
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