Chapter 10: Demons Are Cunning × The First Kill in Demon Slayer
A spray of blood burst through the air—
Followed by a shrill, ear-splitting scream!
The illusions shattered, the trees stopped shaking, and the blinding snow drifted silently down as the demon crashed into the ground. One of its arms spun away, rolling across the snow until it stopped at Tanjiro's feet—where it crumbled into black smoke.
[Combat Experience +1]
Tanjiro's pupils widened. He stared dumbfounded at the dissolving limb, his chest surging like storm-tossed waves. Then, unable to hold it back, he pumped his fist into the air and shouted:
"Good job, Niisan!"
From stillness to motion and back again, Roy had swung his hoe in the blink of an eye.
It was such a simple move—yet hidden within that simplicity was something so sharp, so lethal, it made Sato Takeichiro's spine turn cold.
"You… you're a Hashira?" the demon rasped, hauling himself up from the snow, eyes wide and wary.
To a demon, Hashira were what the Twelve Kizuki were among their kind—the apex. Takeichiro had once glimpsed Upper Rank One from afar, a single casual swing birthing a storm of moon-shaped blades. It was said that man had been a Hashira in life.
Later, Takeichiro himself had been chased by a Water Hashira. He survived only because the man was old and frail, slipping away with the help of allies.
And now, in this forsaken forest, he thought he'd run into a third.
But Roy wasn't.
In the Demon Slayer Corps, to become a Hashira you had to either kill fifty demons or slay a member of the Twelve Kizuki. But Roy knew the truth—he had foreknowledge. What truly defined a Hashira wasn't numbers. It was mastery. Mastery of a Breath.
Just like in Hunter × Hunter, whether a Nen user could be considered a first-rate powerhouse didn't depend on raw talent, but on how deeply they'd refined and developed their ability. A genius with poor mastery was no better than a wasted seed.
Take Kastro, for instance—born a pure Enhancer, yet unguided, he wandered into the wrong path and developed a Conjuration ability instead.
That was why, beyond improving the Kamado family's food with coal and trade, Roy had another mission here: to find a true master of Breathing Techniques.
And the closest candidate was none other than the former Water Hashira, Urokodaki Sakonji.
Dragging his hoe through the snow, Roy traced a thin straight line, his smile faint.
He didn't answer the demon's question. Instead, he watched with clinical interest as Takeichiro's missing arm regenerated. His voice was curious, almost playful:
"How many more times can that blood of yours regrow a limb?"
"Enough to tear your heart out," the demon snarled. "Don't you worry about that!"
Roy nodded. "Good. Then let's make a deal."
"If you can't rip out my heart today, neither of us is leaving."
Takeichiro: "...What?"
Tanjiro: "...Eh??"
Both were stunned.
Tanjiro couldn't understand why his brother didn't press the attack while the demon was still regenerating.
Takeichiro, on the other hand, felt a chill race down his back. And then—
He scooped a handful of snow from the ground and flung it into Roy's face.
The sudden blizzard blinded the view for just a second. It was all he needed.
"Bounce… bounce… bounce! Faster!"
Trees shook violently as he launched himself away like a bullet, ricocheting between trunks. In mere heartbeats, Takeichiro had already vanished more than a hundred meters into the forest!
Tanjiro gaped, still frozen in confusion.
Meanwhile, Roy's face went dark as ink.
"My XP bag… my perfect XP bag… and it's running away?"
He was furious.
A demon was supposed to be bloodthirsty, not sly like a rat! Did this so-called Blood Demon Art—"Spring Step: Instant Escape"—exist solely to bolt at the first sign of danger?!
Watching the coward slip farther and farther away, Roy's fury boiled over.
He raised his right foot and stomped. A stone shot out like lightning, hissing through the air straight at Takeichiro's back.
But—
Without learning Shu (En), Roy couldn't yet infuse his aura into projectiles to extend their power. And the demon, ever on high alert and perfectly suited to forest combat with his springing technique, twisted at the last second, evading.
The chase was on.
The demon ducked low, narrowly slipping past Roy's stone strike.
"Tch… so that won't work after all."
Two hundred meters. Three hundred meters. At this distance, even Roy's eyes could barely track him.
Roy slowly rolled up his sleeves.
For the first time—he would unleash the Breath of the Sun.
At that moment, the clouds shifted, and a shaft of sunlight pierced through, casting its brilliance across Roy's sharp, youthful face.
The boy raised his hoe like a sword. His stance widened, one foot forward, one foot back. Then he drew in a single, massive breath.
Instantly, it was as though someone had slammed the accelerator inside his body. His blood surged, his heart thundered, and every capillary beneath his skin erupted one after another until crimson streaks webbed across his frame!
On his panel, the change was immediate—
[Constitution: 10.051 → 20.102]
His stats had doubled outright.
The Breath of the Sun burned life itself as fuel.
In Roy's eyes, twin flames ignited. He seized this fleeting surge of power, thrust forward, and vanished.
"Shhh—"
The hoe tore through the icy wind with a screech.
Tanjiro blinked, vision blurred. In the span of one heartbeat, his brother crossed nearly three hundred meters, appearing directly above the demon's head.
Then he descended.
Breath of the Sun — First Form: Dance!
A blazing arc carved through the snowfall, its fiery trail circling around Sato Takeichiro like a burning halo.
For an instant, the demon didn't realize what had happened. Then he felt his body lift unnaturally, the world tilting—his torso was airborne, but his legs remained on the ground.
Waist severed.
His scarlet eyes bulged with fury and disbelief. He pointed at Roy, roaring hoarsely:
"You said you weren't a Hashira!"
Darkness claimed him. With a heavy thud, his upper body toppled into the snow. Blood seeped like ink across the white canvas, followed belatedly by a guttural, animalistic scream.
Footsteps crunched against snow. A boy in wooden clogs and thick socks approached slowly, hoe balanced across his shoulder.
Takeichiro's eyelids fluttered. Fear, despair, and naked terror twisted his features. He desperately tried to will his body back together, to summon his blood's power once more.
But nothing came.
For the first time, he felt it clearly—his cursed vitality was ebbing away for good.
Trembling, he raised his gaze to Roy, voice broken and bitter:
"What… what technique is this?"
Roy halted, eyes sweeping the endless white forest. A sigh escaped him.
"You really don't keep promises, do you? You forced me to kill you with the Breath of the Sun."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Are you satisfied now?"
Takeichiro's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
His final cry tore out, raw and panicked:
"Who… who are you?!"
Roy's smile was warm, almost gentle.
Then his foot came down.
Crunch!
The demon's skull burst like overripe fruit.
Roy exhaled, calm as ever.
"My name is Kamado Sumihiko. Remember it."
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