"Who are you?"
The boar-masked man and Inosuke locked eyes in a standoff, white steam puffing from the pig snout.
"You use dual blades too? I use dual blades too! I'll cut you down! I'm the strongest!"
Inosuke answered with a single kick to the boar-man's stomach.
Bang!
The boar-man was sent flying several meters, slamming hard into a tree.
Inosuke lightly rested the handle of his fan against his chin, looking at the boar-man the way one might look at a toad squatting in the road.
"So ugly.
Your swords are ugly enough to make me want to wash my eyes.
And that pig head of yours—absolutely reeks."
"Aaaah! I'm pissed off!"
The boar-man exploded with rage.
"I'm the king of the mountain! I'm invincible! Take this!"
He charged forward, wildly swinging his blades.
There was no trace of any breathing technique—just brute-force slashing.
"Kneel."
Inosuke didn't even draw his swords.
The moment the boar-man rushed in, Inosuke's left iron fan snapped open with a whoosh.
He sidestepped like a ghost, effortlessly avoiding the clumsy strike.
At the same time, the long fingers of his right hand shot out, precisely locking onto the man's wrist joint.
Crack!
With just a light twist, the wrist bent at a grotesque angle.
"Aaaah!"
The man screamed as his sword fell to the ground.
"This is what you call invincible?"
Inosuke kicked the back of the man's knee, forcing him to his knees.
Then, with obvious disgust, he hooked the boar mask and lifted it up.
"Let me see what kind of brainless ugly bastard dares to use the same kind of swords as me."
The mask flew off—
Revealing a bearded, thick-faced middle-aged man, fear written all over his face.
"Eh?!"
Zenitsu stared in shock.
"It's… a middle-aged guy?!"
Inosuke's brow furrowed even deeper.
Staring at that face, a flicker of recognition surfaced.
This face…
A few years ago, wasn't this the unlucky fellow he'd robbed at the gates of the Eternal Paradise Cult when he took his first Nichirin Blade?
No—wrong.
Wasn't he the ronin bodyguard following some wealthy merchant?
Right. He remembered now.
This was the samurai whose blade he'd sawed apart.
"Sasaki?"
Inosuke narrowed his eyes, disbelief creeping into his voice.
"You?
That useless trash from back then?"
The man trembled violently, staring at Inosuke's face—older now, but unmistakably the same.
The fear from years ago surged back all at once.
"I-it's you… that kid…"
After being humiliated by a child wielding serrated blades, the man had completely broken.
He couldn't accept being defeated by a mere child.
So he began obsessively imitating Inosuke.
He fled into the mountains, killed a wild boar, and wore its head as a mask.
He smashed his own swords into jagged shapes.
He tried to obtain that terrifying strength through crude mimicry.
He had turned himself into Inosuke's shadow.
"Oh. So you're a fan."
The killing intent in Inosuke's eyes faded, replaced by an even deeper contempt.
"But—"
He pulled a silk handkerchief from his chest and calmly wiped his fingers.
"Your taste is awful.
You didn't learn even a fraction of my essence—
you just turned yourself into a monster."
He slowly drew his twin blades.
The ice-blue steel gleamed in the sunlight.
The serrations were neat, vicious—perfect, like works of art.
"Look carefully, counterfeit."
Inosuke crossed his blades.
"This… is me."
Slash!
The blades fell, striking the two crude swords lying on the ground.
Clink! Clink!
Two crisp snapping sounds rang out.
The swords the man treasured so dearly shattered like brittle biscuits, scattering useless scraps of metal across the dirt.
"Aaaah!!! My swords!! My power!!"
The man collapsed, wailing on the ground.
"Enough. Shut it. You're noisy."
Inosuke sheathed his blades and didn't even look at him again.
The man wasn't worth dying by his sword.
Inosuke turned toward Tanjiro and Zenitsu, who stood there dumbfounded, and resumed his lazy aristocratic demeanor.
"Let's go."
He spoke flatly.
"Crazed fans who worship me and lose their minds like this—
we'll run into plenty more. Get used to it."
Tanjiro: "...Amazing, Inosuke-kun."
Zenitsu: "W-worship?!
Boss, I think you're misunderstanding that word!
He was terrified of you! Completely terrified!"
"Shut up, blondie."
Inosuke smacked Zenitsu on the head with his fan.
"That's being conquered by my charm. Got it?"
Though it had been a farce, the incident lifted Inosuke's mood for no clear reason.
It proved one thing—
He was unique.
In this world, there was no second Hashibira Inosuke.
"Alright. Since the eyesore's been dealt with,"
Inosuke said cheerfully, pointing ahead.
"That ugly crow said there's a Wisteria House up ahead?"
"Y-yes!"
Zenitsu clutched his head.
"I heard Demon Slayers get treated for free there! Tempura! Sushi! And hot baths!"
"Free?"
Inosuke's eyes lit up.
"Then what are we waiting for? Move!"
He strode off at the front, haori fluttering in the wind.
"Gonpachiro! Zenitsu! Keep up!"
"This young master is going to eat them bankrupt!"
Under the setting sun, the boy's silhouette was tall and arrogant.
And far away, within the Infinity Castle—
Kibutsuji Muzan, observing everything through unseen eyes, curled his lips into a faint smile.
"So even humans imitate him out of fear…"
He toyed with a test tube in his hand.
"Arrogant. Cruel. Utterly contemptuous of imitators.
That personality—he's a demon by nature."
"Doma, you've given me quite the surprise."
"But…"
Muzan's gaze darkened.
"The more distinctive the tool, the more carefully it must be used."
"Inosuke… let me see how far you can go."
"Will you become a new Upper Rank—
or will you…"
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