Chapter 48: I

Chapter 48: Me

"Uncle, eating fruit in this freezing weather can upset your stomach."

"A stomachache in the middle of the road is a real hassle. Maybe skip it."

Inoshiku thought it over—what Kawanishi said made sense. Best to stay focused on the road.

He turned to the old demon and said, "Maybe next time, old-timer. I'll stop by again if I get the chance."

Among the messy strands of gray-white hair, the old demon's eyes began to glow faintly red. He started to raise his head to show a sinister glare—but froze when he saw Kawanishi standing behind Inoshiku, his eyes glowing with an even bloodier, more violent hue.

So… this caravan is already being watched. And by something strong.

The old demon quickly lowered his head again. Kawanishi's red glow gradually faded.

"Heh heh, your young friend's right," the old demon croaked. "It's the internal pain that's really hard to deal with. Take care out there."

Inoshiku chuckled and waved him off. "Of course, of course. Thanks for the reminder."

From behind, Kawanishi scoffed. That old creep probably tried to tip off the caravan about him being a demon—probably just to be petty.

The caravan moved on, slowly covering about half an hour's worth of ground. Inoshiku went to the back to rest, replaced at the front by a younger man named Kasu.

As for the old demon—who knew if he was still hawking his fruit by the roadside…

Kawanishi clutched his stomach and put on an uncomfortable face. "I'm gonna… go take care of something."

Kasu, concerned, said, "Go quickly. Don't stray too far—it's dangerous at night."

Kawanishi hopped down from the cart, jogging behind the caravan until he was out of sight. Then, he took off at full speed back toward the old demon's stall.

In just a few minutes, he spotted the demon again—still sitting there trembling behind his stand, looking cold and frail enough to draw pity.

Yano's father… it was probably this guy who killed him. Ate something from his stall, and then got eaten the same night? What a coincidence.

Uncle… you gave me a ride. I can't do much for you—but I'll take care of this. I'll avenge your brother.

The old demon squinted up through his tangled hair, watching Kawanishi approach, confused.

Kawanishi stepped up, crouching in front of him. "Hey, old man, how much for your fruit?"

The old demon chuckled. "Come on, we're kin. Just take it."

Kawanishi pointed to a watermelon. "It's winter. Not sure if it'll taste good."

It did look tempting—bright green and glistening, a vivid contrast to the dead of winter.

"Sweet as can be," the old demon said. "Go ahead, take it."

A demon can't even eat this stuff… just here to mess with me, huh? Still mad I ruined your little scam earlier?

Kawanishi picked up the watermelon, locking eyes with the old demon.

"Tell me—do you guarantee this melon's ripe?"

The old demon grinned, brushing his hair aside to reveal a ghastly, twisted face. "Of course. Why don't you try it and see?"

Kawanishi ignored the answer and asked again, "Do you guarantee it's ripe?"

The demon blinked—and the red in his eyes deepened.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kawanishi grinned darkly. In a flash, he grabbed the demon by the throat and lifted him high into the air.

The demon's white hair lashed out, wrapping around Kawanishi's neck—but he didn't flinch.

The hair pulled tight, making a horrible creaking sound.

And yet, no matter how hard the demon pulled, it couldn't cut through. His hair might as well have been wrapped around an iron bar.

"Such hard skin," the demon muttered. "Like iron or stone… Look, we've got no beef. Let me go."

Kawanishi's skin had become too tough—stronger than even his black cleaver. The old demon's deadly threads were completely ineffective.

Kawanishi chuckled. "You tried to trip me up earlier. That annoyed me."

The old demon's eyes widened. "What do you want, then? I can bring you a few humans. Call it compensation."

Humans… like they're just cattle to trade.

With a crushing squeeze, Kawanishi shattered the demon's neck in one hand. The white hair fell limp to the ground.

After gaining Duko's power, his hands had become his most powerful weapons. Stronger and harder than even his blade, they could crush a demon's spine with ease.

He tossed the demon's body to the ground. As the flesh began to regenerate, Kawanishi said calmly, "I've got a job for you."

The demon clutched his neck, panting. His eyes were filled with fear.

"W-what kind of job?"

Among demons, the difference in power was enormous. Once he realized Kawanishi could kill him instantly, the old demon backed down completely.

"I want the Nichirin blades from those Demon Slayer swordsmen. You're going to get them for me. Hurt them if you need to—but no killing."

"You don't want the Corps coming after you, do you?"

Demons and the Demon Slayer Corps had a strange relationship. Most lower-level demons fought alone and feared the Corps. But for powerful demons, like the Upper Moons, only the Pillars posed a threat.

The old demon blinked. "The swords…? You have a grudge to settle? But if you're stronger than me, why don't you take them yourself?"

Nichirin blades were extremely effective in killing demons—useful even for one demon against another.

Kawanishi shot him a cold glance. "Don't ask questions. Just do it."

The demon's eyes flared briefly—but he swallowed the urge.

Demons didn't follow each other. Only Muzan held true authority. Everyone else relied on raw power—and even then, loyalty was shaky at best.

Kawanishi wanted to smelt those blades into his own—strengthen his Black Cleaver, which was made from just a single Nichirin blade.

But he hadn't had time to properly temper it. It couldn't keep up with his rapidly growing power.

Still, the Black Cleaver had proven useful—especially when he pinned down Ryuna, giving him time to fight Duko one-on-one.

His flame wings were a trump card—not something he could use freely. The cleaver needed to be reforged.

"Besides, it's a waste letting you guys carry them around."

Those four Demon Slayers… They'd completely reset Kawanishi's expectations of the Corps.

They were barely stronger than normal people. Against low-level demons, maybe a 50/50 fight. Anything stronger would wipe them out.

What Kawanishi didn't know was that the Corps had suffered inconsistency in recent years—the quality of its recruits had declined, and its selection trials had problems.

"Their blades… I'll take them. Every demon I kill with them will count as your contribution too."

"You'll need experience to find your courage. Let me help. Think of the swords as tuition."

Once immersed in socialism, Kawanishi still had a lingering sense of ethics. He wouldn't just rob people.

This was charity. He just wouldn't sign his name.

Little guys… be grateful.

(End of Chapter)