Until now, Takeo hadn't paid much attention to the ship itself. But once the thought crossed his mind—something isn't right—he began to see the signs.
The passengers brought by the wealthy merchant were normal. Civilians. Relaxed.
The problem was with the crew.
The Mito-bound riverboat was large—an old wooden vessel capable of holding eighty passengers. And while some of the sailors looked perfectly normal, others fidgeted nervously, casting fearful glances at every creak of the ship.
Takeo asked around.
No one would explain. Not directly. But he wasn't stupid.
You didn't need words when you could read the fear in their faces.
Then came the familiar sound behind him—the snap of bamboo and a battle cry.
Takeo, still deep in thought, reacted instinctively. He twisted sideways, caught the bamboo sword mid-swing, and tossed the attacker over his shoulder.
BOOM!
The boy hit the deck hard.
And got up even harder.
He bounced to his feet with zero pain, pointed a finger at Takeo, and declared:
"That didn't count!"
Takeo blinked, regaining his senses.
"Sorry, sorry," he muttered half-heartedly, before narrowing his eyes. "Wait… this is your third attack today."
Azukichō usually attacked twice a day. Once in the morning. Once in the evening. Like clockwork.
The boy blinked.
Then seemed to remember something. He glanced around suspiciously, then motioned for Takeo to come closer.
Takeo crouched, humoring him.
Azukichō leaned in and whispered:
"I heard my dad talking to that man!"
"Eavesdropping, huh?"
The boy's voice raised instinctively, then he caught himself and lowered it again.
"I wasn't spying! I just… happened to walk by. You wanna know what I heard?"
Takeo nodded calmly, trying not to spook the kid—or himself.
"He said… there's a ghost on this ship."
Takeo froze.
A ghost?
That brought it full circle. The whispering dockworkers. The nervous sailors. The disappearances.
He'd been hearing about ghost sightings nonstop since this journey began.
But now, it wasn't just rumors—it was connected to them.
The Ghost Hunter.
This must be part of the system that ruled this world.
Which raised a deeper question—was this really a world with ghosts?
Takeo's thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Kamado Tanjiro.
If this world ran on a supernatural hierarchy involving ghosts, demons, and the people who hunted them, then…
Was Tanjiro destined to become one? Or had he already become a demon himself?
Ghosts… Tanjiro… Nezuko...
Why did those names suddenly feel so familiar?
Something stirred in the back of his memory. A flash of recognition. A foggy link.
He couldn't pin it down—but he could almost hear it.
That's when Azukichō spoke again:
"Oh yeah! That swordsman guy? He said something like... Kisatsutai. That's the name. Do you know it?"
Takeo's eyes widened.
Kisatsutai.
The Demon Slayer Corps.
"Wait… no way—!"
He remembered.
Ghosts. Demons. Kamado Tanjiro. Kamado Nezuko…
His college roommate used to scream about this all the time!
"Kill the Hashira!"
No—wait.
That wasn't the actual title.
Was it Hashira Killer?
No… that wasn't right either.
What was the anime called again?
"Demon Slayer."
Kimetsu no Yaiba.
That was it.
He remembered now—his anime-obsessed roommate yelling about Nezuko's cuteness and Tanjiro's tragic backstory all night in the dorms.
So…
Had he transmigrated into that world?
The Kamado family.
A ghost hunter.
A world of demons.
Everything lined up too cleanly to be coincidence.
"So… the ones who slaughtered the Kamado family—were they ghosts?"
No. Not ghosts.
Demons.
And if this was the world of Demon Slayer, then the killer was no ordinary spirit. It was likely one of the Twelve Kizuki—or worse.
"HEY!! HEEEEY!!"
Takeo had gone quiet too long. Azukichō began yelling in his ear, trying to bring him back to reality.
Takeo finally blinked and sighed.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Stop screaming or I will go deaf."
The boy huffed.
"So?! You'll teach me, right? You said you would!"
His eyes were practically glowing with excitement. When Takeo nodded faintly, the boy jumped two feet in the air.
In exchange for the intel, Takeo had agreed to teach him sword basics.
He could've used the "eavesdropping isn't samurai-like" excuse again, but honestly… there was no harm in it.
Just the fundamentals, he told himself. No battle secrets.
"So… what do we do now?"
Takeo stared at the deck, brow furrowed.
He had confirmed two things.
One: this world was likely centered around ghosts and hunters, much like the structure of Demon Slayer.
Two: there was a ghost hunter already on the ship—and Takeo needed to make contact.
If ghost hunters had their own systems, schools, or methods of training, then finding out how they worked could be his ticket to survival—and revenge.
Maybe he could even pretend to be a victim of ghost attacks, use that to build rapport.
Maybe…
Author's Note:
A memory awakens. A name is remembered. The world Takeo stumbled into is more familiar—and dangerous—than he ever imagined. The shadows have names. And one of them wears the title… Demon.