The wild boar's fear was sweet as honey—so sweet that Rowen couldn't help being drawn to it, seduced by it. The scent of that trembling soul's terror was so intoxicating, his hand holding the knife trembled with emotion.
(Maybe… maybe I should just keep it around a little longer? Even if the Depravity Value's going up slowly, every little bit counts, right?)
He hesitated. The knife hovered just above the boar's neck.
Under his gaze, the wounded animal grew even more frantic. Blood spurted from its injuries like rain, splattering onto everyone around it.
Nezuko quickly shielded her younger siblings behind her, raising an arm to block the blood spray. "M-Mr. Rowen? What's wrong?"
"I…"
(I just want a little more Depravity Value! Let me fall, please! Hate me already! …If you don't, what am I supposed to do?! The only option left is keeping this boar alive!) These weren't things he could say out loud, so it took him a moment to gather himself before he finally shook his head heavily.
"Sorry… I just can't do it."
"But… aren't you a hunter? Oh—was that why, back when we first met, you were in such bad shape?"
"Eh… yeah, that's it." Rowen stood up slowly, turning his face toward the sky at a poetic forty-five-degree angle to hide the (totally joyful) tears at the corner of his eyes, and put on a tragic expression.
"I'm like a seabird that's forgotten how to fly, forced to measure the shore with tired feet… If I can't take a life, what kind of hunter am I?"
"Mr. Rowen…" Nezuko's eyes shimmered, moved by the light catching in the corners of his.
So kind. That thought filled everyone's hearts all at once.
Everyone except Tanjiro, whose expression twitched slightly. Something about Rowen's scent… felt off.
Before he could think further, Rowen had crouched back down, looking thoroughly guilty as he hugged the frenzied boar and clumsily shoved a cloth into its wounds to stop the bleeding.
"I'm sorry! I know I said I'd bring you all some meat, but I really can't kill it…! Let me take care of it for a while, okay? Just… let this be a small act of mercy."
"Of course. It was your catch, after all…" Kie picked up where he left off—though she hesitated. (But isn't keeping it half-dead like this even crueler…?)
She didn't say that part aloud. The boar was Rowen's, so the choice was his.
Besides, saying that might hurt the boy—someone who'd done something wrong purely out of kindness. Someone too gentle for his own good.
So, with everyone's help, the poor wild boar—first bashed in the head with a rock, then slashed at the throat, and finally stitched up with primitive first-aid methods by Rowen—was barely saved.
But a week later, it still succumbed to its wounds.
That day, the sky seemed to mourn with them. A fine, steady drizzle fell over the Kamado household.
"…You died—what am I supposed to do now?!" Rowen flung himself dramatically across the boar's corpse, slapping its head in anguish and crying out, lamenting the loss of its Depravity Value. At last, he mumbled, heartbroken, "Your final soul wasn't even enough to unlock one skill…! Not even close!"
No one else could hear what he was saying, but his grief-stricken posture convinced everyone he was in deep mourning.
Which made everyone bow their heads as well, consumed with guilt.
"Mr. Rowen…" Nezuko gently patted his back and offered soft comfort. "What's done is done. Little boar… wouldn't want to see you so sad…"
That was what she said, sure. But Rowen didn't believe for a second that a boar who screamed bloody murder every time it saw him—like it was seeing a ghost—would ever have such forgiving thoughts.
Still, that evening, the Kamado family ate wild boar for the first time in ages.
Yet the dinner table was unusually quiet. Rowen, brooding and miserable, cast such a heavy mood over what should've been a rare, joyful meal that it became one of the most unforgettable suppers the Kamados had ever had.
Of course, to the end, no one knew the real reason behind Rowen's gloom.
…
The boar incident gave Rowen an idea for harvesting Depravity Value.
So, under the pretense of "making sure the kids never have to go to bed hungry," he ignored all protests (and was secretly delighted) as he headed down the mountain to work at the town slaughterhouse.
Thus began his grueling but "nutritious" job—one that lasted an entire year.
Tedious, sure. But fulfilling in its own twisted way. And thanks to a year's worth of blood, sweat, and entrails, Rowen's Depravity Value had risen significantly. He was even considering quitting.
Because… as great as animal fear was, that slaughterhouse reeked.
Back at the Kamado house, Tanjuro Kamado still wasn't in great shape, but with the family no longer relying on him to work through illness, he had steadily recovered enough to get back on his feet.
Six months ago, Kie had given birth to her newest child.
Now, with his Depravity Value nearly full and his debt repaid, Rowen was ready. To avoid any unexpected complications during the awakening process—or in case his form changed drastically—he planned to part ways with the family first and activate his powers on his own.
However…
On the third night of waiting for the right moment to leave—feeling that just another week or two of work would finally push his value over the threshold—Rowen lay on the wooden porch outside the house, hands behind his head, staring at the moon with a restless heart.
That's when he heard soft footsteps nearby.
He turned his head and saw her—the black-haired little girl who had just finished putting her siblings to bed, exhaustion written on her small face.
Young Nezuko Kamado. Her long black hair framed her delicate, doll-like face. Her clothes were old, even patched in places, but none of that dimmed her natural radiance.
Rowen found himself wondering how she might look when she grew up.
Surely, Nezuko would become an ethereal beauty one day.
The only problem was… she was still far too young. And whether he'd be around to see that future—he couldn't say.
"Papa and big brother went to town to sell charcoal today. Mama fell asleep cause she's so tired. Mr. Rowen, you must be tired too, right? Can't sleep?"
Nezuko's surprise faded into a warm, mature smile far beyond her years.
She plopped down beside him and suddenly seemed to remember something, clapping her hands together and suggesting cheerfully, "Oh right! You always tell us stories—how about I tell you one tonight?"
"No, no~ It's nothing. Just got some stuff on my mind… Don't worry about it." Rowen sat up, temporarily setting his troubles aside, and affectionately patted her head like one would a kitten.
"Don't do that, Mr. Rowen… If Hanako and the others see you treating me like a little kid, what am I gonna do?" she said, pouting just slightly in protest—but she didn't push his hand away.
That bizarrely adult line made him burst out laughing.
"You are a kid, though. You just turned ten today. What, am I supposed to treat you like a grown woman? What kind of creep would that make me? I mean… well, it's just us here, but still—don't overthink it."
He was halfway through teasing her again when he paused, remembering the circumstances of her home.
His words caught in his throat, and instead he gently stroked her soft hair while gazing out at the moonlit forest beyond.
It was quiet—too quiet.
Rowen was about to say something else when his fingers brushed through her hair… and he suddenly sensed something was off.
The forest, bathed in silver light, had gone eerily still. At some point, even the buzzing insects had stopped. Not a chirp, not a rustle.
Not a sound.