Chapter 44: You Three Demons, Come Together
"Captain Kimura…!"
"Captain Kimura, you're still alive!"
"Captain Kimura, what should we do now?"
"Yes, Captain, give us some direction!"
Several survivors spotted Kimura in the crowd and rushed to him, voices filled with desperation. In the beginning, his leadership and quick thinking had given them a fragile sense of order. His strategies had worked—until the special demons appeared and tore it all apart.
But now, when they needed him most, Kimura lowered his head.
His hands, filthy and trembling, rose as if to ward them away.
"Don't… don't call me Captain," he muttered, voice hollow. "I don't know. I don't know what to do."
If I did… I wouldn't be standing here with the rest of you, waiting to die.
Their words stabbed deeper than blades.
Once, he had believed he could lead them to the end.
That night had shattered his illusions.
Howls echoed through the forest.
On the opposite hillside, dark figures leapt into sight, silhouetted against the horizon.
Demons—standing tall, watching them from above. Others crept out of the shadows, crawling, slithering, circling the gathered humans.
Just as Yukishiro had said: this was a hunt.
One prey at a time no longer satisfied them. The Final Selection came only once a year—after tonight, there would be no feast for another twelve months. They would gorge now, in a grand roundup.
Herd the prey together, then devour them in one bloody carnival.
The moonlight dimmed. A black shadow streaked through the sky and landed atop the mountain, its body rigid like a spear driven into the earth. The demons scattered aside, not daring to stand near it.
Mitsuri tugged Yukishiro's sleeve, eyes wide. But he had already noticed the moment it arrived.
The Bouncing Demon.
Not long after, another figure climbed the slope, spiderlike, until it perched high in a tree. Its throat still bore the wound Yukishiro had dealt it earlier.
The Spider Demon.
At their appearance, chaos rippled through the survivors. Some dropped to the ground, sobbing that it was over.
Others clutched their heads, wailing like broken children.
One man suddenly snapped. He bolted downhill, screaming, "I quit! I don't want this anymore! I don't want to join the Corps!"
He didn't make it ten steps before demons tackled him, ripping him apart in a frenzy of claws and teeth.
Fear of the bouncing demon and the spider demon ran deep in all of them. The former had shattered their spirit on the first night; the latter had broken their bodies.
Together, they were the nightmare that had destroyed the team.
But worse was still coming.
A deep roar rolled from the woods. Every demon in the clearing flinched, hunching low, as if they too feared the sound.
A tree trunk cracked and split. Something massive forced its way through, bursting into view—a grotesque, heaving mound of flesh.
Three or four meters tall, it moved like a living fortress, every step shaking the mountain.
The Meatball Demon.
Mitsuri's hand shot out, clutching Yukishiro's sleeve. Her face was drained of color. "That… that's the thing Yuka described. What is it? Is it really a demon?"
It was exactly as Yuka had said: three bloated bodies fused back-to-back, their legs gone, their torsos sprouting six arms and two twisted heads.
If a demon's weakness was its neck, then where was this monster's? Did it even have one?
Mitsuri's breath hitched. A faint tug pulled at her sleeve—Yuka, pale and trembling, reached for her.
Mitsuri knelt, brushing hair gently from Yuka's lips.
"Mitsuri…" the girl whispered. "It was… nice meeting you. Run. Run with Yukishiro. With his strength, you can make it through until morning…"
Her voice broke. Mitsuri squeezed her hand, unable to promise anything, unable to lie. She lowered her head, let go, and rose again—standing silently beside Yukishiro.
Akino knelt, gathering Yuka into his arms, sharing one last fragile smile with her.
"What should we do?" Mitsuri asked.
Yukishiro said nothing at first. His eyes swept the crowd—twenty battered survivors, trembling like cornered prey.
Then he spoke, his voice hard and cold, slicing through the night.
"What are you doing here?"
The words carried across Thei Mountain, echoing in the silence. The demons stirred, growling strange cries in response, almost provoked by his defiance.
"You want to be Demon Slayers, yet you cower at the sight of demons. If you're too afraid—why did you come here at all?"
His gaze sharpened, pinning each of them in place. "Will you just stand here and die without even trying to fight?"
His words cut deeper than their fear. One by one, eyes dropped to the dirt, none daring to meet his.
Yukishiro turned slightly toward Mitsuri. "Stay here."
Then he stepped forward.
Under the silver moonlight, with dozens of eyes watching in stunned silence, he walked alone into the open ground.
There he faced them—the towering Meatball Demon, the Spider Demon in the trees, and the Bouncing Demon atop the slope.
With deliberate calm, he drew his Nichirin Blade. The steel scraped against the scabbard with a piercing metallic cry.
Then, in one smooth motion, he raised it and pointed directly toward the slope.
A challenge.
Others might not understand, but Mitsuri knew instantly.
He was calling them out.
The Bouncing Demon.
The Spider Demon.
Both at once.
Come together.