"Sigh…"
A sudden sigh drifted over.
The demon's instincts screamed. He reflexively turned—somehow, the boy wearing sun earrings had appeared behind him, as if by a trick of fate, and sat his butt right down on the demon's back.
"Friend, could you let go of him?
"My little brother's a bit dumb but kind. If you choke him to death, he won't be fresh to eat, will he?"
'! When did he get there? Why didn't I sense a thing?' Doihara was shaken.
In life he'd been a cook, long steeped in kitchen smells—his nose was sharper than most. Turned into a demon in Taishō Year 2 and strengthened, he could not only sniff out prey by human scent, but also track a fleeing route by the aura leaking off a human body.
But tonight, his nose had failed!
"You have no scent at all—are you even human?!" Doihara slashed for Roy.
The wind from those claws grazed Roy's face; he could even smell the nauseating blood reek on them.
Roy slipped sideways, skimmed along Doihara's arm into his armpit, snatched Tanjiro by the collar, and yanked him off the floor.
"Cough—cough—" Freed in a rush, Tanjiro clutched his throat, gulping air.
The boy's face had gone green; he didn't dare meet Roy's eyes, shame roiling inside.
'So useless. In the end I still had to make Niisan save me…
'Tanjiro, when will you get stronger?'
Roy toed up the dropped hatchet, pretended not to see the boy's slump, shoved the hatchet back into his hands, and said, "Continue."
"Ah?"
Still dazed—then a boot to the backside sent him charging at Doihara again.
"The fight you asked for is a fight you finish yourself…"
Roy's voice echoed through the quiet shrine, rasping in Doihara's ears.
He wasn't stupid. To "cultivate" here for years in the mountain beside Mount Sagiri, he'd relied on one thing—cunning.
From the earlier exchange he'd judged the hatchet-wielding hothead no real threat. The danger was the one behind him.
He instantly focused nine-tenths of his attention on Roy, flashed over Tanjiro's head, and raked straight down at Roy!
"Whss—"
Roy slid aside, avoiding the strike.
Missing, Doihara twisted midair and side-kicked—his sixty-mile-per-hour demon foot was about to stamp Roy's face—
Roy simply bent back and ducked under with ease.
'Damn it! I can't read his evasions at all!
'Why… why don't you have a scent?'
Two misses. Doihara slipped away from Tanjiro's furious chop from behind, hopped back several times, and opened distance from the Kamado brothers.
[Zetsu]: tighten and cut off all bodily "aura" and "scent," drastically lowering one's presence.
Drawing on Zegg's* notes, Roy used imagination to seal his aura nodes, cutting off the channels by which aura and scent leaked outward.
That Doihara couldn't detect him was only natural.
"Yeah… Niisan, I can't smell you either…"
The demon's confusion didn't escape Tanjiro. The iron-headed kid was known for two things: one, a skull hard enough to butt heads with demons; two, a nose so keen he could smell human and demon scents—and even faint traces left on objects.
He tightened his grip on the hatchet, edged to Roy's side, and sniffed carefully—soon noticing the oddity.
'No… Niisan still has a scent—it's just much fainter…'
Dog-nose indeed…
Tanjiro was right: Roy hadn't truly mastered [Zetsu]. He wasn't Gon, who, raised in nature, naturally learned to suppress his presence, then, after opening Nen and getting tips from Wing and pressure from Hisoka, quickly grasped Zetsu—truly "severing from nature, becoming a sealed whole."
But—
Inspired by the "water-walking" trick, Roy had a sudden idea: stretch the Nen under his soles into a thin membrane and temporarily wrap his aura nodes. That blocked the aura bleeding to the surface; the drawback was obvious—
the membrane lay against the skin, exposed, and inevitably let a faint wisp of aura leak out.
That wisp was easily drowned by blood-reek. Without an exceptional nose, you'd never notice.
"Is now the time to space out?
"Watch your right—"
Twin Nen-fires kindled in Roy's eyes. Through [Gyo], he caught Doihara's renewed lunge!
He yanked Tanjiro—
Tanjiro's body tilted; seizing the beat, he whipped the hatchet hard to the right!
The blade cleaved the night, a cold arc tearing the wind and snow, straight for Doihara's belly—
"Schrrrip—" Blood fountained; intestines spilled—
Doihara screamed, flipped back, landed, and stared daggers at Roy, face twisted with hate.
'Damn it. If I don't remove him, I'll never get a chance. Am I really to abandon this "dojo"?'
Gods have shrines—why can't demons have demon halls?
Doihara had heard it said: that supreme one had a luxurious dojo, said to warp space itself—within it a demon's step, sprawl, rise, or lie was all at that lord's whim. The "Infinity Castle"!
So unless forced, he would never yield this shrine. It was his cafeteria, the root of his survival—he hated moving house even more than he hated wandering afar.
Then there was only one path—'fight!'
His body knitted anew. He drew a deep breath and sneered:
"Humans are filthy creatures.
"When danger comes, they drag the weak in front as shields.
"Did you know? I used to be decent—until my boss shoved me out to take the blame for his mistake. I had no choice but to eat him!"
"And you—" He pointed at Roy, dripping scorn. "Hiding behind your baby brother—dare you face me one-on-one?"
Uh… 'Was Niisan just insulted?
By… a demon?'
Tanjiro stole a glance at Roy, torn.
Roy's face didn't change. Without a panel prompt that combat would raise his "Martial Arts" experience…
He had no reason to act.
All the more because—
Roy looked steadily at Doihara and said seriously, "Friend, never judge by appearances.
"My brother may look dumb, but to me… he's strong."
"Niisan!" Tanjiro snapped the hatchet up, twin jets of breath blasting from his nostrils like dragons!