The swordsmen, collapsed in exhaustion, had a slight flush on their faces.
Didn't they realize none of this was Yoriichi's fault?
No—they knew.
They were merely seeking an outlet for their own incompetence and rage.
[That man and the demon are brothers—he can't be a good person either.]
[Truth be told, none of this would have happened if he hadn't brought his brother into the Demon Slayer Corps.]
[If it weren't for him...]
[It's all his fault...]
They vented their pain with a clear conscience. Whenever a voice inside reminded them that this wasn't his fault, they consoled themselves with thoughts of his tolerance: [It's okay, right? He's so forgiving and strong anyway.]
Bit by bit, they lost sight of their own mistakes, venting their negativity onto someone who should have been innocent.
Yoriichi froze but instinctively spoke up.
"It's okay..."
"It's fine for you, but it's not fine for me!" Hiru turned to glare at the swordsmen, who were regaining their strength. "A bunch of people who can't even distinguish right from wrong—no matter how powerful they are, they don't deserve to be called swordsmen!"
Yoriichi watched the swordsmen, pursed his lips, and ultimately said nothing. He simply picked up the box again, using his body to block the sunlight.
"Let's go."
"Yoriichi!"
"Let's go."
The swordsmen watched as Hiru, still glaring fiercely at them, crawled into the box. Her angry voice echoed from within.
"Brother, why can you always forgive others' mistakes so easily?"
"It's fine, Hiru. Your Blood Demon Art—"
"I won't help them remove the Blood Demon Art! They deserve a lesson!"
"But..."
"They'll recover on their own before sunset! At worst, you can give them some demon-repelling incense or demon-slaying elixir! No, don't give them that! They don't deserve it!"
The swordsmen saw the resignation in Yoriichi's eyes. He took a small box from the crate and placed it beside them, lighting the incense inside with a fire-lighter.
But... taken from the trunk?
"Th-this..." Sakurai pointed at the box, stammering.
"Hiru made it." Yoriichi stood up. "Even after becoming a demon, he never abandoned his humanity. He always sought to develop a potion to revert back. These demon-repelling incenses were accidental byproducts, but they work surprisingly well."
"Brother, don't pay them any mind! They're not worth pitying!"
But Yoriichi still moved the swordsmen one by one to the roadside, helping them sit up against the trees. He nodded to them briefly before shouldering the crate and leaving.
...
"What on earth is wrong with this world..." one swordsman murmured weakly. "A demon developing incense to repel demons?"
"Isn't the most shocking part that he didn't die when exposed to sunlight, and even hit us with a Blood Demon Art?"
"True... I still feel completely drained... That demon really intended to kill us just now, didn't it?"
"Definitely," Sakurai muttered. "There's not a single good demon out there..."
"But that demon made an demon-repelling incense?" The swordsman who first spotted Hiraku sniffed the air. "Not the same formula we use—it has wisteria scent, but it's faint."
"Less wisteria means it's practically useless, right?"
"Aren't you more shocked that a demon touched wisteria and survived?"
"...Should we report this to Master?"
"...Probably. It's just too bizarre."
"Something's seriously wrong with Tsugikuni," Sakurai forced himself to practice his Breathing Styles, trying to ease the numbness spreading through his body. "Two such powerful demons appearing... If that Yoriichi fellow becomes a demon too, we're in real trouble."
The other swordsmen fell silent, then simultaneously began using Breathing Styles to recover their strength faster.
Yet by nightfall, only Sakurai had regained his combat ability. Watching his awkwardly moving comrades, he seethed, "I told you—demons are all scum!"
"At least he didn't kill anyone," remarked the swordsman with the keen sense of smell. "Sakurai, be careful. I smell a demon."
"Damn, of all times!" Sakurai drew his sword, positioning himself in front of his companions as a guard. "Tsukimi, can you tell how many demons there are?"
"I can't tell. This demon-repelling incense is interfering with my senses," Tsukimi replied, drawing her own blade. Her expression was complex as she stared at the ground where the incense had barely burned all afternoon. "But why would the demons approach after smelling the wisteria scent?"
"What do you think? That oni must have tampered with it," Sakurai spat. "Here they come! Full alert!"
A hideous demon emerged from the deep forest, its eyes bloodshot, saliva dripping from its mouth. Strangely, it didn't even glance at Sakurai and the others. Instead, it slumped greedily beside the demon-repelling incense, emitting a constant, eerie chuckle.
The swordsmen exchanged uneasy glances.
Though baffled, avoiding direct conflict was welcome. Sakurai took a deep breath and cautiously advanced, intending to sever the demon's head.
But the fiend suddenly lifted its head, glaring at him and growling low, "Get lost! Don't you dare steal my rare blood! I found it first!"
Sakurai blinked. You seem to have some kind of mental disorder. Where did you get rare blood?
But just as he was about to act, the demon bellowed like a madman, "It's mine! Mine! Mine! My rare blood!"
Then, as if injected with a massive dose of wisteria poison, the demon clawed at its own face frantically before turning to ash. The small dish of incense continued to burn quietly.
Sakurai swallowed hard.
"They call this stuff demon-repelling incense?"