After resolving that matter, Ryuya came to a remote town to relax.
He wandered alone through a narrow alley. The streets were surprisingly quiet.
Involuntarily, he thought of Kochou Kanae.
She could sense his location, yet she hadn't come. Did that mean she no longer cared? Was she drawing a clear line between them?
Heh. It made sense.
His relationship with the Demon Slayer Corps was tense at best.
Kanae would surely still stand with the Corps. It was impossible for her to abandon everything and choose him—a demon—instead.
When you long too deeply for something, the result rarely turns out the way you hope.
Sometimes it's better not to overthink. Live simply. Don't build fantasies. That way, when things don't go as planned, at least the disappointment won't cut so deep.
Just as Ryuya was lost in thought, a fierce struggle erupted from a bamboo house in the distance.
With nothing better to do, he stopped and peered inside.
The interior was simply furnished, a faint aroma of tea lingering in the air.
At a low table, a frail, scholarly-looking student clutched the corner of a young man's clothes. The young man wore black and had spiky black hair.
The student looked delicate and weak, yet his face twisted with dissatisfaction—and a deep-seated hatred that wished to kill.
Ryuya could clearly sense the fluctuation of killing intent.
Even so, with his strength, there was no way this student could kill the young man in black.
The young man had a wooden sword at his waist. The contemptuous, mocking smile on his face made him look treacherous and cunning at first glance.
"You said I would paint the landscapes, and you would help me sell them. We'd split the profits equally. But why did you lie to me? Why did you take everything?"
The student's pale face twisted ferociously.
"My mother didn't receive the promised money because of you! You kept it for yourself! Her illness worsened, and without money for treatment… she died!"
"What does that have to do with me?"
The black-haired youth's tone was cold and dismissive, utterly devoid of remorse.
"It's generous enough that you get any money at all. Without me, could your crappy paintings even sell?"
He stomped hard on the landscape painting the student had painstakingly created.
Since they had already fallen out, he didn't bother pretending anymore.
"Everyone says the Demon Slayer Corps is righteous. I don't see anything special about it. Even demons have more conscience than you!"
The student's frail body trembled with rage, but he was no match for the man before him.
"That's a dangerous thought."
The black-haired youth sneered.
"Demons are creatures that harm and kill people. I'm helping you. Not only are you ungrateful, you insult me and the Demon Slayer Corps?
Although I, Kaigaku, haven't officially joined yet, I still have to teach a lesson to someone with such twisted thinking—for the sake of the Corps' seniors!"
Grinning, Kaigaku drew his wooden sword and struck the student across the back.
Kaigaku, currently a disciple of former Thunder Hashira Kuwajima Jigoro, had yet to join the Demon Slayer Corps and did not possess a Nichirin Blade. Thus, he used a wooden sword.
The student was utterly outmatched. Within moments, his back was covered in wounds, blood pooling onto the floor.
"Kaigaku?" Ryuya let out a cold chuckle.
"Interesting… very interesting."
Wasn't this Agatsuma Zenitsu's senior disciple? The one who couldn't master the First Form of Thunder Breathing?
The future Upper Rank Demon who would eventually fall to Zenitsu's Thunderclap and Flash: God Speed?
Watching the scene unfold, Ryuya pieced everything together.
This frail student, unable to leave home due to his health, had partnered with Kaigaku by chance.
The student excelled at calligraphy and landscape painting, so Kaigaku offered to sell the works for him. They initially agreed to split the profits evenly.
At first, Kaigaku kept his word.
But as the profits grew, so did his greed.
The student's earnings were fixed—unless Kaigaku cut into his share.
So he began lying. He told the student the paintings weren't selling well, that their value had dropped. The student believed him.
Instead of giving up, the student worked even harder, pouring grief and indignation into his art.
The quality of the paintings soared.
The profits skyrocketed.
Yet the money the student received remained pitifully small.
Meanwhile, Kaigaku grew rich.
Then came the final blow.
The student's mother fell gravely ill.
Desperate, the student burned the midnight oil, his eyes swollen from endless painting. But the meager sum he received was nowhere near enough to cover treatment.
With no other choice, he begged Kaigaku for help.
And that was when Kaigaku's true nature was laid bare.
He agreed to lend money—but on one condition.
From now on, every coin earned from the student's paintings would belong to him. The student would receive nothing.
In that moment, the student understood everything.
The anger. The betrayal. The humiliation.
But to save his mother, he compromised.
Too late.
She died without treatment.
"Kaigaku, you bastard! You bastard! I'll kill you!"
The student shrieked, eyes bloodshot and bulging.
"You?" Kaigaku looked down at him mockingly as the student struggled and failed to rise.
"Even if I become a vengeful spirit, I won't let you go!"
The student coughed up mouthfuls of blood. His frail body was giving out—severe blood loss, death imminent.
"Afraid of you? I'm a future member of the Demon Slayer Corps!"
Kaigaku sneered, raising the wooden sword toward the student's head.
"A filial son whose mother died, ashamed to live on. In a deserted place like this, no one will care."
While training under Kuwajima Jigoro, Kaigaku would occasionally request to descend the mountain for "experience."
No one knew what he did during those outings.
But at the training house, he was always the most talented disciple.
Even if he killed this student, the matter would vanish into obscurity.
So—
Go to hell.
The wooden sword loomed larger in the student's eyes.
He gritted his teeth, face twisted with unwilling fury.
He wasn't afraid to die.
He just wanted to tear that bastard Kaigaku to pieces.
"Kaigaku… it's truly you."
At that moment, Ryuya's figure flashed into the room.
"You haven't disappointed me."
With a casual kick, he sent Kaigaku's wooden sword flying.
...
Author's Note
This month's free fanfic uploaded on Patreon is:
Dragon Ball: Reborn as the Legendary Super Saiyan Broly!
If you enjoy my work and would like to support me, please consider joining my Patreon:
👉 patreon.com/Shadow_demon_007
Thank you all for your continued support!
— Shadow_demon_007