Tomioka Giyu's pace was far faster than he remembered.
The wind rushed past his ears, and he could even sense the airflow weaving through the leaves above.
Each step he took sent a subtle reaction up through his legs, every movement precise and efficient—never wasting energy, yet reaching the peak of speed.
This sixteen-year-old body, which had once felt a little unrefined, now moved as fluidly as a sharpened blade. It wasn't something he was consciously controlling—it felt natural, instinctive.
After starting this second life, Giyu could clearly feel his swordsmanship talent had grown sharper.
The improvement didn't grant him new techniques from nowhere—it simply made his understanding of Water Breathing far deeper, clearer.
The rhythm of his breathing, the tension in his muscles, the path of his blade—details he once had to train endlessly to master—now came to him effortlessly, as though they'd always belonged to him.
Even while running, he could subtly adjust his breathing, replaying the First Form: Water Surface Slash in his mind from over a dozen angles—each strike as precise as if measured by hand.
The sensation was strange, yet oddly familiar—like a dammed river suddenly freed, the current surging faster than ever.
Without consciously slowing down, he covered a journey that had once taken him two days in only a day and a half.
By the time the setting sun painted the sky in orange and red, the outline of the Tsugaru region's small town appeared in view.
At the entrance stood a crooked wooden sign with the words "Nanae Town" carved faintly into it, the edges worn by years of rain and wind.
Just as in his memory, the town was quiet—so quiet it felt eerie.
Most doors were shut, only a few faint lights glowed behind thin windows, and every curtain was tightly drawn, as if everyone feared something lurking outside.
The sound of his sandals hitting the stone road echoed sharply in the silence.
He didn't start questioning people right away but walked the main street slowly, scanning the surroundings.
A faint metallic scent lingered in the damp evening air—blood.
It was old blood, not fresh—absorbed into wood and soil, fermented over time.
The scent came from several directions, scattered throughout the town.
He stopped in front of a shop with a wooden sign reading "Rice Store."
The door was half-open, the inside dark.
He pushed the door gently, the hinges creaking loudly.
Inside was dim, only a sliver of twilight leaking through the doorway.
He looked around—the rice jars were empty, grains scattered across the floor, the abacus behind the counter had toppled over, beads spilled everywhere.
No one was there.
He stepped back outside and continued forward.
The next was a blacksmith's forge. The fire had long since gone out. A half-forged sickle lay on the anvil, the blade twisted and unfinished.
The third was a farmhouse. The chicken coop had fallen over, feathers stuck in the mud—but the chickens were gone.
Just as he recalled, this demon not only fed on humans but also destroyed the town's life, savoring the process of turning everything into silence.
Giyu's fingers rested unconsciously on the hilt of his Nichirin Sword.
In the previous timeline, the demon had appeared around midnight, patrolling the streets to find stragglers.
But this time, he didn't plan to wait.
He walked toward the well in the center of town—one of the few places where people still gathered.
An elderly woman in a coarse kimono was drawing water, her movements slow, breathing heavy after each pull.
Giyu stepped forward and reached for the rope.
"I'll do it."
The old woman froze, then looked up.
When her cloudy eyes caught sight of the Nichirin Sword at his waist, understanding flickered there. She nodded silently.
Giyu pulled up the bucket swiftly and filled her water jar.
"Has the town been losing people lately?" he asked.
Her body tensed. Her voice came out rough. "Yes… it started last month. First it was the Yamada family's youngest boy. He went to chop wood behind the mountain and never came back. Then Sato's daughter-in-law disappeared too. She went to bring something to a neighbor at night… and never returned."
Her voice grew softer and softer.
"Everyone says it's some wild beast dragging people off… but we all know—it isn't a beast."
"Strange noises at night?"
"Yes… sometimes laughter comes from the western alley. Giggles, like a woman's voice… but who'd dare go see?"
The old woman trembled as she lifted her bucket.
"Young man, you're… a samurai from outside, aren't you? Please, save our town."
Giyu nodded. "I will handle it."
The old woman didn't say anything more. She bowed deeply to him, then slowly shuffled away with her bucket.
Tomioka Giyu stood by the well, his gaze turning toward the west side of town.
That area was more crowded with houses, the alleys narrower—perfect for hiding or ambushing.
He remembered that the demon's lair was deep within one of those western alleys, inside an abandoned house whose walls hid the corpses it had collected.
Just then, a clear, childish voice sounded beside him.
"Big brother, are you here to find someone too?"
Giyu turned and saw a little girl wearing a light-blue kosode. She looked about seven or eight years old, holding a small cloth doll tightly in her hands, eyes wide as she looked up at him.
Her hair was messy, her face streaked with a bit of dirt, but her eyes were bright.
He recognized her—the daughter of the town's only apothecary owner.
He remembered seeing her last time at the pharmacy door, crying as she clung to the threshold, saying she couldn't find her mother.
Later, he learned her mother was the Sato family's daughter-in-law.
"I'm not here to find someone," Giyu said quietly. "I'm here to deal with a demon."
The little girl tilted her head, not quite understanding what "demon" meant. "You use a sword? Your sword is really pretty."
Her eyes lingered on his Nichirin Sword, filled with curiosity rather than fear.
"I do," he answered simply.
"Then can you teach me?" she asked, taking two small steps closer. "I want to become strong, so I can protect my father."
Giyu went silent for a moment.
He was never good at dealing with children—especially ones who spoke so directly.
In his memory, this girl had been caught in the demon's attack later. She survived, but her leg was badly injured and never fully recovered.
"Where's your father?" he asked instead.
"Inside, mixing medicine," she said, pointing toward a small shop nearby. "He said he has to hurry and finish Grandma Nobi's medicine."
Then, lowering her voice, she added, "Big brother, you know what? Last night, I saw Uncle Kitahara wandering outside. He disappeared last month, but I saw him standing there. When I called out to him, he didn't answer. His face was so pale—it was scary."
Giyu's eyes darkened. That wasn't Uncle Kitahara. That was one of the demon's puppets.
The creature liked to toy with its prey—treating corpses to make them look alive, placing them around town as bait, as trophies.
"From now on, don't go out at night," he said firmly. "And stay away from people who look strange."
"Oh…" The girl lowered her head, nervously twisting her doll's little sleeve. "But Father said maybe Mama will come back to find me one day…"
Giyu opened his mouth to reply—but something flickered at the edge of his vision.
A shadow, fast as lightning, flashed past the mouth of the western alley—skimming so close to the ground it almost seemed to crawl.
At the same time, a thick, sickly-sweet stench filled the air—far heavier than the faint traces of blood from before, reeking of decay and clotted flesh.
The demon.
It had appeared much earlier than expected.
Giyu's body moved before thought—his right hand snapping to the hilt of his sword.
"Get behind me," he said sharply.
His tone was calm but carried an unmistakable authority.
The girl barely had time to react before he pulled her back, shielding her with his body.
She screamed softly and clung to his haori.
A figure burst out from the alley.
It looked like a middle-aged woman, wearing a tattered kimono. Her tangled hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her lips twisted into a grotesque smile.
Her eyes glowed a murky yellow, pupils slit like a cat's. Her mouth stretched unnaturally wide, revealing jagged fangs still stained dark red with blood.
"Ah, what do we have here?" she hissed, her voice sharp and grating, like nails dragging across glass. "A new toy—and one carrying a sword, no less. How delightful."
Her eyes darted between Giyu and the girl before settling on the child. She licked her lips. "That little one looks delicious. Who should I eat first?"
Giyu didn't respond.
Every ounce of his focus was fixed on the demon.
This was the perfect chance to test the limits of his current strength.
Just as before, the demon was fast—its movements quick and fluid, especially within the narrow confines of the alley, slipping along the walls like a gecko.
But now, to Giyu, its motion was crystal clear.
Its weight leaned on the right leg, knee slightly bent—preparing to spring.
Its fingers flexed, claws gleaming faintly in the dim sunset light—clearly a slashing type.
It didn't breathe, but Giyu could see the minute tension and contraction of its muscles.
He could already predict its move.
'Left feint, then a quick right strike—going for the child behind me.'
A fake-out—just like before. Using the opponent's instinct to protect as bait.
Last time, he'd fallen for it. Though he still killed the demon, he'd been slashed across the arm.
This time would be different.
His breathing steadied. The rhythm of Water Breathing flowed naturally through his body.
He felt his strength gather from his core to his fingertips, the sword trembling faintly in its sheath—impatient, as if yearning for blood.
His heightened talent let him not only read the enemy's moves but also find the perfect counter in a single instant.
The demon moved.
Just as Tomioka Giyu had predicted, the demon lunged left first, whipping up a foul gust as its claws slashed straight toward his face.
The little girl screamed softly and squeezed her eyes shut, covering her ears.
Giyu didn't move—not until the demon's claws were less than a foot away.
Instead of retreating, he stepped forward.
His feet crossed lightly, body lowering as his hand drew the blade.
No wasted motion—so fast the draw couldn't even be seen.
A single sharp sound split the air, like water gliding over stone.
A faint blue flash cut through the dusk—so swift it almost seemed like an illusion.
The demon froze mid-pounce.
Its body stayed suspended in its attack stance, its grin stiffened, yellow eyes filled with disbelief.
A thin red line appeared across its neck, widening quickly.
"Psshh—"
Blood burst forth, splattering the ground.
Its head tumbled from its shoulders, rolled a few times, and stopped at Giyu's feet—eyes still wide open, as if it couldn't understand how it had died.
Its body fell heavily, twitched twice, then began to rot at incredible speed until it turned to black ash, scattered away by the evening wind.
All of it happened in a single instant.
Giyu slid his sword back into its sheath, the motion smooth and natural.
There wasn't even much blood on the blade—only a faint mist of red that shimmered in the sunset before fading away.
He looked down at his hand.
The strike he had just used was Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash.
But unlike before, he had instinctively adjusted the blade's angle and force at the moment of attack—so the edge sliced cleanly through the demon's neck with the least resistance, avoiding unnecessary blood spray.
That kind of precision… he'd never had it before.
'So this is the effect of my improved talent?'
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Now wasn't the time to think about that.
Turning around, he looked at the girl behind him.
She still had her eyes tightly shut, her small body trembling. Only after the silence stretched on did she peek through a slit in her fingers.
Seeing the bloodstains and black ash, she looked up at him, voice trembling. "Big brother… that monster… is it dead?"
"Yeah. It's dead."
She blinked, then suddenly burst into tears—not from fear, but release.
Between sobs, she stammered, "Mama… did that monster… eat Mama too?"
Giyu said nothing.
Some things, even with a second chance, couldn't be changed.
He crouched and gently patted her back. The motion was awkward; he wasn't used to gestures like this.
"Don't cry," he said clumsily. "You'll see her again someday."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She cried for a while longer, then finally stopped, wiping her tears with her sleeve. She looked up at him and said softly, "Big brother, you're amazing."
Giyu didn't reply. He stood, scanning the surroundings.
The noise from the fight must have drawn attention—glints of eyes peeked through cracks in the doors around them.
He walked to the pharmacy door and knocked.
It opened quickly. A weary-looking middle-aged man peered out.
When he saw Giyu, he froze for a moment—then caught sight of his daughter behind him. His face went pale. "Yuki! You ran outside again!"
"Father, this big brother saved me! He killed the monster!"
The girl rushed forward and hugged his leg.
The man's gaze followed hers to the blood and ashes on the ground. His face drained of color.
Then his eyes fell on Giyu's Nichirin Sword. Understanding dawned, and he bowed deeply. "Thank you… thank you, warrior-sama!"
Giyu nodded once. "There may be more in the abandoned house deep in the west alley. Take care of it."
The man nodded repeatedly. "Yes, yes, we will handle it right away."
Giyu said nothing else. He turned and left the pharmacy. Gratitude wasn't what he needed—his task was done.
He walked back toward the edge of town.
The sun had already set. Darkness gathered as lights began to flicker on in the houses. Some people even opened their doors slightly, watching his retreating figure in silence.
Giyu didn't stop.
The battle had been easier than expected—he hadn't even needed a second strike.
His improved swordsmanship was far beyond what he had imagined.
It strengthened his resolve for what lay ahead.
He quickened his pace.
By his calculations, in three years, he would meet Kamado Tanjiro.
He had to reach that place before then.
And there was something else he needed to do.
Sabito and Makomo's memorial day was next month.
Last time, he'd missed it because of a mission.
This time, he would go back.
Tomioka Giyu's silhouette faded at the edge of town. The night breeze carried a faint chill.
Behind him, the lights of Nanae Town slowly came alive again—like stars rekindled one by one.
Ahead of him lay deeper darkness, and a fate waiting to be rewritten.