That night, by the stove fire in Sakonji's cabin.
Maybe it was the sparring earlier that afternoon, the kind that left bruises but also stitched trust together. Maybe it was simply that strength, once proven, earned its own kind of seat at the table.
Either way, with warm bellies and tired bodies, the three of them ended up talking in an unusually relaxed mood.
The fire crackled. Kettle steam drifted up in a thin ribbon. Outside, the mountain mist pressed softly against the windows, and the whole cabin felt like a small island of warmth inside a sea of cold.
Sabito, sitting a little closer than usual, asked with clear curiosity.
"Natsuo senpai, you've already killed demons, right? What did it feel like?"
Compared to Natsuo, the two who had not yet left the mountain were still strangers to that moment.
Sakonji sometimes told them stories from the past, but an old man's memories and a young swordsman's first experience were different things. Sabito wanted to hear it from someone closer to his own age.
Even Giyu, who pretended not to care, quietly leaned in and listened.
Natsuo thought for a second, as if searching for the right word.
"The feeling?"
He made a grip with both hands like he was holding a blade, then swung toward the fire as if an invisible Nichirin sword was in his hands.
The flame wavered, shadows flickering across the cabin walls.
"It's harder than cutting a wooden target."
He shrugged, voice calm, like he was describing a training drill.
"At the start there isn't much resistance, then when you hit something tougher it feels more like biting into something crunchy."
Sabito froze.
That was… a lot more direct than he was ready for.
Giyu, deadpan as always, managed to mutter a perfectly timed complaint.
"I never want to eat crunchy meat again."
Natsuo changed posture like he was switching topics in a meeting.
"But seriously, besides the feel, there are things you need to pay attention to when you fight a demon. You'll need to remember this later."
He lifted a finger, as if making a list.
"It's not like cutting a post or a rock."
"A demon's neck is the weakness, but it's not a fixed target. In a fight, they move. They dodge. They protect it. They try to trick you into swinging early."
"So when the opening appears, it's gone in an instant. You can't hesitate."
Sabito pictured it. A humanoid monster twisting and lunging, refusing to stay still, and a single window of time where the blade had to land.
His throat tightened.
Then he asked the question he had been circling since the start.
"Natsuo senpai… the first time you killed one, did you feel uncomfortable? Did you hesitate?"
He wasn't asking because he doubted Natsuo.
He was asking because he feared himself.
Because he also worried about Giyu, who carried too much silence inside him. The kind of silence that could turn into a fatal pause at the worst moment.
Natsuo answered immediately.
"Of course not."
He said it like it was obvious, like it didn't even deserve debate.
And in his mind, it really was obvious. He had fought human shaped monsters in other games countless times. He had swung weapons at things that screamed and moved and tried to kill him. The mindset was already there.
Also, if he was being honest, the first demon barely registered. He moved too fast. There was no room for emotion.
"They're demons. They eat people."
"It's not like you're cutting a person."
"And if you feel uneasy, then don't drag it out. Be clean and decisive. Sending them off quickly is better."
"Besides, demons don't feel pain the way humans do. Just cut them down."
Sabito and Giyu looked at each other.
Is that… really how it works?
If Natsuo said it so confidently, then maybe it was.
They both remembered the fragments Sakonji had mentioned about Natsuo.
Someone like that would never show mercy to demons. Someone like that would never freeze.
And suddenly, their own question felt soft, almost childish.
Sabito straightened slightly and nodded.
"I understand."
He touched the edge of his fox mask, quietly committing Natsuo's words to memory.
Natsuo continued, as if the conversation had shifted from feelings to strategy.
"Oh, and there's something else. Demon types. You need to watch for that."
Sabito tilted his head.
"Types?"
"Yeah. My own classification."
Natsuo nodded. He spoke like someone explaining a system he had already organized in his mind.
"I split them into two categories. Stat monsters and gimmick monsters."
There were those strange words again. The foreign terms that only existed in Natsuo's world.
They didn't fully understand them, but both boys focused harder anyway, trying to memorize the sounds, the idea, the warning.
And Natsuo started to lay out what he had observed about the "red enemies" he had faced.
Stat monsters were the majority. Demons that relied on raw physical ability.
No flashy blood arts. No strange tricks. Just overwhelming strength, speed, regeneration, durability, and sheer violence.
Most of the demons Natsuo had met, and most of the reports other swordsmen talked about, fell into this category.
In another kind of game, they would be the warrior type.
But that didn't mean they were harmless.
When something simple was pushed to an extreme, it became terrifying.
A monster with absurd strength plus refined fighting instincts.
A demon whose body mutated in a specific way, hardened bones like steel, limbs shaped like blades, regeneration that refused to slow.
Any single trait could push them into a completely different level.
Natsuo had not met a truly extreme one yet, but he could imagine it clearly.
A warrior demon with high stats, great technique, a massive skill set, and a neck so tough it punished your blade.
One swing and your sword might break while the demon barely flinched.
Then there were gimmick monsters.
These demons didn't always have top tier physical ability, but they possessed blood arts that were absurdly special, sometimes downright unfair.
Not the simple kind that threw elemental attacks.
But the kind that rewrote the rules of the fight.
Like the demon Natsuo had faced, the one whose touch damaged weapons.
Or the kinds Sakonji and Kazami had mentioned in passing.
Abilities that twisted the battlefield itself.
A zone where gravity grew heavier and heavier until you could barely move.
A technique that scrambled your senses, so you couldn't tell up from down, left from right.
Natsuo didn't say it out loud, but the thought was obvious.
If ordinary demons already had this much variety, then the elite ones would be nightmares.
The Twelve Kizuki, and the final boss, Kibutsuji Muzan.
Natsuo was almost willing to bet his entire gaming life on it.
Those would be the kind of enemies that had both stats and gimmicks maxed out.
Sabito and Giyu listened, their faces slowly tightening as the implications sank in.
When Natsuo described that weapon breaking ability, both of them went quiet.
They had never imagined a situation that humiliating.
They had always pictured demon slaying as a straightforward battle.
Clash, struggle, find an opening, cut.
But this?
This sounded like being dragged into a fight where your own tools betrayed you.
Sabito's voice came out careful.
"Then… how did you deal with it back then, senpai?"
He tried to place himself in that scenario.
If his Nichirin sword broke at the critical moment, he honestly couldn't see a path forward.
Giyu, too, was thinking the same thing.
If Sabito would struggle, then what about him?
But Natsuo was sitting here, alive, uninjured.
So there had to be an answer.
"There are common solutions," Natsuo said.
"Stall. Hold on until sunrise. Or call for support."
Sabito nodded automatically.
That made sense. Survive, buy time, let the sun finish the job.
Giyu also murmured, "The sun."
But Natsuo rejected it immediately.
"No. I'm not wasting an entire night on a single minor enemy."
Giyu blinked, confused.
Sabito leaned forward.
"Then how did you kill it?"
Natsuo answered like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"By cutting its head off faster than it could use its blood art."
Both boys froze.
They understood the words, but the meaning didn't settle.
That was like saying, just be faster than the unfair ability. As if that was a normal answer.
Sabito frowned.
"But didn't you say your sword broke?"
Natsuo looked at him like Sabito had asked why the sky was blue.
"A broken sword still has a piece left."
Silence.
Sabito and Giyu didn't know what to say.
Somehow the logic was undeniable.
Somehow the idea was insane.
Natsuo, seeing their expressions, added casually.
"It's fine if you can't do that yet."
"Bring more swords. Give yourself more room to adapt. You might find another way."
Sabito let out a small, strained laugh.
"But swordsmen usually only have one Nichirin sword. If it breaks, it's really hard to finish the demon."
Natsuo didn't agree.
He lifted his hand and started counting on his fingers, like he was laying out a simple equation.
"Think about it."
"If you run into a demon that can break your sword, whether by blood art or raw toughness, that means it's strong, right?"
Sabito and Giyu nodded.
"And if it's strong, then it's likely other swordsmen fought it too."
They nodded again.
"And if other swordsmen fought it… some probably died."
Sabito's eyes narrowed as he started to understand where this was going.
"Senpai, you mean…"
Natsuo nodded with a tiny smile.
"Pick up the drops. If your teammate's gear is on the ground, and you don't grab it and keep fighting, that's a waste."
Sabito and Giyu stared at him.
They had never heard demon slaying described like looting.
Sabito hesitated.
"But that's a dead swordsman's weapon. Using it so casually, isn't it…"
Natsuo cut him off without mercy.
"Why wouldn't you use it? If you lose to a demon because of some fake pride, you think those dead swordsmen would be happy?"
"If they could talk, they'd stand up and curse you for being stubborn."
Sabito inhaled sharply.
When he thought about it, it was hard to refute.
If you carried their blade and survived, then their fight continued through you.
That sounded more like respect than disrespect.
Natsuo nodded toward the corner near his belongings, where several swords rested.
"You see those three?"
"They're all from the final selection. I picked them up."
Sabito's posture changed instantly.
He sat straighter and performed a serious bow toward the swords.
"Thank you… for fighting demons. You worked hard."
He was still traditional at heart. He believed a blade carried spirit and memory.
Giyu, who rarely spoke, whispered something that sounded oddly relieved.
"So senpai isn't a weird person."
Sabito hurriedly explained, worried Natsuo might take it the wrong way.
"What Giyu means is, he thought you were using multiple swords on purpose, like some three sword style…"
Natsuo rolled his eyes.
"If I wanted to do something flashy, it'd be two swords."
"I don't have three hands."
The cabin fire popped softly.
Sabito's shoulders loosened a fraction.
Giyu looked down, quietly thinking.
Somewhere in the middle of all this ridiculous talk, something important had formed.
Natsuo's way of speaking was strange, sometimes blunt, sometimes absurd.
But underneath it was a simple rule.
Live.
Win.
And if you can, take everything the battlefield gives you and turn it into a weapon.
For the first time, the two boys felt like demon slaying wasn't just about forms and breathing.
It was about decision making.
And that made the future feel both more frightening, and strangely, more controllable.
(End of Chapter)
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