Chapter 189: Inosuke: I'm Going to Be the Boss
It wasn't that Inosuke had lost his vigilance due to hunger and anger. He had simply come to terms with reality. During their brief exchange moments ago, Kanzaki Akira could have easily killed him in countless ways. Yet, here he was, still breathing. That alone proved Akira had no intention of taking his life. Aside from his life, Inosuke couldn't think of a single thing he possessed that these strangers would want.
, it wasn't just Akira who posed a threat. The man who could materialize silently behind him and casually track the movement of his internal organs was terrifying enough. But standing right next to him was a towering giant. The sheer mass of the blind monk radiated an overwhelming pressure, making it abundantly clear he was not someone to trifle with. Inosuke knew perfectly well that if these two decided to force his hand, his resistance would be entirely futile. In that case, he might as well tag along. What if they actually turned out to be decent people and offered him a meal?
"Do I look like a bad person?" Akira asked, his tone perfectly mild.
"What kind of good person suddenly appears behind someone and stares straight at their beating heart?!" Inosuke snapped back, his voice muffled by the boar hide.
"Ah, fair point," Akira conceded with a slight nod.
'Is this guy an idiot?' Inosuke thought, tilting his masked head.
Akira merely raised an eyebrow in response.
The rest of the journey fell into a strange, heavy silence. Inosuke was naturally rowdy, a wild force of nature who thrived on noise and chaos. Yet, ever since Akira and Gyomei deactivated the See-Through World, the residual aura they unintentionally emitted kept the mountain boy completely in check. It felt as though two apex predators were casually strolling beside him. Had it been anyone else, Inosuke would have launched a sneak attack from the bushes miles ago.
Gyomei walked with his prayer beads in hand. Though the Stone Hashira harbored a gentle curiosity toward the feral boy, he was never one to initiate idle chatter. Instead, he silently chanted sutras, his mind wandering to the potentially tragic circumstances that could force a child to be raised by beasts in the unforgiving wilderness.
Akira, on the other hand, already knew the broad strokes of Inosuke's history. His mind was currently occupied with figuring out the smoothest way to rope the wild boy into the Demon Slayer Corps. According to the original timeline, Inosuke was supposed to stumble upon a low-ranking Corps member, beat him up, steal his Nichirin Blade, and force the poor guy to explain the existence of demons, the Corps, and Breathing Styles. From there, Inosuke would rely entirely on his raw instincts to forge Beast Breathing, march straight up Mt. Fujikasane to pass the Final Selection, and eventually form an unbreakable bond with Tanjiro and the others.
Akira could hardly suppress a sigh when he thought about that original sequence of events. The sheer absurdity of an official swordsman casually leaking highly classified Corps information to a feral mountain boy was almost too ridiculous to critique. A trained slayer, someone who had survived the grueling Final Selection and mastered a Breathing Style, getting his Nichirin Blade stolen by a wild kid in a boar mask. It defied all logic. Even if the swordsman had held back to avoid harming a civilian, losing a Nichirin Blade—a slayer's literal lifeline—was unforgivable.
Then again, Akira recalled how Tanjiro had once hurled his own Nichirin Blade like a javelin in a fit of pure rage. He shook his head. The world truly was just one giant, chaotic stage.
Naturally, things had changed. Because Akira had previously designated the territory surrounding the Eternal Paradise Cult as a strictly restricted zone for standard slayers, Inosuke hadn't encountered a single Corps member before today. He remained completely ignorant of demons and the organization that hunted them. As a direct result of Akira's interference, the boar boy who was supposed to bypass the higher-ups entirely had run face-first into Akira's elite group, who were currently returning from a fruitless ambush on Douma.
Akira couldn't help but marvel at the complex, unpredictable threads of fate. It was precisely these bizarre, overlapping coincidences that made people believe in higher powers pulling the strings from above.
As his thoughts drifted, the outline of their destination finally came into view. Akira shook his head, clearing away the philosophical musings that did nothing but complicate his day. It was time to focus on the truly important matters. Namely, what they were going to eat. In the grand scheme of the world, a good meal reigned supreme. In that particular philosophy, Akira and Mitsuri were absolute soulmates.
A loud, wet slurp broke the silence. Despite a desperate attempt to suppress it, the sound of drool being sucked back echoed clearly, accompanied by Inosuke's increasingly heavy, ragged breathing. Thick white steam actually puffed out from the snout of his hollowed-out boar mask.
The source of his intense agitation was laid out right in front of him: a massive table groaning under the weight of a lavish feast. Inosuke could swear to the mountain gods that he had never seen such a magnificent spread in his entire life. Even Takaharu's family, the humans who had occasionally fed him scraps and taught him to speak, only survived on simple, coarse grains and vegetables.
Inosuke didn't mean to look down on simple food, but having steaming, perfectly roasted meats and rich delicacies shoved right under his nose made it nearly impossible to maintain his composure.
Yet, to save face, or perhaps to cling to his last shred of stubborn pride, Inosuke forced his head away. He crossed his arms, trying to project the aloof, untouchable aura of the true King of the Mountains. But even with his eyes averted, the rich, savory aromas aggressively invaded his nostrils. The scent of roasted glaze and savory broth filled the inside of his mask, making him feel as though he were being physically marinated in the smell of food.
"Eat up. What are you waiting for?"
Akira patted the boy's tense shoulder, causing Inosuke to jolt in surprise. Akira paid the reaction no mind. He simply pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table alongside Gyomei, casually preparing his chopsticks.
"Hey! You, the Ghost!" Inosuke suddenly bellowed, pointing a trembling finger at Akira.
"Ghost? Me?" Akira paused, glancing left and right before pointing a chopstick at his own chest. He couldn't quite fathom how Inosuke had arrived at that particular title. Even if he hadn't formally introduced himself yet, being called an actual ghost felt like a stretch.
"Yes, you! The guy who appeared behind me without a single sound! This Great Me wants to challenge you!"
"Challenge me to what, exactly?" Akira asked, momentarily speechless now that he understood the logic behind the nickname.
"An eating contest! Whoever eats the most is the boss from now on!"
"Huh?" Akira blinked, genuinely startled. It wasn't the nature of the contest that caught him off guard, but the absurd wager of being the boss.
"What? You and that giant dragged me all the way here and ordered a mountain of food. Isn't this just to bribe me? I know I can't escape anyway, but I'm going to be the boss!"
Inosuke declared this with absolute conviction, completely oblivious to the glaring contradiction between admitting he couldn't escape and demanding to be the leader.
Still, Akira had to admit the boy's feral intuition was razor-sharp. Inosuke likely proposed this ridiculous contest to secure a sliver of authority and prevent his freedom from being entirely stripped away. As for why he challenged Akira instead of Gyomei? That was simple survival instinct. One look at the Stone Hashira's mountainous physique told Inosuke he had zero chance of out-eating the monk. Akira, while tall and athletic, still looked like a normal human. Inosuke figured his own starving stomach gave him the absolute advantage.
"Fine, let's have a contest then. Gyomei will be the judge." Akira didn't bother arguing, simply nodding his agreement with a faint, amused smile.
"Very well," Gyomei rumbled, giving a solemn nod.
The moment the terms were set, Inosuke whipped off his boar mask, revealing his startlingly feminine face, and launched himself at the table. He began wolfing down the food with terrifying speed, completely ignoring the possibility that the appointed judge might just be slightly biased.
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