Sakoma Iori didn't have any particularly outstanding talents.
Her sense of smell was dull, her hearing about average, and while her eyesight was a bit better than most, in a foggy environment like this, it didn't help much.
So she could only pick one direction where the demon might have gone and search that way.
The rest was left to Takeo, whose five senses were far sharper than hers.
Once they'd decided their respective search directions, neither of them wasted time. They split up into the mist without another word.
Iori sprinted in the direction where the demon woman had last vanished, scanning for any sign of her trail.
The baby's crying had stopped. It was unclear whether the infant had cried itself to sleep… or had already fallen victim to the demon.
Iori hoped it was the former. After all, if the demon had truly intended to eat the baby, there would've been no reason to delay.
And considering how she had used the infant as a shield, treating it like a protective charm, it was reasonable to assume the child was still unharmed—for now.
But the longer they took, the greater the risk.
"…Come to think of it, why did that demon keep calling that annoying brat her 'child'?"
As she ran, Iori found herself pondering that strange question.
Even though she kept calling Takeo "brat this" and "brat that," the truth was… he wasn't actually much shorter than she was. At a glance, they were both clearly still kids.
And yet—that demon had only fixated on Takeo, paying Iori no attention at all.
That weeping, sorrowful voice of hers… if someone had only heard it without seeing the situation, they might have actually believed she and Takeo were related. To be fair—Iori had assumed exactly that at first.
"…Wait—is this… cloth?"
In the middle of her search, Iori really did stumble upon a clue.
A torn piece of pale green fabric, nearly blending into the surrounding environment. It was so well camouflaged, she had almost overlooked it completely.
Fortunately, her eyesight was sharp—and her sensitivity to color a little stronger than most—which helped her catch it just in time.
If that loudmouthed brat had come this way instead… he probably would've walked right past it.
It did look a lot like a leaf, after all.
"…Is it this way, then?"
Iori looked to the side.
The spot where the fabric had fallen veered off from her original path, straying from where she had been heading—but that only made her more certain.
The demon had gone this way.
Without a moment's hesitation, Iori changed direction and dashed toward where the fabric had led her.
"All thanks to that brat's slash, tearing off part of her clothing… Seriously though, he's really strong."
Following the trail of green fabric scraps, Iori continued along the correct path—silently marveling at Takeo's ability as she ran.
He had sliced apart the demon's attack in an instant—striking cloth she hadn't even seen clearly—and the lingering force of his wind had even torn away part of her clothing, leaving behind a trail. That was something Iori absolutely couldn't have done.
He might be young, but that kind of talent… it was beyond normal.
If only she had that kind of gift too…
"Waaah~~!!"
A loud, shrill baby's cry snapped Iori out of her thoughts. She jerked her head up, eyes locking on the foggy outline ahead.
Through the heavy mist, a small wooden cabin gradually came into view.
The crying—it was coming from inside.
And not just one voice.
Realizing that there might be more than one baby inside the cabin, Iori's expression grew tense.
Her heart suddenly felt very heavy.
She approached the cabin cautiously, inching closer before gently pushing open the slightly ajar door. What she saw inside made her pupils contract sharply.
One… two… three, four!
Four children of varying ages were suspended in the air, wrapped tightly in fabric.
The cloth, like makeshift swaddles, hung them from the ceiling. The oldest couldn't have been more than three years old, while the youngest—barely even a year, perhaps—was just an infant.
And then there was the baby in the demon's arms.
Five.
A total of five children had become the demon's hostages.
The cries had come from one of the suspended children—his wails had roused the others, triggering a chain of loud, pitiful sobs.
At the center of it all sat the demon woman, holding her "protective charm" of an infant in her arms, gently cooing to the others.
"Don't cry, don't cry, my sweet little ones… There, there… Mama's here… Mama's here..."
"You must be hungry, right? That's why you're crying… Don't worry… Mama brought you something to eat… ah."
As she spoke those last words, she suddenly turned her head—Her eyes locked directly onto the doorway.
The moment her eyes met Iori's, the demon woman's lips curled upward in a twisted grin.Clear drool dripped from the corner of her mouth.
"…Fresh food… has arrived."
"..."
This is bad!
The instant their gazes locked, Iori felt a jolt of alarm rush through her body.
And her instincts were spot-on.
Because the very next second—every strip of fabric inside the cabin came alive.
Like snakes poised to constrict and crush their prey, the cloth lashes surged toward Iori in a deadly wave!
Blood Demon Art: Cloth Dance!
...
"Ugh… that stench—"
Elsewhere in the forest, Takeo wrinkled his nose, following the increasingly foul odor wafting through the air.
He hadn't joined Iori in her direction because he was convinced the demon wouldn't flee in a straight line.
Instead of searching blindly, Takeo had chosen to track the faint residual scent lingering in the air—hoping it would lead him straight to her.
Now, moving steadily through the trees, he was honing in on the strongest source of the demon's rot-like stench.
The trail was getting clearer—and closer.
The farther Takeo moved forward, the stronger the stench became—so foul that not even the dense mist could block it out.
That could only mean one thing: He was close!
Or so Takeo had thought.
But when he reached the source of the stench, he came to a halt—his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared ahead.
Corpses.
Corpses.
And more corpses.
The overwhelming smell hadn't come from the demon—but from a mass grave filled with rotting bodies.
It wasn't unusual to find human corpses in places where demons lurked.
But this… this was different.
What shocked Takeo wasn't just the number—but the size.
These human remains were young. So young, in fact, that calling them "young" felt like an understatement.
The largest body he could see didn't even match half the size of his own.
Their small bodies had been gnawed on—ripped apart—and left to rot. The demon hadn't consumed them completely.
It was as if she'd simply taken a few bites out of each one… and then tossed them aside like discarded snacks.
"Why… didn't the Demon Slayer Corps notice this…"
There were so many child-sized corpses piled in the pit that a rough estimate put the number at dozens.
With so many missing children, it should have drawn the Corps' attention long ago. So why was this demon still alive?
No—wait!
Suddenly, something in the pit caught Takeo's eye.
Nichirin swords....
Someone's Nichirin Blade had been discarded—tossed carelessly among the bones, half-buried beneath the corpses.
Three swords in total—some broken, others shattered—strewn across the pit alongside the remains.
The Demon Slayer Corps had come here.
Their members had arrived.
But they'd been killed—and eaten.
All that remained were these ruined blades.
Even official slayers had died here…
"Sakoma Iori—!!"
Takeo's pupils contracted sharply.
In an instant, he remembered—Iori was searching the other side of the forest.
If even official Demon Slayers had died here… Then if Sakoma Iori encountered that demon—
She might not survive!
The thought flashed through Takeo's mind in an instant.
Without hesitation, he dropped to the ground, pressing his nose close to the soil to catch any lingering trace of the demon's scent.
If the demon frequently came here to dispose of corpses, that meant her lair couldn't be far. There had to be a scent trail left behind.
If he could just pick it up—
"Got it—!"
Thank you, Uncle Logan. Thank you for this heightened sense of smell.
It was faint—but still detectable. A lingering trail of that rotting, demonic odor buried in the dirt.
Takeo sprinted forward at full speed, following the scent without hesitation.
He didn't particularly like Sakoma Iori. The girl had bickered with him nonstop from the moment they met.
But even so—she didn't deserve to die here.
Sakoma Iori… you'd better not have run into that demon.But if you did—You damn well better hang on until I get there.
With that thought blazing in his heart, Takeo charged toward the demon's location.
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