Chapter 9: Traitor
At that moment, a group of men suddenly leapt from both sides of the alley and tackled Akira to the ground.
"Don't move! You're the one who just committed murder!"
The soldiers, clearly lying in ambush, pinned Akira down without hesitation.
Akira's expression was dazed. He didn't resist as they forced him to the ground.
One soldier checked Akito's body and stood up, voice cold and emotionless. "Report: another body. Dead."
The leading officer looked down at Akira, his gaze icy. "Take him away. Bury the corpse somewhere—anywhere."
Take him away?
Akira snapped back to his senses. No—he couldn't let them take him away!
He couldn't let them dispose of Akito like this.
He still had unfinished business.
He couldn't die yet.
There were things more important than his own life!
In a sudden burst of motion, Akira twisted free from under the soldiers, snatched a blade, and slashed one man's throat before the others could even react.
Though his injured hand made it difficult to battle demons, killing a few ordinary humans—untrained and without Breathing Techniques—was no challenge for someone like him.
To Akira, their movements were sluggish, like slow motion. He could read their next attack just by watching the way their muscles tensed.
It was like watching an adult swat aside children.
In seconds, every soldier lay dead.
Panting heavily, Akira stared at the bodies around him, his eyes bloodshot.
"Akito... I won't let you die in vain. Whoever did this to you... I'll make them pay. A thousand times over!"
---
"Thunder Breathing, Third Form—Thunder Swarm!"
A demon screamed as it collapsed to the ground, its body disintegrating to ash.
A Demon Slayer wiped the sweat from his brow. "Finally! That one wasn't easy."
Another Slayer grinned. "Good thing we went together. No way I could've handled that alone."
"Let's head back."
The two turned to leave, unaware of a figure stepping out from the shadows behind them.
They sensed something too late. Spinning around—
A blade sliced silently through the air, and two heads fell before either could scream.
The demon was already dead. Now, so were the demon slayers.
---
"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
That day, crows across the Demon Slayer Corps cried out in unison, delivering a dire message.
> "Alert! Former Demon Slayer Akira has betrayed the Corps. He has attacked and killed Demon Slayer members. Any Corps member who encounters him is authorized to kill on sight!"
---
I was never a good person.
My master once told me my heart burned like a flame.
Now, I've buried that heart completely.
---
"Caw."
Mingzhu looked up in confusion. A crow circled overhead, watching him closely before landing on a nearby branch.
Something about the way it stared made Mingzhu uneasy.
He picked up a stone and hurled it at the bird. It flapped away just before impact.
"Damn crow..." he muttered, turning to move forward—then froze.
A figure stood a few meters ahead, cloaked in a dark robe, their face hidden in shadow.
Though he couldn't see the person clearly, Mingzhu instinctively knew—this man meant danger.
"Who goes there?"
He reached for his sword.
A voice—familiar yet distorted—answered:
"Mingzhu... do you still recognize my face?"
Mingzhu squinted—and his pupils shrank.
"You…!"
Akira stepped into the light, smiling.
"Surprised to see me?"
Mingzhu's teeth clenched. "Traitor! You murdered Qingyu!"
"I never betrayed the Corps. The Corps betrayed me first."
Akira's voice was calm—chillingly so. "And as for Qingyu... sorry. I've killed too many lately. Can't remember that one."
"He was my disciple!"
"Then I suppose my luck's been good."
Akira chuckled coldly. "But I didn't kill him. You did—when you spread rumors about me and my master. You doomed your own disciples the moment you opened your mouth."
"Those weren't rumors. The evidence was real!"
"Then they deserved to die."
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"
"Sun Breathing, First Form: Dance of the Fire God!"
The two clashed, the impact sparking a burst of fire.
At close range, Mingzhu sneered. "Your grip's soft. Looks like the doctor was right—you're a cripple now. Can't even hold a blade."
He tightened his strike and flung Akira away.
"I'll clean up this mess myself!"
He surged forward with a flash of lightning.
"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!"
Akira gritted his teeth. The pressure from the Thunder Pillar was overwhelming—his injured wrist couldn't keep up.
One careless step, and the attack connected. Akira's body staggered backward.
Mingzhu laughed. "How long do you think you can hold out?"
But Akira wasn't done. He ripped off the scorched remnants of his sleeve, revealing a muscular arm—rigorously trained despite the injury.
Mingzhu narrowed his eyes. That's when he saw it.
Akira hadn't held the Nichirin blade at all.
He had tied it—bound it tightly to his forearm.
He was using sheer force and precision from his arm movements to wield the Sun Blade.
Mingzhu, unwilling to admit his awe, still muttered under his breath:
"You lunatic..."
"Caw! Caw!"
Above, his crow cried out in warning. Another Pillar was approaching.
Time was running out.
Akira had come to kill Mingzhu. He couldn't afford to hesitate.
His Sun Breathing attacks became reckless, furious. A technique designed to kill demons was now turned against his own comrades.
What would Master Yoriichi say if he saw this?
Mingzhu grunted. Akira fought like a beast—like a mad dog. Dodging when he could, but often tanking hits just to land his own.
The result? Mingzhu was slashed dozens of times.
But Akira's wounds were worse.
"Come on! Let's see who breaks first!"
Fueled by rage, Mingzhu charged again. No dodging. No defense. Just raw, brutal exchanges.
"Caw! Caw!"
Another warning.
The next Pillar was almost here.
Akira was growing desperate. He'd miscalculated. His arm—his weakness—was holding him back.
Mingzhu saw it and laughed. "What's wrong, boy? You losing your edge?"
Akira met his gaze. "I'll kill you one day. Don't be impatient."
"Better hurry," Mingzhu sneered.
"You forgot, didn't you? Those with Demon Slayer Marks die before twenty-five. You're already twenty-four."
"What!?"
Akira's eyes widened—a split second too long.
Mingzhu struck. The blade sliced into Akira's abdomen. He stumbled back, then vanished into the shadows of the forest.
"Don't run!"
Mingzhu gave chase—but after two steps, he collapsed.
A deep gash across his leg stopped him cold.
"Damn it...!"
Akira was gone.
---
"Thunder Pillar!"
A voice called out.
Mingzhu turned—and exhaled in relief.
"Rengoku."
The Flame Pillar arrived, fire-like hair swaying. "What happened? Were you attacked by a demon?"
"No..."
Mingzhu's voice was dark. "It was that traitor."
"Akira?"
Rengoku's expression hardened.
"You actually ran into him!?"
"I nearly killed him—but he got away."
Rengoku frowned. "Mingzhu... didn't the Master say we should capture Akira alive? Bring him back?"
Mingzhu's eyes burned. "No. That monster must die."