Shirou Emiya — Doesn't Want to Work Overtime!

The supposedly unbreakable nichirin blade seemed to turn to paper in her mouth. In just a few bites, she swallowed it whole.

"That sword is forged from ore that holds the power of the sun—can she really handle it?"

Before Rengoku Kyōjurō could even finish his thought, Asakusa Kaori clutched her stomach and began writhing on the ground in agony.

She looked just like a child who'd eaten something she shouldn't have, her face twisted with pain.

Seeing Kaori suffer so much, Rengoku wanted nothing more than to draw another nichirin blade and cut through her neck then and there.

But there was a problem—he didn't have his sword anymore.

He quickly blew his whistle. Under the moonlight, a black shadow dropped from the sky, slicing through the air like a bullet.

"Tell the support team—I need a nichirin blade now."

Whenever a Hashira was dispatched, there was usually a support squad nearby. After all, the demons a Hashira faced were usually so dangerous that the aftermath required specialized cleanup.

They couldn't just leave behind a trail of devastation and blame it all on "natural disasters"—not when civilians' homes and lives were at stake.

Normally, support teams would never intervene directly in a battle; they waited far from the frontline and only arrived when called by a Hashira's messenger crow.

They lacked the combat skills of the Demon Slayer Corps. If they rushed in, they'd only distract the Hashira—or worse, become food for the demon, or let the target escape.

So the support teams always kept their distance unless summoned.

But this was a special case: the Flame Hashira's sword had been eaten. They had to hurry and bring him a replacement.

Of course, these teams were made up of ordinary people, untrained in Breathing Techniques. It would take time for them to reach the battlefield.

Watching the demon rolling in pain, Rengoku was anxious. Part of him hoped that eating the nichirin blade would work like wisteria poison and kill her instantly. But seeing her still so lively, he knew it was only a matter of time before she finished digesting it.

A nichirin blade was not the same as wisteria—unless it cut off a demon's head, it couldn't kill them. Any wound elsewhere would just heal, whereas wisteria, in high enough doses, could dissolve a demon completely.

So eating a nichirin blade just tore up her insides for a while, but wasn't enough to kill her.

"Rengoku-san, your sword's here!"

After helping the support team evacuate the civilians, Shirou hurried over.

While clearing out the crowd, the support team had met with plenty of resistance—most people didn't believe their warnings and just kept doing as they pleased. Some even tried to drive them out of the hanamachi by force.

There were simply too many residents; the support team couldn't handle them all.

But once Shirou appeared, everyone's attitude shifted in an instant. Even those who disagreed could only go along with the majority and follow the Demon Slayer Corps' instructions to evacuate.

With the support team's help, Shirou cleared out the area quickly. Not seeing Rengoku-san anywhere, he decided to head straight over.

"Wait! If you're going, take these—one for yourself, and one for Rengoku-san."

Seeing how agile Shirou was, the support team naturally assumed he was a Demon Slayer.

"Is that so? Thank you, Shirou!"

Rengoku caught the red nichirin blade Shirou tossed to him. He also noticed the crimson sword in Shirou's own hand—clearly, it had come from the support squad.

Just then, as Shirou arrived, Kaori seemed to finish digesting the sword inside her. She slowly pushed herself upright, several jet-black serpents coiling around her.

"Kaori!?"

Shirou was shaken. It was the same girl he'd walked with through the streets just last night. How—

"You know her, Shirou?" Rengoku asked, picking up on Shirou's reaction.

"I walked with her last night. Back then, she was still human…"

Shirou could barely get the words out. How had such a lively, cheerful girl turned into a demon overnight—and one that had devoured hundreds of people?

Muzan…

Rengoku's mind flashed with the name. Only demons created by Muzan himself gained such terrifying strength so quickly. His heart sank.

Any demon created by Muzan was almost certain to become an Upper Moon. This threat had to be ended now, before it could grow any further.

Gripping his new nichirin blade tightly, Rengoku's expression turned grim.

"Shirou, you haven't mastered Breathing yet. This fight—"

Shirou cut him off.

"Rengoku-san, I'm grateful to you. If it weren't for your guidance, I'd still be stuck obsessing over how to master Breathing, never realizing I could discover my own style."

"You've found your own Breathing?" Rengoku was surprised.

Shirou nodded. As he'd evacuated the crowds, he'd tried matching his breathing to the flow of his prana. Suddenly, everything had clicked—his whole body felt light, his breath smooth and natural.

For a moment, it was like he stood in a field full of swords—but the vision vanished in a blink, pulling him back to reality.

Not only was his breathing more fluid, he felt a new circuit open up inside him. His reserves of prana seemed to grow by the second.

"You really are gifted!"

Rengoku was delighted, no longer trying to stop Shirou from joining the fight.

By his own judgment, this demon's actual fighting ability was lower than most without even a blood demon art—aside from her bizarre power, Kaori's combat skills were barely on par with the demons at Fujikasane Mountain.

It seemed Kaori herself could sense Rengoku's low opinion of her. With a furious roar, she charged straight at Shirou and Rengoku, black snakes writhing around her.

"Careful, Shirou! Her blood demon art is strange—it absorbs the force of any blow. When I slashed at her neck and kicked her, all the power vanished on impact!"

This was the most important time to share information—Rengoku knew it well.

If you didn't warn your allies about an unknown demon's tricks, that demon would only be too happy to catch you by surprise.