The Demon Queen

The Village Massacre

It became rather awkward to be around Kokushibou for a while after that. There was even something off about him when we practised sword-fighting together. Since Yoriichi was dead, Muzan actually left us alone to work in private, without his sitting off to the side watching. He began to regularly occupy himself with mixing chemicals in search of synthesising some kind of potion similar to the Blue Spider Lily medicine. It should have made the sword-fighting practice more comfortable, but it seemed to have produced the opposite effect.

I never asked Kokushibou about it. I realised that I had become far too personal with him over the decades. It had to end sometime, and it was apparently ending now. The priority was just for Muzan not to catch onto any difference in our attitudes towards each other -- for both my sake and Kokushibou's.

I ended up spending more time with Muzan than I would have planned to. But as our lives grew back to normal, I wasn't so angry and disgusted with him. I remained only resentful for the past 60 years. Muzan, though, didn't seem to take notice. It made me wonder if he was actually dense or simply in denial of it all.

Most likely, the answer was simple: it would have never crossed his mind that his precious wife would ever hold negative feelings towards him, unless, of course, they were connected to the scars.

It was exactly the way Muzan's brain operated.

One evening, Kokushibou informed us that he was outside and heard gossip of a large amount of humans being slaughtered in a village not too far away from where we had been living.

"They think it's the work of a demon," Kokushibou said.

"I didn't send any demons in this region," Muzan said.

"I don't know myself," Kokushibou said. "But this is what I heard."

"Let's check it out, Muzan. It's close by," I said.

In truth, I really didn't care what was going on in that village. I just wanted some kind of adventure.

"I wasn't intending on embarking on a journey tonight, but I think we have to see what this is about," Muzan said. "If it's one of our demons, I'll have to kill it. They're causing too much of an uproar and it'll only attract the vermin Demon Slayer Corps." He put his arm around my shoulder. "Let's be on our way, then."

Leaving Kokushibou behind, we set off in the direction of the village the alleged massacre was taking place. With the speed we were able to move at using our demon powers, it took only a couple minutes to reach the village.

When we got there, we were met with a never-ending mass of dead bodies. Houses appeared broken into, as if the perpetrator went from house to house, dragging out the inhabitants and slaughtering them in the street. The area reeked of a rancid mish-mash of human blood and open flesh. Even when I worked as a night assassin centuries ago, I never saw so many dead humans in one place. 

But still, I didn't sense the presence of a demon at all. All I sensed were humans, and so many of them.

Does this mean a human is responsible for all this? I thought.

"Sakura, do you sense a demon?" Muzan asked.

"No. There's no demonic energy around here at all."

"I can't believe some mere human has done this," Muzan said. "But as we know, some humans can be villainous and frightening. We have to stay close together."

I nodded. "Right."

Oddly enough, I agreed with him. The dominant human energy in the area was explosive and rampant in its current form. It seemed unpredictable and wild, and we could never know how that might manifest itself. Having learnt not to underestimate humans so easily, we had to be cautious.

We continued to follow the dominant human energy until we reached a spot at the edge of the village. Muzan and I stood in front of a house that lay in front of a short wooden bridge spanning a narrow creek. On the other side of the creek, we saw the figure of a young man in bloodstained white clothing. Blood that was not his own was trickling down his face and arms. The blood then slid down his hand, dropping onto the ground, leaving a very noticeable trail behind him.

"Do you mean, this is it?" Muzan asked.

As if he were spiritually dead, the figure moved stiffly and slowly along the creek in the direction of the bridge we were standing on. It was like he was cut down to nothing more than a shell of a body, still doomed to be connected to its neurons.

"That energy is coming from him," I said.

Muzan scratched his head. "What a disappointment. Such strength from such a pathetic-looking human boy."

"Well, pathetic or not, he's got potential."

"Hmm ..." Muzan smirked at me. "Do I get that you want him as your pet, Darling?"

I stared dully at him. "He looks at little short, you know."

Muzan laughed.

I nudged him at his side and grabbed his arm. "Come on. Let's see what's going on with this stupid human."