Demon Slayer : Breath of The Forest

"Hey! You dead or not? If not, get up already!"

An extremely impatient voice abruptly pierced Shinichi's ears, grating on his nerves.

Even though his consciousness was still hazy, Shinichi's brow furrowed slightly.

"Still not up?"

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Peach and emerald-green heterochromatic eyes snapped open and the image of a wooden cabin roof immediately filled Shinichi's vision.

But there was no time to take in his surroundings.

The searing pain on his face sent him into a rage.

Struggling to his feet, he lunged at the figure before him.

"You bastard!!"

Shinichi's sudden outburst caught the Martial Demon off guard.

However, his reflexes were lightning-fast and given Shinichi's weakened state, the demon merely sidestepped before shoving him back with a casual push.

Shinichi stumbled and fell to the ground.

"Finally awake. At least Shunichi's blood wasn't wasted." The Martial Demon's gaze was somewhat complicated as he observed Shinichi's revival.

He tossed aside the now-empty glass vial in his hand, then unhooked a silver mirror from its waist and flung it toward Shinichi.

"Neat little thing, pretty handy. But since you're a junior, I can't just outright steal it. Next time, I'll catch a couple of demons with spatial Blood Demon Arts and try them out myself." The Martial Demon said.

Shinichi didn't even glance at the mirror.

His eyes burned with fury as he glared at the demon, teeth clenched.

If not for his severely weakened state, he would've activated his Blood Rage and torn this bastard—who had slapped him who-knows-how-many times—to shreds.

Recognizing the rage in Shinichi's eyes and fully aware of what he had done, the Martial Demon felt a twinge of guilt.

After all, he had thoroughly enjoyed slapping him earlier.

Shinichi bore too strong a resemblance to Shunichi Moriki and the Martial Demon had always wanted a chance to teach that aloof, arrogant man a lesson.

So, he had gotten a little carried away.

Shaking off the past memories, the demon cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking in a more serious tone.

"Ahem. Kid, now that you're awake, come with me. There's someone who's been waiting for you."

Shinichi managed to stand again, though his steps were unsteady.

Still, he could keep up with the Martial Demon.

The demon pushed open the door.

Under the cold moonlight, a vast courtyard stretched before them.

Exquisite sculptures and statues adorned a pond, beside it stood a thriving peach tree, its verdant leaves swaying gently in the night breeze.

"Gaudy." Shinichi ignored the ornate sculptures, but the vibrant peach tree by the pond brought him a sense of comfort.

His Forest Breathing instinctively activated, faint currents of vitality beginning to mend his weakened body.

Noticing Shinichi's condition from the corner of his eye, the Martial Demon gave a slight nod of approval.

No matter what, Shunichi had left behind a worthy successor.

Shinichi followed behind the Martial Demon, still irritated and clueless about who they were going to meet.

However, the demon carried no hostility and during his earlier haze, Shinichi had once again glimpsed Shunichi Moriki, the ancestor of the Moriki family.

Some voice seemed to whisper to him—the Martial Demon was not his enemy.

Soon, The 'Martial' Demon led Shinichi through a winding path to a house.

The 'Martial Demon stepped forward first and knocked on the door.

"Shokyu, the kid's here."

"Come in," a gentle voice called from behind the wooden door.

Without ceremony, The Martial Demon kicked the door open and strode inside.

Shinichi hesitated outside for a moment, glancing down at his hospital gown before finally deciding to enter.

The room was dimly lit, with only a faint yellow glow from a weak bulb, barely enough to make out the furnishings.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars and bottles emitting varying intensities of medicinal aromas.

On another table sat an array of sophisticated-looking scientific instruments—microscopes, small crucibles and the like.

Neatly stacked alongside them were numerous ancient-looking books and notebooks of various colors.

The setup reminded Shinichi of the female demon Tamayo, whom he had met in Asakusa—her place had a similar arrangement.

In front of Shinichi stood a low table, where a figure hunched over, scribbling furiously.

The Martial Demon walked straight up to the person and rapped impatiently on the table.

"Hey! Shokyu! He's here!"

"Huh? Oh! My apologies, I just had a sudden inspiration. How rude of me" the person named Shokyu said in a remorseful tone, setting down the pen and looking up at Shinichi.

Shinichi now got a clear look at Shokyu—dressed in a simple vest suit, with slightly curly black hair and gold-rimmed glasses perched on the nose, giving off an air of scholar.

But the fangs protruding from his lips and the sharp black claws on his hands made it clear—this man was also a demon.

Yet what shocked Shinichi the most wasn't that, but Shokyu face!

That face—it was all too familiar! Shinichi would never forget it.

The crimson eyes from the ruined temple had left too deep an impression on him.

Muzan!!

Instinctively, Shinichi hand shot to his waist, but he grasped nothing—he was still in his hospital gown.

Even without his Nichirin Blade, his body reacted.

The thin demon blood in his veins boiled once more.

His right eye turned crimson, fangs lengthened, claws extended and muscles tensed—ready for a fight.

Shokyu, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Muzan, quickly stood up, waving his hands in panic.

"No, no, don't misunderstand! Shinichi-san, I'm not Muzan! My name is Shokyu! I just look a bit like him—please, calm down!"

"Pfft—" The Martia Demon who had been watching the scene unfold, couldn't help but laugh.

This was all too similar of what had happened over four hundred years ago—back then, Shunichi Moriki had immediately drawn his Nichirin Blade and pressed it against Shokyu neck.

Tsk, tsk, what nostalgia.

"Shunichi, Shunichi... why did you do it? What was it that you'd rather die than let Muzan obtain?"

A faint trace of recollection flickered in The Martial Demon golden eyes as he murmured softly.

Meanwhile, Shokyu desperately tried to convince Shinichi that he truly wasn't Muzan—just a lookalike.

After much pleading, Shinichi finally relaxed his battle stance.

Plopping down onto the ground, Shinichi stared at the two demons before him.

Deep down, he understood that his escape from Upper Moon Two Douma, was largely thanks to them.

Yet, Shinichi's face showed little gratitude—who knew what these two demons were really after?

After a while, it was Shokyu who broke the silence with a gentle question.

"Shinichi-san, do you know how long you've been unconscious?"

"How long? I don't know... three days?"

"No. A full three months."

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