The demon slayer had never expected a miracle.
When Takeo insisted he could learn Wind Breathing right there, in the middle of a battle, the slayer had thought it was absurd.
He didn't believe anyone could master a Breathing Technique in re minutes—sothing that had taken him nearly a full year to grasp.
And he certainly hadn't believed that Takeo would actually manage to unleash a technique—especially one infused with elental power.
But still, he taught him.
He'd figured… even if Takeo could only pick up the barest fundantals, even if he couldn't fight, it might be enough for him to escape. The boy looked barely eleven or twelve, but he was clearly gifted. If there was even a sliver of a chance he could get away alive—then teaching him was worth it.
If Takeo could survive, the effort wouldn't be in vain.
But the reality had far exceeded the slayer's expectations.
A miracle unfolded before his very eyes.
That boy—the one who wasn't even half his age—had not only grasped the fundantals of Breathing in less than thirty minutes…
He had successfully unleashed a form of Wind Breathing!!
The familiar gust stirred through the cargo hold, and the razor-sharp wind blades slashed across the demon's body like claws.
And because the demon had underestimated him—because it hadn't imagined for a second that this boy could use a Breathing Technique—it had paid the price.
The raging wind tore through half of the demon's body, slicing off an arm and even severing its head, which thudded to the floor.
"Th-this… this is impossible…!!"
The demon's shocked cry echoed the exact sa disbelief that had surged in the demon slayer's heart monts earlier.
Because it was impossible.
No one could go from knowing nothing to mastering a Breathing form in re monts.
And even more absurd—no one could unleash a form of Wind Breathing the instant they learned it.
The demon slayer had never seen such a talent.He had never even heard of one.
And yet now—such a prodigy stood right before his eyes.
"Huff.. huff.."
Inhale… exhale…
The sound of the red-haired boy's strained breathing pulled the slayer out of his daze.
He looked up at Takeo, whose face was flushed red from the strain of using Breathing Technique for the first ti—and then down at the water demon, whose severed head was slowly creeping back toward its body, trying to reattach.
In that split second, the slayer made his decision.
"Take this!!" he shouted, flinging his Nichirin sword toward the boy."Use the sa form! Aim for the neck! It's the only way to kill it!!"
The demon slayer hurled his Nichirin sword with all his strength toward the boy.
The water demon, seeing the blade spinning through the air, instantly realized that if Takeo got hold of that sword, it would an death. So, as the blade flew, the demon launched a desperate counterattack.
"Don't even think about it!!"
With what little remained of its body, it activated its Blood Demon Art again. The water scattered across the floor surged upward, transforming into several long serpents, all lashing out to intercept the airborne sword.
But the boy—was faster.
Takeo leapt high into the air, rising to et the spinning blade mid-flight. The wind stirred by his controlled breathing surged around him, lending him lift and force.
And because the demon slayer had been closer to him than the demon was, it was only natural—before the water serpents could strike the blade, Takeo's fingers closed tightly around the hilt.
The mont he gripped the sword, he shifted his breathing.
A massive, howling wind erupted—violent and razor-sharp—wrapping around the Nichirin blade like a cyclone. The roaring gusts howled so fiercely, they seed ready to tear the cargo hold apart.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it—!!"
In the demon's eyes, reflected within those bloodshot pupils, was the image of Takeo descending with his sword.
Panicking, the water demon reoriented its Blood Demon Art, commanding the water serpents to form a writhing shield—desperately trying to protect its neck.
The water demon didn't want to die.
Even more than that, it didn't want to die like this—in such a ridiculous, humiliating way.
It had only been a mont of carelessness.
Just one brief lapse. Just one unexpected mistake…
How had it co to this?
Its pupils trembled in disbelief as it frantically tried to manipulate its shattered body—desperately forcing the pieces to reattach and regenerate.
But by then—
The wind had already fallen.
Centered around the boy, a massive spiral of air—like the blades of a grinder—descended. The towering wind slash, driven by the boy's breath, tore through the demon's writhing shield of water serpents like they were nothing.
Shredded.
Snarling, the demon forced the broken water serpents to reform—shaping them into sharp blades of liquid and flinging them toward the boy in retaliation.
Under normal circumstances, Takeo should have dodged.
Anyone would. To not dodge ant letting those water blades pierce his flesh—stab straight through his vitals.
No one wanted to die. Survival was instinct.
From the demon's perspective, there was no question—the boy would surely twist his body and dodge the fatal strike. There was no way… no way he would trade blow for blow. No way he'd throw his life away just to land a hit.
But just like the demon hadn't expected the boy to master a Breathing Technique in such a short ti—
It never imagined that the boy wouldn't dodge.
He could slowly regenerate from this, but if he let this crucial mont go and failed to kill this demon, then this demon, who had far superior regeneration than him would surely kill him!
Not only did Takeo refuse to avoid the incoming blades—he accelerated his descent.
He drove the spiraling storm of wind down even harder, ignoring the water blades that had already pierced his body, ignoring the pain, the damage, the blood.
In that mont, the fire burning in his eyes reflected only one thing—
The demon.
And then—
The wind fell.
The Nichirin sword, wrapped in roaring, bladed wind, carved clean through the demon's neck—severing it completely from the portion still connected to its body.
Struck by the demon-slaying blade, the water demon's regenerative abilities ceased instantly.
Its body began to disintegrate.
Takeo's body, too, fell—crashing heavily to the ground below.
"Damn it—damn it—damn it!! This can't be real! This isn't happening!!! It's fake—FAKE!!! Just a HALLUCINATION!!"
The water demon shrieked from the floor, writhing as its head dissolved into the blood-soaked water.
It scread at the unconscious boy lying still in the spreading crimson.A boy who should never have won. Who shouldn't even have survived.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
This was a dream. A ridiculous, impossible nightmare.
The water demon refused to accept reality—but the cold sinking into its bones made it undeniable.
Its body was crumbling, disintegrating—and there was no stopping it.A creature that was supposed to be immortal…was dying by a demon slayer's blade.
And the worst part?
It wasn't even the slayer who killed it.
It was a brat.
A damned little brat—a monster in human form.
"Damn it—if I'd just kept eating… I could've beco…"
Tears spilled from its eyes. With bitterness, with rage, with the last of its unspoken ambition—fuush..
The water demon turned to ash.
Reflected in its fading pupils… was the boy who had slain it.
Only after the demon crumbled completely—only when nothing was left but dust—did Takeo finally close his eyes.
"..."
Silence.
The warehouse fell into a deathly stillness.
The demon slayer stared blankly at the scene before him, unable to react.
Even he hadn't expected it. That a boy—soone so young—would beco the key to defeating the demon.
It was a long ti before he could move. Only after his strength began to return did he finally push himself to his feet.
As soon as he got to his feet, the demon slayer rushed to the boy's side and began checking his condition.
"His injuries are bad… really bad—but thank god, he's still alive! Hang in there! You hear , kid?! You'd better not die on now!!"
He grabbed the boy—Takeo—pulling him into a firm hold, then reached for the injured Ichiro and hoisted the younger child up as well.
With one boy cradled in his arms and the other slung across his back, the slayer staggered out of the ruined warehouse.
Only once he was outside did he draw in a deep breath, summon what little strength he had left, and roar with all the force his lungs could muster—using Total Concentration Breathing to amplify his voice:
"Soone! Anybody! HELP!!!"
The shout echoed through the ship—piercing the cold, silent night and snapping the entire crew awake.
______
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