20 Vol. II Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

After spending so much time around Haruto, Genya had become intimately familiar with every stance and movement of the Breath of Stars techniques.

The moment Tanjiro raised his hand, Genya could already predict his next move.

Planting a hand firmly on the ground, Genya flipped backward with effortless agility, narrowly evading the starlit slash aimed at his face. Without missing a beat, he extended his body in a powerful spinning kick, sending Tanjiro flying.

"That's it? Three months of training, and this is all you've got to show for it?"

Genya surged forward, pinning Tanjiro to the ground. His fist slammed into the earth mere inches from Tanjiro's head, the impact cracking the dirt beneath them.

"If you don't push yourself harder, you're just wasting your potential!" he snarled, his voice like a thunderclap.

Tanjiro grimaced, struggling to lift his legs. With a desperate push, he kicked Genya square in the chest, forcing him back.

"I knew it! You really are Genya!" Tanjiro shouted, his grip tightening on his sword. "This is a real blade! I could hurt you!"

"Idiot! You haven't even scratched me!"

"I'm serious! I could seriously hurt you!"

"Then aim for my head!"

...

Meanwhile, at Tamayo's residence in Asakusa, Haruto sat silently, a half-empty pot of oolong tea resting beside him. Despite the stillness, his heart pounded fiercely.

Tamayo and Yushiro sat across from him, their expressions somber.

Yushiro couldn't help but frown, his confusion evident. He knew what Tamayo was working on—a serum that defied all human and demon comprehension. It was as dangerous as it was unpredictable.

The results were binary: death, cruel and unrelenting, or the birth of a new species—neither human nor demon. If creating a new species were so easy, Kibutsuji Muzan wouldn't have spent centuries searching for the Blue Spider Lily.

Is living such a bad thing?

After a long silence, Haruto finally spoke. "What do I need to know?"

"Listen, Haruto," Tamayo began, her gaze dropping to the floor, a flicker of divine pity in her eyes.

"We don't have to rush this…"

"I spent 500 years hating Kibutsuji Muzan," she continued softly. "But in the past two or three years, I've achieved more than I did in those centuries. Do you understand what that means, Haruto? This isn't progress, it's history accelerating—dangerously so."

"Ah," Haruto muttered, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He looked up after a pause. "So, what do I need to know?"

For once, Yushiro didn't scold him for brushing off Tamayo's words.

This man is insane, Yushiro thought. Beyond saving.

"Pay attention to the changes," Tamayo instructed. "Every sensation, every transformation—remember them. And tell me everything."

Haruto nodded.

He reached for the Nichirin sword at his waist, drawing it halfway. The blade gleamed under the lamplight, sharp enough to pierce the heavens. At the base of the blade, beneath the hilt, a parrot spreading its wings had been etched—a thoughtful touch by Haganezuka.

"If…" Haruto hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I become something else, promise me you'll end it. Cut off my head. That's my only request."

Yushiro froze, staring at the blade. The brilliant sheen of the steel seemed to sear his eyes.

Haruto's mouth felt dry, but he didn't reach for more tea. His nervousness and fear were palpable.

Tamayo washed her hands and retrieved a syringe from the cabinet. The vial within was filled with a viscous, dark red liquid.

Haruto pulled a butterfly pin from his pocket, clutching it tightly in his palm.

"What's that?" Yushiro asked.

"Maybe… an anchor," Haruto replied.

An anchor, perhaps, to pull him back to the start of it all.

From there, only Tamayo spoke.

"Rest your arm on the cushion."

"Would you like something to eat first?"

"This serum… it's an abomination. It shouldn't exist."

"The injection will sting—that's normal. My previous patient said it felt like his veins were burning."

"And what happened to him?" Haruto asked, his voice tight. The slight tremor of his lower eyelid betrayed his rising fear.

"He stopped breathing an hour after the injection."

"Oh."

"He had terminal cancer," Tamayo said softly, pushing the plunger slowly. The black-red liquid crept through Haruto's pale arm, spiderwebbing across his veins. "He was in constant agony. Not even morphine could help him anymore.

"I gave his family money. Enough for his son to go to school, enough for his wife to find some peace. That day, he had a hearty meal and smiled. 'At last, I can die,' he said."

"Tamayo…"

"Yes?"

"You'll cut off my head, right?"

"…Yes. I promise."

A low hum filled Haruto's ears, sharp and oppressive. His breath quickened.

"Ear ringing. Feels like my eardrums are about to burst…" he said hurriedly.

"Vision's going blurry… colors all over the place…"

Pain erupted from every bone, every cell, a wildfire consuming him from the inside out.

This wasn't the clean, decisive death he had expected. It was agony, slow and suffocating.

Tamayo's voice was muffled, incomprehensible. When Haruto asked her to repeat herself, Yushiro bellowed in his ear instead.

"Subject responding to serum!"

"Cellular proliferation—Type III!"

"Consciousness… fading!"

Haruto struggled to memorize the observations. He needed to recount them later, even if it was posthumously.

Something warm slid down his face, grazing his cheek.

Yushiro's voice faltered. After a pause, he yelled, "Thirty-eight minutes! Left eye—detached!"

Was that my eye? Haruto thought. Huh, I thought it was dead skin or something. Losing an eye… man, that's going to ruin my looks. I liked my eyes—misty blue, like a stormy sky.

As his thoughts wandered, the world grew quieter. Something thick and wet seemed to plug his ears.

Tamayo stopped writing, glancing at the unrecognizable mass on the floor—a grotesque result of the serum's effect. She closed her eyes briefly, then stood and unsheathed the blade from the table.

Haruto awoke with a start, yanked from the darkness. His left palm burned as if seared by fire.