The figure that emerged from the black mist was so sudden, so strange, that even Sakonji Urokodaki was visibly startled.
For the briefest moment, the atmosphere inside the wooden hut turned sharp.
Fortunately, Tanjiro reacted at once.
"Mr. Urokodaki," he said quickly, "this is my friend, Asuramaru."
That one sentence eased the tension a little.
Still, Sakonji's gaze behind the tengu mask remained piercingly sharp as he studied the being standing before him.
Alex noticed it immediately.
He crossed his arms and frowned in open displeasure.
"Don't you think it's rather rude to stare at me like that?" he said flatly. "And let me make one thing clear first. I am not a demon in the sense you understand. I am a being born from a blade."
He paused, then added with deliberate calm, "A Blade Spirit."
Sakonji Urokodaki had lived long enough to hear all sorts of old stories and strange folklore. Legends about cursed weapons, divine treasures, and blades with wills of their own were not unheard of.
But hearing such a thing directly from the source was another matter entirely.
Could those old legends really have been true?
Even so, he did not allow himself to believe too easily.
"My apologies," he said in a low, even voice. "If you truly are a blade akin to those of legend, then you should possess abilities befitting such a claim, should you not?"
Tanjiro could hear it clearly.
This was still a test.
Alex heard it too.
But instead of being annoyed, he only lifted his chin a little higher.
"Naturally," he replied. "Though I have slept for far too long and lost a great deal of my power. And since my Sword Master is still too weak, many of my abilities cannot be properly brought out."
Tanjiro immediately looked guilty.
"I'm sorry, Asuramaru," he said in earnest. "I'll keep working hard."
Sakonji, however, did not let the subject slide.
"What abilities can you use at present?" he pressed. "And if possible... could you demonstrate them?"
Still testing.
Alex knew exactly what the old man was doing.
But he also knew something else.
If he wanted future cooperation from Sakonji Urokodaki, then a little display now would go a long way.
So instead of refusing, he gave a faint, almost amused smile.
"The abilities I can currently use are limited," he said. "One of them is called Blood Weeping. Any enemy I cut will find it difficult to heal, and their wounds will continue bleeding."
Sakonji remained silent, listening.
Alex continued in the same calm tone, as though he were describing something entirely ordinary.
"I can also heal. As long as the target isn't completely dead, I can restore them. Even reattaching or regenerating a severed limb would not be especially difficult."
That alone was already enough to make the room feel smaller.
But Alex was not finished.
"And the stronger my Sword Master becomes, and the more evil beings he slays, the faster I can recover my lost power."
For the first time, Sakonji Urokodaki's composure visibly faltered.
Beneath the mask, his expression had almost certainly gone blank.
Then it shifted into something closer to shock.
Because if those words were true, then the balance between humans and demons could truly change.
The reason demon slayers suffered so much against demons had always been brutally simple.
Humans did not recover easily.
Demons recovered too easily.
That disparity alone had claimed countless lives.
But now, a sword had appeared that could suppress a demon's regeneration while also healing human injuries.
How could he not be shaken?
And yet even now, he did not surrender to blind belief.
He stepped forward, more respectful than before.
"Could you demonstrate it once?" he asked. "Please."
Tanjiro also looked over at Alex with obvious hope in his eyes.
Seeing both of them like that, Alex let out a small sigh.
"Only this once."
The instant he finished speaking, Sakonji stepped forward without delay. He took Asuramaru from Tanjiro's hands and wrapped his fingers around the hilt.
The moment he did, his grip paused.
A strange feeling rose in him.
It was as though the blade had settled naturally into his hand, fitting him so perfectly that it felt like it had always belonged there.
He drew it from the scabbard.
With just one glance, he could tell the weapon was frighteningly sharp.
But that was not what he was here to test.
Without hesitation, Sakonji turned the blade and cut a shallow wound across his own palm.
Blood welled up at once.
Then he waited.
At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But after a few moments, Sakonji's eyes narrowed.
The bleeding had not slowed.
If anything, it was getting worse.
The blood kept flowing steadily from the wound, showing no sign of clotting.
"So this is Blood Weeping..." he murmured.
There was genuine astonishment in his voice now.
He looked up again at once.
"Then... could you heal this wound?"
Alex gave a slight nod.
Then he raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
The next moment, the wound on Sakonji's palm began closing at a speed visible to the naked eye. Flesh knit together. The torn skin smoothed over. In the span of a breath, the only evidence left was the blood that had already stained his hand.
It was as though he had never been cut at all.
Sakonji stared in stunned silence.
"This..."
His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"This is nothing short of a miracle."
Even setting Blood Weeping aside, healing alone was enough to overturn everything.
If a Hashira wielded a blade like this on the battlefield, the result would be unimaginable.
The value of such a weapon could not be measured by ordinary standards.
At that thought, Sakonji carefully sheathed the blade and looked toward Alex again.
This time, the respect in his tone was unmistakable.
"Sir Asuramaru," he said slowly, "may I ask how you recover your strength? And... would you ever consider changing your Sword Master?"
Tanjiro heard the question and immediately understood what lay behind it.
He did not interrupt.
He only waited for Alex's answer.
Alex knew as well.
This was the true core of the matter.
He rested one hand against his chin, pretending to think for a moment, then answered with visible displeasure.
"There are two ways for me to recover my strength. The first is time. Left alone, I will recover slowly on my own."
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
"The second is through slaughtering evil beings. I can absorb malicious intent from them and restore myself much faster that way."
He did not bother to hide the implication.
"The man eating demons you speak of are excellent nourishment for me."
Sakonji listened without a word.
Then Alex's tone turned colder.
"As for your second question, stop thinking about it. I've already formed a contract with Tanjiro. I will not change my Sword Master."
His answer was immediate and absolute.
"Even if he dies, that will not change."
Tanjiro blinked, startled.
Sakonji's gaze sharpened again.
Alex continued before either of them could speak.
"If Tanjiro were truly to die, then I would simply fall back into deep sleep and wait for another person qualified to awaken me someday."
He delivered those words with complete seriousness.
There was even a trace of irritation in the way he said them, as if he were already offended by the possibility that someone might try to separate him from Tanjiro.
Sakonji understood at once.
Killing demons would help Asuramaru recover quickly.
But changing Sword Masters?
Impossible.
No matter how extraordinary the sword was, Tanjiro was the only one who could truly possess that bond.
Still, Sakonji was not ready to give up so easily.
"Then," he asked carefully, changing the angle of the question, "without changing the Sword Master, could others still wield you?"
Alex answered at once.
"Of course they can. But only with Tanjiro's approval."
Sakonji's breathing quickened almost imperceptibly.
The first thought that flashed through his mind was not battle.
It was an old wound.
A curse that had plagued someone he could not forget.
But before that thought could go too far, Alex poured cold water over it.
"However," he added coolly, "that alone is not enough. Anyone who has not earned my recognition still won't be able to use me properly."
That was the end of it.
With a dismissive flick of his hand, Alex made his attitude plain.
"I've said enough. If you have anything else to ask, ask Tanjiro."
As soon as the words fell, his form broke apart into mist and vanished from sight.
The hut fell silent.
Sakonji Urokodaki stood there for a moment, still holding the sheathed blade, and found it difficult to fully process what he had just seen.
But the sword in his hands was real.
The wound that had opened and healed in moments was real.
No matter how unbelievable it felt, reality left no room for denial.
At last, Sakonji came back to himself.
He turned and presented the blade to Tanjiro with both hands.
"My apologies, Tanjiro," he said. "I failed to consider your feelings earlier."
Tanjiro quickly reached out with both hands and accepted it respectfully.
"Please don't apologize, Mr. Urokodaki," he said with a warm shake of his head. "Asuramaru and I are not master and servant. We are friends. Whether he stays or goes is his own choice, so there's no need for you to apologize over that."
Sakonji fell quiet again.
Under the mask, his heart let out a long sigh.
Tanjiro was always like this.
Always sincere.
Always ready to think of others before himself.
But sentiment could wait.
What mattered now was information.
He straightened and spoke in a solemn voice.
"Tanjiro, tell me everything you know about Asuramaru's abilities. The more detailed, the better. This is extremely important."
Tanjiro thought back over everything Alex had told him.
Then he nodded.
"I'll tell you everything I know."
And so he began.
He explained the abilities one by one as clearly as he could. Blood Weeping. Healing. The fact that Asuramaru could continue to recover power by slaying evil beings. The contract between them. The restrictions on other wielders.
When he eventually mentioned that Asuramaru could also temporarily strengthen his body, Sakonji's surprise deepened even further.
But more than any single ability, one fact struck him hardest.
This blade could grow stronger.