“How could I possibly send myself to my death!”
Soul Reaper Shiro rolled his eyes at Kamado Shiro and spoke loudly.
“I’m a member of the 4th Division.
Setting aside combat for a moment, I’ve actually made quite a bit of progress in Kidō–specifically Kaidō.”
Kaidō, along with Hadō and Bakudō, is a branch of Kidō.
Kaidō has zero destructive power; its sole purpose is to heal the wounds of the injured.
In the 4th Division, it is a basic skill that every member must master.
“You can use Kaidō to treat Tanjuro Kamado, who is already terminally ill.
Then, you can find a way to get him to teach you Sun Breathing.
Or, you could have him personally take action to capture Upper Rank Six from the Entertainment District.”
Hearing this, Kamado Shiro finally nodded with relief.
It was true.
In the original story, if Tanjuro Kamado hadn’t died so early, Tanjiro wouldn’t have had to carry such a heavy burden alone.
Perhaps when Muzan Kibutsuji attacked the Kamado family, Tanjuro could have terrified him so badly that he wouldn’t have dared to show his face for decades.
With the ability to use Sun Breathing perfectly, plus his natural Slayer Mark and the Transparent World, Tanjuro Kamado was undoubtedly the ceiling of strength in this world–second only to Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
“Learning Sun Breathing…
it would certainly be a good insurance policy.
But I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to extract the secrets of Blood Demon Arts from a demon’s body,” Kamado Shiro said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
A demon’s abilities all stem from the blood gifted to them by Muzan Kibutsuji.
Yet even Muzan himself couldn’t use his subordinates’ Blood Demon Arts; otherwise, with just the power of spatial manipulation, he wouldn’t have been so terrified of Yoriichi Tsugikuni that he hid until the man died.
“It doesn’t matter.
Just catch one and experiment when you’re free.
For now, our main task is to call out the true name of the Zanpakutō and achieve Shikai,” Passerby Shiro said, waving his hand nonchalantly.
“If you forget the plot, you can come to me.
Although my world currently has no mysterious powers, at least the *Demon Slayer* manga exists there.”
According to Passerby Shiro, if he wanted to, he could even track down the author, “Crocodile-sensei,” and ask about the settings directly.
“That works too,” Kamado Shiro nodded.
His memory wasn’t bad; he remembered most of the plot and didn’t need Passerby Shiro to reread everything for him.
After discussing it further and deciding there were no issues, the group left the grey fog space.
Demon Slayer World.
As his consciousness returned to his body, Shiro rubbed his eyes.
He saw Tanjiro walking over to help him push the cart.
*It seems that while I’m in the grey fog space, time in the real world is almost paused.
This could be very useful,* Shiro thought while staring at Tanjiro’s face.
In the future, if he ever encountered a life-threatening danger, he could instantly enter the grey fog space.
He could wait for a “big shot” version of himself to appear, gain their power, and then strike back.
“Is there something on my face?”
Feeling embarrassed by Shiro’s stare, Tanjiro subconsciously touched his cheek.
“It’s nothing.
Let’s hurry, or we won’t make it back before dark.”
Shiro withdrew his gaze.
Now that he possessed the power to protect himself and his family, his fear of demons had lessened significantly.
Having shared the strength of a martial artist and a Soul Reaper, Shiro’s physical fitness had already surpassed that of the vast majority of demons.
The power surging through his limbs and the spiritual energy hidden in his soul gave him immense confidence.
The calluses on his body from long-term labor had already vanished, and the reinforcement of his mental strength had made his five senses much sharper.
He felt that even without a Nichirin Sword, he could solo a Lower Rank demon–he was confident he could keep hacking away at a demon until the sun came up.
However, that confidence was based on a head-on fair fight; some demons’ Blood Demon Arts were simply too broken.
His mood gradually lightened.
Muzan Kibutsuji was no longer an invincible nightmare to him.
In less than half a day, the two of them reached the small town at the foot of the mountain.
“Shiro, you’re so strong!
This path usually takes me half a day, but with you here, we’ve arrived two hours early,” Tanjiro said in amazement.
He couldn’t imagine how such great strength could exist in Shiro’s small body.
*Strange, the scent on Shiro seems to have changed a bit.
Is it just my imagination?*
Tanjiro rubbed his nose, feeling a bit surprised, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.
A person’s scent changes all the time; Shiro’s change was just a bit more pronounced, so there was no need to make a fuss.
Tanjiro took his basket and left.
Since the charcoal he burned was both long-lasting and cheap, some people had already pre-ordered it.
Now, Tanjiro just had to deliver it.
“Shiro, are you sure you’ll be okay alone?
Why don’t you wait until I finish selling the charcoal, and we can go sell the bear pelt together?”
Tanjiro was worried.
After all, in his eyes, Shiro was even younger than Nezuko.
It was only natural to be concerned.
“Don’t worry, I definitely won’t lose out.
Don’t let my age fool you; I used to do business all the time,” Shiro said confidently.
“Alright then.
Be careful.
Most people in town are good, but a small few might have bad intentions.”
Tanjiro possessed a sense of smell comparable to a superpower–he could even smell the malice in a person’s heart–so he gave a kind warning.
Shiro responded nonchalantly.
If someone truly harbored malice toward him now, he wouldn’t mind sending them to hell early.
Since hell actually existed in the *Demon Slayer* world, it seemed only reasonable to use a Zanpakutō to send a villain there.
Soon, Tanjiro’s figure disappeared into the crowd.
Following Tanjuro’s instructions, Shiro arrived at a shop that purchased animal pelts.
After waiting for a while, the proprietor finally arrived.
Fortunately, Shiro wasn’t a child anymore and wouldn’t get impatient over a short wait.
The newcomer was a balding, fat man who immediately ran over when he saw Shiro.
He took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat and said apologetically:
“I am so sorry.
On my way here, I learned that a regular customer passed away, so I went to his house to pay my respects.
I’m a bit late opening the shop.”
The fat boss had been in business for many years and had his own set of business ethics; he certainly wouldn’t look down on Shiro just because of his age.
Instead, he spoke with the professional attitude he would use for an adult.
“It’s fine.
Take a look at this bear pelt and tell me what it’s worth.”
Shiro gave the boss a deep look.
He had expected some “face-slapping” drama, but it turned out the boss had a good eye.
He pointed to the cart outside where the nearly three-meter-long bear pelt was laid out.
“This…
this size, this luster…
it’s a once-in-a-century find!
Forgive me for asking, but did this bear die of natural causes?”
Seeing the pelt on the cart, the fat boss’s eyes lit up.
He stroked the fur with trembling hands, as gently as if he were caressing a lover’s hand.
“Of course not.
It was killed by an elder in my family.”