“The head is still hanging right there.”
Shiro jerked his head toward the other side of the cart, where a massive, severed bear head was indeed hanging.
“It was actually killed…
that’s unbelievable.”
Sweat beaded on the fat boss’s forehead again, but this time, it was from sheer terror.
Seeing a bear of that size dead, his mind immediately conjured images of a two–meter–tall giant covered in muscle wrestling the beast to the ground.
He had no idea that the one who had actually finished the bear was nothing more than a frail, sickly, middle–aged man.
“Ahem.
Well, although the head and body have been separated–which lowers the value compared to a complete pelt–it’s still worth quite a bit.”
“How does this number look to you?”
The fat merchant held up three fingers and waved them in front of Shiro.
Before leaving that morning, Kie Kamado had mentioned that the pelt should sell for about thirty yen.
The boss had hit Shiro’s bottom line immediately.
However, Shiro had transmigrated from a land where bargaining was an art form.
He knew exactly how to use those inherited haggling skills to his advantage.
“No way.
At least this much.”
Shiro held up five fingers on his left hand and one on his right–six fingers in total.
In the world of bargaining, you usually start by cutting the price in half; Shiro did the opposite and doubled it.
“Sir, if you bargain like that, I won’t be able to stay in business!”
The fat boss was speechless.
In all his years of business, this was the first time he had seen someone try to double the opening price.
“This is a small operation.
You’re giving me raw materials; I still need to process them.
At your price, I wouldn’t make a single penny of profit.”
After a flurry of arguing, the two finally met in the middle.
They settled on forty–five yen.
This amount was enough to buy five Kanao Tsuyuris back then, or roughly 270 thousand yen in modern purchasing power.
For an average person in the Taisho era, earning this much would require at least fifteen months of working day and night.
“Then this pelt is mine.
Brother Shiro, if you find any more high–quality furs like this in the future, don’t forget about your old pal!”
The fat boss rubbed his hands together excitedly as he looked at the pelt.
Business wasn’t a one–time deal; to grow, one needed reliable partners.
“Certainly.
But I can’t guarantee I’ll find such high–quality fur again,” Shiro replied.
Together, they hauled the pelt into the shop, completing the exchange of goods for cash.
“The boss is generous.
I look forward to our next deal,” Shiro said pleasantly, pocketing the bills.
He loved customers with deep pockets.
“Sigh, it’s my own greed at work.
But even something a tier lower than this would be fine,” the fat boss sighed, looking a bit pained as he took the expensive pelt.
Clearly, forty–five yen was a significant sum even for him.
Suddenly, the boss remembered something.
He hurried to the door, looked around to ensure no one was watching, and then leaned in close to Shiro.
“Whoa, what are you doing?!”
Shiro scrambled back a few steps, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
If the boss was planning something nefarious, Shiro was ready to give him a first–hand demonstration of what Kidō felt like.
The fat boss blinked, stunned by the overreaction.
He lowered his voice, his small eyes darting toward the street nervously as he whispered:
“Remember that regular customer I mentioned?
I didn’t see the body myself, but his family said…
there was nothing left of him but a single hand.
Either a wild beast has moved into town, or something ‘unclean’ has appeared.”
He paused to take a deep breath, his tone turning grave and warning:
“In any case, you live up on that mountain.
You must be careful these next few days.
I don’t want my future cash cow getting eaten.”
With that, he grabbed the pelt and hurried back into the shop without looking back.
As Shiro walked down the street, the boss’s words about a “beast attack” echoed in his mind.
*It can’t just be a simple wild beast.
Most animals should be hibernating, and unless they’re starving, predators rarely come down from the mountains.*
He recalled Nezuko telling him that even bears were rarely seen during the winter.
His encounter with one had just been terrible luck.
Shiro lowered his head, masking his expression.
In this world, besides beasts, there was another kind of man–eating creature: Demons.
If it weren’t for the “Demon Slayer Corps” whose sole mission was to hunt them, these creatures would be far more brazen than they were now.
They wouldn’t bother trying to hide their tracks.
Right now, there was roughly a year left before Muzan Kibutsuji would find the Kamado home.
Muzan was absolutely arrogant.
He would never personally scour every corner of Japan just to find the Kamados.
Instead, he shared his blood to create a swarm of demons of varying strength.
If they couldn’t even handle a simple task like finding someone, he’d rather they just died.
His blood wasn’t meant for useless puppets.
That was how the man thought.
His subordinates weren’t allowed to talk back; in this world, he was the embodiment of “evil.”
The “beast” whose reputation was growing in this town was very likely one of the demons Muzan had dispatched to search for the Kamado family.
In other words, if Shiro’s guess was correct, this demon was the true architect behind the Kamado family’s impending tragedy.
At that thought, a torrential killing intent erupted from Shiro.
A trace of spiritual power leaked out, causing passersby to shudder involuntarily.
They stole glances at him and quickened their pace to get away.
He was still in his growth phase.
Even if Tanjuro could protect them, Shiro didn’t want the current peace of their lives to be shattered.
“Hm?”
With his heightened spiritual perception, his five senses had sharpened considerably.
He felt a gaze fixed on him.
Turning toward the source, Shiro realized Tanjiro had appeared behind him at some point, looking at him with a complex expression.
His basket was empty; he had clearly finished selling the charcoal and had come to find Shiro.
Shiro immediately remembered Tanjiro’s terrifying sense of smell–one that could even detect emotions.
He instantly buried the thoughts of demons deep in his heart.
The killing intent and spiritual pressure vanished, and Shiro seemingly reverted back into the sunny youth who could get along with any child.
He knew that without specialized training, such a crude disguise wouldn’t fool Tanjiro, but fortunately, Tanjiro wasn’t the type to pry into secrets.
Tanjiro took the handles of the cart from Shiro and said in a heavy voice:
“Shiro, you are my family.
If there is something you must do, remember that I–and our father and mother–will help you figure it out.”
Seeing the worry in Tanjiro’s eyes, Shiro shook his head.
Demons were creatures that were hard to believe in unless you saw them with your own eyes.
It was better for him to shoulder this alone.
As long as he killed every demon before his family ever encountered them, then as far as the world was concerned, demons wouldn’t exist.
And now, the opportunity to nip every tragedy in the bud was right in front of him.
Even without a Nichirin Sword to kill demons, he wasn’t going to let this chance slip by.
But now wasn’t the time to worry about demons.
He had to get home quickly to heal Tanjuro’s body.
In the original story, Tanjuro died of his illness only ten days after killing the giant bear in front of his son.
Shiro was terrified that his own “butterfly effect” might cause Tanjuro to pass away even earlier.
If that happened, his entire plan would turn to dust.
Taking a deep breath and ignoring Tanjiro’s protests, Shiro forcibly sat him on the cart.
Relying on his now superhuman physical stamina, he raced back up the mountain at a speed far greater than their journey down.
He left a trail of frantic footprints in the snow–covered mountain path.
In less than two hours, they reached the Kamado family’s wooden hut.
“Eh?
Brother, you’re back so early!
Did you run into some trouble?”
Nezuko asked, tilting her head curiously as she held a basin of freshly washed clothes.