Akuma stood frozen, his jaw nearly unhinged as he pointed at the drunken swordsman before him.
"WHAT?!" he screamed, comically clutching his head as if his brain had just short-circuited. Then, as if suddenly remembering the existence of the audience, he whipped his head around to stare directly at us.
"This is Yoriichi Tsugikuni! The Yoriichi Tsugikuni! The first Demon Slayer, the creator of Breathing Styles— and now he's a bread-drinker?! What kind of hellish twist is this?!"
Yoriichi, still sitting under the cherry blossom tree, took another deep swig from his sake jug. His maroon eyes, still sharp despite his inebriation, met Akuma's confused glare. "Hah? You got a problem with me enjoying myself, brat?"
Akuma groaned, rubbing his temples. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of saint? How the hell are you in, well, hell? I thought this place was for bad people!"
Yoriichi exhaled slowly, staring at the pink petals falling around them. "I am a cursed soul. I didn't end up in paradise. My fate was to wander this place forever. But your mother found me and put me up to this." He stretched, cracking his neck. "I'm your mentor now. You have three months before your Demon Awakening Ceremony, and if you don't want to die, you'd better learn fast."
Akuma blinked. "Three months to prepare to kill someone? Great, no pressure."
Yoriichi ignored him. "Before we begin, what's your Yōkai ability?"
"My what now?" Akuma blinked, tilting his head.
Yoriichi let out a deep sigh. "Your mother really left you in the dark, huh? Fine, I'll explain. Yōkai are one of the top three races here in Hell. Fallen Angels are in second place, and at the top? Demons. But Yōkai have a trump card—every Blood Moon, which happens once every eleven years, they gain a unique ability. Our next Blood Moon is next year."
Akuma whistled. "So, I get some cool power next year? Sweet!"
"You also inherit abilities from your Beelzebub bloodline. First, Lord of Swarms— you can summon and control vast swarms of insects, parasites, and demonic vermin. You can use them for combat, form weapons, armor, even wings for flight. But before you can use it, you need to make a contract with the creatures."
Akuma shuddered. "Insects, huh?" He imagined himself covered in creepy crawlies and nearly gagged.
"Second," Yoriichi continued, "Plagueborne Flesh— your wounds explode into swarms of vermin that devour anything nearby to regenerate you. Even severed limbs can turn into independent creatures to attack your enemies."
Akuma's eye twitched. "That… sounds disgusting."
"And deadly," Yoriichi smirked. "Be grateful. The main branch of the Beelzebub Clan has Hive Mind Domination, where they infect others with parasitic worms and control them. Your current clan head, Lord Baelzebuth the 8th, has Swarm Assimilation—he can literally become his insects, making him nearly invulnerable. Your ancestor, the original Beelzebub, was so terrifying that he had to be sealed away. If you want real power, you'll have to surpass them."
Before Akuma could process that horrifying revelation, Yoriichi suddenly launched his wooden sword straight at his face. Akuma barely dodged as it whizzed past, but then—
BAM!
A fist slammed into his stomach. Or at least, it should have. Instead, Yoriichi's punch passed right through him.
"Hoh?" Yoriichi raised an eyebrow before feeling a sharp slash across his back.
Akuma had reappeared behind him, smirking as he held a wooden sword of his own. "Gotcha!"
But before he could celebrate, Yoriichi's arm shot up—his fist glowing with a faint, golden hue.
Sun Breathing: Solar Strike.
BOOM!
Akuma barely managed to block, but the impact sent him flying backward, his arms trembling from the sheer force.
"One thing about me, brat—" Yoriichi cracked his knuckles, "—I don't need a sword to fight. Sun Breathing works just fine with my fists."
Akuma barely had time to react as Yoriichi blurred forward. His fists blazed with Sun Breathing energy as he unleashed a rapid flurry of blows. Akuma desperately dodged and countered, using afterimages to confuse his opponent, but Yoriichi's instincts were terrifying. He predicted every move, adjusting his strikes with inhuman precision.
A punch grazed Akuma's cheek, searing his skin. Another slammed into his ribs, nearly breaking them. The sheer heat of Yoriichi's attacks made it feel like he was fighting inside a burning furnace.
Desperate, Akuma used Lord of Swarms for the first time—he extended his hand, and from his palm, a mass of writhing, demonic insects erupted, lunging at Yoriichi.
Yoriichi's eyes narrowed. Sun Breathing: First Form—Fake Moon Slash.
In an instant, a golden arc of energy swept through the swarm, disintegrating them in one clean strike.
Akuma fell back, panting. "You—!" He gritted his teeth. "You're insane! You were holding back?!"
Yoriichi grinned, taking another sip from his sake jug. "Of course, brat. If I were serious, you'd already be dead."
Akuma groaned, sprawled out on the ground. "I hate you already."
Yoriichi chuckled, standing over him. "Good. Because starting tomorrow, you'll hate me even more. Training begins at sunrise. And by the end of three months, if you're not ready— you'll die during your Demon Awakening Ceremony."
Akuma swallowed hard.
"Oh great. Three months of hell… in hell. What could possibly go wrong?"
To be continued…