Chapter Seven: Danger!
Tanjiro’s popularity was clearly quite good; in a short span of time, several people greeted him warmly. When Li Xia walked ahead of him, the boy was wiping sweat from his brow, smiling happily as he looked at the now empty bamboo basket.
“It’s wonderful to have sold all the charcoal!”
The innocent boy began tapping his fingers, calculating what to bring back for his younger siblings.
“Nezuko loves konpeitō… hmm?”
His nose twitched twice. As a future “Hashira” — the Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps — Tanjiro’s sense of smell was almost supernatural, able even to detect emotions.
“Is that… the scent of blood?”
Tanjiro’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he looked up cautiously. In front of him stood a stranger smiling gently.
“Kamado Tanjiro?”
...
Li Xia observed Tanjiro sitting across from him, his demeanor a mixture of wariness and restraint. His fingers lightly tapped on the table.
Tanjiro seemed unsure of how to refuse; despite his vigilance toward the stranger, he agreed to sit with him for a while by the street under Li Xia’s invitation.
Yet this Tanjiro appeared quite small, looking no older than eleven or twelve, standing about one and a half meters tall.
Holding a cup of water with both hands, Tanjiro asked in confusion, “Ah… excuse me, may I ask who you are?”
Li Xia reined in his wandering thoughts and paused before replying, “You may call me… Sherlock.”
Oops, he had forgotten to come up with a stage name for himself. It was customary to have a nickname when traveling in the world.
Since he was adept at uncovering hidden game content with detailed guides, and his ID was “Xia,” he had earned the nickname “Sherlock” on the forums.
Sherlock? Such a strange name.
“Tanjiro—” Li Xia cut off any questions and straightforwardly requested, “Though it may be presumptuous, I would like to visit your home and meet Kamado Tanjūrō.”
“Eh? Father?” Tanjiro’s dark red eyes widened. “Sherlock-san knows my father?”
Li Xia did not answer directly but sighed softly, “Has Tanjūrō’s health… worsened?”
Tanjiro’s expression immediately darkened, and he nodded lightly. “Yes, Father can barely sit up lately…”
“Is it really that serious?” Li Xia’s face showed more evident sadness.
Just then, Murata approached, carrying a package and respectfully handing it to Li Xia.
“Sir, here are the medicinal herbs you requested.”
Li Xia nodded slightly, placing the package on the table. “Tanjūrō’s condition is due to a fundamental depletion of vitality. I happened to acquire a dose of traditional Chinese medicine and thought to offer it to him for nourishment.”
The “Great Replenishing Decoction” was a precious tonic his father often made for him during his senior year of high school — an eight-treasure soup, the only qi-replenishing broth he knew well.
...
Whether it worked or not, it at least wouldn’t cause harm.
Recalling his father’s smile as he drank the soup, Li Xia’s heart ached, adding earnestness to his expression.
“This…” Tanjiro’s nose twitched twice. Even wrapped in paper, he could detect the scent of valuable herbs like ginseng.
Coupled with the sorrow emanating from Li Xia, Tanjiro’s empathetic nature made his eyes feel warm and moist.
Though he hadn’t wanted these precious herbs initially, the thought of his father’s health compelled him to rise and bow deeply.
“Thank you—Father will be very happy to know a friend came to visit him.”
Unconsciously, he already regarded Sherlock-san as a close friend of Tanjūrō’s.
[Tanjiro’s Favorability Increased, Reached Minimum Trust Level]
“Sherlock-san, please follow me.”
Tanjiro hoisted his bamboo basket but suddenly remembered something and asked shyly, “Could you wait for me a moment?”
Li Xia watched as Tanjiro went into the grocery store. When he came out, the empty basket was now filled to the brim with various dishes.
This child… afraid that there would be nothing to eat at home to welcome guests? All the money from selling charcoal must have been spent…
Li Xia fell silent for a moment. The reason Demon Slayer was so beloved by the public was largely because the Kamado family upheld such righteous values.
Thus, Li Xia never considered bribing Tanjiro with money to teach him the “Dance of the Fire God.”
He stepped forward, placed a hand on Tanjiro’s shoulder, lifted the basket, and slung it over his own shoulder.
Tanjiro was stunned and hurriedly protested, “Sherlock-san, it’s unnecessary. You are the guest. How could I let you carry it?”
Li Xia smiled, “It’s no trouble at all, Tanjiro. I’m an adult, and children often don’t grow tall if they carry heavy loads.”
The basket was indeed heavy, weighing about thirty pounds, but although Tanjiro struggled somewhat while carrying it, his pace remained brisk.
Could it be due to training in the “Dance of the Fire God”?
Tanjiro was unaware of Li Xia’s thoughts and simply felt touched, leading the way ahead. Sherlock-san was truly a kind person.
...
In May, Mount Kumotori was lush and verdant, teeming with dense vegetation. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows. Fallen tree trunks were covered in moss, painting a scene of deep green.
The air was fresh, infused with the mingled scents of grass and earth; even a simple breath felt as if the lungs were being cleansed.
Along the narrow path, wildflowers bloomed: elegant irises, vibrant azaleas, and pure white wild chrysanthemums — a scene starkly different from the wintry Mount Kumotori of the anime.
Li Xia stretched his back and looked around. The trees on Mount Kumotori were indeed plentiful, no wonder the Kamado family had been making charcoal here for generations.
“Sherlock-san—” Tanjiro waved from atop a nearby rock, “We’re almost there!”
...
Murata panted, gripping a tree trunk, disbelief in his voice. “Sir, how does this child manage to carry such heavy charcoal every day over such a long distance?”
“Perhaps his perseverance is remarkable—” Li Xia, concerned for his attendant, asked, “How are you feeling, Murata? Can you keep going?”
“Of course, sir. How could I lose to a child?” Murata pounded his waist, determination etched on his face. “Let’s continue, sir!”
Soon they arrived at a relatively flat clearing where a modest wooden house stood. Several children were cheerfully playing in front of it.
“Father! Mother! Nezuko! Takeo… I’m home!”
Tanjiro cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted excitedly. The playing children immediately dropped their toys and ran to him with open arms.
When they noticed the stranger behind Tanjiro, they clung to their brother’s legs and curiously peeked at him.
“Tanjiro… huh? Is that a guest?” Aoie, wearing a headscarf, set down a wooden basin, surprised.
It seemed they hadn’t had visitors in a long time.
“Yes, Mother. This is Sherlock-san, a friend of Father’s!”
Just as Tanjiro prepared to introduce Li Xia to his family, the door of the cabin slowly opened.
A frail figure stepped out, one hand resting on the doorframe.
His dark red hair was tied into a high ponytail; a faint scar marked his left temple. His cheeks were gaunt, and two conspicuous earrings hung by his ears. Even his eyes appeared dull and spiritless, as if a gust of wind might topple him.
Yet Li Xia sensed from this man a subtle but pure killing intent.
Like a sick tiger, desperate to strike its enemy to protect its family before death.
“Cough, cough…” Kamado Tanjūrō lowered his hand from his mouth, as if oblivious to the faint crimson stains on his palm.
His dim eyes fixed on Li Xia. “A friend…?”
[Warning: You are facing one of the world’s top-tier individuals — Kamado Tanjūrō.]
Li Xia felt as if a bright red warning sign had lit up above his head.
“Danger!”
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