NOVEL WEB Chapter 24: Love Vs Hate
"...It's you..."
Naraka observes her from toe to face. He noticed so many similarities, likely identical to someone he knew.
"KANROJI-SAN??!!!" he murmurs.
Her figure, her hair, her eyes, her voice, and almost everything match the former love hashira, Mitsuri Kanroji. She has worn a formal demon slayer uniform. Tears are streaming down her face, still devastated by the death of her comrades.
"You can't cry around when you're fighting against someone. You're not allowed to let your guard down on the battlefield; it's a do-or-die situation."
Naraka's gaze softened, but his voice remained steady and low, almost as if trying to tether her to the present.
She suddenly stops crying, her tears stop flowing, and her eyes widen in surprise. She immediately gets up and holds her sword tightly.
"He sounds like Nameless-kun... Is it... my time? It feels like I had been training for so long just for this moment. No... I can't die so easily... Where are you Yamamoto-kun? Nameless-kun? I'm feeling so nervous..." she thinks.
Naraka took a deliberate step forward, his long scythe spinning effortlessly between his fingers, the curved blade gleaming ominously in the dim light.
Without a word, she moved.
In a flash, she lunged at him, her movements so swift that the ground seemed to quake beneath her feet. Her nichirin-whip katana lashed out with blinding speed, a deadly arc that wrapped around his spinning scythe. The sharp steel hissed as it coiled tighter, threatening to rip his weapon clean from his grasp.
But...
Before she could even finish her maneuver, his fist slammed into her stomach with a brutal force that echoed like thunder.
Her eyes widened, the impact stealing the air from her lungs, and in an instant, her body was sent hurtling through the air as if she weighed nothing.
She crashed through the side of a wooden house, splintering beams and debris flying in every direction. The room shook violently from her impact, and she struggled to get to her feet, pain radiating through her body.
Before she could gather her bearings, Naraka was already there, standing before her like a shadow of death, his scythe raised high, the blade glinting as it hung menacingly over her head.
Inside the house, the terrified occupants froze, their eyes wide with fear. They had barely had time to comprehend what had just happened.
Naraka's scythe spun with deadly precision, the razor-sharp blade a breath away from her neck.
But in the blink of an eye, she reacted.
Her Nichirin-whip katana snapped to life, coiling and striking like a serpent. It wrapped around the scythe's shaft just before the blade could touch her skin. The two weapons collided with a deafening crash, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the room.
The wooden house, already fragile from the earlier impact, groaned under the strain.
Then, with a violent crack, the entire structure split in two. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring the terrified faces of the people inside, who screamed in panic as the house collapsed around them.
Before the wreckage could settle, the two had already darted outside, standing in the narrow alleyway under the moonlight.
"Why are you ruining houses and lives in the fight?" she shouted. "Don't include innocents in your—"
But her words were abruptly silenced. Naraka vanished from sight, his speed incomprehensible, leaving only a rush of wind in his wake. In an instant, he reappeared inches from her, his scythe already in motion. The curved blade descended toward her with brutal speed.
She barely had time to react, her Nichirin-whip katana snapping up to intercept the strike. Metal clanged against metal, the force of the impact reverberating up her arms.
Then, in a sudden, fluid motion, Naraka saw his opening. With a swift, brutal kick to her stomach, he sent her flying once again, her body crashing into the side of the alleyway wall. The impact left cracks in the stone, dust raining down as she struggled to regain her balance.
Naraka stood over her, his silhouette cast long and dark against the moonlit street.
"Your journey is over," he said, raising his scythe for the finishing blow.
…
LOVE BREATHING 2ND FORM: LOVE PANGS
Rinka performs a singular, long-winding swing, akin to a whipping motion, that cuts the target at multiple angles.
Naraka immediately jumps above but he gets some wounds, which he easily heals.
"Love breathing?!." he smiles.
He gets back to the ground and faces her.
...
"This is so nostalgic... so heartwarming... It feels like I can drown in this feeling... I don't want it to end..." he thinks.
He remembers...
———————————————————————
43 Years Ago
During Hashira Training, Daytime.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting harsh light over the Hashira training grounds, where demon slayers honed their strength and resolve. Among them was a young Naraka, a skinny 13-year-old boy with pale skin, standing at a distance from the others. His eyes wandered to Obanai Iguro, the former Serpent Hashira, who was standing alone, his gaze fixed sharply ahead.
Obanai's attention was unwavering, locked on Mitsuri Kanroji, the former Love Hashira, and Tanjiro Kamado. The two were training together, laughter and ease between them, but the tension radiating from Obanai was palpable.
Naraka, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease, cautiously approached him. "What's the matter, Sensei?" he asked, his voice timid but genuine.
Without even turning his head, Obanai hissed through gritted teeth, "Kamado... he's getting too close to Kanroji."
Naraka blinked in surprise, his young mind piecing together the weight behind those words. He glanced back at Mitsuri and Tanjiro, then back at Obanai's rigid posture. A daring thought crossed his mind.
"Is it possible… that you have a crush on Kanroji-san?"
Obanai's eyes widened, and with a sudden, violent snap, he rounded on Naraka, his face flushed with anger. "SHUT UP!!! It's none of your business!"
Naraka recoiled slightly, his heart pounding. "I shouldn't have asked him that," he thought.
Obanai leaves the place in frustration.
Naraka, too, found his gaze lingering on Tanjiro—though for a different reason. His fists clenched at his sides as a deep envy bubbled within him.
"Why is Kamado so popular? He isn't even a Hashira, yet he's recognized by the Hashiras... it's not fair. What about us? What about those of us who aren't prodigies or blessed with power? Is there no place for the weak demon slayers like me?"
But over time, Naraka found himself drawn to Mitsuri. Not in the same way Obanai was, but with an earnest desire for connection. He began visiting her regularly, his awkward conversations evolving into meaningful exchanges. Mitsuri's warmth and kindness were a balm to his insecure heart, and she acknowledged him without hesitation. In her, Naraka found a friend—someone who saw him, even if the rest of the world didn't.
In return, Naraka made it his mission to bring Obanai and Mitsuri closer, hoping that somehow, he could make Obanai's hidden affection known. He would always encourage her to spend more time with Obanai, dropping subtle hints in their conversations and praying that one day they would confess their feelings for each other.
However...
That would never come true... They both died before confessing their love. Muzan killed both of them...
Naraka's memories became stained with sorrow as he recalled the devastating battle at the Infinity Castle.
... They died without ever confessing the love that had bound them in silent agony.
———————————————————————
Now – The Present Timeline
Naraka stood over Rinka, towering like a shadow of death. His long scythe gleamed in the dim light, its sharp edge hovering mere inches from her throat. Rinka lay motionless on the ground, her body battered, muscles trembling from exhaustion.
"Farewell... You'll be remembered… in my memories."
With a swift, merciless motion, Naraka raised his scythe high above his head, preparing to bring it down with deadly force. The blade whistled through the air, aiming straight for her neck.
But just as it was about to strike—
Whoosh!
A sudden gust of wind ripped through the alley. Before Naraka could react, the wind whisked Rinka away from under his scythe, pulling her from the brink of death.
"What?!"...
He spun around, searching for her, his senses heightened, his mind racing.
As the haze cleared, Naraka's gaze locked onto a man, standing tall with calm authority. Rinka, barely conscious, was cradled in his arms, her breathing shallow but steady.
It was Nameless.