34 Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

"Please, go ahead."

"Well then, I won't hold back."

"Of course, of course."

"Thank you for the hospitality."

If not for the half-filled cup of blood on the table, the two could have been mistaken for old friends enjoying drinks together.

The small wound on Haruto's arm, where the blood was drawn, stopped bleeding almost immediately. He wiped the spot with his thumb, leaving no trace of injury behind.

His mastery of the Breath techniques was flawless, allowing his body to heal from such minor injuries in mere moments.

Tamayo didn't bother with further formalities. She lifted the delicate teacup, shielding her face with her sleeve, and downed the blood in one smooth motion.

Seeing such a powerful demon consume blood right before him made Haruto a little uneasy.

A demon over 400 years old should be able to control their urges well enough, but Haruto couldn't shake the fear that one moment they'd be chatting, and the next he'd have to draw his sword.

After all, Tamayo wasn't the only demon in the room. Yushiro stood nearby, watching like a hawk.

Haruto was certain that if Tamayo lost control, Yushiro would be the first to attack—most likely landing a solid hit on him, the human in the room.

The two of them—teacher and disciple—kept their eyes locked on the graceful woman. They watched as she gently placed the teacup back on the table, observed the veins on her neck bulge faintly before subsiding, and noted how she remained utterly silent throughout.

It was as if she'd drunk not a cup of human blood capable of awakening a demon's primal nature, but an ordinary cup of oolong tea.

Huh? That's it?

Haruto felt oddly disappointed.

No matter how old one gets, there's always a part of us that yearns to be exceptional, even if that "exception" brings no real benefit.

Tamayo sat quietly, staring at Haruto for a long time. Long enough to send a chill up his spine.

Her gaze was so piercing that even Yushiro began subtly preparing to act. Finally, she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a clean napkin and spoke in a low, gentle tone.

"There's a hint of grilled chicken skewers in your blood."

"Exactly! I ate a whole bunch earlier!" Haruto nodded enthusiastically. "Wow, that's incredible! You can tell just from that?"

"I also felt a distortion in time."

Haruto froze, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Distortion… in time?"

Tamayo closed her eyes, her delicate fingers massaging her temple.

"Yes. These fragments are still scattering around in my mind. It's as though I'm sitting here, watching another version of myself doing other things. Waiting at the door for you, sending Chachamaru to greet you, seeing a patient earlier this morning...

After drinking your blood, all of these memories began colliding in my head. They weren't just memories either, it felt like I was there, as an observer."

Haruto pressed his lips together tightly, saying nothing. Inside, he was panicking.

What Tamayo described matched perfectly with the secret of his most unique ability—time reversal upon death. Could this phenomenon have been imprinted into his blood?

"Such a condition is unheard of," Tamayo murmured, still trying to organize her chaotic thoughts. "I've never read about anything like this in historical records."

Her brow furrowed slightly as she leaned on her hand, clearly frustrated.

"These fragments are vivid, as if I relived them. Yet no matter how vivid, I could only observe, never intervene. I even tried to change something—like sending Yushiro instead of Chachamaru—but failed."

Opening her eyes, she gave Haruto an uncertain look. "Perhaps it's because the amount of blood was too small. Or maybe it's simply a matter of being unable to alter what's already passed."

Her gaze lingered on Haruto's slightly tense face, then softened as she smiled.

"In any case, against a demon who consumes their enemy's blood, this ability could provide an unexpected advantage. However, it comes with significant risks. For instance…"

Her voice turned gentle, yet the words she spoke sent a chill down Haruto's spine.

"I couldn't help but wonder—if I drained you completely, would I be able to turn back time entirely? Even if it were only as an observer, to watch over someone dear to me as they grew… it would be a beautiful thing."

Haruto leaned back in his chair, alarmed. "Tamayo-san, even if you drain me dry, I don't think time's rolling back four or five hundred years!"

Tamayo's words confirmed that the ability tied to his blood fell far short of his actual time-reversing power. He breathed a little easier.

Still, could the demon he'd recently slain have been affected in the same way? By consuming a large quantity of his blood, had Wakuraba experienced some sort of time rewind that distracted him, allowing Haruto to decapitate him "easily"?

A cold sweat broke out on Haruto's back.

If Wakuraba had relied less on drinking blood and more on direct combat, would Haruto have faced yet another death and a forced revival?

Then again… didn't he earn that victory through his own efforts?

As Haruto rubbed his chin, lost in thought, Tamayo finally seemed to recover from the effects of his blood.

"What a novel experience. It feels as though I've lived an extra day."

Smiling, she lifted a syringe. "Would you mind if I kept a sample? It might help in developing not only a suppressant for Kibutsuji Muzan but also something to strengthen Demon Slayer swordsmen."

Knowing Tamayo's connection to Kagaya Ubuyashiki, Haruto couldn't refuse. Besides, giving up a bit of blood was trivial for a trained swordsman.

After offering a full vial, Haruto sat cross-legged, munching on fried pork cutlets—ones Tamayo had sent Yushiro to buy.

Yushiro, ever the loyal servant, returned with the food but looked ready to throw it in Haruto's face.

As Haruto crunched noisily, he watched the dynamics between Tamayo and Yushiro shift.

"Tamayo-sama, please allow me to do this instead!"

Yushiro's expression was desperate, and he glared daggers at Haruto.

"How could you endanger your beautiful, noble body for such a trivial task?"

"Yushiro, you're not yet strong enough," Tamayo said, shaking her head. She took her delicate pinky finger in her hand and snapped it without hesitation.

Even the lower lids of her eyes trembled slightly. Evidently, no matter how powerful a demon, physical pain was still very real.

Genya's rooster-like hair quivered as he watched in shock. Tamayo placed the broken finger in front of him, calm as ever.

The wound quickly regenerated a new finger, which Tamayo wiped clean with a tissue before offering with a small smile.

"Go ahead, try it. It should taste quite pleasant."

Sure, this was all part of the process, but the sheer visual impact was overwhelming.

Look at Genya—his face was turning green.