Shirou Emiya — Doesn't Want to Work Overtime!

"Hey, did you hear? The entire residential district in the north was leveled overnight!"

"I heard someone over there angered the gods and brought divine retribution!"

"No, no, no, rumor has it the authorities were testing a new kind of weapon up there and lost control of it—it leaked out!"

"Couldn't it have been demons?"

The first three all shot the fourth a look of open disdain.

Their eyes said it all: What nonsense are you spouting?

"Hey, should we go check it out?"

"Forget it. What if you get roped in and your own place vanishes next?"

"Ugh! Don't say that. I heard they still haven't found any trace of those hundreds of missing people. Good thing the oiran procession was last night—most folks were here in the hanamachi. If not, it could've been thousands missing, not just hundreds."

After dismissing the fourth guy, the group ignored him and went right back to gossiping.

Emiya Shirou, carrying plates out to the sparse tables, caught fragments of their conversation. The restaurant had barely any customers after what had happened.

Normally, Shirou would stay in the kitchen, but with so few diners today, he'd found himself pressed into service, waiting tables for the first time in ages.

Demons, huh…

Shirou pulled off his apron and folded it neatly, already making up his mind to head toward the northern district.

The incident had only just occurred; there might still be traces left at the scene.

And those people had only disappeared—no evidence yet that they were dead. If he moved quickly, there might still be a chance to save them.

Hundreds of people… those are all real, living lives!

Shirou shuddered to imagine what would happen to those defenseless people if they really had fallen into the hands of demons.

Demons never saw humans as anything but food.

The sooner, the better!

Shirou's heart raced with anxiety. Every second counted now—the earlier he found them, the more people he might save.

Maybe all those people had died last night. But so long as they were merely missing, there was still hope—however faint.

Ignoring his boss's protests, Shirou dashed out of the restaurant and set off toward the northern district.

Though his daily life mostly revolved around the hanamachi, this town was small—nothing like Fuyuki City back home. It had only taken Shirou three days to walk every street and draw his own map.

After all, there were no cell phones or navigation apps here; if you wanted directions, you had to ask in person.

Shirou settled into a measured jog, controlling his breathing. The pleasure district was some distance from the north side—he needed to conserve his strength in case anything happened.

He took the chance to carefully activate his magic circuits, something that always troubled him. If he ran into another demon like before, he might not have time to prime his magecraft and would be cut down before he could even summon a blade.

These disgusting creatures are terrifyingly fast. Until I can project a nichirin blade, all I can do is defend. If I want to fight back, I need the right opening.

---

"Hinazuru, was this really done by a demon? Was it one of those Upper Moons Uzui-sama warned us about?"

Suma stood at the edge of the empty crater, her legs shaking. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

For such a huge area to vanish overnight… If she'd been inside, she'd be gone too—just like the rest.

"This is really—"

Beside her stood a kimono-clad woman with a single black ponytail, purple eyes, and a small beauty mark beneath her left eye. Her hands were balled into tight fists.

To have something on this scale happen right under their noses, without a single clue—it was a humiliation for any kunoichi.

"Send word to our husband. He'll know what to do. For now, we need more intel."

Hinazuru slammed her fist down in frustration. She wanted nothing more than to dig up that demon and kill it with her own hands.

But she knew she wasn't strong enough for that—not yet. There were more pressing matters. She had to get information, track down the Upper Moon behind this, and leave the rest to the Demon Slayer Corps. That was the safest path.

She couldn't let anger cloud her judgment and derail their mission.

"Let's go. We need to work even harder to gather intelligence—otherwise, more people will get hurt."

Forcing down her anger, Hinazuru prepared to return to the hanamachi.

But just then, Suma let out a startled cry.

"It's that boy!"

She suddenly remembered the events of yesterday and pointed at Shirou, who was sprinting their way.

"Emiya Shirou?"

On Hinazuru's other side, another woman—her own ponytail split between golden bangs at the front and long black hair at the back—watched with curiosity.

"Wait, Makio, you know that kid?"

Suma looked amazed.

Makio only pressed her hand to her forehead and shook her head, exasperated.

"Who in the hanamachi hasn't heard of Emiya Shirou by now?"

"He's basically a local celebrity. Not only is he an amazing cook, but he's always helping people out, never asks for anything in return—he's gentle, selfless. Anyone who's lived here for more than a few days knows him."

"Besides, you've eaten his sushi, haven't you?"

Hinazuru pinched Suma's cheek.

"You wouldn't stop asking when you'd get to eat sushi that delicious again."

"Wait, that sushi was his?" Suma gasped.

"But what's Shirou doing out here? Does he have family living in this district?"

Makio stroked her chin, thinking.

"No, he's an outsider. No relatives around here," Hinazuru shook her head.

"But look at how he's breathing—could he be one of the Corps?"

Makio leaned forward, squinting at the boy as he ran closer.

Hinazuru crouched down as well, but quickly shook her head.

"No, he's not Demon Slayer Corps. He must've picked up the breathing techniques by chance. His rhythm isn't right—there's no way he could use any real forms."

"Whatever. Why are we worrying about this? We need to get word to the Corps now!"

Makio shrugged and moved to jump from the rooftop.

"Makio, Makio—did he just see us?" Suma pointed at Shirou, panic in her voice.

"No way. We're streets away—he'd see us like sparrows in the distance. He couldn't possibly spot us."

"But, but—"

"Relax, he's just a kid. No way he's got eyes like that!"

Makio patted Suma's shoulder, assuring her it was impossible.

Thunk!

A bamboo sword stabbed deep into the roof tiles, ten meters from where they stood.

All three of them turned, following the line of sight back to Shirou.

There he was, standing in the middle of the street—utterly calm, ignoring everyone else. He raised his arms, as if drawing a bow, aiming directly at them.