The morning sun filtered gently through the trees surrounding the quiet courtyard, painting the yard with slashes of golden light. The chirp of cicadas provided the only sound as everyone watched with rapt attention.
On one side stood Kamo Arika, the pride of her minor clan and a prodigy within the Demon Slayer Corps despite her young age. Her expression was focused, her grip on the wooden bokken tight, knuckles pale with intent. She had faced many opponents, but something about the man standing opposite her unsettled her. He was too relaxed.
Across from her, Adam stood barefoot on the wooden platform, his hands behind his back, shoulders rolled loose. His posture gave no impression of combat readiness—if anything, he looked like a man taking a morning stroll.
At the edge of the yard inside the main house under the shade, Tamayo watched silently, folding her hands together. Beside her, Master Haruya sat cross-legged on a mat, his young son Kagaya leaning against his side with wide, curious eyes.
"Begin," Haruya's voice rang clearly.
Arika moved first, quick as a flash. She closed the distance in three measured steps, her bokken slicing horizontally toward Adam's ribs. He didn't move. Not even a blink.
The wood struck air.
She blinked.
He was no longer there.
Before she could react, she felt a sharp tap on her wrist—the bokken flew from her grip, spinning harmlessly in the air before landing with a soft thud several paces away.
The silence was absolute.
Even the wind stilled.
"Again?" Adam asked, casually extending a hand and offering her bokken back with a small smile.
Tamayo narrowed her eyes. Haruya's expression didn't change, but a flicker of surprise crossed his gaze.
'He moved… before her blow even landed' Tamayo thought.
Arika took the weapon, panting lightly. Her pride stung, but her resolve burned hotter. "I'm not done."
"Good," Adam replied, but this time, his tone shifted. "Then let me show you something else."
He took a few steps back and breathed in slowly, his body relaxing into a different posture. His knees bent, hands loose, his torso tilted forward in a flowing stance—one Arika had never seen before, yet something about it screamed danger.
Then, with a fluid motion, crimson liquid seeped from his palm and spiraled around his arm, hardening mid-air into a sleek red bokken. The transformation was silent, elegant—and completely unnatural.
Gasps rose.
Tamayo's eyes widened sharply.
Even Haruya sat forward, brows furrowed.
"That's… blood," Tamayo whispered.
And it was. Under the full light of the sun, Adam was shaping his own blood into a weapon—yet his skin didn't blister, no smoke rose, no telltale sign of a demon's curse marred him. He stood there, surrounded by light and calm as if it were a regular Tuesday.
"He's no demon," Haruya murmured.
Arika, to her credit, didn't step back. She raised her bokken again, though her hands now trembled slightly.
Adam's blood-forged blade looked no different from a normal bokken except for it's color, but the implications of how it was formed were still in the air.
"You were strong among humans" he said softly. "But strength means nothing if you're not used to being overwhelmed, there'll be a time when you'll have to fight againts all odds and still win"
Then he moved.
Not with speed or flash, but with pressure. He walked forward, slow and deliberate. And with every step, Arika's breath caught. Her instincts screamed. It was like being stalked by some kind of predator, not even demons has elated such reaction from her before. She has stepped back without realizing it.
"Fight," Adam said. "This is the moment a warrior is made."
The clash of bokken echoed once more across the courtyard, the sound of wood meeting wood sharp and precise under the early sun. Sweat ran down Arika's brow as she parried another strike, her breath shallow, limbs aching.
This wasn't like any training she had ever undergone.
Every move her opponent made seemed effortless, but layered with intention. Adam's strikes didn't come from strength, but from perfect form—his footwork was unshakable, and every swing, every pivot, every shift in his stance taught her something without words.
"Lower your center of gravity," he instructed between strikes, voice calm but firm. "Feel the weight of your weapon—not just in your arms, but in your soul."
She obeyed, and for the first time, her stance held steady even under pressure.
Their bokkens clashed again, and she used a counter he had shown her only moments earlier—a short, deflecting parry followed by a step-in thrust.
It landed.
A sharp sound of tearing fabric, and the edge of her wooden blade grazed Adam's sleeve, slicing a clean line through the black cloth.
He paused, looking down at the cut with a soft chuckle.
"Well done," he said, voice warm with approval. "That strike wasn't brute force. That was understanding."
Arika's chest rose and fell, her expression stunned—part pride, part disbelief.
The match concluded soon after. Adam sheathed his blood-forged bokken, which dissolved once more into blood quietly into the air before returning inside of him. The spectators stood in silence, the tension fading into the calm morning once more.
Master Haruya finally spoke.
"Your ability… this control of blood. What is it exactly?"
Adam met his gaze with ease.
"Where I'm from, everyone has something like it," he replied vaguely. "Some call them gifts, others call them curses. But it's natural to us."
He offered no further details, and the Master didn't press.
Later, as the day waned and the sun dipped behind the mountains, Adam made his way across the wooden halls of the estate to rest. The calm night air carried the scent of pine and old paper, the floor creaking gently under his feet.
He was halfway through removing his coat when a light knock interrupted his routine.
He opened the door quietly—and was surprised to find Tamayo standing there, a lantern in one hand, dressed in a thin, pale kimono that shimmered in the low light.
"Forgive the hour," she said softly, "but I couldn't wait to see you"
He stepped aside and allowed her in.
Inside, she turned to him with serious eyes. "I have to ask… Are you a demon?"
Adam smiled gently. "No. I walk under the sun freely, don't I?"
Tamayo nodded, but her eyes held curiosity, need.
"Then, may I examine your blood? Just a little."
He paused, considering, then offered his hand. She moved closer, her fingers cool as they pressed gently into his wrist.
A single droplet was drawn with expert precision.
He knew that his blood was the panacea for almost anythingthank to his full inmunity and he used that to his advantage to gain the trust of Tamayo at this moment. He also knew that to create a panacea his involment was a must otherwise it would require the mind of genius only find once every thousands of years.
Finally Adam stepped forward, leaning down beside her ear before she left.
"Then you'll want to know this, Tamayo," he whispered. "There's a way for you to return fully. Not as a half-being. Not as a failure of Muzan's legacy… but as something perfect."
Her breath hitched.
Her hand clenched the sleeve of his coat.
He stepped back, voice calm, unbothered. "I may not be from here… but I understand what it means to seek vengeance. If you truly want to walk that path, then help me. And if I succeed—" his eyes locked with hers, "—your fate will be yours to choose."
Tamayo's expression shifted—longing, hunger, hope and something more he couldn't decipher.
"If you can do this… If you make it real… then I'll offer you all that I am."
With that, she turned and left in a hurry, disappearing into the corridor like a wisp of wind, the lantern's light slowly fading behind her.
Adam stood still for a long time, letting the quiet settle around him.
"Nano," he murmured at last. "Bookmark this moment."
The system responded silently, recording everything.