Wood Demon - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: What Are You Doing to My Little Brother?

Jack moved through the carnage-choked slopes of Mount Natagumo like a vengeful ghost, his `Camouflage Carapace` a flickering illusion of bark and shadow. The sounds of Rui’s desperate, furious battle grew louder, a beacon guiding him through the nightmarish landscape where Slayer and demon tore each other apart. His earlier pity had solidified into a reckless, perhaps foolish, resolve. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to achieve, what he could achieve, but the thought of Rui dying alone, consumed by hatred and the mistaken belief of ultimate betrayal, was a weight he found himself unwilling to bear.

He crested a small, blood-slicked ridge, his `Root Sense` giving him a detailed map of the unfolding chaos below. There, in a small clearing pulverised by demonic power and sword strikes, was Rui. The Lower Moon was a whirlwind of silvery threads and incandescent rage, but he was clearly flagging. His small body was battered, his white kimono stained and torn. He was locked in a desperate struggle with a young Slayer in a checkered haori – Tanjiro Kamado, Jack recognized with a jolt, his sword glowing with a fierce, dark red hue, a small, equally battered demon girl with a bamboo muzzle – Nezuko – fighting with savage grace beside him.

Tanjiro was pushing Rui back, his movements driven by a desperate, protective fury, his Water Breathing forms, though unrefined compared to a Hashira’s, were imbued with a tenacity that was clearly wearing Rui down. Nezuko, in her awakened demonic state, was a blur of powerful kicks and her own burgeoning Blood Demon Art, her loyalty to her brother a palpable force. Rui was powerful, a Demon, but against this combined, desperate assault, he was losing. He unleashed a devastating barrage of threads, forcing Tanjiro and Nezuko to momentarily scatter, but Jack could see the strain, the slight tremor in Rui’s hands. He was nearing his limit.

And then, as if summoned by the crescendo of battle, a new figure appeared, materializing with the silent, lethal grace only a Hashira possessed. Giyu Tomioka. The Water Hashira’s mismatched haori was a calm eye in the storm of violence. He assessed the situation in a heartbeat, his gaze cold and dispassionate. Rui, seeing this new, overwhelming threat, let out a defiant shriek and launched his most powerful attack – `Cutting Thread Cage` – towards Tanjiro.

But Giyu was already moving. `Eleventh Form: Dead Calm.`

The world seemed to go silent. Rui’s intricate web of threads, moments from dicing Tanjiro, simply… vanished where they met Giyu’s serene defense. And then Giyu was there, before Rui, his blade a silver whisper, poised for the killing blow. Rui’s eyes, for the first time Jack had ever seen, widened not just with rage, but with pure, unadulterated shock and a dawning, childlike terror. He was going to die.

It was in that frozen instant, as Giyu’s Nichirin blade began its descent towards Rui’s small, vulnerable neck, that Jack acted.

A thick, impossibly strong vine, darker than the night itself and covered in razor-sharp thorns, erupted from the ravaged earth directly beneath Giyu. It wasn’t aimed to kill, but to intercept, to bind. The vine wrapped around Giyu’s sword arm and torso with crushing force, its sudden appearance a shocking anomaly in the Hashira’s perfect defense.

`[Thorned Constrictor – Desperate Intervention!]`

The unexpected attack, with its sheer brute force and demonic energy (Jack pouring his Level 37 power into it), actually managed to divert Giyu’s killing blow by a hair’s breadth. The blade still sliced through the air where Rui’s neck had been, but Rui, in his shock, had stumbled back, the vine’s sudden appearance giving him that micro-second of opportunity.

Jack stepped out from the treeline, his `Camouflage Carapace` dissolving like mist, his expression grim, his eyes fixed on the Water Hashira. “Now, now, Hashira-san,” Jack said, his voice deceptively calm, carrying easily over the sudden hush. “What are you planning to do to my young brother?”

Rui stared, his mouth agape, his mind clearly unable to process Jack’s sudden, impossible appearance. Tanjiro and Nezuko looked on with wide-eyed confusion and alarm at this new, powerful-seeming demon who had just interfered.

Giyu Tomioka, however, showed no surprise, only a fractional narrowing of his cold eyes. With a flex of his arm, a surge of focused power, the thick, thorned vine that bound him shredded into splinters, the demonic wood no match for a Hashira’s pure strength. He turned his impassive gaze towards Jack. The pressure of his aura was immense.

At the same time, another figure landed lightly beside Giyu, a woman with a gentle smile and butterfly-wing haori – Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira. Her presence, though less overtly oppressive than Giyu’s, radiated a different kind of danger, a subtle, poisonous threat.

“Oh, fantastic,” Jack muttered internally, his feigned calm warring with the cold dread coiling in his stomach. “Another one. And this one comes with a smile that could curdle blood and probably hides a pharmacy’s worth of lethal neurotoxins under her fingernails. It’s a regular Hashira party, and I, apparently, am the uninvited piñata.”

“My, my,” Shinobu said, her voice lilting, pleasant, yet sending shivers down Jack’s spine. “Another demon steps out to play? And such a protective one, too. How… touching.”

“Name’s Jack,” Jack said, injecting a note of dark amusement into his voice, even as his mind raced, calculating odds, assessing threats. This was his primary Wood Clone, imbued with a significant portion of his power, while his real body was already beginning the painstaking process of burrowing, of preparing an escape route far from this immediate hotspot, using Woody Jr.’s distant energy as a focusing aid. “Older brother, apparently, to this little ball of fury you were about to turn into sashimi.” He gestured vaguely at Rui, who was still staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and something unreadable. “Sorry about the mess back there, by the way. He gets… emotional. And a bit destructive when he doesn’t get his way.”

Shinobu’s smile didn’t waver. “An older brother, you say?” she mused. Before Jack could reply, she vanished from sight, a blur of motion. He felt a prickle of danger, tried to erect a `Thorny Wall`, but it was too late. There was a searing pain, a disconnect, and then darkness for that particular clone. He saw, through its fading vision, his own headless body crumpling to the ground.

The Slayers who had begun to gather at the periphery of the clearing let out a ragged cheer. Tanjiro looked shocked. Rui’s eyes widened further.

Then, from the gnarled roots of a nearby ancient tree, another Jack stepped out, or rather, his main fighting clone, the one he’d been preparing. This one looked more solid, more powerful, and was currently dusting off its shoulder with an air of mild annoyance.

“Bit rude, weren’t we, butterfly lady?” this Jack said, his voice laced with theatrical exasperation. “Didn’t even let me finish my charmingly villainous monologue. And here I thought you Slayers had some semblance of dramatic timing. Honestly, the professionalism these days…” He winked, a deeply inappropriate gesture given the circumstances.

Rui was now openly gaping. This ‘brother,’ who he had seen flee, who he had screamed at for betrayal, had not only returned but was now apparently unkillable, taunting two Hashira. A complex storm of emotions – confusion, disbelief, a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of something that might have been awe, or even a twisted kind of hope – churned within him.

“Now, as I was saying,” Jack’s clone continued, its smile turning a little colder, its eyes hardening as it surveyed the assembled Slayers, Giyu, Shinobu, Tanjiro, and Nezuko, “Rui and I will be taking our leave. He’s had a rather long and stressful night, as you can imagine. So, unless any of you have a particularly strong objection…?”

As he spoke, his demonic aura flared, not with the chaotic rage of Rui, but with a focused, controlled intensity. The very ground around them began to tremble.

`[Forest’s Wrath – Binding Protocol!]`

From the earth, from the trunks of trees, from the shadows themselves, an army of thick, dark green tendrils and thorny vines erupted with terrifying speed. They bypassed Giyu and Shinobu, who either contemptuously sliced through them or simply evaded their grasping reach, but the rank-and-file Slayers who had started to close in were not so fortunate. Dozens of them were ensnared, bound tightly from ankle to neck, their swords clattering to the ground, their cries of alarm quickly muffled.

“Ah, Hashira,” Jack’s clone tutted, shaking its head. “Always so quick on your feet, aren’t you? Can’t say the same for your… associates.” He gestured to the struggling, ensnared Slayers. “Now, here’s the deal. A simple exchange. You let us walk away from this cursed mountain, unharmed and unbothered, and your friends here get to keep their vital fluids circulating where they belong. You try to stop us, you try any more of your fancy butterfly-stabbing tricks… and well, let’s just say I get awfully thirsty after a bit of exertion.” He paused, letting the threat hang in the air.

“I know I can’t beat you two,” he admitted, nodding towards Giyu and Shinobu with a surprising frankness. “Not yet, anyway. You’re Hashira. You’re basically demigods with swords and stylish haircuts. But,” his voice hardened, “I can sure as hell mulch every other Demon Slayer on this mountain before you manage to put me down for good. It’s your choice.”

A blur of crimson and black. Nezuko, her eyes blazing with demonic fury, her tiny fists balled, unleashed her Blood Demon Art. `Exploding Blood!` Her flames erupted over the tendrils binding Tanjiro and a few nearby Slayers, incinerating the demonic wood in an instant.

Tanjiro, free and enraged, pointed his broken sword at Jack’s clone. “You’re a coward!” he yelled, his voice hoarse with righteous fury. “Hiding behind tricks and threatening innocent lives! Fight like a man! Or… or a demon with some honor!”

Jack’s clone actually laughed, a harsh, humorless sound that grated on the nerves. “Honor? Kid, I’m a demon. Survival is the name of the game; honor is a luxury for those who aren’t actively trying to avoid being killed. And yes,” its smile widened, becoming something truly unsettling, “I am a coward. The best kind.”

With a contemptuous flick of its wrist, new tendrils, thicker and thornier, erupted, re-binding Tanjiro and the others Nezuko had freed. This time, several of the tendrils were clearly `Siphoning Tendrils`. They pierced the uniforms and flesh of two already injured and bound Slayers, who screamed in agony as their blood began to visibly drain, their struggles weakening almost immediately. Their skin turned a ghastly pale. The clone made a grotesque show of sighing in satisfaction.

“And a thirsty one,” it added, its eyes glinting with a cruel light that mirrored Rui’s own at his worst. “Two down. How many more before you see reason, Hashira-sans?” This was the act. The dark performance. The clone was fulfilling its purpose, selling the threat, buying time for the real Jack.

Shinobu’s gentle smile was gone, replaced by an expression of cold, venomous rage. “All Demon Slayers,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, “are prepared to lay down their lives to eradicate monsters like you from this world.”

“Damn right!” a bound Slayer shouted, his voice strained. “Don’t listen to him, Lady Shinobu, Lord Tomioka! Kill these abominations!” More shouts of agreement rose from the other captive Slayers.

Jack’s clone smiled again, a slow, chillingly genuine smile this time, one that didn’t quite reach its eyes. “Prepared to die, are they? How very noble. How very… predictable. And true, I suppose.” It paused, its gaze sweeping over the furious Hashira, the defiant Slayers, the shocked Tanjiro and Nezuko, and finally, the utterly bewildered Rui. “But are you truly prepared for what comes next, Hashira? For the consequences of your… heroic sacrifice?”

Its voice dropped, becoming almost conversational, but carrying a weight of utter menace.

“Because while we’ve been having this delightful little chat, my little roots and vines have been exceptionally busy. You see, I’ve taken the liberty of… securing every single civilian in the three nearest villages. Men, women…” The clone’s smile widened, becoming a terrifying rictus. “Oh, and about one hundred and forty-seven children, by my last count. Little Timmy from that general store down in the valley? He sends his regards. He was particularly unhappy about being woken up.”

It let the silence hang for a moment, the implications settling like a shroud. “You attack us, you try to stop us from leaving this mountain… and I genuinely don’t mind one bit if my tendrils get a little overenthusiastic with them as well. Every. Single. One. Starting with the children, I think. They make the most… motivating sounds, don’t you find?”

A wave of pure, unadulterated fury washed over Giyu and Shinobu. The other Slayers gasped in horror. Tanjiro looked like he was about to be sick. This… this was a level of depravity, of calculated, cold-blooded evil they had rarely encountered. A demon with no pride, no honor, only a terrifying intelligence and a willingness to commit unspeakable atrocities. He was, in his own way, more monstrous than Rui. They couldn’t let him escape. If he was capable of this now, what would he become with more power?

“You despicable… creature…” Shinobu whispered, her knuckles white where she gripped her sword.
Giyu said nothing, but the very air around him seemed to solidify, his killing intent a palpable force. They couldn’t attack without risking the (supposed) hostages. But they also couldn’t let this demon leave.

Their decision was made in an unspoken glance. They had to act. They had to try to end this now.

With a speed that defied perception, Giyu and Shinobu launched a perfectly coordinated, overwhelming assault. Giyu’s `Fourth Form: Striking Tide` and Shinobu’s `Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter` converged on Jack’s clone and a hastily formed, crude Wood Clone of Rui that Jack’s main clone had created beside it in the final moments to sell the “we’re escaping together” narrative.

The clones, for all their feigned power, stood no chance. In a blur of motion, a whisper of silk and a torrent of water, both “Jack’s” and “Rui’s” heads flew into the air, their bodies simultaneously pierced and poisoned.

The Slayers, those still conscious, let out ragged, disbelieving cheers.

As the clones’ bodies began to disintegrate into wood chips and rapidly wilting leaves, the countless tendrils binding the Slayers throughout the forest went limp, their demonic energy vanishing. They fell away, lifeless.

Shinobu, her senses sharp, immediately noted the lack of any true demonic disintegration, the absence of any lingering demonic aura from the “corpses.”

“It was a bluff,” she said, her voice tight with controlled fury. “The hostages… there’s no way he could control them all from here with such precision while fighting. It was a lie to buy time!”

And she was right.

Miles away, deep beneath the earth on the far western slope of Mount Natagumo, the real Jack, covered in soil and panting from the exertion, burst upwards from a tunnel of rapidly collapsing roots and dirt, dragging a battered, bewildered, but very much alive Rui with him. He’d been meticulously burrowing throughout the entire confrontation, his main fighting clone acting as his mouthpiece and distraction, its destruction the signal for his final escape.

And to make it more real, he really killed two Slayers.

The village hostage threat? Pure, calculated fiction.

Rui stumbled out of the tunnel after him, collapsing onto the forest floor, his small body trembling. He looked up at Jack, his crimson-flecked eyes wide, uncomprehending, filled with a maelstrom of emotions. Disbelief. Shock. And something else… something fragile and new, struggling to be born amidst the ruins of his shattered world.

This ‘Older Brother,’ this unpredictable, infuriating demon, had faced down two Hashira. He had threatened, bluffed, deceived, and performed acts of apparent cruelty, all, it seemed, to create an opening. And he had come back. He hadn’t abandoned him. He had saved him.

Jack looked back towards the distant, now silent, peak of Mount Natagumo, a grim expression on his face. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he had just made enemies of the most powerful demon hunters in the land. But he was alive. And Rui, against all odds, was alive beside him.

As for Saya, and the Mother and Father… his other Wood Clone, ‘Woody the Second,’ was, he hoped, leading them on a different path, far from this chaos, far from him, far from Rui.

They had made their choice to flee when they destroyed ‘Woody the Second’, and he had, in his own twisted way, honored that. They had no plan to rejoin him, and he, burdened with a recovering Lower Moon, had no plan to seek them out. Their paths had diverged.

Rui finally found his voice, a small, broken whisper. “You… you came back… for me?”

Jack met his gaze, the earlier hardness in his own eyes softening just a fraction. He was exhausted, his demonic energy reserves screaming, his mind still reeling from the gamble he’d taken. He offered a weak, tired grin.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said, his voice raspy. “Can’t have my psychotic little brother hogging all the fun, can I? Besides,” he shrugged, “what are big brothers for?”

The lie about the hostages had been a monstrous thing, a new low, even for him. But it had worked. They were free. For now.