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Early mornings had always been the same, before dawn, the pitter-patter of feet and hooves would sneak into their room and find themselves between them.
But not that morning.
Kotoha woke, not the comforting sneaking in the hallway, but rather to the lack of bare feet against the wood floor. Her eyebrows narrowed as she slowly opened her eyes, Douma sat against the wall like usual, but his expression was taught. Eyes narrowed as he stared at the door, his lips were thin in a small frown.
“Is-” Kotoha started, drawing Douma’s attention. He looked down as she slowly moved into a sitting position. “He’s so quiet.” She whispered.
A heavy knot formed in her stomach. Something was wrong. Dread filled her mind, she turned to the door, hoping her gut was wrong. Inosuke would walk through those doors like he did every morning, Tempura right on his heels.
She waited.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
She was out of bed and running towards the door. Douma was right behind her as she sprinted down the moonlit hall, she’d barely noticed him get up to follow.
Despite her worry, as she slowed down before Inosuke’s room, she leaned against the thin wall. Listening. She could see the low light from inside the room, but nothing moved among the shadows. Inosuke could’ve just been outgrowing this habit.
Douma flashed his teeth beside her, moving to the door before she could protest. He slammed the door open without hesitation. He stared into the room, neutral eyes assessing the scene. Kotoha held herself still, she didn’t want to look; the horrible knot in her stomach grew and the dread of seeing what was inside the room slid down her spine.
Douma meets her eyes, she pleaded with him. Please say he’s okay. Please say he’s just sleeping. Douma’s eyes said nothing as they narrowed, a flash of something she’d never seen froze her in place. Douma’s eyes shifted, from his beautiful rainbow eyes to where they were etched with what she thought was numbers, but the change was gone before she could contemplate it. All she could feel from it was horror.
Taking a hesitant step forward, she glanced into the room.
She was surrounded by Douma before she had a chance to scream. He turned his back to the room, hiding it behind him as he held Kotoha to his chest. Kotoha’s hands fisted into his shirt.
No.
No.
The little glance had confirmed her worst nightmares.
The dimly lit room displayed the blood. The futon was messy, blankets and pillows were torn to shreds, feathers littered the ground. Blood soaked into the fabrics, spreading around the floor in a brown dried up puddle. Sprays of blood reached around the walls, coating it and the small treasures placed neatly against the walls.
Kotoha shuddered, she didn’t want to believe it. She shut her eyes, praying to any gods or deities that this was just a nightmare.
Across the room, lay the severed limbs of a boar, it’s head missing.
Tempura had been torn to shreds, and their son was missing.
Kotoha swore she stopped breathing, the horror finally setting in. She buried her face in Douma’s chest, holding onto as if she’d slip from the world should he let go. Douma’s arms tightened around her as tears filled her eyes.
Her sobs muffled against him, “No,” she whispered. “No!”
Sharp nails dug into her back as Douma’s embrace turned crushing, yet she could not bring herself to feel the physical pain. Her heart tore apart as she sobbed, her screaming echoed down the halls of the temple.
“Please no-” She sobbed.
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The itching on his face was almost unbearable. The “Cosmetics” that Uzui had used to paint their faces had become a nightmare as the four walked down the red-lit street. While the two others dressed in makeup and too-many-layers-of-fabric-for-Inosuke-to-be-comfortable were taking in the street of pleasure in awe, Inosuke struggled to keep his eyes open and not rip the skin off his face.
Uzui slapped the hand from his face as it inched closer and closer to his black lined eyes. His lashes felt clumpy and stiff, making blinking even more difficult against the irritation over his eyelids. “Stop touching it. You’ll mess it up.”
Inosuke growled.
“Inosuke, are you okay?” Tanjiro asked, tearing his gaze from the decorative street. Tanjiro’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, “You’re all red.”
“I’m fine!” Inosuke hissed. Slapping away Tanjiro’s hand as the fingers reached up to the redded skin around his eyes.
Uzui grunted as he continued forward, ignoring the worried looks Tanjiro threw Inosuke. The group moved through the mass of people slowly, Zenitsu and Uzui arguing in hushed tones, Tanjiro following behind casting glances at Inosuke with every twitch of his eyes.
Then they’d come upon the first house, The Tokito House.
“These are some ugly girls…” Muttered the older man, “Not at our place, we just brought in a new girl a few days ago, so I’m sorry…” The man sitting in his front entry shared a glance with the elderly woman sitting next to him.
The woman glanced at the boys before her before looking back at the man, “Well,” She started, “One should be okay.”
The man stuttered in protest but his protest was drowned out by Uzui, “Then I will entrust one to you. Sorry, ma’am.” He said with a deeper tone than he’d had that morning.
The older woman stuttered, her hand coming up to cover the redness of her cheek. “Oh, then we’ll take the one in the middle. She seems to be honest.” The man next to her stared between them before shaking his head in disbelief.
Tanjiro, or Sumiko as her codename now was, straightened, “I’ll work as hard as I can!” He said, his voice pinched and squeaking as he spoke. The two elderly lead the girl into their house.
Uzui tsked as the three walked away from the Tokito House, “You guys are so worthless.” He hissed, “I can only sell you guys for cheap.”
Inosuke would’ve taken offense, had it not been for the dry itchy skin on his face. His eyes were getting more and more irritated, the urge to reach up to claw at it thinning with each waiting minute.
Zenitsu sighed heavily, having taken offense to Uzui’s statement. “I’m not going to talk to you…” But despite his statement, the two began to bicker back and forth, hissing and spitting poison at each other.
Inosuke’s head was starting to hurt as well, he glanced at Uzui as the two argued. Inosuke’s hand reached up to itch the skin around his eyes. His nails scraped against his skin, reliving the pain for seconds at the time before it came back with renewed vigor.
He’d barely been aware of his own hands before new hands wrapped around his. Zenitsu stared at him as he removed Inosuke’s hands from his red cheek. “Why didn’t you say it hurt?” He asked.
“M’m fine,” Inosuke grumbled.
Zenitsu frowned before pulling him by the wrist into the narrow ally between two houses, leading to a small alcove between the buildings, the narrow pathway was dimly lit by a lantern on each end of the path. A barrel of water sat in the alcove of one of the houses, a pipe running up the wall and up to the roof in an attempt to gather rainwater.
Zenitsu didn’t hesitate to dip his sleeve into the water, shuddering briefly at the cold. He brought the wet fabric to Inosuke’s face.
The cool water was a bliss against his flaming skin, Inosuke rumbled as the cooling liquid eased the pain. He resisted the desire to dip his whole face into the barrel.
Zenitsu washed away the cosmetics, even with Uzui grumbling over his shoulder and glaring. Ignoring him, Zenitsu continued his task, the clumps of makeup and paint gathered in the fabrics of his dress.
“There, does it feel better?” Zenitsu asked.
“Mm,” Inosuke murmured and nodded, the stinging was still there but no longer as prominent.
“Great, let’s keep moving,” Uzui said from the entry of the ally. Zenitsu grumbled a few chosen words before slipping his sleeve back into the water, rinsing off the makeup. Inosuke snarled low as the two went back into the red-lit streets.
The three walked for another while before Inosuke noticed a gathering of people heading towards them, “Hey! There’s like a bunch of people gathering around there!”
Uzui turned to the gathering, “Ahh, it’s an ‘oiran parade’.” He said, “It’s Koinatsu Oiran from the Tokito House-” Inosuke rolled his eyes.
She’d be dead in the mountains, he thought. She’s too slow, she’s lucky to have a lot of people around her if she’d be attacked. Zenitsu started screaming at Uzui as Inosuke continued to observe the people around him.
His fingers rubbed at the sore skin surrounding his eyes. A presence walked up behind him, a hovering figure staring down at him. He barely noticed Uzui punching Zenitsu in the face before the woman spoke, “Excuse me, sir.” If she was bothered by Uzui punching a girl, she didn’t show it. “I’d like to take this girl in, is that okay?” She smiled into her sleeve, “I’m part of the Ogimoto House… My eyes do not deceive me.”
Uzui brightened up, a bright joyful smile forming on his face, he clapped his hands together before saying, “Oh, you’re from the Ogimoto House! Well, thanks for your patronage.” Inosuke blinked in confusion. “Oh, sadly, Inoko here is mute, she does not speak.” The woman seemed unphased with a mere nod as she took Inoko by the waist. “Be well, Inoko-” Uzui called as the two walked away.
Zenitsu stared after them before coming to the crippling realization. Oh no, I’m the only one left.
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The narrow-eyed woman could barely contain herself as she walked off with Inosuke. Her low murmur exploded into an excited giggle. “The fool, giving away such a beauty for nothing at all!”
The two came upon a rather large building, Inosuke swallowed as the woman lead him through the archway of the front door. The woman yelled, “Kotoe, come look at this!” She left Inosuke in the doorway, yelling for the Kotoe to appear .
Inosuke rubbed at his eyes, the itching had gone down and though he wasn’t sure if the redness had, he was sure it was better now. Damn whatever was in that face paints.
The two women returned to the front, the newcomer’s jaw dropped with a gasp. “For nothing?!” She squeaked.
“Oh deary, don’t rub on it.” Soft hands pulled Inosuke’s hand away from his eye, “Whatever that jerk put on you wasn’t good for you. We’ll get it properly washed off soon.”
The other woman came up to him, softly brushing her fingers through his hair. “You’re so pretty. You know what this means, Yua.”
The narrow-eyed woman, Yua, squealed. “Yes! We’re going to be more popular than the Kyougoku House and the Tokito House!” She turned away to yell at seemingly nothing, “I’m going to educate her hard! She’ll be more popular than Warabhime and Koinatsu!”
“What’s your name, dear?” Kotoe asked.
Inosuke blinked, staring at the woman, the urge to speak bubbling in his throat.
“She’s mute, sadly. But her name is Inoko.”
The two women took Inosuke by the arms, dragging him deeper into the building. The two talked among themselves as if Inoko was deaf rather than mute. Inosuke decided to ignore all of it.
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Daki’s sash slithered through the crevice between the wooden planks, slithering into the darkened room. It stared down into the room, laying in wait until the target came back.
Makio or something she believed. A new girl at the Ogimoto house, a spy, she’d been sending letters every night, and Daki wanted to know who. As with Suma and Hinatsuru. Suma having been the easiest girl to catch, Hinatsuru having got away. Poor little Suma barely having caught the sight of the sash before it consumed her.
She had an inkling of where Hinatsuru had gone, having suddenly fallen ill. Daki had sent her off with wishes for her safe return and a part of her sash, for precations. Should she be who Daki suspected her to be.
The sliding doors slid open, Makio entered slowly, speaking softly to a woman remaining in the hallway. “Well, goodnight, Makio.” Said the girl in the hallway with a small bow.
“Goodnight to you too.” Makio closed the door softly.
A moment of silence held the air.
Then the knives flew.
The sash erupted from the cracks in the ceiling, aiming for the woman. Makio threw her knives at the sash, nailing it to the wall behind her. The sash shot forward, slamming into the woman. The sash wrapped around her, squeezing her arms until a small pop sounded and Makio hissed. The sash twisted around her legs, effectively tying her up.
Makio opened her mouth to shout, “Fuckin-!” The fabric wrapped tightly over her mouth, just as it pulled on her body, she hissed at the agitation against her disconnected arms.
“Now, Answer me.” Said the sash, Makio searched the room for the source of the voice, wide eyes glaring as it landed on the veiny combination of fabric, eyes, and a mouth. “Who were you sending those letters to?”
The sash slid across the room, keeping distance, “What was your name again? Oh, that’s right, it’s Makio.” The Sash slithered across the room again, staring into Makio’s eyes. The woman growled deep in her throat. “You will answer me, Makio…!” Hissed the sash.
A sudden presence behind the doors pulled her from her captive, Makio mumbled words of hate under her gag. The sash hissed, turning to the door, “Someone’s coming again. The Ogimoto house is a meddlesome bunch,” She cursed.
The sash slithered up to the ceiling, jerking Makio with it. Her yelp was cut off by the twisting of her arms.
“If you make any noise,” The sash hissed low, “I’ll crush your innards into smithereens!” The sash wrapped around her torso, tightening and pulling until the mere task of breathing became a struggle.
The sash halted as it glanced at the door, the presence felt off- neither human nor demon… like a mixture, a conflicting scent of the forest, and the scent of iron.
Fabric loosened as Makio’s body finally slumped into the textile, falling unconscious in the pattern of flowers and blood pumping veins.
The presence behind the door moved, running at the door. The fabric slithered through the cracks as the door flung open, casting the broken room into the light.
The sash halted in its escape.
No…
She knew that face.
Granted she’d only seen Douma’s spawn and his mate a total of three times, but their features were unmistakable. Those big green eyes and the dark hair that faded to blue at the tips. And their scent, a blood type Muzan had said.
The sash snapped from its thoughts as a bowl of udon slammed into the ceiling. “HEY, YOU! I know you’re there!” Yelled the kid. She’d never caught his name.
The sash fled through the narrow spacing between the ceiling and floor of the building. Cursing as it realized the half-demon-spawn was following. Running after it like he knew exactly where it was.
“You’re not getting away!” He yelled, but the sash slithered down the wall and into the tunnel beneath the house. The end of the sash squirmed as the wall caved over it, the half-demon slammed some man into the wall.
The sash vanished into the hole, listening to the yelling of women and the loud breathing from the half-demon-spawn.
Oh, how these news would shape their hold on the humans.
Daki smirked as she felt the sash string up her latest victim. She wandered through the halls of the Kyougoku house, listening in as people stumbled about. Small insects surrounding her. She leaned back in boredom as she dealt with a new girl, a blond, rather awful looking girl. A quick interaction before her sash retrieved her once the people were gone. Though the idiot child had the audacity to grab at her, perhaps letting her wake up to feel her body being eaten to the bone would put her in her place.
After all, food was food.
The hostess slandered her displeasure at Daki, spilling of her bullying the younger girls and their untimely deaths.
The old woman dropped to the ground, landing with a splat. Nosy women always landed on their face, Daki could barely hold her smirk as she listened to the peasant humans cry out for help. A delicious sound.
She slid through the window of her house, still smiling at the thought of the host’s terrified eyes, how she looked when Daki said she wasn’t going to eat her, then dropping her to the ground. A new presence appeared before her as she landed on the floor.
“How are you doing?” Asked Muzan from where he lounged on a chest across the room.
“M-Muzan-sama!”
“You seem to have eaten quite a lot of humans.” Muzan said, staring up at her, “You’ve gotten a lot stronger compared to before.” He paused, letting his words sink into her mind, before adding, “That’s good.”
Daki dropped to her knees, “Yes!”
Muzan leaned forward with his arms on his knees, “But don’t let your guard down. If things are going too well, you can get easily tripped up.”
“I-I will keep that in mind,” Daki said, her eyes glancing toward him.
Muzan leaned back, his red piercing into Daki’s as he said, “There are some skilled people among the demon hunters… Like the Hashira who’ll sense that there’s a demon here right away-” He paused, “But over here, anyone who lacks the power of a Hashira pretty much can’t tell the difference, because we look like humans. They can, however, discern that there are things they don’t understand, like blood types and disease strains…”
Daki nodded along, latching onto every word her master said.
When he suddenly stood, “Daki.”
“Yes!” She jumped on her hands, “Yes, Muzan-sama!”
Muzan stared down at her, a soft smile on his face, “You’re more beautiful than any other demon. Strong enough to have buried seven of the Hashira.” His hand reached down, capturing her face in his hands, “You’ll become much, much stronger. Much, much, crueler. You’re a special demon.”
Muzan’s words melted into her body, sweet words of honey.
Muzan leaned back, starting for the door.
“Oh, wait! The- The half-demon!” She stuttered, cheek still flushed from his praise. “Douma’s kid! He’s here. In-In the Ogimoto house.”
Muzan blinked at her little outburst before a new kind of smile adorned his face. “What a fortunate outcome. I’ll make sure to inform him, you might encounter him sooner or later then.”
---------------------------
Tanjiro tried to keep up as Inosuke ranted on the demon he’d almost caught. He threw his arms around and screamed, it was like this! No like this!
“I think Uzui-san and Zenitsu will come here for our regular meet up…” Tanjiro said in a vain attempt to calm Inosuke’s shouting.
“It was like this!” Inosuke said, throwing his hands into the air, “I know that much!” Tanjiro muttered is understanding.
“Zenitsu’s not coming” The boys jumped at the sudden appearance of the sound pillar, he sat down on the roof staring down at the people below.
“What do you mean by Zenitsu isn’t coming?” Tanjiro asked.
Uzui ignored the question and glanced back towards Inosuke, “How’s your face?”
Tanjiro looked at Inosuke, confusion written on his face. His eyes scanned for anything that could be wrong, Inosuke shifted, “It’s okay now, they said I had something called an allergic reaction , to the flower.”
Uzui nodded and turned away “I’ll report it to Shinobu for you.”, now refusing to meet their gaze, “I think I put you guys in terrible danger.” He muttered, almost too low for them to hear. “The desire to save my wives has caused me to commit a grave mental error… Zenitsu’s whereabouts are currently unknown. He stopped contacting me last night.” Uzui’s gaze searched across the rooftops as if he could pinpoint Zenitsu’s location with only his eyes. “You two, get out of here now.” He commanded, “Your ranks are way too low. If the demon here is an upper moon you can’t deal with them.”
Tanjiro and Inosuke shared a look.
“I will regard people who have stopped sending me letters as dead. From here on, I will move on my own.” Uzui stood up.
“No!” Shouted Tanjiro, “Uzui-san we-!”
Uzui interrupted him, “Don’t be ashamed, winners stay alive.” He glanced back, “Don’t mess this opportunity up.”
With a flash, he was gone, leaving behind the two boys in their troubled state.
--------------------------------
“Will you eat today, love?” Douma asked. A small bowl of soup sitting between them. Kotoha blinked down at the bowl as if the request would cost her the remaining energy she had to sit up.
“I’m… I’m not that hungry…” She whispered.
Douma frowned, the loss of their son had taken the soul out of her. Not that he expected anything different, but not something to this extent. She barely ate, she was barely out in the sun anymore, she cried herself to sleep most, if not all nights.
She’d stopped begging gods to help her, stopped begging them to bring back her son. Not that Douma cared about any gods, they didn’t exist, and even if they did, why would they care? Kotoha had, in her grief, made Inosuke’s former room into a memorial for him. If she wasn’t in bed, Douma would often find her there; holding and crying over Inosuke’s small treasures.
“You haven’t eaten in two days, please.” Douma pleaded.
A tingle went up his spine as he watched in dismay as Kotoha laid back down on the futon, bringing the blanket over her head. The tingle crawled on his neck, he was being summoned . Douma sighed, he pushed the bowl closer to the futon, praying she’d eat it eventually.
“I have to go now, I’ll be back soon.”
Douma rolled his shoulders as the door slid shut behind him. Another horrible day. If only he could make her eat, make her bathe, make her sleep. The feeling rotted in his chest, thorns wrapping around a decaying corpse as he pondered the thought of turning her into a demon, only for the sake of keeping her alive.
No. He couldn’t do that. Not to his sweet Kotoha, his sweet addiction.
There was no saying what could happen to her once the transformation into a demon finished.
Douma santered down the hallways, nodding to passing followers until he reached the prayer room. He settled into his throne and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he stood before Muzan. Either one of them upside down.
Douma bowed low, “You summoned me?”
Muzan sighed through his nose before straightening his stance. His bright crimson eyes pierced into Douma’s, and for a moment Douma wondered what he’d done to warrant the demon lord’s wrath. He couldn’t recall anything in particular.
“Daki found your spawn,” Muzan said.
Douma stiffened, eyes dilating in shock. Douma stopped breathing, a coil warping in his useless lungs. Douma gaped, his voice gone. Where? When? How?
“The Red Light District in Yoshiwara, Tokyo. She discovered him when he nearly blew her cover in the Ogimoto House. He almost interrupted her kidnapping of a demon slayer spy.” Muzan closed his eyes and smirked, “You do what you want with this information, but I reckon I know your plan without reading your mind.”
Douma couldn’t say anything, he was speechless. A guttural growl formed in his throat. He felt the tingle of ice in his fingertips, the instinct to go find Inosuke. To bring him home.
He needed to find him now.
“Before you go,” Said Muzan, “if you spot any of the parasites, please do end them. The fewer the better.”
The floor vanished from Douma’s feet to the string of a biwa, and he fell into darkness. Ungracefully landing on the rooftop of a building. Without a glance, he knew where he was. Yoshiwara, Tokyo. With the street lit up in red just in front of him.
--------------------------------
Tanjiro stiffened where he stood perched on the rooftop. A new scent filled the air, dangerous and evil. A demon! I smell a demon! And it’s close! Tanjiro realized.
He jumped from the rooftop, landing lightly on the tiles bellow, he’d just left Koinatsu with the news of his intentions and her good news of leaving the district. There’d been no demon just seconds ago. He stifled again as another scent filled the air, this one; while also a demon, seemed to have different intentions, searching… He shifted on his feet as he failed to detect the emotion of the second demon, only making out the intention.
Tanjiro gritted his teeth, two demons. One close and one running freely, he wanted to curse them all. He couldn’t go after both, he could only pray one of the others found the other demon before it hurt someone.
Tanjiro followed the scent of the closest demon, mortified as he found himself tracing steps he’d taken not too long ago. Steps that lead all the way to Koinatsu’s room. He didn’t hesitate to push the window open.
His eyes widened, a low gasp escaping his lips in horror. Sweat immediately forming on his forehead.
The demon turned slowly from its pray.
“You a demon hunter?” It. No, she asked.
A pale face came into view, green eyes etched with numbers and a cheek with a floral tattoo turning to him. A demon with wild black hair stared back at him, undeniably beautiful, but Tanjiro’s focus landed on the horror behind her.
The demon was speaking to him. Yet he heard nothing.
Koinatsu’s body was vanishing into thin air, sash wrapped around her from mouth to… To nowhere, her body having vanished from sight, forming again as a design against the four-petaled flowers and pink fabric.
The demon was still speaking when Tanjiro cried out, “Let go of her!”
The demon halted, blinking twice before gritting her teeth, “Who do you think you’re talking too?!” He was almost confused as to why she sounded offended, but the sudden slash of sash sent him crashing into the building across the street.
Tanjiro gasped, eyes wide as he caught his breath. His breath was uneven, catching and jumping in panic.
Fast.
Couldn’t even see.
Upper moon!
No strength in my limbs.
Getting numb.
He could only find relief as he stood, If my body didn’t react like this, I wouldn’t be alive.
His mind gathered as he caught his breath, calming down until it came under his control again. She can trap people in the sash. He realized.
He meets the stare of the demon across from him.
The demon smirked, “You’re alive. Hmmm, you got more bone than I thought.” She purred, settling on the ledge of the window like a cat ready to pounce. “Pretty eyes there. I’ll just gouge them out and eat them.”
Tanjiro slipped Nezuko’s box off his shoulders. Luckily it wasn’t broken, but it wouldn’t survive another landing like that. “Sorry Nezuko, I can’t fight with that on my back.” The box landed with a soft thud, “Don’t get out of the box. Not unless your own life is in danger.” He advised.
Just as the demon pounced.
Breath of water, fourth form, striking tide: Chaos!
Tanjiro spun into the air, an unending stream of water following, mixing and mingling as the demonic sash came around him, turning on him like a dozen snakes.
The sash cut, bringing Koinatsu’s trapped body to the ground. Tanjiro stood between her and the demon, watching the demon take in the scene.
The demon smirked, “You’re cute. But ugly.” She hissed, “Now don’t get too attached. You’re like a rat who’s about to die.” Tanjiro shifted his stance, it felt more like she was speaking to herself rather than him. Her fangs glinted in the dark before she straightened her smile turning even more sinister, something Tanjiro hadn’t considered possible until that moment.
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Inosuke was practically shaking in his seat, his foot tapping against the floor at a rapid pace. He was growing anxious, Kentaro was supposed to have arrived long ago. He grunted and leaned back, arms crossing over his chest.
He was getting impatient.
No that was an understatement. He was long past impatient.
He shifted, ready to stand, tired of waiting. When he felt a presence in the hallway, followed by another. The voice of the woman who’d lead him to the house spoke rapidly, hissing and mumbling before squeaking and shouting out certain words, whoever accompanied her remained silent.
But their presence was undeniable. He could feel it, like an ice-cold blizzard appearing before him, the hairs on his neck stood upright. This person was powerful and dangerous.
“Inoko hasn’t been trained, sir. Please, sir, we have plenty of other girls who-”
Inosuke stared up into the ceiling before snapping to the door. She was talking about him, he realized.
Whoever she was speaking to spoke low, just low enough for him not to hear his words, but the soft vibrations of his voice embraced him.
Then a sense of familiarity fell over him.
The woman sighed. Loudly.
Then the door pushed open, “Inoko. You have a visitor. I tried to advise against it but-” She stopped herself as she turned to the person still hidden by the wall, “Please do not hurt her, she’s very young and has no experience. I-” A hand came into view, halting the woman’s speech.
The figure entered the room, pushing the door closed behind him.
Inosuke’s heart dropped.
In the dimly lit room, his father stood in the doorway staring down at him.
His heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn’t be bothered to hold back as he threw himself from the floor he’d been sitting and into his father’s arms. Inosuke’s senses dulled over with a mist of joy. Oh, how he’d longed for his family, for his parents.
Neither spoke until the woman’s footsteps had vanished down the hallway.
“How’d you-” Inosuke started, staring up at his father. Douma’s arms tightened around his son. A feeling of warmth filled his chest like the thorny vines had grown flowers to sprout just for this moment. In a second of heartbreak he realized how much bigger his son had become, not only physically, but strength vise as well. He couldn’t remember how many years he and Kotoha had gone without their son, it felt like decades, centuries.
“A colleague of mine,” Douma said, lowering them both to the ground. Inosuke clung close to his chest.
Inosuke buried his face in his father’s robes, joy blooming in his chest. Tears threatened to spring from his eyes. The longing of being held again aching in his heart. The years of hardening in the wild among animals and the unyielding force of nature gone with the wind in a moment of weakness.
Inosuke never needed to appear strong before his parents, they’d never deem him anything less.
“Where have you been?” Douma asked, “What happened? Are you hurt?” His questions came rapidly.
Inosuke shifted on his legs, pulling away just enough to meet his father’s eyes, “I don’t know what happened. I remember going to bed and then waking up in the forest…” He paused at the memory, surrounded by blood and gore, the corpses of animals. A trend he’d not failed to follow up for the years he’d been missing from them.
“Where did you go?” Douma asked.
“I found this group of dem-” Inosuke stopped dead.
The demon slayers.
The conversation with Shinobu flashing his mind. One of your parents could possibly be a demon.
He’d refused to acknowledge it at the time.
He’d refused to acknowledge it until now.
He knew his mother wasn’t a demon. She walked in the sun. She would never harm another person. She couldn’t be- then that meant.
Inosuke meet his father’s eyes. They were a rainbow. Like always. Described by flirtatious followers as gems etched into his eyes, made specifically by the gods.
Inosuke shifted back, creating space between him and his father.
He took in his appearance, he looked human. But so did many other demons. His hands were sharper than others, nails pointed. He sharpened his senses, shifting away from the sense of familiarity. Like a clearing mist, he saw it, the raging danger, the hollow body filled with the blood of innocents.
The realization must’ve been clear on his face. Douma shifted where sat. “What have they told you? Lies? Oh so beautiful lies of our kind.”
The game was up.
And Inosuke fell into the hole he’d been trying to avoid.
His father was the demon.
And he was a dangerous demon.
A clunk before them snapped both of their attentions. Inosuke’s duel swords fell before him, followed by the small squeaking in the ceiling.
Inosuke’s hands wrapped around the hilt of his swords just as ice encased the room.
“I do have to apologize for this, Inosuke. It isn’t right for a father to harm his own child.” Douma lifted a fan, ice sprouting from the ground like spikes. Inosuke jumped back, feet landing on the last remaining wooden part of the room.
He swallowed deeply, as much as it hurt.
He was a demon slayer. And a demon stood before him.
Inosuke launched forward, a mask of the wild boar in his soul ripping lose his breath.
Breath of the beast, Second fang: Rip and tear
Inosuke spun forward, crossing his blades before he reached his target. Douma, unphased, raised another wall of ice. Inosuke’s swords slashed into the wall, cutting a block from it.
“Hmm,” Douma mused, “Guess it’ll have to be the hard way then.”
Inosuke hissed at the scene. The ice had pierced through the surrounding building. He could hear the screams of people, either pierced by the ice’s spikes of horrified by the sight. The walls shook and fell as the ice cut away at the supporting beams of the building.
People would die tonight.
Breath of the beast, Fifth fang: Crazy cutting
Inosuke jumped through a newly formed hole in the wall, cutting wildly into the rapidly spreading ice. He wished he had his mask, the comfort of the warm fur would’ve helped him immensely. The kimono he wore was quickly pulled loose and fell around his waist, his senses coming back to him like a wave of power.
He felt the frozen air before he saw it. He sprinted up the side of a spike, turning just as a fan of ice was brought down, he blocked it. Bringing his second sword into the gut of the ice creature.
It looked like his father, crystalized and cold as it shattered with the blow. Another followed him, bringing another fan down towards him. Inosuke dodged before piercing the sword into the ice creature’s neck and twisting. Its head fell from his shoulders and shattered.
Inosuke caught the glance of his father’s red robes as another ice creature stormed him.
Inosuke shifted his stance, jumping over the creature. A chill against his shoulder made him twist in the air, a red line forming on the shoulder. It wasn’t deep enough to hurt, but an annoyance.
He caught another glance of his father, ripping an arm of a dead woman, pierced by the ice. He watched in horror as his father lifted the arm to his mouth, drinking the dripping blood.
Inosuke’s distraction earned him another strike, this one slashed him across the chest to his chin. Inosuke gargled at the feeling but pulled his sword out.
Enraged by the sight of his father; Breath of the beast: Explosive Rush
Inosuke’s blade slashed into the ice creature, shattering it. Before he shifted his feet against the ice, he rushed at his father; swords in hand. He shifted, readying the strike at the neck.
But was blocked by his father’s golden fan.
With his mouth dripping in blood, Douma turned. His fan encased his right sword and it twisted.
Douma raised an eyebrow when Inosuke’s sword didn’t fly from his hand, rather his entire arm turned with the motion. Inosuke’s other sword came into view as it pierced the side of his face.
Douma said nothing as he stared down Inosuke. Yet his son’s eyes remained fierce. Like a beast fighting for his life.
Interesting. Thought Douma.
Inosuke dragged on his sword, pulling it from his skull with ease. The cut he’d made stitched together within seconds. Yet Douma couldn’t help but be impressed, as sloppy as Inosuke’s moves were. Like an animal, unpredictable and wild. Unreasonable and fast.
Had Douma been of any lower status, he might’ve been dead.
“That’s no way to treat your father, now is it?” Douma mused.
Inosuke growled low.
“Nothing to say?”
If it was Inosuke’s pride or his broken heart, neither of them knew.
Douma sighed loudly, “Again, I apologize, son.”
Inosuke felt the ice but didn’t have time to react. His head slammed into the cold structure, tearing at something in his head. The world stood still for a long moment, a hiss of pain emitting from the boy. His swords were thrown from his hands, and a darkness formed in the corner of his eyes. He fought the heavy feeling falling over his head, like a song lulling him to sleep.
Douma’s shoes came into view and Inosuke glared up at him before his eyes fell shut.
“It’s going to be okay, Inosuke. We’re going home.”
Home.
--------------------------------
Tanjiro’s body felt heavy, like a hundred tons of rocks had been neatly laid down on top of him. He laid flat on his back, staring up into the ceiling. The bright light of the day shone through the window, birds sang in the trees in the garden. It was almost enough to fall back asleep.
But the ache in his body persisted he wake up.
A dull throbbing in his head echoed in his ears, something was wrong.
Thump-
They’d fought Daki and her brother.
Thump-
Nezuko had discovered a new form in her demonic state.
Thump-
Uzui had found and rescued Zenitsu, Makio, and Suma.
Thump-
Uzui had lost his hand and almost died to Gyutaro’s poison.
Thump-
Nezuko had healed him.
Thump-
“Where is Inosuke?”
Something shattered across the room from him.
---------------------------------
Two months had passed since the fight with the two upper moons. Tanjiro had been in a coma for two months.
He couldn’t hold his sigh of relief when he heard Zenitsu had recovered well and was already out in the field. Nezuko was also unharmed. Uzui had claimed his retirement with his wives, as he’d lost one hand in the fight.
What worried him was Inosuke. Or the lack of him.
Uzui sat calmly in a chair next to the bed, looking down at a few papers in his hand.
“I reported Inosuke’s discovery of the allergy of wisteria, guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” He said.
“You say it as if he’s already dead.”
Uzui looked at him. “He could be, the Ogimoto house was encased in ice. The people who lived there were either torn up by the ice or something else.”
“Torn up? What else?”
Uzui sighed deeply, looking back at the letters. “I asked Shinobu about what else she’d discovered about Inosuke. His eating habits are unclear, but seemingly centered around animal consumption rather than human.”
Tanjiro frowned, “Inosuke wouldn’t eat people. He’s had the chance many times since we discovered this about him, he’d only eaten animals.”
Uzui shook his shoulders, “If he did eat those people or not, we can’t find him. The only traces were his clothes, his swords, and that godforsaken mask.”
Tanjiro looked away, staring into his hands. Inosuke was gone. No one knew if he was dead or alive.
He couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.
If only he could’ve stopped it.
-----------------------------------------
The soft melody woke him up, a soft melody that usually would put him to sleep. But the light flowing into the room, the soft strokes of a hand through his hair, and the soft singing were just too sweet to not acknowledge.
His eyes opened slowly, he stared into a familiar ceiling, one he’d carved the pattern of stars into as a child. He glanced around the room, his head falling sideways to see his mother.
Kotoha sang softly as she combed through Inosuke’s hair with her fingers, her eyes closed until her song shifted.
He remembered this song.
It was a song about the seasons, spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Each part with its own tone and message. The summer melody shifted to autumn, a more sorrowful part as it sang of the falling leaves and the spirits of the land leaving to sleep until spring.
Kotoha halted when she noticed the eyes on her.
She looked different from what he remembered. She looked gaunt, thin, and pale. Her eyes looked heavier like crying had been part-time for her. Her hair was unruly, long, and messy. She looked neglected.
Inosuke reached around, taking her hand in his own.
He needed to know she was real.
A small smile appeared on her face, tears forming in her eyes before they streamed down her face.
“Inosuke.” She whispered her voice frail and broken as her body wrapped around him in a tight embrace. She held him for a long time, humming softly and whispering words of comfort; for herself or him he couldn’t tell.
But Inosuke fell still, it felt like a dream. One he couldn’t remember. He’d woken up in a cave without his home, and now he was home. Maybe it all had been a bad dream.
Maybe he was safe now.
Yeah.
He was home after all.