Chapter Text
"You missed me, Kamado." Muzan cackled, his black hair flying in the wind.
Tanjiro growled. His burgundy hair was tossed and tussled as the harsh tail wind blew back in his directions. The grip on his sword tightened immensely as he felt blood pour down his chapped lips.
The person-no Demon- in front of him was aptly fit, a monster. The bodies of his fallen comrades, friends, the Hashiras, were strewn before him. He could hear faint pulses from his group of friends, but the rest? Even the Hashiras were silent. He was the only one standing. He had to kill Muzan right now.
They came so far, stripping Muzan of his comrades, his Twelve Demon Warriors, he called them, and cornering him in a darkly lit city. But even the strength of seven Hashiras, himself and his friends, and the poor Mizunotos they had sent in weren't enough.
And this... This... This monster... He would get away unscathed, un-punished for his crimes against humanity, his family... all their families. He would slip away yet again, through the their fingertips, and start multiplying, again and again. It was going to happen again.
He needed to end this now.
He could hear his family. His mother, Takeo, Shigeru, Hanako, Rokuta, all screaming at him to avenge their deaths. He would grant them their wish, and kill this fucker.
His blood boiled, eyes squinting into a menacing glare. He roared.
"MUZAN! I won't let you get away!" Muzan only chuckled.
"Such silly words from such a silly boy." Muzan's bright pink eyes gave him a final glance as he whizzed by him. "Too bad this is where we part ways."
***
"Ne, Tanjiro-sama." He was snapped awake by a confused, yet concerned voice. He sprung upright, taking in his surroundings, his mind still in a hazy blur. Oh yeah, it's been seven years since he carelessly let Muzan slip from his fingertips. He was never able to avenge his fallen family.
Now, fully awake, he glanced around the area. Where was he? His brows furrowed, he seemed to be on a mountain top, with the air being thin and the mist that enveloped the area. He could smell the thick scent that poured out of the forest, as well as a dull floral and ashen scent.
His eyes focused, and he blinked. Standing in front of him, waas a short boy with long black hair, ending in teal highlights, that draped over his shoulder. His confused cerulean eyes roved over him, worried huff pouring out of an otherwise sealed mouth. He was dressed in a white haori with bluish clouds blotted around its fabric, as well as white zori and a dark blue yukata.
The boy's head was tilted in concern, allowing his long hair to fall like a fountain down his face.
"Are you okay, Tanjiro-sama?"
Tanjiro swallowed. "I'm okay, Muichiro." He reached out to give the confused boy a head pat, which was greeted with two smaller hands wrapping around his bruised one, and an unamused huff. "And again, it's just Tanjiro."
Muichiro blinked. "Are you sure?" Tanjiro nodded. "You look so... blank."
"Positive, Muichiro." Tanjiro felt around for his Nichirin Blade, a stark black blade that an old Hashira once told him would never let him be one. Tanjiro snorted. Alright, Tsukiko, bet you're rolling around in your grave, he huffed, before sighing. "Now, where were we?"
Muichiro put a thoughtful hand to his bottom lip. "We were practicing... something. I don't remember."
Tanjiro chuckled. Ah, his forgetful Tsuguko. He had found the poor boy on his doorstep, completely knocked out and bleeding. Luckily the Butterfly Estate was just a ways away from his fancy new Sunrise Estate.
Though that was a story for another day.
"Why don't you and Giyuu spar for a bit, while I prepare lunch?"
Muichiro nodded, giving him a little wave before rushing off into the mist, clutching a practice blade forged specially for him.
Tanjiro sighed when the figure if the young fourteen-year-old gradually disappeared. A lot had happen in the seven years since they fought Muzan, he bit back a guttural growl at the name. For one, he and his friends were now Hashiras. There were six in total.
The Thunder Hashira, the Beast Hashira, the Flower Hashira, the Frost Hashira, the Demon Hashira and himself, the Sun Hashira.
None of them really welcomed the position as in their mind, they did nothing to earn it, they were simply filling in positions. They failed to stop Muzan, to stop his spread throughout the world.
Yet, now they stood, as the most powerful Slayers in the Corps.
It was a hard pill to swallow, and in all honesty it left him hoarse.
The first year since Muzan's disappearance was calm, abnormally so. Still, they honed their skills tirelessly, and that was a good move on their part. Because Muzan came back with a vengeance, he created his new demon army, the Twelve Demon Moons this time, that was stronger and far superior than that he faced seven years ago.
Luckily for them, they had grown stronger too.
This time, he, his friends, their Tsugukos, would defeat that smug son of a bitch, and make sure he would never let his blood contaminate a human soul ever again.
He stood up, dusting off his clothes. He stared down at his outfit, a dark blood orange uniform, his old checkered green haori, his hanafuda earrings that chimed in the gentle flow of the wind, his zori, and by his side, his worn-out Nichirin Blade, the metal reeked of death and blood, which usually caused him to grimace and wish he took care of his sword better when he was younger.
He ran his rough hair through his burgundy locks, which flowed down gently along his back, once, twice thrice. As his hands threaded through his locks, he could feel the battle scars littered around his body spark with a fiery rage. He wasn't so surprise as he felt his battle spirit rise at the thought of Muzan, it happened all the time he dwelt to long on the past.
He sighed, forcing his hands down.
He began to walk back to his estate, awaiting his two Tsugokus' return.
***
"Giyuu..." Muichiro drawled raising his blade as the boy he called for came rushing out of the shadows.
"Breath of Water: First Form- Water Surface Slash!"
Muichiro tilted his head, confused. "That's not fair, Giyuu."
Muichiro parried Giyuu's water-wrapped blade as the two clashed and clanged their swords. The male in front of him was fifteen, a year older than him, he noted. Giyuu had unruly black hair that their master had wrapped into a bushy ponytail, and piercing azure eyes. It reminded him of the ocean.
The other was dressed in a mismatched haori, one that he vaguely remembered belonging to two important people in the other's life, a dark red yukata, and his white zori and navy tabi socks.
Muichiro ducked his head, watching as a couple strands of thin black locks were sheared off his hair. Giyuu never held back during training, it seemed. Well, he could do the same.
"Breath of Mist: Third form- Scattering Mist Splash."
In a swift motion, Muichiro brought down his blade, slashing at the air in a circular motion. Giyuu ducked under the attack, quickly sweeping Muichiro off his feet with his left leg, balancing on the ground with his hands.
"Do I win this time?" Giyuu asked the younger, pointing at himself, face an amused smirk.
"What kind of question is that?" Muichiro asked. He then blinked, turning up to face the sky, his long black hair tussling around in the mountainous wind. "Oh, that's a pretty cloud right there."
Giyuu snorted, but sat down nonetheless, sprawling himself on the darker, wet grass that crunched as he made contact with it. "Hmm, cloud watching are we?"
Muichiro shrugged. "I feel like I did this alot, but I don't remember."
"What do you remember?" Giyuu lightly jabbed, but Muichiro interpreted it as genuine.
So, eyes hazy, lost in the vast expanse on the misty sky, he answered. "I remember my name, and you, and Tanjiro-sama."
Giyuu smiled, a rare sight to behold. "Sometimes, I wish I could forget things like you."
Muichiro turned to him, eyes betraying pure sadness, as his lips quivered. "And sometimes, I wish I could remember everything like you."
***
"Today's Taisho era secret: A Tsuguko." Muichiro began, before turning to the young Giyuu. "What's a Tsuguko, again?"
Giyuu wanted to face-palm, he wanted to so bad, but he held it in, as he knew Tanjiro would scold him for making fun of an amnesiac. So, he huffed. "That is what the disciple of a Hashira, a strong Demon Slayer, is."
"But we aren't Demon Slayers yet."
"No, we are not." Giyuu confirmed for his forgetful friend. "But lucky for us, our Final Selection is in a while's time."
"How did we become Tsuguko?"
"You have to be either scouted by a Hashira, or apply to be one."
"But that didn't happen to us."
"No, it did not." Giyuu confirmed yet again. Muichiro looked down. "No reason to be so sad, Mui."
Muichiro blinked. "I'm not sad. I'm thinking about the next chapter."
Giyuu was confused.