Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    Rui found himself standing in the middle of a ginormous castle, gravity obviously not affecting some of the walls as rooms were more like platforms that floated around in giant cubes. A faint sound of drumming could be heard somewhere far off.

    I’m at the Infinity Castle? Does that mean… an Upper Moon was defeated?

    A drum sounded next to his ear. A platform appeared in front of the spider demon and sitting atop it, a giant, muscular demon with glowing red eyes, tsuzumi drums protruding from his skin all over his body.

    To Rui’s left, a grotesque demon lounged on his own platform. His kimono was made up of horribly sewn together patches of fabric and a giant tumor protruded from his forehead between two wood-like horns. This demon had wire-like hair, sharp dirty nails and his entire face sagged with wrinkles and age. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard as he spoke.

    “Hello, hello, Rui the Child, you look as youthful as ever… how disgust--how delightful it is to see you… How have you been after ninety years of silence?” The creature’s glowing eyes wore the rank of Upper Five , two ranks below Rui’s Upper Three .

    Before Rui could respond, a woman chuckled deeply behind them. The boy turned around to see a woman lying lazily on her back on a floating staircase, a biwa in her hand and her breath smelling heavily of opium. The woman’s hair was greasy and she had enough of it for it to completely cover her face save her stained black lips.

    “Oh, Hantengu, how sad is it to learn that you’ve forgotten how to count.” She sounded sarcastic. “We’ve been apart for a hundred and thirteen years! That’s how long it’s been since our Lord called us all together, you old fool.”

    Hantengu’s grimy nails clawed at his bony cheeks. “No no no no no, I don’t like that number, Nakime! Such a terrible number, indivisible, unlucky, odd… Could our Lord not have waited another year to make it one-hundred fourteen?”

    Rui turned back to the Drum Demon. “You, has Lord Kagaya arrived yet?”

    “Not yet.” The Drum Demon whispered.

    “Then where would we find Upper Moon One? There’s no way he was the one to die.”

    The Drum Demon reached around himself and struck a drum on his back. As he did, a muscular arm threw itself around Rui’s neck, the strong stench of alcohol filling his immortal nose.

    “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” A tall man with fuschia colored eyes bearing the rank Upper Two laughed as he leaned against Rui. “The little prince isn’t going to check up on me ? Have a heart, child, I for one was super concerned about who died! All of you are my friends, I would shed a tear if one of you were to wane out!”

    Nakime sat up, a smile curling from her stained lips. “Ah, Tengen! You’ve arrived!”

    “Indeed I have, Upper Four!” Tengen laughed. “Long time, no see, girl! Is that a new biwa I see there?”

    “Oh, this?” The woman held up her instrument. “Yeah, I stole it from some lady before I sucked out the brains of her babies through their mouths.”

    “How delightful! By the way, Hantengu, that little wooden figurine you made me? It’s sitting next to the painting of my wives on my mantle, it’s one of my most prized possessions, I’ll have you know!”

    Hantengu blushed a little bit and stopped clawing at his face. “How thoughtful, Upper Two.”

    Rui stared straight ahead. “Remove your arm.”

    Tengen blinked. “Pardon me?”

    The boy demon’s fingers twitched and a razor sharp thread severed Tengen’s head from his shoulders, making his body stumble and his arm fall from Rui’s shoulder. Nakime’s jaw hung open and she started twirling her hair in her fingers.

    “Oh my, how violent.”

    “Holy crap…” Tengen regained his balance and put his head back on. “You’ve gotten stronger, kid! Did killing that Hashira finally give you a growth spurt?”

    Before Rui could retaliate, the Drum Demon interrupted. “Upper Moon One was the first to arrive, he has been here the entire time.”

    Rui turned his head to see a floating room below the platform he stood on. A large man with shoulders much wider than his miniscule waist sat on his knees, a black cloak covering his exposed chest. His sickly green hair was pulled above his head in a tight topknot, but shaggy bangs hid his face from his onlookers. Sitting next to his person were two farming scythes wrapped in linen. When he spoke, it couldn’t have been more than a dry, raspy whisper, but it was so firm that all the demons felt the need to kneel before him.

    “Lord Kagaya has arrived.” Upper Moon One announced.

    All of the Kizuki demons looked up to find a platform above their heads. It was upside down, but whatever magic suspended it in the air made it seem like those sitting on it were not inconvenienced by this fact. Kagaya Ubuyashiki, in his always pure white robes, stood over a chemist’s workbench while his white-haired wife wearing black guided his hands in mixing vials of strangely colored liquids together. Neither of the demons acknowledged the demons below (or above?) them, but the King of Demons still addressed his soldiers sweetly.

    “Thank you all for coming today, my children. You see, a great tragedy has struck us. Muichiro has perished to the Demon Slayers.”

    Tengen gasped dramatically, a smile curling over his fangs. “How terribly sorry I am, my Lord! After all, I was the one who incentivized him to become an Upper Moon! How shall I make it up to you, will you rip out my vocal chords so that I may never sing again?”

    Amane took a fountain pen and wrote something down in a notebook. “That will not be necessary, Upper Two. We knew he would not last, his twin brother was holding him back. If he had fought without Yuichiro, he would have won without a doubt. It seems the child had too much humanity in him.”

    Kagaya smiled at his wife. “It’s all fine and well. I’m a patient man. No matter how many times my children fail me, I will just continue to wait.”

    “Oh, you’re talking about that again…” Tengen stared up at the demons above him and crossed his arms. “Hey, boss, has there ever been a time that I failed you? I don’t think so.”

    Amane’s cold features did not acknowledge him. “The Kibutsuji Family continues to live and we have all failed in locating the Crimson Spider Lily. Hundreds of years have passed since our Lord became the great man he is today and not a single one of you have done as he asked. There is no reason to any of your existences anymore.”

    Nakime threw down her biwa and fell to her knees, her hair-covered face upturned to the couple. “W-Wait! Please, forgive us, Queen-Mother!”

    Rui knelt down silently, his head bowed low. He remembered what happened last time his Lords were unhappy with his performances. Upper Moon One still had not moved from his original sitting position as he whispered his next words.

    “Kibutsuji Muzan is well hidden from us… pinning down his location has proven to be a nigh impossible task.”

    Tengen yawned. “True, I’m not much of a detective myself.”

    Hagentu turned his grotesque head up at his masters, trembling in fear. “My Lord, my Lady! I have not failed you like the others! I have information that can bring you closer to victory! Just a minute ago-”

    He was cut off by suddenly being face-to-face with Lord Kagaya, his severed head being held in Amane’s hands over the workbench. The blind demon tilted his head as he continued to smile warmly.

    “Do you know the one thing I hate the most? Change. Changes in emotions, circumstances, it’s all degradation. It’s declining. My favorite thing is permanence, eternity. Perhaps that is why I am displeased at Muichiro’s inability to serve me well. Did you know it has been one-hundred and thirteen years since an Upper Moon was killed?”

    Hantengu’s head continued to shake in fear, but also in awe of being this close to his master. It was ethereal, getting to be face to face with Kagaya Ubuyashiki.

    Amane’s nails dug into his wrinkled skin. “Do not get excited over information you have not confirmed yet.” She dropped his head back down where the other demons bowed. “You all should serve our Lord with suicidal devotion. You lot have been spoiled by being Upper Moons, no more.”

    “Hantengu,” Kagaya took his wife’s hand and kissed the back of it softly, “if you can confirm your information, go there with Nakime. Do not come back if you cannot complete your mission.”

    “Yes sir! At once, sir!” Upper Moon Five squeaked out. The Drum Demon smacked a drum on his stomach and an ornate door closed above the couple’s head, hiding them from the other demons’ sight.

    As soon as they were gone, Tengen grabbed Hantengu’s head by his wood horns and held him up with excited eyes. “So, Upper Five, what type of information do ya have? I wanna check it out, too!”

    The wrinkled demon looked uneasy and tried to avert his eyes away, but Tengen shook him up and down like a child with a toy.

    “Can’t you tell me, old man? I’d be perfect to help! More helpful than old Nakime over there since I--”

    Rui flicked his wrist out and sliced off the top half of Tengen’s beautiful head with a thread. “Did Lord Kagaya give you orders? No? Then get lost.”

    Even though Rui was the one to deliver to blow, he discovered that his left hand was on the ground, having been cut off while Tengen regrew his head. Hantengu made another scared noise and Nakime laughed lazily as Upper Moon One appeared behind the boy demon, his back to the other demons.

    “You went too far, Rui.”

    Tengen turned himself around as his hair regrew itself. “It’s all fine, Gyutaro- Dono ! I’m not at all upset by what the little boy did!”

    Rui stilled at the intense aura the demon behind him gave off, not trusting himself to not tremble if he were to turn around.

    “I do not say it for your benefit, Upper Two… Rui’s actions disrupt our hierarchy and make cracks in our relationships.” The green-haired demon mumbled with his firm voice. “Rui, if he truly bothers you, you should have a Blood Battle with him to take his place.”

    Tengen snapped his fingers. “Oooooh, I get it! But it wouldn’t be fair if little Rui fought me. You and I have been demons waaaaaaayy longer than he has. I knew he was going to hit me, I purposely didn’t dodge it! It’s my way to help nurture the little boy as he continues to--”

    “Rui .” Gyutaro turned his head over his shoulder, revealing his face to the other demons. His skin had black markings that resembled flower petals on his forehead around his left eye and down along his right cheek and jaw that spread down his neck and into his cloak. He had five green eyes backed by orange sclera, the middle two decorated with the rank Upper One and the one in the middle of his forehead was shut. At his side tucked under his cloak were his two wrapped farming scythes. “Did you understand what I was saying?”

    Rui kept his eyes facing forward out of respect. “I did.”

    As the cloaked demon started to step away, the boy finally turned his own head over his shoulder. 

    “I will kill you for sure.”

    Gyutaro paused. “Good luck with that. I mean it.”

    Then he vanished. Tengen clapped as he dropped Hantengu’s head. “Goodbye, Gyutaro- Dono ! Man, kid, I don’t think he likes talking to us. But you’re too uptight, too. You just need to relax.”

    “He just doesn’t like you.” Rui spat out before summoning threads to pull him away.

    Tengen groaned “Aww, but we were having a conversation!”

    Hantengu’s body got up and put his head back on. “Excuse me, Mister Drum-Man, could you send Nakime and I to the same place?”

    The Drum Demon nodded and slapped his drum. The two demons vanished as well, leaving Tengen alone with a pout.

    Before he could open his mouth to make conversation with the Drum Demon, the giant man slapped his instrument again. Tengen found himself sitting in a well lit room on a plush bed. Around him lay three beautiful women who all perked up when he appeared.

    “Tengen-Sama, you’re back.” The woman with the longest hair cupped his cheek and kissed his face.

    “We were so bored without you!” A woman with blonde bangs groaned and dropped her head onto his lap.

    The third woman, short with shoulder-length hair, pushed Tengen’s silver locks out of his face and started to braid them. “By the way, Tengen-Sama, our fans are waiting for us.”

    The Kizuki demon blinked. “Ah, thank you for the reminder, Hina, Makio and Suma. What would I do without the three of you?”

     A woman with large green eyes sat on the edge of a porch holding a baby in her arms awkwardly. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail above her head, red locks with just a hint of white roots peaking out of her scalp. Despite the fire-like markings covering her forehead and cheek, she was a stunning woman visually. From her ears hung a set of Hanafuda earrings that dangled slightly in the soft breeze.

    A man approached from inside the house she sat in front of with a tray carrying a tea set. “Sorry about that! You’re my guest and I made you watch my kid.”

    “It’s all fine.” The woman quickly handed the baby back as soon as the father sat down next to her. The man had a soft face, one that greatly resembled the Kamado Tanjiro that the readers would recognize, and a warm smile. Over his clothing, he wore a green-and-black checkered haori.

    “Still, shouldn’t have happened.”

    “Consider it payment for all the free meals I can wring out of you.” The woman laughed softly.

    “Or…” The man took on a mischievous smile as he held his baby. “You can finally tell me your life story so I can write it down! If you weren’t around back then, neither me nor my children would be here.”

    The woman took a teacup and sipped it quietly. “There is no need.”

    “But… you don’t have any children. I may be just a simple charcoal maker, but maybe someday someone will-”

    “There is no need.” She repeated. “My friend, masters of their craft always return to the same place. No matter how much time has passed, even if they took different paths, they will always return to how they started. You, Sumiyoshi, seem to be special, but it is a lie from my own mind.”

    The man’s mouth hung open slightly as the woman stood, a hand on the sword on her hip. 

    “I could not protect a single thing that was precious to me. I could not achieve what I was supposed to in my life. I am no woman of worth.”

    “Just don’t…” Sumiyoshi whispered to her as she walked away into the woods with her Hanafuda earrings and red hair trailing behind her. “Please, don’t speak like that… I’m begging you, please love yourself as we love you…”

~~~

    Nezuko’s two-toned pink eyes opened slowly from the feeling of tears streaming down her face.

    A dream…? Where am I…?

    She was aware of bandages wrapping around her forehead and neck with some stuck to the right side of her face via adhesives. She was aware of more bandages wrapped tightly around her arms with tubes filled with variously colored liquids sticking out from under them. She was aware she was lying prone on a soft bed.

    Nezuko was alarmed to hear the sound of a clay bowl shattering on the ground. She painfully shifted her eyes to the source of the noise to see Makomo covering her mouth with her hands, blue eyes wide and filling with tears that Nezuko felt the need to wipe away.

    “Nezuko!” Makomo ran to the bedside and looked the pink-eyed girl over. “Are you okay? You’ve been asleep for nearly two whole months, you know!”

    “Have I…?” She managed to say weakly. “Sorry to worry you…”

    Makomo kissed her non-bandaged cheek with a smile, making Nezuko feel fuzzy inside. “Don’t be, I’m just happy you’re back.”

    Ozaki was a Kakushi. She was a dedicated member of first response medical workers dedicated to serving the Demon Slayer Corps. She was previously seen being the Kakushi to take Nezuko to the Fox Mansion after her trial in front of the Hashira, provided first aid to Nezuko after the battle of the Mugen Train, and was saved by Nezuko’s friends after her undercover position in Yoshiwara had been compromised.

    She figured that made her somewhat connected to Nezuko Kamado. After all, after the events in Yoshiwara, she was also the one who brought Nezuko back to the Fox Mansion. Wherever Nezuko went, a giant battle - and Ozaki - followed. She was surprised to see Nezuko holding her friends close after the horrific battle she only barely escaped from, but came to expect this from the girl. She was a whirlwind; very young but strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Kizuki Demons and win. Which was why on this day, she was bringing Nezuko some high quality dango that still smelled delicious from the fryer. It took all of Ozaki’s willpower to not eat it on the way to Nezuko’s room that she had been asleep in for two months. She figured that since the younger girl had a strong sense of smell, the food would help wake her up. If not, she could eat it herself.

    That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving Kanoe Kamado’s door open.

    Ozaki peaked her masked head in to see a broken bowl on the floor and Makomo at Nezuko’s side.

    I get she’s Lord Giyuu’s sister/ward/Tsugoku or whatever, but she needs to clean this up before someone gets hurt.

    The Kakushi brought the dango to Nezuko and set it down on the bed. “Hey, I’ve got some food. If it looks bad, just eat it yourself.”

    Nezuko’s chapped lips moved a miniscule amount as her eyes slowly met Ozaki’s. “Thank… you…”

    Ozaki shrieked. “SHE’S AWAKE?!”

    Makomo nodded. “Yes, she ju--”

    “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CALL SOMEONE WHEN SHE WOKE UP! I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE MY SUPERIOR, WE HAVE A PROTOCOL!” She stuck her head back out the doorway. “KIYOSHI! SHOICHI! TERUKO! MURATA! NEZUKO’S AWAKE!”

    The three servants and the Head Kakushi barreled into the room, the children climbing onto the bed while Murata produced a plate of plum rice balls, Nezuko’s favorite.

    The pink-eyed girl managed a weak smile as the crowd around her bickered between themselves. “How… how are my boys?”

    Ozaki snorted. “Your ‘boys’... Inosuke’s out on a mission right now. He woke up two days after the battle. He and your demon brother have been going on jobs together for like a month and a half.”

    Murata cringed. “Zenitsu on the other hand… he was on the verge of death. That poison the demon pumped into his body did havoc on his system. It was so bad that the poison was literally eating at his veins and arteries and causing internal bleeding all over the place. If it wasn’t for Tanjiro’s fire, he would have been dead long before we got him.”

    Nezuko’s eyes looked beyond the crowd. “Oh… then I guess I’m hallucinating him standing there in the doorway.”

    All of their heads snapped around to see Zenitsu standing awkwardly against the doorframe, his oni mask covering his entire face and looking like it had been freshly painted. “Hey there, Dead Girl. Guess who’s got two thumbs and is immune to most poisons: this guy.”

    Murata cringed again. “Immune to most poisons but also immune to most of our medicines trying to keep him alive. Lord Giyuu’s had it up to here with him trying to get him back to battle readiness.”

    “I’m a fast healer, I’ll be fine!”

    “Says the guy missing half his taste buds!”

    Makomo shrieked over them. “NEZUKO FELL BACK ASLEEP! SO BE QUIET!”

    Nezuko was fully recovered a week later. Ozaki found out via a letter from Teruko. Her only thought was: these kids are freaks of nature.

    However, not everything was the same. Zenitsu’s right eye was a darker shade of yellow than his left, mirroring Nezuko’s discoloration. Nezuko also had a new circular scar on her right cheek and it seemed that the roots of her hair had turned a stark white. Makomo and the others guessed it was from stress, but no one was sure.

    As she was stretched back to her original flexibility - which she realized she may not actually get back to - she remembered that she had lost her sword when Muichiro Tokito’s body had exploded.

    “Oh, right.” Shoichi winced. “Master Kanamori sent you letters, would you like to see them?”

    The letters were scribbled death threats ranging from “GO TO HELL” to “FUCK YOU!” and “NO MORE SWORDS FOR YOU!”

    Well… that’s not good.

    As if he read her mind, Kiyoshi appeared with a cup of water for the Demon Slayer. “He hasn’t brought us any swords since you got here.”

    “Aww man…” Nezuko whined.

    Teruko showed up with a plate of rice cakes that the others tore into greedily. “But other people break their swords all the time. Master Kanamori is the one being difficult.”

    Kiyoshi swallowed a giant bite and coughed. “Why don’t you just go to the Village and talk to him?”

    “The what?” Nezuko grabbed another rice cake.

    Shoichi smiled as crunching filled the room. “Yeah! Where all the Swordsmiths live! We can ask Lord Giyuu and Oyakata-Sama if you’ll be allowed to go!”

    Nezuko’s request was approved and she was allowed to gather her things. During her two month coma, the workers of the Fox Mansion repaired her flower haori and Tanjiro’s box, which Inosuke had been using to carry the demon into battle with him. When they returned so that Nezuko could be reunited with her brother, she couldn’t exactly ignore the affectionate hand brushes and shoulder bumps the boys shared, but it wasn’t her place to say anything. As long as they were happy, Nezuko was happy.

    Tanjiro shrunk himself and slipped into his box as Nezuko hoisted it onto her shoulders, receiving a few more hugs from Inosuke and Zenitsu before she was ready to set out. A male Kakushi worker with a mask covering his entire face awaited her at the mansion’s entrance.

    “Kanoe Kamado? I am to be your guide to the Swordsmith Village. Here, I have a blindfold and earplugs for you to wear while we travel.” He handed Nezuko a strip of fabric and two tiny pieces of cotton.

    “What for?” She turned the items over in her hands.

    “To keep anyone unwelcome from appearing in the Swordsmith Village. If it were to be compromised, the Demon Slayer Corps would be without weapons forever. Our security system involves constantly changing paths leading up to the village, changing the guards escorting people up the paths and changing the sparrows monitoring the area. The Master’s Headquarters is the same way. Oh, here are noseplugs, too.” He handed her more cotton.

    Nezuko plugged up her various orifices and was hoisted onto the man’s back. They traveled for a set distance before she was shifted to another runner. Then another. Her various plugs and blindfold made it so she had basically none of her senses available, but she felt safe being carried. Each time she swapped runners, she made sure to thank them for all their hard work, completely unaware of how her praise made their hearts swell.

    After hours of traveling, Nezuko was finally set down and allowed to take out her inhibitors. She found herself standing at the top of a mountain at the entrance to a quaint village built into the rocks. She took a deep breath to discover a variety of metallic scents and that the air was not at all thin.

    “Do I smell a hot springs?”

    “Yes ma’am!” The current Kakushi standing next to her smiled behind her mask. “Right around the corner ahead is a large house, make sure to greet them first before you go anywhere else. Other than that, enjoy your stay.”

    “Thank you so much!” Nezuko exclaimed, her voice echoing and carrying through the quiet village.

    The echo floated through the trees around the village and to a steaming hot spring where a person was submerged in the bubbling water up to his chin. His choppy black hair with pink tips floated around the side of his face as he enjoyed the warmth of the water and his heterochromic eyes - left blue, right gold - only opened as the echo reached him.

    Is that someone saying ‘thank you’? Does that mean someone is coming over? I’m excited to meet whoever it could be! No, wait, I need to find my clothing first!

    The person clambered out of the hot spring with a hand clasped over his chest and the other frantically grabbing at a tight shirt and very baggy hakama pants draped over a nearby rock.

Chapter Text

    Nezuko knelt on the floor mat before two men in clown masks. She recognized the scent of the taller man and his spectacular hat. He was Master Haganezuka, the one who forged Zenitsu’s sword after it was shattered on Sagiri Mountain - and tried to kill him after he combined his blade with his signature gunpowder. The shorter man introduced himself as the leader of the village, Gantetsu Tecchikawahara, and explained to Nezuko the problem with her swordsmith.

    “Kozo is a spirited, yet flighty man.” He said in reference to Master Kanamori. “Ever since he was a young child, he’s been stubbornly picky about everything before him and now has locked himself in his workspace until he can make a sword that will never break.”

    I should feel honored, but now I just feel bad for causing all these problems…

    “Do we have an idea of when he’ll be done?” Nezuko asked awkwardly.

    “Nope.”

    “Of course.”

    “In the meantime, we welcome you to the village.” The leader spread his arms out. “Help yourself to all the things we have offered. Dinner will be served back here tonight, so bring an appetite!”

    Nezuko was left to roam around by herself, bored and waiting for the sun to set so she could let Tanjiro walk around with her and they could catch up on what she'd missed. As she walked around, she noticed that she had strayed over to where she had smelled the hot spring.

    Muichiro’s poison must still be messing with my nose, I can’t smell any people even though the footprints up the trail are fresh. This better not be a permanent thing!

    As she started up the trail leading to the hot spring, she noticed a scrawny man walking down the path, trying his choppy hair with a towel. It looked like the pink was fading from his tips.

    “If I live and breathe, Kamado Nezuko! We meet again!” The Love Hashira laughed as he got closer. He wore his incredibly baggy pants and gakuran jacket, but the jacket was unbuttoned. Instead of seeing a bare chest, Nezuko found that he wore a tight shirt that even compressed his stomach.

    She bowed respectfully to him. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir.”

    “‘Sir’?” Obanai laughed, it was a warm sound. “No need to be so formal! Say, how long are you here for? Are you here to see Kanamori?”

    “I am. I was invited to stay for dinner, is it alright if I join you?”

    “Of course!” Obanai grinned from ear to ear. “I hear we’re having mushrooms! But I won’t keep you anymore. Head up the road and you’ll find the hot springs, but be warned: there’s some guy up there who’s seriously anti-social.”

    “Thanks for the heads up!” They exchanged another bow and Nezuko continued up the road.

    As she got closer to the smell of water, she noticed movement in the woods. Her two-toned eyes flicked around to see two men standing among the trees. One was a Swordsmith with a clown mask over his face and the other Nezuko unfortunately recognized. She felt her stomach twist as she gazed upon the shirtless older man who had her father’s face.

    Michikatsu Tsugikuni, the Hashira of Mist, had a focused face as he swung the white blade in his hands. He didn’t notice Nezuko watching him with a frown as he examined the sword and commented about it to the Swordsmith next to him. Nezuko, however, did notice the scars running up his inner arms and thin scars on his back like someone had lashed him with a whip a dozen times. He was strong, sturdy, and looking at him, all Nezuko could do was think about her father’s frail, weak body lying dead in the middle of the house, his blood trickling across the floor mats and staining the walls.

    She snapped herself away and finished her march up the trail. She was going to enjoy the hot springs regardless of who she ran into along the way!

    As she got closer to the spring, Nezuko felt something small smack her in the face. She bent over and picked up what seemed to be a sharp tooth.

    And where the hell did this come from?

    She moved closer to the hot springs to find a young man standing in the water. He was submerged to his hips to keep him decent and his exposed skin was littered with tiny knobs of scar tissue. The young man had shaggy yellow hair with red tips clinging to his back, wet from the spring water.

~~~

    The boy with the yellow hair groaned. “When do we get our swords? You know, the color changing katanas?”

    “Yes, you all will get a sword! But first,” Kiriena held out her arms and Nezuko smelled birds approaching the clearing. Three tiny sparrows descended down and landed on the shoulders of Nezuko, the yellow haired boy and Makomo. Inosuke looked around for his bird and was surprised to have a large crow land on his head and begin to mess up his blue hair. The little girl giggled. “I present your very own Messenger Sparrow!”

    The yellow haired boy shook his sparrow off and marched towards Kiriena. “Do we get the swords now ?”

    Nezuko frowned at his aggressive behavior. “Just be patient, she said that she would get to that.”

    “Don't you tell me what to do, woman !”

    She was beginning to like the boy with the eyes like fire less and less. She was too tired to argue with him, but Nezuko wasn't just going to let him talk to her that way. “Ex cuse me? Who do you think you are? Because as far as I’m concerned, we’re the same rank now.”

~~~

    This guy… I remember him! He was the one who talked back to Kiriena during Final Selection! What did Shoichi say his name was?

    “Rengoku Senjuro?”

    His head snapped around, his yellow and red eyes glaring into her soul as he dropped himself into the water up to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself. “Go away! This is the guy’s spring!”

    “It’s been a while, how have you been?” She yelled back at the same volume. “Hey, don’t you have the same last name as the Flame Hashira?”

    He threw a rock at her, she noticed he was missing one of his teeth. “Don’t talk to me!”

    Nezuko took the hint and scurried away to another pool of water. The sun had gone down by now, so she was able to let Tanjiro out of his box safely. She sank down into the bubbling water with a loud sigh and let the spring work out the tension in her body.

    Her brother flopped into the water with a splash, his haori and other clothing next to where Nezuko left hers. His sister squealed as the water hit her face and laughed.

    “Tan-Chan, you jerk!” She watched him swim to the other end of the pool. As he did, Nezuko noticed something strange about him.

    “Hey, aren’t those the markings from Yoshiwara?” She glanced at the rushing water markings circling around his arms, neck, chest and the rest of his body beneath the water.

    Tanjiro shook out his long, red hair and nodded, humming behind his muzzle. He held his arms out and let his sister examine them.

    “Does this mean you have better control over your demon powers?”

    He nodded again and flexed his arms with a silly noise. Nezuko giggled and relaxed in the water again, staring up at the night sky.

    I guess I missed a lot while I was asleep.

    She and Tanjiro got to join Obanai for dinner, who had already eaten half of the banquet prepared for them. While the demon boy sat silently, the Demon Slayers made conversation while the Hashira braided his hair.

    “Hey, Mister Iguro?”

    “Just Obanai is fine.” The Hashira giggled.

    “Obanai, I met the anti-social guy at the hot springs. Rengoku Senjuro, I think. Isn’t he the little brother of Hashira Rengoku?” Nezuko remembered how she had broken two toes kicking Kyojuro in the crotch six months ago.

    The Love Pillar seemed to remember the same thing and snorted. “Oh yeah, he is, but they don’t like each other. Shinobu and I went on an entire wild goose chase trying to figure out why his brother wasn’t listed as his Trainer and we came up empty, even after talking with Miss Rei. It seems to be a touchy subject, I wouldn’t worry about it. Family always get along in the end, don’t they?”

    Nezuko’s mind drifted to the Tokito Twins and how Yuichiro berated his brother even in death, but must have reconciled when they met in the afterlife. “I suppose so. Is it alright if we bring him these leftovers as a peace offering?”

    “Great idea!”

    They gathered food on a few plates and walked around the guest house provided for them, Obanai humming a song as they moved. He wasn’t wearing his huge Demon Slayer uniform, instead was covering himself with a warm pink robe that Nezuko assumed was very soft to touch. Mixed with his fading-pink hair and the pink paint on his lips, the girl found a question resting on her tongue.

    “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you join the Demon Slayer Corps? I mean, you seem…”

    Obanai tilted his head over his shoulder, his two-colored eyes regarding her kindly. “Fragile? Tiny? Frail? Sacreligious? I’ve heard it all, no need to worry about offending. The truth is… I joined the Demon Slayer Corps to meet lots of hot women who could break me in half!”

    The Kamado siblings froze in their tracks, appalled by the words the Hashira just uttered. Obanai continued, putting his hands to his cheeks, showing off his painted nails. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, all women are great and men too, but there’s really nothing better than being thrown around by a woman who thinks you weigh nothing - I mean she could crush me and I would thank her, which is why I became a Pillar because any woman who could become a Pillar obviously would fit the criteria…”

    His rambling continued the rest of the way they walked, Nezuko and Tanjiro not knowing at all what to think. She could smell his emotions and surprisingly, he wasn’t lying as much as Nezuko assumed he was. Obanai had a scent of someone with something to hide, but he also was extremely genuine about his feelings towards strong women. It wasn’t her business to pry.

    Obanai knocked on a door and sang through the wood. “Senjuro- Kun ! We’ve got some food for you!”

    Tanjiro slid the door open to find the room empty and clean. The Hashira pouted and rubbed his nose. 

    “Damnit, must’ve missed him.”

    A masked Kakushi soldier appeared and bowed to them. “Hashira Iguro, the sword you requested is ready. If you would follow me?”

    Obanai hummed and turned to Nezuko. “Say, Nezuko, you’re here for a few more days, right?”

    “That’s right.” She nodded.

    “I heard that the Swordsmiths here made a super powerful weapon.” He winked. “If you need something to do while you’re here, you could explore and try to find it for yourself.”

    As the Hashira started to walk away, he stopped and spun back around with a smile. “BY THE WAY! Kamado Nezuko, know that Hashira Iguro Obanai fully supports you and your demon brother! We might not see each other alive again, so take care!”

    “You, too!” Nezuko waved, finding Obanai’s smile to be contagious.

    He followed the Kakushi away, leaving the siblings with the food in the empty hallway. Nezuko retired to the room she was allotted and ate the leftovers by herself while Tanjiro wrote down what he was up to while she was in her coma.

    The next morning, Nezuko took to exploring the quiet town. She wandered around with Tanjiro’s box on her back and eventually found herself back in the woods.

    “Do you prefer the grip on this blade or the one from yesterday, Master Tsugikuni?” A voice floated through the trees.

    Nezuko looked around until she came across a Swordsmith and a tall man in the woods. Unlike last night, Katsu was fully dressed in his Demon Slayer uniform and wore his staple purple-and-black checkered haori. In his hands he held a white katana with a purple grip, swinging it lightly in the air with a pleasant smile, one that made Nezuko want to run to him and be enveloped in a hug.

    “Please, just call me ‘Katsu’.” The older man laughed.

~~~

    Nezuko twisted her head around to come face to face with a smiling man with long, raven black hair pulled back above his head much like how her father would. His dark eyes creased with his smile, laugh lines running deep on his face. He smelled of care.

    He wore a Demon Slayer uniform like Nezuko, but the haori he wore over it was purple and black colored in a checkered pattern like Tanjiro’s. 

    And Tanjuro’s.

    Nezuko didn’t like how this man resembled her father, just with different colors. He was the healthy version of a man that somehow knew to pass his ancestral earrings to his eldest daughter the day before he died, cheeks filled and hands firm. On his hip sat a katana with a blade guard made of metal rectangles.

    “Are you alright?” His smile didn’t falter as he continued to whisper to her. “Your wounds were treated, but you seemed to panic when you awoke.”

    Nezuko tried to wiggle away from his hands. “I’m fine, thank you. What’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?”

    The man chuckled lightly under his breath, making Nezuko grit her teeth to stop from imagining her father doing the same. Suddenly, her Hanafuda earrings weighed a million pounds.

~~~

    “So then... who are you?” Nezuko returned her gaze to the man next to her, feeling that she had stared at Mitsuri Kanroji a little too long to be considered appropriate.

    He tilted his chin down in a small bow. “Tsugikuni Michikatsu, the Pillar of Mist. However, for the sake of simplicity, you may call me ‘Katsu’.”

    Nezuko hated how cute that nickname was. She hated everything about Michikatsu Tsugikuni, Mist Hashira. His genuine smile that creased his kind eyes, his reaffirming hands that wouldn’t let her tip over, his introduction and explanation of her confusing circumstances, it was all frustrating!

~~~

    Get over yourself, Nezuko. Hating Hashira Tsugikuni won’t bring Father back. Grow up. Leave the pettiness for Zenitsu and Inosuke.

    She took a deep breath and calmed her nerves. As she stepped closer, she noticed that Katsu was having a conversation with the Swordsmith next to him.

    “I understand, Hashira, but we simply cannot allow-”

    Katsu gave him a smile. “I remember when your father was caretaker of it and I’m sure that you have done a great job in its upkeep. However, how am I to test the new sword you masterfully created if I cannot face the greatest training system?”

    The Swordsmith stomped his feet indignantly. “Because it has deteriorated! I will not be giving you the key. I know how valuable a Hashira’s time is, so please do not waste any more of it here! Good day, sir!”

    As the masked man spun to march off, Nezuko passed him and approached Katsu. “What was that about?”

    “Miss Kamado, we meet again!” Katsu beamed and bowed to her, sheathing the sword in his hand. “I’m afraid you appeared at the end of a riveting battle of persuasion that I believe I lost.”

    Her pink eyes followed the back of the Swordsmith. “If you’re a Hashira, couldn’t you have just taken the key from him?”

    “And where would violence get us?” The older man chuckled. “No, I have another solution to my dilemma.”

    Nezuko gasped softly as Katsu retrieved a rusty key from the sleeve of his uniform and twirled it around his finger. “You stole it?!”

    “In thirty-five years of service, you pick up a few tricks.” The Hashira winked and tucked the key away. “Now, I heard you were searching for Kanamori Kozo, correct? Follow that man and he may be able to help you. After all, his father is the leader of this village.”

    The girl bowed and chased after the Swordsmith and tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir!”

    “I already said--Oh, apologies.” He bowed bashfully. “How may I help you?”

    “I’m looking for Master Kanamori and Hashira Tsugikuni said that you may know about his whereabouts?” She smiled sheepishly.

    “Ah, of course he did. Tsugikuni Katsu, that trickster. He’s a crafty old man, I tell you, he’s been a Hashira longer than I’ve been alive. Oh, I am Tecchikawahara Tecchin, one of the best Swordsmiths in this village.” He shook her hand.

    Nezuko gladly accepted the gesture. “Kanoe Kamado Nezuko, and do you know where to find Master Kanamori?”

    Tecchin gestured vaguely from behind his clown mask. “Kozo will go wherever he wants, whenever he wants. He’s a typhoon, I tell ya. You’re the Slayer that keeps breaking his swords, right? He won’t stop until he makes an unbreakable sword. My younger brother Kotetsu and I agree that Kozo is passionate about his work… perhaps too passionate. Anyways, I can’t say for sure where he is, but he’ll find you when he’s ready.”

    There was a horrible mechanical whirring noise from beyond the trees and Tecchin frantically felt around his Swordsmith robes. “That old fart didn’t-! He stole my fucking key!”

    “Do all Swordsmiths curse like this?” Nezuko asked as the masked man sprinted off into the woods. She adjusted Tanjiro’s box and went after him. She kept pace, knowing she could easily outrun him, but held back to see where he was going.

    They came to a clearing to see Katsu in battle with someone wrapped in samurai armor.

    No, not someone… something!

    The thing had six arms, each holding a black sword. The being had a sharp, angular face that was sliced in half, exposing wires and other metal pieces. Its eyes were painted two different colors, the top half being red and the bottom being green. Its long hair was dirty and also two-colored; white that faded to red. From its ears hung old looking Hanafuda earrings.

    Nezuko touched her own hair, thinking about how her hair was similarly colored. “It’s a doll…”

    I know that face, where have I seen it before?

~~~

    A woman with large green eyes sat on the edge of a porch holding a baby in her arms awkwardly. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail above her head, red locks with just a hint of white roots peaking out of her scalp. Despite the fire-like markings covering her forehead and cheek, she was a stunning woman visually. From her ears hung a set of Hanafuda earrings that dangled slightly in the soft breeze.

~~~

    “Why does it have six arms?” Nezuko watched the doll and Katsu parry and deflect each other’s attacks flawlessly.

    “According to my father, the doll was modeled after an actual swordsman who lived a long time ago. To mimic her sword technique, we had to give it six arms.”

    “Who was that woman?”

    “No one is exactly sure, but the doll itself dates back to the Sengoku Era. We call it ‘Ume Haban0’.”

    Nezuko’s eyes shot wide open. “You mean that thing is over three hundred years old?! How hasn’t it broken yet?!”

    Tecchin kicked the ground. “It’s a masterpiece of technology we couldn’t dream of replicating. If it breaks, that’s it. To prove I have what it takes to lead this place, I’m in charge of its upkeep, but I’m not like my kid brother. I don’t have the talent to fix dolls or blades, but I still have to do it.”

    Nezuko nodded and her eyes went back to Katsu. “He’s incredible… he’s the oldest swordsman I’ve ever seen and yet he’s still so nimble.”

    “OF COURSE HE IS - Chu chu - HE IS A DESCENDANT OF THE ORIGINAL SUN BREATHERS! Chu chu.” Something screeched behind them.

    They snapped their heads around to see a tiny sparrow on the ground. It flew up and landed on Tecchin’s head with a proud chirp.

    Nezuko gaped in awe. “Sun Breathing was the original breathing style, that’s incredible… Except that Hashira Tsugikuni doesn’t use Sun Breathing--”

    “WE ARE WELL AWARE. Chu chu.”

    “But the doll I know. I’ve seen her in dreams and visions before.” Nezuko noted how she had seen the swordswoman plenty of times before. “She’s helped me when my life was in danger.”

    “AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW A WARRIOR FROM THE SENGOKU ERA? Chu chu?”

    Nezuko opened her mouth to answer, but found she did not have one. Tecchin cleared his throat and looked like he wanted to swat the bird away, but held himself back. “Perhaps they were inherited memories? We have a saying here in the village that appearances aren’t the only things we inherit. How do I explain this… living things pass on memories. For example, someone having memories of seeing the same scene when they first forge a sword, or-or knowing how to do something they’ve never done before. We call those inherited memories.”

~~~

    A Hanafuda earring smacked Nezuko in the chin, bringing her back to the present. She found that her body was doing what the vision was: the exact same technique that Tanjiro had pulled from their father’s Hinokami Kagura dance.

    Nezuko closed her left eye and found that she could still see the memory of the white haired woman demonstrating her sword skills while her disciples watched eagerly at the same time as she could focus on her battle.

    The flow of her weapon came naturally, like breathing. She and Tanjiro weaved around each other in perfect harmony, slicing and cutting Enmu’s flesh attacks while they screamed indignantly.

~~~

    Nezuko nodded. “I’ve had that happen to me before. During a battle, I found myself being able to perform a sword technique I’d never done before.”

    “That must have been an inherited memory from your ancestor!” Tecchin sounded proud of himself.

    A loud CRACK pulled them back to the training battle. Katsu swiped his sword and managed to hit the doll on its shoulder armor, shattering and breaking it off. Tecchin trembled at her side and turned to march off. It was not long before that turned into a run and Nezuko smelled tears.

    She followed after him, swatting the sparrow away, and sniffed around for him despite how her stomach was churning. Was she nauseous? She had no idea.

    She found Tecchin sitting in a high branch of a tall tree with his head in his hands, defeated. “Hey, Tecchin! The doll isn’t in that bad of shape! We can repair it together! We’ll prove to everyone that you have what it takes!”

    “What’s the point?” He grumbled. “It’s all gonna end with my generation and it’s my fault.”

    Nezuko ran up the tree and flicked him in the head. He sputtered and pushed up his mask to wipe his face.

    “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She frowned, feeling the expression tug at her scars.

    “You Demon Slayers really are so damn quite-”

    “Look, if you can’t fix the doll, someone else will just do it. You need to put in the effort to pass it onto your children so even if you can’t, they and your grandchildren will be able to.” On another tree, Ukogi the sparrow landed next to Katsu’s sparrow and the two started bickering.

    Nezuko continued. “My goal is to defeat Ubuyashiki Kagaya by myself and I want to turn my demon brother back into a human-” she ignored Tecchin’s alarmed gasps - “but I know that there’s a good chance I’ll die before then. But… I believe someone will do it for sure, just like how my brother and I defeated Kizuki demons with the lives we brought together, one day those lives will defeat Ubuyashiki. So… let’s keep working hard together!”

    Tecchin took a deep breath and the tension vanished from his shoulders. “Y-Yeah. Before… I didn’t want to see the doll break, but now my mind is made up. The Hashira’s training session will last all night, I’ll have time to mentally prepare for when it shuts down.”

    They slid down from the tree and the Swordsmith fixed his mask. As he did he looked Nezuko up and down. “Say, you’re fifteen, right?”

    Nezuko counted on her fingers and nodded. “I think so!”

    “Do you not--”

    A purple-and-black haori appeared next to them. In his hands, Katsu carried his sword and an arm of the doll that had its hand clenched around one of its swords still. “I’ve finished for today.”

    Nezuko began to sputter at the man who resembled her father. “W-W-What?! How?!”

    Katsu chuckled softly and held up the arm. “It was very good training. However, I broke my sword so I will be taking this one if you do not mind.”

    Tecchin trembled and sprinted off where the doll lay prone. Katsu watched him run off with a sigh. “I tried to be gentle with the old thing… oh well. I shall go dispose of this sword now and collect my traveling party.”

    As he walked away, his sparrow flew down and nested on his head, casting Nezuko an evil look over its shoulder.

    He smelled gentle, but that crow is anything but! Now, where did Tecchin go?

    She jogged after the Swordsmith to find him kneeling over Ume Hanab0’s twisted limbs and prone form. The sky turned dark from storm clouds and a rain started to fall around them as Nezuko approached the clearing.

    “Tecchin?” Nezuko stood at his side, noticing how the doll’s face was even more destroyed and how its missing arm was nothing more than a jagged stump. “Let’s make sure it can still move, okay?”

    With some difficulty, the two got the doll to its feet and examined it. As they did, they heard gears turning and it suddenly dropped down into a defensive stance. Nezuko cheered and clapped.

    “It works! That’s great!”

    She stopped when she noticed the masked man not celebrating with her. He clenched his fists and stepped to the side. “It is moving, Nezuko. Now, you must train.”

    “Excuse me?”

    He snapped his head around to her, the rain running down his mask dramatically. “BECOME STRONGER THAN THAT STUBBORN JERK HASHIRA! I’LL HELP YOU IN ANY WAY I CAN!”

    “Wait, like right now?”

Chapter Text

    Susamaru had six wooden swords in her six hands, the top half of her orange kimono pooling around her waist with just her usual band of black fabric keeping her chest decent. She grit her teeth and swung her weapons at Yahaba, who simply just stepped out of the way.

    “You’ve become sluggish, Susamaru, fattened like a calf for slaughter.” He had his hands tucked into his sleeves across his chest and his eyes were shut as always.

    “Shut up, old man!” The demon woman snapped as she chased her mentor around the dark woods. “I’ll show you I can still fight!”

    “I’m not doubting your ability to swing a sword.” He yawned. “I am calling into question your ability to think and fight without using your Blood Demon Art. Giving Ubuyashiki Kagaya any drop of your blood gives him control over you. You must increase your healing abilities and rely less on your Temari balls. Focus.”

    “I am focusing!” She smacked him in the neck with one of her swords as her cat-like eyes glowed. She hit him with enough force that her sword erupted into flames and his head flew off into the woods.

    Susamaru gasped and dropped her weapons, slinging Yahaba’s body over her shoulder and running after the head.

    “Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit, I am so sorry, Boss!”

    She found the head wearing a proud smile. “Well done.”

    “‘Well done?’ I coulda killed ya!”

    “Exactly.” Yahaba laughed as she put his head back on his neck. “The fire was also impressive. I know she would be proud.”

    Susamaru kept her eyes on the ground. “A little late for that, huh.”

    The demon doctor put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s try again. If necessary, we can run back up to the village and get the old man to fire up my Haban0 doll for you.”

    “Yeah. Yeah, let’s try again. I know I can get your head clean if I get another chance.” She smirked.

    “I’d like to see you try.”

    Nezuko was pretty sure Tecchin Tecchikawahara was not human. He swore like a sailor and made her fight the six armed doll every day for a week, not permitting her to eat or drink until she landed a hit on it.

    Does he not understand that humans need to drink water every three days or we die?!

    Luckily, the doll was using wooden paddles instead of swords. If the swords were metal, Nezuko would have died many times over.

    Tecchin also kept trying to make her swear against Katsu. She admitted to him that while she didn’t care for the older man for her own reasons (read: his face), she had nothing and would say nothing about his performance as a Hashira.

    By speaking with other Swordsmiths, Nezuko discovered that they all were just that foul mouthed and that it was a staple of how passionate they were about their jobs. On day three, Nezuko managed to get a hit on the doll with a borrowed sword before smacking her nose into a rock as she fell. Tecchin turned it off and got her some water before she died and crossed the Sanzu River.

    As she sipped her water, the mask man revealed a secret about the doll.

    “Because of how diverse its abilities are, you can actually twist the joints on her fingers to adjust its settings to fit your training needs.” He showed her. “My old key turns it on, but the fingers make the training worthwhile. Only those of us who care for the doll know how to adjust the settings specifically, so Hashira Tsugikuni really just wasted his time.”

    Nezuko took the wooden hand in her own and looked at the intricate design of the knuckles. “Incredible…”

    By day seven, Nezuko and the doll were both wielding swords. While her reflexes were much slower than a Hashira’s because of her slower instincts, she was still keeping up with the doll’s five arms. To keep herself from being cut, she had to watch the doll’s movements, not just react. She had to predict them before they hit.

    Tecchin himself was an interesting teacher. He was a master of analysis, able to discern what Nezuko needed to work on before having the doll pummel her to a pulp - to the entertainment of Tanjiro - but this caused him to overthink. Nezuko recognized the behavior in Zenitsu, seeing the similarities between the Swordsmith and her yellow-haired friend. He was stern, foul-mouthed and strict, nothing like Nezuko’s teachers in the past. Compared to Hisa, Makomo, Giyuu, Sanemi and even Douma, Tecchin was trying to kill her. Well, Douma might have been trying to kill her, too, and there were the death traps on Mt. Natagumo that Nezuko still didn’t know how Hisa set, but that was beside the point.

    Day seven without food, her only water being from rain and her lucky hit on day three, and Nezuko had noticed an improvement in her sense of smell again. It wasn’t back to what it was before Yoshiwara, but it was damn close.

    Neck, right torso, left flank, right thigh, right shoulder, blow to the head, watch out!

    Nezuko’s sense of smell could help her predict how the doll moved.

    She weaved around five flailing swords, pulling her sword up to block as she dropped low and moved in close to the doll’s armored beauty. Her new ability was faster than trying to find the kill line to her enemy’s neck, but still needed practice, evidenced by how after she managed to land a hit on the doll’s leg, it smacked her down to the ground.

    She was allowed to eat that day.

    The next day was the same. Nezuko was faster now, feeling her strength returning to her unnaturally able legs for the first time since she woke up from her coma. She and the doll twisted around and Nezuko ended up in the air, her sword aimed for the doll’s neck.

    There it is! I’ve got it! Wait, but if I break it…

    “Cut it down, Nezuko! I’ll fix it if you do, don’t worry!” Tecchin yelled at her. He clenched his fists as one of the doll’s swords came dangerously close to her head.

    I don’t want her to die. She’s a good kid, but you can’t hesitate with this thing. It will kill you. Nezuko, you need to become stronger than everyone else!

    The blade narrowly avoided killing the girl, just shaving off parts of her dark hair as her own sword connected with the doll’s neck. It shattered and broke off, making Nezuko fall to the ground harshly on her tailbone. 

    “Are you okay?” Tecchin ran over as Nezuko winced and grabbed at her rear.

    “Sorry, I broke the sword-” She gasped out as she tried to get to her feet.

    “It’s fine, we have plenty. Now-” He was interrupted by a loud popping noise.

    Both of them jerked their heads around to see that the doll had gone stiff. Its head vibrated against the broken blade in its neck before the head ruptured apart, an ancient looking katana sprouting from its insides in place of a head.

    They stared at the sword for a solid, silent two minutes before Nezuko started squealing. “It’s a sword! An ancient sword!”

    They clambered to the kneeling doll and pulled the sword out, holding it in awe and reverence. Tecchin pushed it to Nezuko. “Take it, you’ve earned it.”

    “Me?! It’s taken 300 years to break the doll, it just happened to break with me, I can’t take this!”

    “But you still need a sword, right? Then go ahead. I own the sword, I get the say!”

    “No-o-o-o-o!” Nezuko pushed it back.

    They were now in a pushing match with the sword. Tecchin shoved it to her. “Metal forged during the Sengoku Era is of super fucking good quality, take the damn sword!”

    “Okay, fine, damn!” Nezuko yelled back and drew the sword.

    It was completely rusted.

    They stared at it on the ground and Nezuko sniffled a little. Tecchin put a hand on her shoulder grimly. “Apologies for getting your hopes up.”

    “No, no, it’s fine.” The girl held his hand sadly.

    They were dragged out of their sorrow by a muscular man in a clown mask marching out of the woods.

    “Leave it to me.” The man growled.

    “Where the fuck have you beem, Kozo?!” Tecchin waved his arms at the shirtless Swordsmith.

    Kozo Kanamori wrapped a hand around the rusted sword and started to pull, only being stopped by Nezuko and Tecchin latching onto it.

    “I said let me handle it.” Kozo said again.

    “No!” Nezuko pulled on the sword. “It’s Tecchin’s!”

    “No!” Tecchin pulled with her. “It’s Nezuko’s!”

    They pulled on the sword, shouting profanities and arguing until Tecchin freed a hand and jabbed it into Kozo’s side, tickling his ribs until the muscular man went limp and prone.

    With a light jingle, a third man approached the clearing with an elegant hat over his head. “Ah, good, you remembered his weakness in his sides.”

    Nezuko beamed. “Master Haganezuka!”

    Haganezuka nodded behind his clown mask. “Greetings, Miss Kamado. For future reference, Kozo will go completely limp if you tickle his sides. I’ll explain what he was doing. He has been training in the mountains since you lost your sword, Nezuko. He wanted to create a strong sword so that you would not die.”

    “For me?” Nezuko looked dumbfounded. “I thought he hated me.”

    “I’ve never seen the man more passionate about his work in my life. You bring him good business, but at the cost of his pride as a Swordsmith. All the other Swordsmiths hate him and you are his only remaining client.”

    “Oh…”

    Tecchin nodded. “It’s also why he’s not married, he’s just bad with people.”

    Kozo woke back up and lunged for the sword. “Allow me to refine the rusted blade. I shall use the Nichirin polishing skills that have been passed down in the Kanamori family for generations.”

    Tecchin ripped the sword back. “Why didn’t you just start with that?!”

    The muscular man wrapped a hand around Tecchin’s neck and lifted him into the air while Haganezuka and Nezuko leaped to tickle his sides.

    “Sides! Get his sides!”

    “So that happened yesterday.” Nezuko chewed on a rice cake inside one of the village’s guest houses. “Master Kanamori said that the sword will take three days and nights to finish. The polishing will be done at the end of the day tomorrow. Master Kanamori said that his methods are so severe that people have died from them. I’m a little worried. Oh, and he told me to never check on him… do you think I should?”

    Senjuro, who was dressed in a Demon Slayer uniform fitted to cover his bulky frame and had his yellow hair pulled into a half ponytail behind his head, screamed at her. “I DON’T CARE! GET THE FUCK OUT! DON’T TALK TO ME LIKE WE’RE FRIENDS!”

    “But I thought we were friends, I even brought back your missing tooth.” Nezuko held out the tooth she had found over a week ago.

    “EW! WHY WOULD YOU HAVE THAT?!” He swatted her hand away. “DON’T YOU REMEMBER HOW YOU EMBARRASSED ME AT FINAL SELECTION?!”

    “Hey, I had to, you were being rude to Kiriena. She didn’t deserve that. Hey, these rice cakes are really good, want one?” Nezuko held out a new rice cake, only for that too to be swatted away. “Hold on, where is your tooth hole from last week?”

    Senjuro froze. “I… You must be seeing things. Now GET OUT!”

    He threw her from the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

    Nezuko huffed and marched herself back to her room where Tanjiro was practicing a handstand. “The nerve of that guy! Oh hey Tan-Chan.”

    Tanjiro rolled onto his back and sat up curiously. His hair was still braided from how Obanai styled it last week and his demonic water markings still covered his body. He listened as Nezuko recounted the events of her day and patted her head gently. After she finished, he gave her a hug and gestured for her to go to sleep. The sooner she did, the faster her sword would be done.

    As his sister tucked herself into her cot, Tanjiro glanced out the window at the moon in the night sky. He waved at it like it would wave back and moved back to lay at his sister’s side. He was enjoying the village immensely, the sights and sounds and smells were all pleasant to him. Part of Tanjiro wondered if he had the right to order a sword for himself, just with a thicker grip to protect his hands. After all, he was a Sun Breather.

    “Oh I am so gonna be late!” A Swordsmith in a bathrobe jogged lightly down the path, clearly coming from the hot springs. “I’m gonna get to bed late and then I’m gonna wake up late, but that water felt so good!”

    As he jogged and whispered to himself, he came across a wooden carving in the middle of the path. It was a masterfully carved figurine of a person that was practically begging the Swordsmith to pick it up.

    He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. “Who would leave this in the path? Did a child drop it?”

    The man gasped in horror as the figurine’s head swelled like a bubble and its mouth opened up wide enough to swallow him whole. The figurine clattered back to the ground at its regular size with blood trickling from its tiny lips. Its face morphed and it swelled again until the form of Hantengu emerged from the wood with a disgusted face and bloodstained teeth.

    “Oh, the flesh of Swordsmiths is rancid…” He groaned. “But at least we’re in the right spot.”

    On the roof of a house in the village, a disgusting cloud of opium smoke hung around Nakime as she lazily held her biwa to her chest and laid on her back, her long hair covering all of her face except her black lips. “Destroy the Swordsmiths, destroy the swords. Destroy the swords, destroy the swordsmen. It’s simple, really. Easy math that even a woman can learn. We just need to kill all who made the Master angry, easy peasy.”

    Tanjiro awoke to someone slipping into his room. He sat up to see a man in a Demon Slayer’s uniform with a purple-and-black checkered haori over his gakuran jacket and the face of his father.

    The demon put himself between the new arrival and his sister with a small growl, confused as to why this stranger who he assumed was Hashira Tsugikuni Michikatsu was here so late.

    Katsu put his hands up and smiled innocently. “Now now, no need to be hostile. I simply need to speak to your sister about something.”

    Tanjiro shook Nezuko awake and she sat up with a groan. “Tanjiro, it is too early to… Hashira Tsugikuni?”

    “Just Katsu is fine.” The older man kept smiling and sat down in front of the siblings. “I was wondering if you knew a Swordsmith named Haganezuka Hotaru.”

    Nezuko rubbed her eyes and yawned, feeling her hair being tangled in her earrings a little and worked to untangle it. “Yeah, I know him. He’s with Kanamori Kozo working on my sword. Why do you need him?”

    “Ah, you see, Master Haganezuka is my new Swordsmith.”

    “Oh, well, do you want to look for them together?” Nezuko shifted onto her knees and stretched her arms. She was tempted to grab her haori, but decided against it. It would be waiting for her as a pillow when she returned.

    “If it’s not too much trouble, that sounds delightful.” Katsu beamed.

    Tanjiro started to make a noise like he wanted to go with them, but stopped as he felt someone approach the room. It sent shivers down his spine and made the water markings on his skin tingle. 

    Nezuko craned her neck to look at the door. “Who could that be at this time of night?”

    Katsu turned his head around and shrugged. “Perhaps it is an update on the ‘unbreakable sword’ Master Kanamori is forging?”

    Tanjiro’s hackles rose and he glared at the door as it slid open. Black fog spilled into the room with a pungent odor that made Nezuko’s nose crinkle and Katsu frowned curiously. As Nakime stepped into the room with her biwa in hand and opium smoke billowing from her black clothing, it took the Demon Slayers a second to recognize her as a demon.

    Tanjiro noticed that she hid herself surprisingly well for it took the swordsmen so long to recognize her, but his reaction was faster. He launched himself at her and raked his claws through her face only for her to sneer and vanish into the horrible smoke. The demon boy stumbled and fell into the hallway as the demon woman rematerialized inside the room.

    Katsu drew his white sword and slashed at the demon, but she vanished again and reappeared on the ceiling, laying on the rafters like one would on the ground. 

    “You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to get me, dear~” She slurred out.

    Nezuko drew her borrowed black sword and grit her teeth, thrusting up at Nakime as hard as she could. 

    Total Concentration Sun Breathing; Sunflower Thrust!

    The demon laughed as the sword pierced her neck and her head separated from her body, both parts of her falling to the ground haphazardly.

    It was that easy? No… demons like Enmu and Yuichiro could put their heads back on even after decapitation.

    “Hashira Tsu—I mean Katsu, stay focused!” Nezuko pointed her blade at the head while the older man aimed his at the body. 

    To their horror, the body regrew her head, this time with white hair, and the head regrew her body, this time with a white robe. The body still clutched her biwa as she got back to her feet while the head’s new body threaded her fingers through her black hair. 

    “Ugh, it feels good to have learned that new trick Upper Five does.” The black haired demon sighed. “She nearly had our head, Shiroi.”

    “Indeed, Kuroi.” Her white haired twin replied. “It is a shame this is the extent of it. Oh well, shall we play a sweet tune?”

    Katsu smiled politely at the demons. “Such a fine crafted instrument. Miss Kamado, if you would be so kind as to leave the armed mistress to me.”

    “On it!”

    Are they like the Tokito twins? Do we need to behead them at the same time?

    Nezuko launched herself at the black haired twin called Kuroi while Katsu charged the one called Shiroi. Black and White.

    As Nezuko’s blade touched Kuroi’s neck, her wire-like hair rose in the air like black spikes streaking to impale her that reeked of the stench of opium.

    Pink flames burned them away as Tanjiro reentered the room. His palms were outstretched and the fire leaped from his hands with detailed accuracy. The fire warmed Nezuko and saved her life.

    On the other side of the room, Katsu’s sword connected as Shiroi plucked her biwa. The sound reverberated off the walls like violent wind and ripped through the building, sending the siblings and Hashira flying out into the night. 

    While Katsu was blasted away, Tanjiro caught Nezuko and the two landed in a tree as the demons moved to stand next to each other. 

    “Wow, Shiroi, you didn’t need to do all that for just a single cut.” Kuroi laughed lazily, her hair still smoking from Tanjiro’s Blood Demon Art.

    “Too bad, Kuroi, the old man was going to get blood on my outfit. Could you at least be a little helpful? Your hair was burned away so easily by that minor demon.” Shiroi yawned.

    “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Kuroi raised her hands and black fog floated out of her white sleeves towards the siblings. As they breathed it in, Nezuko felt her limbs go numb and her mind glazed over. She slumped against her brother and felt that his breathing had significantly slowed while his skin lit up like he was lighting his own blood on fire to fight off the opium smog.

    As Nezuko’s vision began to blur as she fought unconsciousness, her eyes picked up a flicker of yellow and red on the roof of the half-destroyed building aiming a sawed-off shotgun at the back of the demons’ heads.

    Senjuro…?

Chapter Text

    A scent of gunpowder filled Nezuko’s dulling senses before there was a crack in the night. Faster than her eyes could see, two bullets fired from Senjuro’s shotgun tore through the necks of the demons Shiroi and Kuroi, decapitating the white twin and nearly beheading the other.

    Tanjiro’s red eyes snapped to how Kuroi’s head hung onto her shoulders by a single string of neck flesh. He expelled his Blood Demon Art from his body to set his sister on fire and burn the opium poison in her body. Horrified, he watched Shiroi’s body slump against Kuroi and the two melt back together into the original biwa carrying demon. 

    Nezuko came to her senses and noticed the same thing as Senjuro’s muscular form leaped from the half-destroyed roof to swing a shortened Nichirin blade at Nakime’s neck. As the demon began to howl in laughter, black teeth bared and head thrown back in wild abandon. “It feels good to be whole again! Now, who wants to play some more?! I always need to kill before my best performances, but what’s so wrong with a little warm-up?”

    “Senjuro, no!” Nezuko screamed as the opium’s effect dissipated and launched herself at the demon. “Cutting off her head will just split her up again!”

    “Shit!”

    As his wakizashi connected with Nakime’s neck, she strummed a chord on her biwa and the world went black with dense smoke. So dense that the smog slowed his blade and actually stopped it in the air. Nakime’s greasy black hair rose around her like razor wires and struck out behind her, impaling Senjuro with her thin threads. He fell back as the Kamado siblings returned to the destroyed house, Tanjiro setting the smog on fire and Nezuko striking with her katana.

    With the decapitation of Nakime’s head, Kuroi and Shiroi returned. It became a dance between the four of them. The twins would be decapitated only to form their true form again, only to be split once more.

    Eventually, Shiroi, the white twin, managed to get a proper grip on her instrument and unleashed a chord that sent Nezuko and Tanjiro flying back again. As they recovered, Tanjiro only had a second to throw himself over his sister as another sound wave crushed them to the forest floor.

    “Shit!” Senjuro cussed loudly as he threw himself back up, aiming his gun at the twins again only for Kuroi to catch his bullets in mid-air with her smog wall. He side-stepped her next hair attack and thrust his sword at her neck. 

    The demon jerked her head back and with it, her oily black bangs revealed that she had no eyes. Instead, she had half of an eyeball bearing the kanji of “FOG”. Senjuro watched in horror as she dug a talon into her half-eye socket and dug out the eye, throwing her eye off to the side with a sneer and a boiling liquid spraying out of the hole it left. 

    Sejuro got a mouthful of the bile before he was able to rip himself away, the urge to vomit nearly overwhelming his senses. He swung his shotgun at the demon, who merely yawned and smacked him aside, uncaring of how her talons ripped through his uniform with ease or how her eye socket continued to spill a mixture of opium bile and demonic blood onto the ground. 

    She laughed at how the yellow-and-red-haired boy went face down into her mess and raised her arms to kill him.

    This is no good.

    Katsu flew through the woods, sprinting with all his might back towards the battle. Despite how his eyes were hard and scowled, his face was calm and resigned. He gripped a borrowed katana in his calloused hands and his black-and-purple haori flew behind him, ripping in the wind he generated with his long strides.

    To think that a demon got that close to me without my senses alerting me… how despicable of me. 

    I swore to never let it happen again.

    As he ran, he heard the sound of a struggle to his right. Yet as he shifted his eyes in that direction, he saw nothing.

    Tecchin Tecchikawahara never expected to fight a tree in his life. Yet here he was, and losing. It was embarrassing how the tangled knots of wood smacked him around like he was a bug.

    As the mangled tree raised a branch to crush him, Tecchin pulled the sword in his hands above his head in a feeble attempt to defend himself. Yet, the strike never came.

    He opened his eyes to find a tall man standing over him with a white sword, the blade pressed against the wood of the demonic tree. With a small push, he arched his blade through the wood and cut down the tree.

    “Are you hurt, Master Tecchkiawahara?” Katsu spoke calmly.

    “Not at all, bitch.” Tecchin responded instinctively. “Thanks for fucking off over to me, cunt.”

    Despite the insults, Katsu snorted and watched the tree grow back to its original size. This time, he cut it at the roots and watched it vanish into demonic ash.

    “So the demon has summoned proxies to hunt the swordsmiths.” Katsu noted as he sheathed his sword. “Disguising them as trees was clever, but not clever enough to evade the senses of those skilled in techniques similar to Wind Breathing. If this had been the demon Young Sanemi faced six months ago, there is no doubt that he would have returned to us.”

    Tecchin stood on trembling legs. “So you’re saying that there’s more of those weird tree dicks?!”

    “Indeed. I ask you, Swordsmith, which is more important: protecting the chief of this village or those on the outskirts of the village who have not heard of any attack yet?” Katsu turned to face him, the coldness of his eyes having melted away and was replaced with his usual warmth.

    The masked man hesitated. Deciding that his hesitation took too long, Katsu threw Tecchin over his shoulder and began sprinting nonetheless.

    “What the fuck?! Put me down, you old shitbag!” Tecchin struggled, but the Hashira’s grip did not falter.

    “I have made a decision. Your father will have to wait, we are going to the far outskirts of the town to warn the other swordsmiths.” Katsu bounded through the dark trees. “I apologize if any harm befalls him during this period.”

    “Yeah, whatever, we should find Kanamori and Haganezuka first, idiot! Head to the west side of the mountain, ballsack!”

    As Katsu raced in that direction, he continued to cut down any demonic trees that sprouted and got in his way. Eventually, he approached a shack in the middle of the woods and set down Tecchin as another swordsmith ran up to them, his decorative hat in his hands.

    “Hashira Tsukiguni!” Haganezuka called. “There are demons attacking all over the place! The Demon Slayers guarding the path here are all dead, the sparrows too! What do we do?!”

    Before Katsu could open his mouth and deliver orders, a sniveling, raspy voice filled the air. It came from the roof of the shack, boney, gnarly hands that looked to have skin made of thin sheets of warped wood clawed at the shingles of the roof as the grotesque demon revealed himself.

    “Oh, oh why, why do you have to be so ugly? All you swordsmiths are so ugly ugly ugly and I just hate it!” Hantengu whined. He scratched at his sunken face and tugged at his hair. “It’s so hard to turn all of you into beautiful dolls when you hide behind those ugly masks all the time! Here, let me show you an example…”

    Hantengu unceremoniously rolled off of the shack and fell to the ground. Haganezuka and Tecchin yelped and cussed, jumping behind Katsu as he held his sword up defensively, eyeing the rank the demon bore on his eyes.

    “You are an artist, demon?” The Hashira spoke calmly.

    “Indeed, I am, sir!” The demon bristled with pride. “I am Hantengu, a humble woodworker just trying to populate the world with my art and my vision. Oh, here’s an example of my work!”

    Hantengu held out a wrinkly hand and with a twist of his wrist, a knot of wood burst from the ground. It swirled around itself like it was made of a quickly-hardening liquid until it formed a wooden bulb around the size of a car. Katsu’s face remained indifferent despite the horrified noises the men behind him gasped out as the bulb bloomed to reveal the twisted and mangled form of several other swordsmiths.

    It was impossible to tell where one body started or another ended or where their skin turned to wood and their masks were seemingly melted into their faces. Blood dripped all over them and those who didn’t have their eyes ripped out had dead stares.

    Katsu had seen enough corpses to know that those dead stares weren’t actually dead. His eyes narrowed slightly.

    Hantengu traced a talon down a blood-and-tear-stained cheek of a mangled swordsmith before twisting his wrist and the wood melded to the humans’ skin shifted to change their poses. As they did, garbled moans of agony escaped their blood-filled lungs. Katsu breathed slowly.

    “What’s with the face, swordsman? Do you not appreciate my work?” The demon complained. “Does not the added dimension of sound please you? There are plenty of men and women nowadays who watch moving pictures and listen to talking news boxes. Do you happen to have a more traditional taste in art? That’s fine, I can take criticism on how to improve my craft.”

    Seemingly ignoring the intense trembling of the men behind him, Katsu relaxed his grip on his sword. “So you take constructive criticism?”

    “I do!” Hantengu smiled widely, showing off his gnarly yellow teeth.

    “It’s absolutely hideous.”

    There was a moment of silence that fell over them, the only noise behind a small whimper from Haganezuka.

    Another beat of silence.

    A light breeze rustled Katsu’s hair and the clothing of all four men.

    Hangentu stomped his feet and clawed at his own face, drawing blood. “THAT’S NOT CONSTRUCTIVE AT ALL!”

    The Hashira shrugged. “I simply gave you my thoughts on the piece. Do with it what you will, Hantengu the Woodworker.”

    The demon pulled at his own hair and scraped his nails along his scalp with an agonized expression. “How dare you tasteless piece of shit say such a thing about my beloved statue?! I put their blood, sweat and tears into creating such a masterpiece! Clearly, you’re no connoisseur of art!”

    Well, that was a quick change in tone.

    Katsu’s eyes went to the ground. “It’s true, I have no real experience with art, nor am I any connoisseur just as you claim. However, I consider myself to be an artist like you.”

    “Oh? And what medium do you partake in, scum?!”

    The air became noticeably more humid and suddenly Katsu appeared behind Hantengu with his white sword at the demon’s neck, the tiniest of smug smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

     Total Concentration Mist Breathing Fourth Form; Shifting Flow Slash.

    “The Shinobi arts.”

    His blade connected with grimy skin and removed Hantengu’s head, only to reveal that his neck sported rings like those of a tree and the body continued to move as normal.

    “You are using a proxy form.” Katsu noted quickly as he changed his stance and aimed his sword at the demon’s back while Hantengu picked his hideous head back up. “It’s rather ingenious, if not annoying for us swordsmen.”

    “Astute observation, you unappreciative bastard! No matter what secrets that traitor brother of our Queen Mother’s spilled, it means nothing without the skills to kill me!”

    With the demon’s focus away from the Swordsmiths, they took the opportunity to dash into the shack where Kanamori was laboriously hunched over a sword he was vigorously sharpening, beads of sweat drenching his clothes and matting his hair to the back of his neck. 

    Tecchin shook Kanamori’s shoulders. “Dude, we gotta go! There’s super strong demons here!”

    The sweating man was not moved. “I need to finish my work.”

    Haganezuka’s face went between the door and the others. “Can’t you finish it later?! There are more pressing matters at the moment!”

    Tecchin punched him in the back of the head while Haganezuka tried to drag him from under his shoulders. “This is no time to be stubborn, Kozo! Get off your fucking ass and run!”

    Kanamori threw them off of him with impressive strength, snarling behind his mask before resuming the sharpening of the sword. “I NEED to finish my work!”

    As they continued to struggle, the half of the shack where the door was smashed away by a giant tree branch. Haganezuka and Tecchin screamed and clung desperately to Kanamori as a ginormous cursed tree loomed over them.

    Katsu pulled his eyes away from where he was facing down Hantengu and for the first time since the encounter started, his expression darkened. He grit his teeth and threw himself at the demonic tree, swiping his sword at its massive roots.

    Hantengu laughed cruelly. “How can you call yourself an artist if you are so easily distracted?! A Shinobi, you say, a ninja, you claim to be! You’re a pathetic example of one with your gaudy white sword and hair!”

    Katsu swung his sword low to destroy the roots of the tree, only realizing that the Kizuki demon left his sights by doing this.

    I put my back to my enemy.

    Hantengu’s disgusting talons stabbed him in the back and he felt a shell grow over his body. The wooden shell expanded and closed in around Katus, trapping him and slowly shrinking around him. He pushed the tip of his sword against the wood, but it did not yield. It was going to crush him.

    If that wasn’t bad enough, there wasn’t any air in the shell either and the walls were slowly growing spikes on the inside like an Iron Maiden device. Katsu shimmied out of his purple-and-black haori to shift it under himself like a blanket. It would buy him a few more seconds to come up with a plan while Hantengu continued to cackle outside. 

    “Your father must be disappointed in such a poor Shinobi he trained! No wonder you had to become a Demon Slayer with absolutely no taste in art whatsoever!”

    With his haori not covering his arms, Katsu twisted his body around to protect his vital organs and began to sweat as he slowed his breathing. The sleeves of his gakuran jacket slid up his forearms to reveal a number of crossing scars on the inside of his wrist, running up his skin to his elbows. His muscles in his arms tensed as he continued to stab at the wood with his sword and even began to try to kick his way out, to no avail. 

    Katsu was growing light headed from the exertion and lack of oxygen. As taunts continued to ring in his ears, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his pounding heart. 

    I can’t focus, I need to focus myself! Breathe, Katsu, breathe slower!

    Katsu counted to nine in between each breath. His heart rate slowed, but it wasn’t enough. The wooden shell was still closing around him. His knees were now almost to his chest and his sword couldn’t take much more pressure. 

    I can’t lose here, I’m a Hashira, Goddamnit! … oh wow that’s the first time I’ve cursed in decades. Feels weird. No, focus , man! There has to be something to cut, there’s always something to cut!

    “You can do it, Michi, I believe in you!” The voice of a little boy called from beyond his sight. 

    He gasped slightly and his eyes darted around to try to locate the source of the voice, but all he could hear was the laughter of the demon outside growing fainter. It was escaping him. His vision was blurring now, his knees were touching his chest and his sword was groaning.

    A crack appeared along the blade. Katsu’s eyes filled with dread. The last time he faced a Kizuki demon, the damn beast ran away from him after hurting his Tsugoku. Was he going to lose to one now?

    The tip of his blade snapped, the metal shooting to the side and slicing a cut in the Hashira’s cheek. Blood poured down his face like tears. A moment of oversight, this is what would kill him.

    I swore never again… I would never be surprised again. No, I can’t die here… I refuse to die here! Not until I know what your words to me were!

    Nezuko gasped for air as the pressure of the biwa demon’s attack finally let up, allowing Tanjiro to fall off of where he was protecting her. Upon seeing the blood pouring from her brother’s muzzle - it guzzled out as she heard his lungs inflate and ribs repair themselves with loud cracks - she felt her blood boil in her veins.

    She gripped her sword tightly and eyed where the white twin Shiroi stood cackling over them, slowly walking towards them with her biwa in hand. From where Nezuko was on her stomach in the woods, she couldn’t really see where Senjuro was engaging Kuroi.

    “There has to be a way to kill them… first we should keep them separated. Yeah, I’ll lead her away from the house and take her on in an open space. Evasion of her attacks will be easier out here, especially with the small lag between when she strums that biwa and when the wind hits.

    Nezuko got to her feet and basically snarled at the demon. “Oi, ugly! You’ll have to try harder than that to kill us! My brother here is a demon, ya can’t kill him! I’ll just keep using him as a meat shield until I finish you off!”

    Tanjiro let out a confused, nearly offended, noise as he too got back to his feet, his water tattoos erupting all over his skin and his red horn sprouting from his forehead.

    Shiroi snarled back and raised her hand to strum her instrument again, the wind rustling her white hair and parting her long bangs to reveal her own half-eye sporting the kanji for SOUND instead of a pupil.

    “Then you little twerps better hold still until I flatten you into mush!”

    Nezuko’s mis-colored eyes widened. She grabbed Tanjiro by the sleeve and darted off in the other direction. “Alrighty, that’s our cue to leave! Go-go-go-go-go-go-Go-GO- GO -!”

    A frenzied Obanai sprinted up the side of the mountain, his Demon Slayer uniform obviously having just been pulled on as he ran and his sword was in his hand, still sheathed. His other hand was desperately combing through his tangled hair, the tips now sporting a purple lilac color compared to how it used to be pink.

    “It’s a damn good thing my estate is so close by, but I was taking a power nap, for goodness sake! Ooh, Rengoku’s gonna give me so much flak for napping when he hears about this!”

Chapter Text

    A woman dressed for an expensive, elegant wedding stood alone at the shrine. Her shiro-muku was damp with the rain that drizzled around the venue. Her makeup ran down her face like tears despite her resigned expression and shut eyes. The rain was ruining her waxed updo.

    “Move-move-move-move-move-move-Move-MOVE- MOVE YOUR ASS !” Nezuko screamed over her shoulder as she dragged her bloody demon brother through the dark woods, a furious Shiroi right on their heels. 

    “Hold still, you little twerps!” The white-haired demon yelled after them. 

    Eventually, Nezuko managed to put a fair amount of distance between them and Shiroi, pausing to catch her breath and think. 

    “So, she only attacks with her biwa, right?” Nezuko huffed. “Why don’t we just destroy that?”

    Tanjiro’s hands flashed quickly in a sign language that Nezuko only barely understood. 

    “Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop-“ She put her hands up. “You gotta slow down, my sign isn’t any good, I’ve only had like a week to practice it!”

    Tanjiro rolled his eyes and slowed down dramatically. “Smash instrument. Claws sharp. Hidden magic. Hidden danger. Need new plan.”

    “Okay, got any ideas then?”

    The red-eyed demon paused before signing again. “Focus on neck. I distract, you kill. Too far, can’t reform.”

    Nezuko nodded and held up her sword. “Got it. We’re gonna play keep-away with another Upper Moon’s head. Let’s do this and hope neither of us get our faces melted off this time.”

    “Zenitsu?” Tanjiro pulled his hands up to the sides of his muzzle and made fangs out of his index fingers, emulating Zenitsu’s iconic oni mask. 

    “Zenitsu.”

    The siblings stepped out from their hiding spots with murderous gleams in their eyes. 

    Let’s get it!

    In the kitchen of the Fox Mansion, helping Murata roll up bean buns for injured swordsmen, Zenitsu only had a second of warning before he sneezed violently over his shoulder. 

    “Aw, shit, man!” Murata cringed. “Aim for your elbow next time, that’s gross!”

    “Damn, sorry-“ Zenitsu wiped his nose. “Someone must be talking about me.”

    The black-haired demon snarled as she raised her arms to kill Senjuro, her greasy hair floating around her like deadly needles ready to impale and bile still dripping from her eye socket.

    From where he was face-down in her muck, Senjuro groaned in pain and twitched a little. Kuroi smirked, her discarded eyeball twisting on the ground on its own to watch him. Kuroi flexed her hands and she stabbed the boy again. And again. And again. Her hair stabbed at him like demonic knives until his uniform was destroyed and he bled from countless small wounds.

    Satisfied with her work, Kuroi yawned and turned to follow her white-haired twin, her heart pounding in her chest from the excitement of another kill.

    As she glided through the woods, searching for her other half, she only had a second to react before another swordsman attacked her. 

    “Think fast!” Hashira Obanai Iguro announced as he flew through the trees with a pink katana in his hands. She jerked her head back as his blade made contact with the air where it was, barely avoiding being decapitated.

    What’s up with this Demon Slayer? Freaky blue and yellow eyes, purple hair, pink sword, he has no sense of color-coordination! Does that giant uniform even fit him?!

    Obanai snickered as he planted his feet on the ground and swiped at her again, a murderous gleam in his eyes despite his care-free smile. “You’re the demon causing all the trouble here? To think that I was getting my beauty sleep while everyone else was fighting for their lives. How despicable of me. Feel free to curse me when you part from this world, okay?”

~~~

    “You need a Sword Trainer, don’t you?” The white-haired boy couldn’t have been older than the scrawny black-haired man wearing far too many layers for a hot summer day. 

    Young Sanemi smiled as brightly as the sun and flourished his green katana. “Don’t you worry, my friend, I’ll find you a Breathing Technique for you to master, no sweat!”

~~~

    Total Concentration Love Breathing Fourth Form: Heartfelt Soul!

    Obanai extended his arm to slash his sword again, which Kuroi easily stepped back away from. However, something strange happened with Obanai’s sword. The katana blade split itself into chunks of razor sharp metal all connected to each other by a steel thread, forming a barbed whip that extended out further than Kuroi had dodged.

    The barbs wrapped themselves around the demon’s neck and Obanai twisted his entire body violently, jerking and ripping his blade through her flesh. Kuroi screamed as her head was ripped off while Obanai’s sword returned itself to its katana form, the smile on his face not yet fading.

    That one’s for you, Nemi.

    Kuroi fell to her knees as her hands scrambled around for her head, quickly putting it back on and snarling.

    “You little shit! You stained my clothes!”

    “Hey, you’re the one wearing white outside.” Obanai put his hands up. “Anyways. I’m going to kill you properly now, hold still for me?”

    Kuroi raised her arms and parted her hair, her eye socket spewing her mixture of blood and opium bile at the short man. Obanai jerked himself to the side and cracked his sword at her again, the blade once more splitting into a barbed whip and shredding off an arm. He nimbly twisted himself around hair stabs, bile shots and swipes from Kuroi’s talons.

    “Hold still, rat!” She snarled at him.

    “You’ll have to catch me first!” The Hashira laughed with a playful smile curling on his painted lips. “Total Concentration, Love Breathing Second Form; Love Pangs!”

    He planted his feet and unleashed a series of attacks around himself, the pieces of his sword whip striking and shredding Kuroi’s flesh while she wailed and thrashed around. Then, he jerked his sword back, returned it to its katana form and flicked off the blood that had accumulated on the pink blade.

    “Do you mind if you just hurry up and die now? I’m on a time crunch here, miss.”

    The demon stumbled as she frantically healed herself.

    This is a damn Hashira! Hantengu, you fucker, you said this place was unprotected! I need to get back to Shiroi and find my eye, now!

    Shiroi watched the Kamado siblings appear from behind a tree, smirking and raising her biwa to play another deadly note. As she did, Tanjiro snarled and rolled himself in front of the blow, it boring a hole into the side of his skull, but the water markings across his skin began to glow and he was healed instantly. 

    He began sprinting at her with everything he had, palms flickering and sparking with his Blood Demon Art, eyes hardened on his prey and snarling behind his muzzle. Shiroi snarled back and leaped backwards, strumming a chord.

    Tanjiro stuck his arms out to catch the invisible blows, his limbs exploding and growing back just as quickly. He had had two months to control and hone his demonic instincts and now they all answered to him. If he kept taking advantage of his healing powers, there was absolutely no way his sister’s surprise attack would be interrupted.

    “So you’re the defecting demon? The one responsible for the demise of Tokito Muichiro and his obnoxious twin brother? Of course they would lose to insects like you. Demon Slayers, a traitorous bastard of a Hashira, they couldn’t dream of besting Upper Moon demons, but a demon with powers like yours? It fits that the weakest of us would meet his end against you and your little entourage.”

    The red-haired demon ducked down and made a grab at her biwa. Shiroi jerked herself back, but Tanjiro managed to grab her wrists, his palms lighting ablaze and setting her skin on fire. The demon woman screeched and tried to pull herself away, but the sleeves of her black robes also caught fire and she began to wail.

    Why am I burning?! Why can’t I heal?!

    “So much for that gloating, huh?” Nezuko leaped down from a tall tree with her borrowed sword aimed at the demon’s neck. 

~~~

    Shinobu brought the sword to Tanjiro’s neck. Nezuko snapped out of her trance and hurled a rock at the woman. She easily blocked it and watched as Nezuko grabbed the tree branch and raced around in a circle. Nezuko hurled another rock and charged forward at the woman’s side. The Hashira moved her head out of the way of the rock and struck Nezuko on the back when she closed in, knocking the young girl out. The taller woman realized that Nezuko wasn't holding the tree branch anymore. As she realized this, the branch came sailing down from the sky and hit the tree next to Shinobu’s face. She was astonished. What she had originally read as a foolish, straightforward attack had actually been a diversion to take her down once Nezuko was incapacitated. Albeit, a failed one.

~~~

    But this time the diversion worked. 

    With gravity on her side, Nezuko brought her sword down through Shiroi’s flesh with a violent twist of her body.

    Total Concentration Sun Breathing, Setting Sun Transformation!

    As a last-ditch moment to escape the Demon Slaying Siblings, Shiroi ripped herself backwards, ripping off her arms at the elbow and dropping her biwa. However, she tripped over her own clothing and Nezuko’s sword slice cleaved her head in half through her single eye.

    Nezuko landed and flicked the blood off of her sword, turning to face where the demon’s body slumped to the ground. Tanjiro tossed the burnt arms aside to sign.

    “You missed her neck.”

    His younger sister groaned and moved over to the corpse to complete the job, but before she could slice at Shiroi’s neck, the demon faded entirely into ash. She was dead.

    Nezuko stared at the clothing that was left behind. “I-... that worked? She’s gone?”

    Before either of the siblings could move, the bloody black robe the demon woman had been wearing began to float ominously in the air. It balled itself up and began to float away at a quick pace.

    “After it!” Nezuko yelped and the siblings gave chase into the woods once more.

    Obanai… was not faring well against Kuroi’s fog and bile attacks.

Even with his dance-like movements and lashes with his barbed whip-sword, he was straining himself to keep from being touched by Kuroi’s various bodily fluids. All the while, the demon woman mocked him.

    “Such sloppy footwork, unfit for a Hashira!”

    “How can a Demon Slayer be seen with such gaudy hair?!”

    “It’s no wonder the youngests of us could dismember the lot of you, it’s like taking candy from a weak, pathetic baby!”

    That particular insult made Obanai change his movements. He pulled his weapon back into sword mode and dove between Kuroi’s waving arms, the wind picking up around him like a tornado was following his sword as he swung with enough force to slice through a boulder.

    Total Concentration Wind Breathing Tenth Form; Shizu!

    Kuroi was about to pull back, when she found that the wind was sucking her closer to Obanai’s murderous blue-and-yellow eyes like a vacuum.

~~~

    “It’s a really strong move, Nemi, did you make it yourself?” A younger Obanai applauded from the side of a porch he sat on, his hair not sporting its pink color yet nor did he wear a Demon Slayer’s uniform; just too many layers for one to comfortably wear outside.

    The young Sanemi stood up from the straw dummy he had absolutely decimated and pushed the white strands of hair that had fallen from his topknot out of his sweaty face. “I did! So that’s Wind Breathing, think you wanna learn it?”

    Obanai hummed before coughing and deepening his voice almost comically. “Yeah, I guess, man, bro. Sure.”

    He stood up and moved closer to Sanemi, who wasted no time handing over his green blade with the inscribed pinwheel blade guard and moving to stand behind the older boy, holding his hands and guiding them.

    “Wind Breathing is about being light on your feet. It’s an offensive technique that specializes in being nimble and hard to hit. It helps that my mom and I are so short, there’s less of a target for demons to hit!”

    Obanai ignored how easy it was for his heart to flutter. He was a man, damnit! Simple gestures shouldn’t have this effect on him! “I guess that makes sense.”

    As Sanemi guided him through some more moves, he stopped and stepped back with a frown.

    “I’m starting to get second thoughts about this, Mr. Iguro.”

    Obanai turned around with a frown. “Why? Did I do something wrong already?”

    Sanemi waved his hands in front of him. “No no no no no! Not like that! I just think you might be able to do better than Wind Breathing.”

    “But that’s what you know, why would anything else be better?” Obanai tilted his head to the side.

    The purple-eyed boy laughed proudly, making Obanai’s chest feel light. “Because! Your Breathing Technique should be a reflection of your passions! Don’t you worry, we’ll either find a style for you, or we’ll just make one up! Either way, I’m not gonna let my first student fail!”

~~~

  The pink sword removed Kuroi’s head from her shoulders once more, but Obanai wasn’t done yet. His sword split again into its whip form and he jerked it back to smack and shred Kuroi’s head into halves.

    Total Concentration Love Breathing First Form; Shivers of First Love!

    The halves of the black haired demon’s head fell to the ground haphazardly and with no small amount of blood and opium bile leaking all over the place.

    The Pillar of Love kicked the demon’s body with a glare, a pink mark of two winged hearts appearing under his gakuran jacket where his neck met his collarbone.

    “No one , and I mean no one , talks about Sanemi like that.” His voice was deathly cold as the lilac tips of his hair framed his jaw. 

    He coughed as he caught his breath, his adrenaline wearing off as the night went still again, Kuroi’s body slowly turning to ash under her clothes. The too-tight shirt he wore under his gakuran jacket obstructed this a little, but it was nothing Obanai wasn’t used to by now. He undid the top button of his uniform to help with his breathing, exposing the new heart marking on his collarbone.

    “Hashira Iguro!” Nezuko and Tanjiro sprinted into the clearing the short man stood in. “Move!”

    Obanai didn’t have time to duck before the floating black robe wrapped itself around his head and smashed him against the ground. It then lifted him up to the height of the trees and released his gasping head, dropping him to the ground onto his back.

    Nezuko gasped and covered her mouth with her hand at the scene, Obanai groaning in pain as he tried to get back up and the floating robe moving to the halves of Kuroi’s head.

    Tanjiro leaped to burn the robe into ash, but it gathered the head halves back up and flew up to obscure the moon, out of reach of Tanjiro’s pink flames.

    His sister went to the Hashira’s side to examine him, exhaling in relief to not find any external injuries on him besides a broken nose.

    “Are you okay, Hashira Iguro?”

    Obanai coughed and spat out the blood that was trickling past his painted lips. “Ow. And I said to call me Obanai.”

    “Right, sorry. I’ve never seen something like this. Is the robe a demon too?”

    He sat up with some difficulty. “No, but tell me about what’s been happening here. Fill me in, leave out no detail.”

    So Nezuko did, quickly. She told him about Nakime sneaking into her room, blasting Katsu away and how she kept splitting into the twins. As she finished, Tanjiro kept staring at the floating robe and Obanai managed to get back to his feet.

    “That sounds like Hashira Douma’s description of Upper Moon Four. So the demon I vanquished was merely her fog half and the one you bested was her music half. Good job, kids! I’m proud of you! However, the twin I fought had no eye. If destroying that is how to kill her, then I didn’t actually…”

    Tanjiro made a concerned noise from under the floating robe as it uncrumpled itself, the halves of Kuroi’s head reforming and a body filling out the robe, it growing down from her neck until hands and feet appeared from the folds of the black fabric.

    With a shrill screech into the night and tear-like blood streaming out from behind her greasy, black bangs, the Witch Nakime had returned.

    On the other side of the mountain, Hantengu giggled as he stalked closer to the shed hiding the three Swordsmiths, the wooden sphere behind him shrinking ever smaller with the older Hashira trapped inside, ready to crush him into paste.

    One of his demonic trees flattened half of the shack and he delighted in the screams he heard.

    “Rejoice, ugly Swordsmiths!” The demon’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “Today you become one of my masterpieces! Scream and wail in despair about your fates--”

    He paused his monolouge when he saw one of the Swordsmiths not trembling or cowering in terror. In fact, the masked man had his back to the demon and was working on sharpening a sword, completely ignoring the scene around him.

    Hantengu cleared his throat and started again. “Scream and wail in desp--HEY YOU!”

    Tecchin yelped and shook Kanamori again. “Kozo, get the fuck up! We’re gonna die!”

    Kanamori still did not cease his work. “I got to finish my work. I need to finish my work.”

    The demon was taken aback. He had never seen such dedication to one’s own art before, it was admirable.

    Admirable?! A human?! Impossible! There will be no one as dedicated to his craft as I! I want to hear that man scream in agony as I rip him limb from limb, rendering him completely unable to make a sword ever again!

    As he raised his arms to have his demonic tree attack the three men, he heard the sound of wood cracking behind him. Hantengu looked around to find that the sphere he had trapped the Mist Hashira inside was split in half, but the man in the purple-and-black haori was nowhere to be seen.

    “Where did he--” He was cut off by a white katana being shoved through the back of his head, the tip of the blade having been snapped off.

    Katsu stood behind him radiating an unfamiliar fury that none of the Swordsmiths recognized in the usually calm and friendly man. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding and the blood had dried in a peculiar way on his face, forming swirling mist-like patterns on his skin in red.

Chapter Text

    For Shinobi, having multiple spouses bear multiple children was a normality. Women who were part of the shinobi family, but were not ninjas themselves, were prized based on their children and how many sons they could give their husbands.

    For the head of the Tsugikuni clan, his third wife Akeno only bearing him a set of twins before being unable to have any more children was unacceptable. Especially when one of them was stilborn for several minutes before opening his eyes and taking his first breath.

    Akeno named him with the kanji for fate as she believed that her miracle son would change the world.

    The twins were separated when they were five, the older one deemed a good candidate for shinobi training while the other one - the miracle child, as his mother named him - was sent to live in the house his mother was allotted on the Tsugikuni clan’s estate. Despite the separation, the brothers found ways to meet in secret.

    The reason for the separation was a simple one to their father; the younger twin was dumb in the head and had far too much compassion in his little body, completly unfit to become a proper assassin.

    It was this childhood that Hashira Tsugikuni Michikatsu thought about as he broke himself out of Hantengu’s wooden shell and thrusted his broken sword through the demon’s skull, searching for the spot to strike to kill it.

    Hantengu screeched in pain as he pulled himself off of the sword and swiped wildly with his talons. Katsu breathed slowly and held his sword up in a defensive pose, expertly parrying the demon’s frenzied attacks and letting it scurry away while he twisted himself around and killed the demonic tree terrorizing the Swordsmiths in the destroyed shack.

    “Are you all alright?” The lightness of his voice did not match the intensity of his eyes. Tecchin noted that nothing about him matched anymore since his purple-and-black haori was discarded. He could see that Katsu had scars littering only the inside of his arms past his sleeves, there was dried blood on his face forming a swirling pattern on his skin but no discernable cut for the blood to come from and now he was performing thrusting techniques with no point on his blade.

    Is this what a lifetime of sword fighting looks like?

    “Real question, are you alright?!” Tecchin babbled out, Kanamori continuing to sharpen the ancient sword next to him while Haganezuka trembled in fear of his situation.

    Katsu shook his head and the harshness of his features vanished in an instant, but so did the red markings on his face. Like magic.

    “I’m feeling alright, just a little shaken up.” He smiled pleasantly. “How does swordsmithing go, Master Kanamori?”

    Kanamori did not lose his focus for a second. “With all these interruptions, it’s a miracle that I’m almost done.”

    “That’s great news! I’ll go finish off that demon to rid you of distractions.” The Hashira hummed and spun on his heels to track down the fleeing Hantengu.

    As he did, a terrible screech filled the night. Katsu sighed and started to run after Hantengu. 

    That came from the direction of where I left the Kamado siblings. Should I go to them and provide support against that set of demon women or--no. I need to finish off the woodworker first and protect the village. No matter what becomes of me, the Swordsmith Village cannot fall!

~~~

    “Count to nine and breathe, focus.” A boy nearly identical to Tanjiro in face and eyes smiled smally as he spoke. His red eyes were stuck on the ground, but attentive. There was a small smile at the edge of his lips, an amused one that was missed by the other boy in the yard. 

    Another young boy who also looked identical but with black eyes took a deep breath and counted in his head before breathing out. He frowned and held up his wooden sword again, ignoring the bloody calluses forming on his palms. 

    “I think I got it now, thanks.” He had a determined look in his eyes as he began swinging his sword again. “Now get lost before Father gets back.”

~~~

    Hantengu’s tracks stopped in a clearing in the woods. Katsu kept his broken sword up, ready in case any of the trees decided to start moving.

    A voice that more resembled nails on glass cackled at him from in a tree behind him. “Run, run, little swordsman, but you’ll never find me!”

    Katsu’s movements were swift as he twisted his upper body around and launched a small Nichirin kunai straight between the demon’s hideous eyes, knocking him out of the tree.

    Hantengu pulled the spade out of his skull with an indignant yell. “How DARE you?!”

    The Hashira smiled and shrugged. “Trick of the trade. One should always carry a knife on them, you’ll never know where it’ll be needed.”

    “That’s-That’s cheating!” The demon wailed and thrashed around on his back like an overturned cockroach.

    “Cheating like attacking unarmed civilians as a diversion?” Katsu’s voice dropped dangerously into a growl. As it did, the red swirl markings reappeared on his cheek, his eyes giving him a bored yet intense expression and his entire body language changing to match this. “Yeah. That’s cheating.”

    “That’s it, I’ll show you the might of an Upper Moon! You’ll pay for your insults!” Hantengu got back to his feet and spread his arms out to his side. “Blood Demon Art: Countless Striking Trees!”

    That doesn’t sound good.

    Katsu steadied his already slow breathing as the trees around him sprung into animation, gnarly faces forming from knots and branches striking out to rip him to shreds.

    Total Concentration Mist Breathing Seventh Form; Obscuring Clouds.

    It was like a cloud settled itself over the forest. Hantengu strained his immortal eyes to see through the mist, but all he knew was that something slow was striking down all of his trees with detailed deadliness. So when Katsu did appear with his sword aimed at the demon’s throat, Hantengu squeaked in surprise.

    However, Katsu noticed that striking Hantengu’s neck now felt more akin to slicing a tree.

    “You’ve turned your skin into wood.” He noted. “Creative, if not annoying. No worries, I’ll dismember you into splinters either way.”

    Hantengu twisted out of the way of a sword slash and moved to attack with his talons, but Katsu was gone again. The demon began to sweat, the fog was setting around him again and he could not detect any moment in it.

    “S-Show yourself!” He squealed.

    Something leaped into a tree to his left. Hantengu spun around again and snarled. Another movement, he squeaked in fear again.

    “I’ll kill you first, Hashira!” Hantengu stomped his feet and spun around in the mist as the movements got faster around him. 

    A cold chill ran down his spine before he was overcome with pain in his chest. Hantengu looked down to see a bloody, broken sword protruding from his chest, his cursed heart beating loud enough to shake the trees around them.

    “You’ll have to get in line.” Katsu mumbled into Hantengu’s ear before ripping his sword out and watching the demon fall to his knees.

    The ugly demon tried to crawl away, but Katsu sneered darkly down at him and kicked him onto his side. Hantengu whimpered as he was rolled onto his back and Katsu knelt over him with another Nichirin knife.

    “W-What are you doing?! Get off of me!”

    “No.”

    He drove the knife into Hantengu’s throat and dragged it down to his stomach, stone-faced to the demon’s screams as he was carved open. Hantengu wailed in agony as Katsu stabbed the knife back into his throat to pin him to the forest floor. His demonic blood was spilling everywhere as the Hashira plunged his hands into the hole he made.

    Michikatsu’s eyes were dull like a still lake under an overcast sky as he pried the screaming demon’s ribs apart and began to pull out his organs, digging through them and searching around.

    “Speaking with Hashira Kibutsuji Douma about what he knows of the Upper Kizuki demons has proven insightful in this battle.” He explained like a teacher to a group of children, deaf to the demon’s sobs of agony. “You are Upper Moon Five, Hantengu the Woodworker. Able to turn yourself into wood and control trees that you touch with your blood. Young Douma also informed me that your neck is not your kill spot because your life as a human was so horrendous from your own doing.”

    The swordsman hummed slightly to himself as his fingers touched Hantengu’s rapidly beating heart.

    “It was interesting to discover that as a human, you would pretend to be disabled and live among people like that to gain the sympathy of their benefactors and caretakers. This manifested in you literally hiding inside of your own body. Specifically in your heart. To think that you would be your own doll. It’s fascinating.” He pulled out the heart and retrieved his knife from Hantengu’s throat.

    In one swift movement, he stabbed the beating heart through, impaling the tiny version of Hantengu inside of it with a smile tugging at his lips. As he did, the heart and the rest of Hantengu’s body turned to ash. Upper Moon Five was defeated. 

~~~

    Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty lashes struck the boy’s back, yet he did not cry out.

    “Tell me, boy, why have I punished you today?” The boy’s father asked deeply as he cleaned his son’s wounds, the boy face-down on a cot with dark eyes filled with rage that did not match his unemotional demeanor.

    “Because I did not follow orders, sir.” He hid the shakiness of his voice well. “Five lashes were for speaking out of turn. Five lashes were for talking back to you. Ten lashes were for challenging you in front of the clan.”

    “Good. You will do well to not repeat your mistakes, Michikatsu.” The head of the Tsugikuni clan smiled. “You are my son, everyone is watching what you do.”

    He wanted to ask about the boy who looked just like him that clung to his mother every time they passed each other in the family estate. How come he didn’t get lashes for not training? How come he was being babied by their mother all the time? Why was the older twin claimed as a son and punished while that other boy was ignored and spared?

    He hated his brother. He hated the boy named after a miracle. He hated Yoriichi Tsugikuni because he could not hate anyone else.

    Michikatsu Tsugikuni was a bitter, bitter little boy.

    As he layed in bed that night, he began to think about how it would be his eleventh birthday soon. What would his clan do for him for his birthday? A break from ninja training? No, unrealistic. The clan had one purpose and that was being the best killers in the land.

    There was a knock on his door. Painfully, Michikatsu pulled himself out of bed to find a boy identical to him staring at the floor. Well, almost identical. His twin Yoriichi had red eyes and a large birthmark on his forehead. Supposedly, it was an ancestral marking, but none of the other men in the Tsugikuni family had it, including Michikatsu and their father. Either way, it made the unwanted son stand out more.

    “How are you feeling, Michi?” Yoriichi asked softly with a warm smile. 

    Michikatsu shut the door in his face. 

    Yoriichi came back the next night with the same question and the same smile. Michikatsu sent him away again. And the next night. And the next night. 

    A week of Yoriichi’s strange appearances passed before Michikatsu let him into his room. 

    “What do you want?”

    Yoriichi sat down on the floor politely. “What do you want for your birthday?”

    Michikatsu blinked twice. “What?”

    His red-eyed twin beamed innocently. “We turn eleven in two weeks, I want to get you a present, Michi!”

    The bitter brother rolled his eyes. “I don’t get presents. I’m a Tsugikuni Shinobi, I don’t care about material possessions. You would know this if you were good enough to be part of this family.”

    Yoriichi hummed. “So… I’ll pick out a present for you then! Mama and I can make it extra special for you!”

    Michikatsu chased him out soon after, annoyed for some reason. Yet his twin brother came back again the next night, and the next night and the next night and the next one after that. Each time he stayed a little longer, the brothers talked a little more. 

    Their eleventh birthday went unrecognized by their father. They spent the night together, giggling and playing like children for the first time in Michikatsu’s short life. He didn’t just have a brother, he had a friend. 

    “Do you wanna see the present Mama and I made for you?” Yoriichi asked between fits of laughter. 

    Michikatsu blinked. “You actually got me something?”

    “Yeah!” His smile lit up the night. He dug through his yukata and pulled out a tiny wooden whistle. It looked hand carved. 

    Michikatsu took the whistle and turned it over. He had never had a toy before, his father told him that he didn’t need one if he wanted to be a good killer. 

    “Did you make this for me?” His voice cracked in emotion as the boy held the tiny whistle to his chest. 

    Yoriichi nodded with another hum, proud of himself. 

    The older twin clung to the whistle for a moment before putting it under his cot and pulling out a tiny velvet bag. “I got you something, too. N-Nothing special, so don’t get your hopes up.”

    Inside the bag was a tiny kunai knife. Yoriichi studied it curiously while Michikatsu looked away in embarrassment. 

    “Yeah it’s a crappy gift, I know, it’s just an old dagger that’s too dull for training, but the elders always say to keep a knife on you so… yeah.”

    Yoriichi tucked the knife into his yukata with tears in his eyes. “I love it!”

    “Of course, someone would have to teach you how to use it.” Michikatsu cleared his throat. “I suppose I could show you the ways of a Shinobi, if you think you’re up to the task.”

    The red-eyed twin laughed. “If you say so!”

    Michikatsu Tsugikuni is a bitter, bitter little boy, but he had a brother who was the Sun to his Moon.

~~~

    “Hashira Tsugikuni!” Tecchin came barreling out of the woods as Katsu got back to his feet, realizing that he was drenched in Hantengu’s blood, the only remaining evidence that the demon once existed.

    “Ah, hello Master Tecchikawahara!” The red mark on Katsu’s face vanished as his practically glowingly positive demeanor returned. “Is everything alright?”

    “Forget me, the fuck happened to you!?” The masked man shrieked.

    The Hashira looked down at himself and snorted. “Oops? It’s not mine, if that helps.”

    Tecchin shook his head. “Whatever, Kozo finished restoring that sword, somehow. We need to get it to Nezuko!”

~~~

    The Mist Estate had no decorations other than ceremonial pieces and a singular photograph hung above the head of Michikatsu’s cot. It was a photo of four young adults, two identical brothers and what was probably their pregnant wives. The brothers had different expressions, one had a warm smile and the other looked like he wanted to murder the camera, yet both wore the Demon Slayer uniform and had swords on their hips. 

Chapter Text

    “Oh fuck me sideways through a door.” 

    Tanjiro snapped his head around, appalled by his little sister’s horribly foul language. Obanai snorted, his and Nezuko’s mis-matched eyes never leaving Nakime’s floating form. 

    The witch’s oily hair floated around her like a shredded sheet, exposing the fact that her single eye was bleeding and missing its bottom half. 

    “I remember Douma telling me about this demon, she can only be killed by striking her eye…” Obanai muttered. “But the half I fought didn’t have an eye… Kamado siblings, where could the other eye be?”

    When they both shrugged, the Hashira facepalmed. 

    “Okay, let’s think. She can only be killed with an eye stab, so as long as she’s missing part of her eye, she’s unkillable. Which means…”

    Nezuko looked around. “Hey, ,where’s Senjuro?”

    Before any of them could keep talking, Nakime let out another frightful screech and from where she floated in the air, her oily hair struck down at them, nearly invisible in the pale moonlight like needles.

    The experienced fighters twisted themselves around the onslaught of hair-needles like spinning dancers and readied their various weapons of swords and claws. As Nezuko found refuge behind a tree, her mind went back to the house Nakime had appeared in.

    “Hey, Obanai!” She called to the Hashira.

    “Yeah?” The short man shouted back, continuing to weave around the demon’s attacks with Tanjiro.

    “Did you see Senjuro anywhere?!”

    “No? Didn’t he leave down the mountain with Katsu?”

    “No?”

    Assuming the worst had befell her yellow-and-red-haired not-companion, Nezuko responded in the only way she knew how.

    “Shit.”

    Tanjiro made distressed muffled noises as one of Nakime’s hairs impaled him through the thigh and ripped him into the air. Obanai cussed and cut him down with the reach of his blade-whip.

    “Be careful, Tanjiro!” The Hashira looked around as he thought of a strategy. “Okay, I have a plan!”

    “What’s the plan, boss?” Nezuko ran out from behind her tree and started slashing hair with her sword.

    “Find the black one’s eye and stomp on it! I’ll distract the witch, the two of you should go!”

    Tanjiro made a noise of protest, making the Hashira shove him in the direction of the guests house where the night started. “Don’t worry about me! Go! Now!”

~~~

    “Go! Now!” The old man screamed in the sobbing girl’s face as he grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the mud that had formed from the drizzle around them. 

    Instantly, the girl’s beautiful wedding shiro-muku was splattered in gunk and half of her styled hair fell down around her shoulders. Her makeup ran down her cheeks, the shape of a handprint on her cheek forming rivets in the streams of colored oil.

    Onlookers in the street watched with morbid curiosity as the old man said one last thing to the girl before leaving her in the ever-intensifying rain.

~~~

    Nezuko and Tanjiro wasted no time sprinting back towards the destroyed guest house to find no signs of anyone there, Senjuro or eye.

    They scounged through the rubble while there was a tingling sensation on the back of Tanjiro’s neck, almost as if someone rubbed cool satin against a sunburn.

    Is it nearly sunrise already? It can’t be. We need to find that eye before it gets away!

    “Tanjiro, over here!” His sister pulled him from his thoughts as she pointed at the grass, having found her pink haori and tugged it back on while they had searched. “There’s a trail of blood leading away from the village! Let’s follow it!”

    So they did, the two following the blood trail that smelled heavily of demon through the dark trees while Tanjiro’s heart beat louder and louder in his chest. 

    They found that the trail ended in another clearing, too many scents in different directions making it impossible to sense where it picked up next.

    Nezuko stomped her foot and spun around, searching. “Shit! I lost it!”

    Tanjiro breathed slowly and looked around as well. However, their search ended with something too fast for their eyes firing some sort of liquid projectile at them.

    Nezuko brought her borrowed sword up to block, only to yelp as the lidui easily melted through her katana, rendering it useless.

    “Fuck! What the hell was that?!” She threw the melted handle down to the ground and pulled out a tiny ice-blue Nichirin dagger from a pocket of her haori that she never returned to a certain one-armed ex-Hashira.

    Tanjiro’s demonic vision caught a tiny flying object darting in and out of the trees and launched a pink fireball at it. It hit and a loud screeching noise alerted the siblings to their attacker’s position. Their eyes snapped to a tiny ball floating in the night and gasped.

    It was an eyeball flying with wings made of blood sprouting from its sides.

    “That’s disgusting. Tanjiro, torch it.”

    The red-haired demon nodded and lobbed another fireball at the eye. The eye’s wings twisted it out of the way and from its pupil - a visual that the readers will be glad to know that the writer refuses to describe in detail - spat another glob of acid. It landed on Tanjiro’s hand and melted it off, causing him to grab at his wrist and fall to his knees with a whine of pain. 

    “Tanjiro!” His sister screamed and rushed the eye with her small knife. 

    “No, don't! Don’t touch it!” Someone yelled from the trees. 

    Nezuko faltered as the eye faced something approaching them at a fast pace. She tried to catch the scent of the new arrival, but it wasn’t familiar. It was demonic. She readied herself in a defensive position while Tanjiro rapidly tried to heal his hand. It was a slower process . 

    The voice of caution leaped into the clearing with the speed of a demon and sliced at the eye with a dull gray blade. The person’s clothing was in tatters, but Nezuko still recognized it as a demon slayer’s gakuran jacket. The person pulled out a sawed-off shotgun as they landed on the grass and spun around to shoot at the eye with their gun-arm still behind their back. What startled Nezuko was how his yellow and red eyes had a black sclera and how the front of his clothing was covered in a sort of black bile.

    The eye screeched again and spat another glob of acid at him. He put up his arm and let it splatter across his skin. To Nezuko’s surprise, it did not melt his skin as it melted Tanjiro’s hand and her borrowed sword. 

    “How did you-?”

    Senjuro turned to look at her over his shoulder, his fangs glistening in the setting moonlight. “Are you hurt? How’s his hand?”

    Senjuro Rengoku wore a shredded yet still recognizable Demon Slayer’s uniform, but the evidence was all right in front of Nezuko: he was - without a doubt - a demon.

    Obanai let out a sigh of relief when the Kamado siblings ran off to find Nakime’s missing half-eye. He readied his pink sword and dropped low into a fighting stance as the demon witch lowered to the forest floor. 

    “The beast destroyed my biwa, it was brand new...” She whispered lazily, her shoulders slumping and swaying as she spoke. “How am I supposed to perform now? The excitement of the kill is fading, I can’t perform at my best this way… he’ll be laughing at me in Hell for sure over this… I just know it!”

    “Who are you talking about?” Obanai sensed uneasiness in her otherwise relaxed demeanor. 

    “My dolt of a husband, that’s who!” The demon threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, yes, I bet he wasn’t laughing when I gutted him like a fish! I gave my best ever performance not a half-hour later! The excitement of the kill makes me the best performer I can be!” She gestured widely with her arms, her giant sleeves swaying with her. “So you must understand why I need to dispatch another one of you maggots and find Kuroi’s eye!”

    Obanai hummed. “I can get that, but I cannot allow you to take another life. As a Hashira, it is my duty to slay you where you stand.”

    “And what would you know, child?” Her tone turned to a harsh gnashing. “Have you ever felt the despair that a weeping wife does when her husband strikes her? You want to wear the title of ‘Love Pillar’, what is your claim to the role, little boy?”

    The short man’s eyes took on a pitiful look as his painted lips frowned. “I’m truly sorry you were treated that way by the man who was supposed to love you. I understand your pain, I’m sympathetic to your blight. However, your husband is long gone by now. There is no reason to continue the cycle of pain and heartbreak.”

    “I’ve never felt more alive! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

    “I mean how you’re the one causing the heartbreak now.” Obanai bowed his head respectfully before resuming his stance. “The fact of the matter is, you have committed atrocities beyond what was inflicted upon you and you need to be punished.”

    “You’re only a child!” She flashed her talons.

    “Miss, I’m twenty-one.” He blinked. “I’ve been a Hashira for three years, a Demon Slayer for five. I don’t think I qualify as a child anymore.”

    “Three years?” Her black-stained lips curled into a truly demonic smile behind her greasy hair. “Oh… then you were a Hashira when Upper Moon Two took the head of the Fox-Man Tomioka Sabito?”

    “Yeah. And I’ll be a Hashira when the next Fox-Man takes Upper Two’s head in return.” Obanai sneered. “If you believe the power of a spouse-killer is a frightful thing, you’ve never experienced the anger of a widower face-to-face with vengeance. Take your stance, Upper Four, and allow me to demonstrate the might of the Hashira!”

~~~

    Obanai Iguro did not always have that name, as the readers might have inferred by now. His old name is obsolete and useless, its existence only serving to remind the man of his journey to earn the one he wears now.

    He was the youngest daughter of the Iguro clan, the youngest of a dozen sisters who all were raised in the lap of luxury. Obanai was not much different from his sisters; he was polite, well-spoken, intelligent and truly beautiful. He grew up watching his sisters get married and start their own families and wished for that future more than he had ever wished for anything else. There was just one problem with this dream:

    The thirteenth Iguro daughter was not a little lady.

    She was brash, always got into fistfights with boys in town and couldn’t keep any close female friends. Her father’s response was to continue to surround her with shining examples of good women. Obanai knew what a good woman was and she did her best to follow the examples of her tutors, but she was still falling behind her sisters as the tenth and eleventh one got married with the promise of healthy children following soon after.

    Maybe there was something wrong with the little girl with the two-colored eyes.

    There was one boy she grew up with that took her seriously.  One. His family was almost as rich as the Iguro family and he was indeed quite handsome. He and Obanai spent their childhoods sneaking around together and playing in the woods until their nannies called them home. 

    Her father was elated to marry the two of them. The two of them were elated to be married. Obanai couldn’t have been happier if she had tried. She was set up for a comfortable life with her best friend that she was quickly falling in love with now that they were both approaching adulthood. 

    The wedding was going to be the most expensive one their town had ever seen. The Iguro family was equivalent to royalty and the entire town was somehow involved in the preparations. Lord Iguro was an aging man, his oldest daughter’s children being older than Obanai by this point. He stressed to Obanai the importance of her engagement. 

    “Don’t worry, Papa, not even I could ruin it!” She reassured her old man.

    Weeks dwindled away. Obanai’s excitement grew. She couldn’t wait to be the perfect bride and the perfect mother and have the perfect family. 

    As the date came closer and closer, so did the wedding gifts. One of her many sister-in-laws from her siblings sent her a particular book that Obanai found herself unable to put down. Torikaebaya Monogatari was the title and Obanai read it through in a single night before reading it again and again. 

    The tale was a simple one, due to their mannerisms, a boy is presented to society as a woman and his sister as a man. Their journeys are extravagant with both of them becoming high ranking members of a royal court and even catching the eye of royalty in their disguises. Obanai wasn’t as impressed with the ending where the siblings returned to their traditional roles after their secrets were revealed, so she read it again and just started over when the book got to that part. 

    The character of the Chūnagon, the sister living as a man, struck Obanai as peculiar. Their father had chosen to present her to the royal court as a man because of her intellectual abilities instead of the father’s original plan to make both siblings monks. The Chūnagon marries a woman and treats her well despite never officially sleeping with her, much to the chagrin of the Chūnagon’s best friend with whom the wife has an affair with before he discovers the Chūnagon’s secret and courts her. Obanai never liked how the story ended with the Chūnagon having her friend’s kid before the Emperor married her and she became an Empress housewife, so she stopped reading before that part. That and the Chūnagon’s wife never noticed that her husband is actually her real spouse’s brother when the two” switch back.” Obanai didn’t like that. Well, being Empress wasn’t that bad, if she really thought about it. 

    Though, perhaps the Chūnagon’s experiences were not as fictional as one would have liked, to Obanai’s reflection. 

    She was at her fiancé’s house within the hour, shoving the book into his face and demanding that he read the Chūnagon’s story. He did, closing the book and looking up at Obanai to say six words: 

    “Dear, I think you’re a man.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “No, let me explain.” He put his hands up and handed the book back, sitting her down in front of him. “In the book, Himegimi the Chūnagon and her brother were cursed as children by that Bhuddist tengu, right? It made them perform better as a man and as a woman.”

    Obanai scoffed. “So you think I was cursed as a babe by a magic tengu?”

    “Well, no- however !” He stood up and cupped her face gently with an excited smile. “Tengu curse or not, the Chūnagon is basically you! You can’t deny that you’re only trying to marry me because you want people to think you’re a ‘perfect lady’. Think about it, what if you’re actually a man?”

    The blue-and-gold-colored eyed girl pulled back from the hands around her face and stood up with a huff. 

    “I am the youngest daughter of the Iguro family!” She exclaimed. “If I wanted my womanhood to be insulted, I would have had dinner with my father!”

    “Then why did you bring the book to me?”

    “I-“ 

    Her mouth opened and shut like a fish. He crossed his arms over his chest smugly before tapping her forehead with a fingertip. “Hello? Earth to Iguro- Chan ?”

    She bowed her head and looked down at the tatami mat flooring. 

    “Maybe… maybe I am a man?”

    The taller man brushed the shorter’s hair behind his ears and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Maybe you are.”

    The couple talked and talked more after this revelation and a plan was made. 

    The wedding was already paid for, they couldn’t just call it off and risk both of their reputations. They would bear through the ceremonies and separate quietly after their honeymoon and the commotion about them died down. The main concern was how the split would affect Obanai’s inheritance from his father, however they were reminded about how his fifth sister had been divorced twice and had not faced any repercussions. But being a divorcee at sixteen? Maybe it was better to stay married and play the part of a dutiful wife. 

    However, the plan was to still split. After all, Obanai was not going to force his best friend to stay married to him when the love they shared was platonic, not romantic. The men reassured each other that they would be by each other’s sides through the entire process.

    Which is why when Obanai found himself alone at the shrine with the rain ruining his makeup and his guests looking around for his groom, his body moved on autopilot. 

    He was silent and emotionless as his father asked his fiancé’s guests where the groom and his family were. There were no answers. Enraged, Mr. Iguro took Obanai to the fiancé’s household with the wedding entourage in tow to find answers. 

    They were answered by Obanai’s fiancé looking ashamed as his own father pushed past him and waved a book in Mr. Iguro’s face before sneering evilly at Obanai. 

    “Tell me, Iguro- San , have you ever heard of the story of  Torikaebaya Monogatari ?”

    Obanai’s blood turned to ice in his veins and his eyes searched those of his fiancé for answers, who only looked at the muddy street. The rain continued to fall around him as Obanai’s would-be father-in-law recounted the story, Mr. Iguro becoming more and more confused. 

    “And what does this have to do with my daughter, —“ The name slipped from his mouth and Obanai winced as the other old man laughed at him. 

    “Did you know of my son and your little dyke’s plan to nullify the wedding after the honeymoon because your brat has it in her head that she’s equal to us as men?”

    It would have been less painful if Obanai had been stabbed, he thought later. His and his fiancé’s silence only supported the cruel man’s claim.  

    “Is this true?” His father asked anyway. 

    “I’m sorry, Papa.” Obanai whispered, embarrassed and shamefully. 

    The slap was not expected. The being grabbed harshly by the arm and thrown into the mud was not expected. Obanai cried out as the crowd around him did nothing but look on in various expressions of pity and disappointment. 

    “Papa, please !” Obanai begged as his father stood over him. “The plan was to protect you! To protect our family!”

    “What family? You think you have claim to my family after this stunt, —“ There was that name again. The one that was becoming increasingly foreign to the sobbing Obanai. 

    “Papa-Papa I’m sorry!” He begged as the old man began to walk away and the crowd dispersed. “I’m sorry, please don’t leave! Don’t leave me here, Papa, I’m sorry!”

    His wails fell upon deaf ears as his fiancé shut the door to his house and the lights in the windows were blown out. Silence filled the street. The rain only poured harder. 

    The shamed bride-to-be dragged himself to the side of his ex-fiancé’s home to shield himself from the rain only to hear a window above him open. 

    “Obanai? Are you out there?”

    It was a new name the couple had been trying out as it was the main character’s name from a light novel they both liked. Obanai got to his feet and tried to wipe his face, but all that did was smear his makeup more. 

    “Hey there, sunshine.” He hiccuped and forced a smile onto his face. “How’s the grass in your yard?”

    “Obanai, I am so sorry for Father.” His fiancé cupped his face through the open window. “He found the book and accused me of being like—no. It doesn’t matter. This is all my fault.”

    “It’s alright.” It wasn’t. “I’ll live.” Would he? Where would he go from here?

    “Come inside and get out of the rain, will you? You’ll catch a cold.”

    Obanai awkwardly clambered through the window, tearing his shiro-muku in the process, but whatever. They sat together on the ex-fiancé’s floor and hugged each other before Obanai was given dry clothes to change into. 

    “I’ll have to leave town.” He whispered as he finished dressing himself in his friend’s clothes and cleaned his face. “Do you think I’ll be able to grab some money from my house?”

    “Probably not.” His friend whispered back as he packed a sack full of food and more clothes. “Take the wedding gifts to sell in the next town over. That’ll put them to use.”

    “Alright, thank you. Tell you mother I said goodbye?” Obanai tried a smile. 

    “I will.” The supply sack was handed over and the friends shared a kiss. It was one of good luck. It was one of melancholy. It was one of goodbye. It was many things. 

    Obanai stayed the night and left at dawn as soon as the rain stopped. He never looked back once.

    Obanai sold the wedding gifts, but kept the book. He wore extra layers to hide his figure and chopped off his hair to further improve the disguise. 

    He walked and walked and walked until he was damn near collapsing from heat exhaustion. That is, until he came across a manor in the woods with a young man planting baby trees around the perimeter like a fence. He sported an obviously broken arm and ankle - evidenced by the braces he wore on both - but the white haired boy’s purple eyes were focused on his task with a determination that shocked the exhaustion from Obanai’s body. 

    “Hello?” The obviously older yet shorter man asked tentatively. 

    The white haired boy snapped his head up from his planting job and got to his feet, masking his wince of pain well behind a giant smile. “Greetings! I’m Shinazugawa Sanemi! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

    Obanai instinctively shook his hand, appalled at how calloused and rough his hands were. 

    “I’m Iguro Obanai, it’s nice to meet you as well.”

Chapter Text

    Nezuko didn’t have time to comprehend Senjuro’s situation before the eye started to fly away again. 

    “Little shit, come back here!” The yellow-haired boy sprinted after the eye as he reloaded his shotgun. 

    “Wait up!” She chased after him with her knife in hand and Tanjiro behind her, hand almost done healing. 

    Nezuko’s strong legs allowed her to keep pace with Senjuro. “So… how are you feeling?”

    He kept his black-backed eyes on the eye as he chased it. “Pretty gross, actually. You?”

    “Concerned for your health. Are you aware that you’re a demon?”

    “Huh? Oh yeah, it happens sometimes.” He said nonchalantly. 

    The pink-eyed girl sputtered and stumbled. Senjuro snorted and picked up his pace. 

    “If we survive tonight, I’ll tell you more about it!”

    “You fucking better!”

    Senjuro’s eyes flicked back to Tanjiro as they ran, studying the older demon and the way his red eyes kept shifting to the East. 

    He can sense the sun coming, too. We have to make this quick and get him back inside. Goddamnit, why is this eye so fast?!

    Nezuko’s legs pulled her ahead of their group only for the eye to vanish into some early-morning fog. She skidded to a halt in the fog and cursed loudly, hearing her demon companions jog up behind her. The three went back to back and held up their weapons, waiting for the eye to show itself. 

    “Nezuko!” Someone called beyond the fog. “Nezuko, where are you?”

    Senjuro gasped slightly and held his gun up higher. “That’s Master Katsu! He’s okay!”

    “We don’t know that, it could be a trick of the demon’s.” Nezuko muttered, her mind going back to Akaza from the Mugen Train. That night felt like an eternity ago. “It’s not unusual for demons to create illusions of loved ones to trick us into lowering our guard.”

    Senjuro bristled next to her. “Really? You seem like you know what you’re talking about.”

    “I do.” 

    Tanjiro listened to them whispering silently. It hurt him how sure of these dangers his sister sounded. She shouldn’t have to be an expert on demonic dangers, she shouldn’t have to be skilled in fighting with swords and knives against magical cannibals. That wasn’t fair to her or her stolen childhood. He was a failure of an older brother, he concluded as his eyes caught sight of her scarred face. Her cheek, eye, jaw, her stark white hair roots, her horribly calloused hands, she didn’t look like a little girl anymore. 

    I’m sorry for not being able to protect her better, Father.

    A glob of demon acid was spat at them from the side. Senjuro slapped it out of the air with his hand and fired his gun in the direction it came from, upsetting the silence of the forest clearing. The trio waited again, straining their ears to hear anything else.

    Senjuro cursed under his breath. “Tanjiro, can you burn away the mist? I can’t see a damn thing.”

    The red-eyed demon nodded and stepped away from the Demon Slayers, holding his hands out and letting a stream of pink fire circle around him in a brilliant display of colors that made his companions pause in awe.

    The fire spiraled around the field they stood in and up into the sky, clearing the fog away as a smile overtook Senjuro’s hardened expression.

    “Nice job, man! Alright, now to figure out where that--” He was suddenly cut off by a streak of black diving through his neck, decapitating him.

    “Senjuro!” Nezuko yelped as the yellow-haired boy crumpled to the ground, dead with his head rolling away.

    “Don’t worry about me!” His head barked from the grass, his body was already crawling towards it in a bloody mess. “I’ll be fine! Go get that damn eye and soon, the sun’s almost up!”

    She looked to the east and sure enough, the sky was noticeably lighter than it had been before.

    “Motherfucker, okay-”

    Tanjiro made a disappointed noise at his sister’s language, again. Being around the Swordsmiths was a terrible influence on her, even more so than Inosuke’s foul mouth. 

    My sister needs better friends.

    His immortal eyes caught sight of Nakime’s eye flying away, still dripping with Senjuro’s blood. Grunting and not waiting for Nezuko, he sprinted after it.

    “Tanjiro, wait!” His sister called after him, but he didn’t slow for her. Obanai had no chance in beating the main demon until the eye was destroyed. Sun be damned, that eye was gonna get crushed one way or another. 

    Tanjiro hated not being helpful. He was in the way and a hindrance during the Yoshiwara battle and he had been kicking himself for that for the past two months. Traveling with Inosuke for a month helped him get out of his own head, but it couldn’t erase all of his anxieties. 

    His sister called his name again. He tore through the trees like a bat out of hell and tackled the eye out of the air, ignoring the eye’s screeches(?) and holding the damn thing down even as it continues to spat acid at him, melting a hole into his forearm, his leg, one glob even caught the side of his head as he struggled to hold it down. 

~~~

    “So, Tanjiro, how old are you now?” Inosuke asked one night during their missions together. The two young men leaned against each other as a fire kept them warm. Not that they needed it, Tanjiro was his own furnace. 

    Tanjiro sat up so thay Inosuke could watch him sign. “Fifteen. No, seventeen. I’m seventeen, almost eighteen.”

    “But you lose those two years during Nezuko’s training, right?” Inosuke commented. “And demons don’t really age anyways. Wouldn’t that make you the same age you were when you were turned?”

    The demon boy shrugged and tried to lay back down against his companion. Inosuke, however, was not going to drop the subject so soon. 

    “What if Nezuko grows older than you at some point?” The green-eyed boy whispered. “I mean, if you stopped aging at fifteen and she’s basically sixteen now…”

    Tanjiro huffed behind his muzzle, opting to ignore the question and lay his head down in Inosuke’s lap to try to sleep some more. He felt the other boy’s fingertips tracing the water markings across his skin, thinking about the implications of his statement. 

    “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all dark on ya.” Inosuke chuckled nervously. “You okay?”

    The stone breather received only a faux-sleepy hum as a reply. Tanjiro did not sleep for a single minute that night. 

~~~

    Tanjiro had run too far ahead for Nezuko to follow. She ran in his general direction, desperately trying to pick up his scent, but her nose was still messed up from Yoshiwara. As she ran, she ended up following footprints along a trail that brought her next to a cliffside where a group of people appeared atop.

    “Nezuko! There you are!” Katsu smiled brightly. Nezuko skidded to a stop, alarmed to see the older swordsman soaked in blood like he had fallen into a lake of it and only had time to wipe his face off. At his sides, the Mist Hashira had three Swordsmiths each in various stages of terror; Kanamori held himself up pridefully with a sheathed sword in hand, Tecchin was noticeably out of breath but seeming okay and Haganezuka was downright trembling where he stood.

    “Katsu! Hey, I just ran into Senjuro! Have you seen Tanjiro? He was chasing a demon!” She cupped her hands to shout back at them.

    The older man nodded and pointed down the trail Nezuko stood on. “You just missed him. Where’s your sword?”

    “The lady-demon broke it!” She winced at Kanamori’s frustrated grunt. “But don’t worry, I have a knife!”

    Kanamori tossed the sword in his hand down to her. “Take this, Kamado.”

    Katsu smiled again. “Now, hurry! The sun’s already up!”

    Nezuko froze. “... what did you just say?”

    The Hashira pointed east. “The sun, it’s nearly morning! Go find your brother, we’ll be following behind you. Go!”

    She tore off down the trail, not even bothering to draw her new sword yet.

    It’s morning?! Shit, where did Tanjiro go?! No, no no no no no no no no!

    “ Tanjiro !” Nezuko screamed into the quickly approaching dawn. “Tanjiro, come back!”

    Nezuko had seen plenty of demons die by sunlight. Too many. The first demon she ever killed, way back in the temple by the road, the demon that burned scars on her wrists that she never even thought about anymore. Nezuko had been so weak then, so naïve to the greater threat of demons. The demon girl with the pink-on-black eyes whose body still moved after her head had been torn off because Nezuko’s flimsy hatchet wasn’t made of Nichirin metal. Metal made on the mountain closest to the sun. The sun killed all demons indiscriminately, regardless of the humanity they retained or lost. The sun that gave life and warmth would also bring death to any creature of the night unfortunate enough to step into its light.

    She finally caught up to her brother to see him in a field wrestling with Nakime’s half-eye. He was rapidly healing wounds from the eye that he sported all over his body, but the damn thing was relentless in its frantic escape.

    “There you are! Tanjiro, hurry, find some cover! The sun’s rising! Let me kill it!” Nezuko’s strong legs carried her to her brother’s side right as the eye’s wings spun around frantically and shredded itself out of his hands, landing in the grass as the sun’s light started to peak over the mountainside.

    Tanjiro could only make eye contact with his little sister before his body started to smoke and burn. She threw herself over him and frantically fanned out her haori to cover his body, not even realizing that she was starting to cry.

    “Katsu!” She screamed hysterically. “Katsu, hurry! Kill the eye! Please, Katsu, it’s getting away!”

    Tanjiro could see the eye flying away from the sun, it was almost to the treeline where it could find a hole to crawl in or something. His skin sizzled and stung, but he would be fine with his sister over him.

    He smiled at her behind his muzzle, her short hair and the Hanafuda earrings she inherited from their late father caging their faces and letting them see into each other’s eyes. His red and demonic, hers mis-colored from strains during battles he was useless in and frightened. Her face, features and scars were a roadmap of her journey to turn him back into a human. All of the pain and sorrow she endured for him, he couldn’t imagine how many times she would break and stumble just to save his soul. 

    I love you too, Nezuko.

    Tanjiro pulled his feet up under her and kicked her off with his inhuman strength towards where Nakime’s eye was flying, closing his eyes as the flames fully engulfed his body.

    Nezuko screamed as she was thrown through the air, sobbing uncontrollably as she finally drew the sword that Kanamori took so much time to refine and sliced Nakime’s eye in half in midair, landing with an unceremonious thud in the grass and losing the strength to even crawl herself back to the smoldering ashes that were her beloved big brother. 

Chapter Text

    It was weird how ash clung to surfaces as it fell. The scalding snow blanketed the corpses of the children that littered the smoldering grounds of what must have been their home. It was all nothing but simmering coals now.

    Everytime the boy tried to take a deep breath to stop hyperventilating, he would just inhale more and more ash to the point he was coughing more than he was breathing. His fists were covered in blood that miraculously wasn’t his.

    He stood silently over the corpses, the ash having not been disturbed and if one looked close enough, they would see that they had clearly been mauled to death by some sort of clawed beast. However, a lone little girl surrounded by nameless policemen and bald elders in large robes and larger beards still stared dead at the boy with only one whisper falling from her lips.

    “He killed them. He killed them all.”

~~~

    The giant man gasped himself awake in bed in a cold sweat, his ice blue eyes wide as he wrapped a hand around his throat, almost as if to hold it in place. His dark hair clung to his forehead as his chest heaved up and down in a desperate attempt to catch his breath. 

    He pushed his sheets off of his nearly naked form like they were burning him and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hand still around his throat holding his skin in place. 

    “Kai?” A young woman murmured from under the discarded sheets. She sat up, her own dark hair falling in front of her face and obscuring her features. Not that her eyes were open yet, she was ready to go back to sleep. “Are you alright?”

    When he didn’t respond, she rubbed her eyes to wake herself up properly and scooted over to sit on her knees behind him, her long hair covering her own nakedness as she draped her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself against his large back. 

    He let go of his neck and touched her arms, revealing that he wore a blue cord around his throat even to bed. His voice rumbled deeply from within his chest. “‘m sorry. Bad dream.”

    She idly played with his hair as he relaxed under her touch. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

    “More like I’ve got you.” Kaigaku grunted smally, nearly inaudibly. 

    “I suppose.” She giggled softly. “Do you want to try to sleep again or are we staying up?”

    The Thunder Hashira leaned against her and closed his eyes, bumping his head gently against hers. “I wanna go back to sleep but I don’t know if I can. Don’t know if I even wanna at this point.”

    “Alright, then we’ll stay up.” She pulled her head back to look around for her clothes. “Want me to make you some tea?”

    Kaigaku nodded and slid off the bed, turning to kiss the woman on her forehead before sauntering off. “I’m one lucky guy to catch a bug like you.”

    She giggled and pulled on a robe to make herself decent. “Really? ‘Catch a bug’? Can you get any more dorky?”

    “I absolutely cannot.” A smile curled onto his face. 

    They stared at each other before dissolving into soft chuckles. Kaigaku ruffled her hair and started to search for his own robe only to remember that the woman sliding off the bed was wearing it. 

    “Am I ever gonna get that back?”

    “Nope!” She giggled and slid out of the bedroom. He followed behind her with a soft smile on his face. 

    “You’re the best friend a guy could ask for, Shinobu, even though you’re a little shit and a pain in my ass.”

    Susamaru examined her katana carefully with a hum. Yahaba glanced over her shoulder curiously.

    “Is she speaking to you again?” He asked his assistant.

    Her cat-like features took on a strange expression. “Something has happened in the Village this morning. Something that can never be undone.”

    “You don’t mean…”

    The two demons shared knowing looks before Yahaba returned to drawing his blood in his own chair.

    Goddamnit . That’s more work for me. 

    There was the sound of pecking at one of their blacked out windows and then at the door of the tiny house they were holed up in. Yahaba held up one of his palm-eyes in the direction of the noise. “Susa, get it. It’s a Messenger Sparrow.”

    Susamaru set down her katana and got up to the door, peaking it open to let the tiny bird hop inside without endangering herself. 

    The sparrow fluttered around the small space before settling next to the sword. It ruffled its feathers quickly and began to speak. 

    “Chu chu! This is a message from Master Kibutsuji of the Demon Slayer Corps! Chu chu!”

    Nezuko wasn’t sure how long she was screaming until someone wrapped her up in the sleeves of a large haori and started rocking her back and forth. Katsu held her head to his chest despite how blood-soaked his gakuran jacket under his haori was and cradled her. Her Hanafuda earrings clinked against his wrist with every hiccup of her body, allowing the older man to catch a glimpse of the scars running up his forearm just beyond his sleeve. 

    “I failed you, Nezuko.” He whispered into her hair as she continued to wail. “I am so very, deeply sorry.”

    She clung to his clothes like a lifeline there in the grass that was still damp with morning dew.  If she didn’t think about it, maybe that’s what hugging her own father would have felt like if he hadn’t been ill. 

    She smelled Obanai approaching the field. “Hey guys... Is everyone okay? Who died?”

    Nezuko cried even harder. Katsu stiffened under her, whether it was from how she buried her face into his chest or from Obanai’s untimely comment, she couldn’t tell. 

    “Hashira Iguro, I bade you to be cautious with your words at this moment. Would you be kind enough to show the poor girl some class?”

    “Huh?” The heterochromic Pillar tilted his head to the side. He was covered in fresh bruises, cuts and his own gakuran jacket had vanished, leaving him in just his tight nude-colored shirt. His winged-heart mark was still visible on his collarbone. “No seriously, who died? What happened here?”

    Another set of running footsteps and Senjuro’s scent joined them in the meadow. “Hey, I heard screaming—Oh my god! Dude, where are your clothes!? Here, take my fucking shirt and cover yourself, man!”

    Nezuko pulled her head back as Katsu gasped slightly. She slid out of his hold and peaked around him with tears and snot still streaming down her face. 

    A very confused looking and very naked Tanjiro sat up in the burned grass before getting smacked in the face by Senjuro throwing his bloody and gross jacket at him.

    The pink-eyed girl heard another wail escape her agape mouth as she crawled frantically over to her brother and threw herself over him in the tightest hug she could muster with her tired body. 

    The siblings held each other tightly, Nezuko crying into the crook of her brother’s neck as the sun rose higher and higher over them. 

    The moment was broken by a shriek from Obanai. “Wait! Tanjiro’s a demon! The sun’s out!”

    “Well, seeing as I feel like I’m sunburned all over,” a shaky, unsure voice floated from under Nezuko’s sobbing form, “I would have to agree with you.”

    Nezuko pulled her head up and stared at her brother’s face. “Did you just—“

    “Nezuko, I haven’t spoken in two years, give me a break.” His voice couldn’t have been more than a whisper, his vocal chords weak and rusty. Honestly, he sounded like he was either a chainsmoker or had the worst case of strep throat ever. Tanjiro smiled and rolled his eyes sweetly when Nezuko cried even more. 

    Obanai and Senjuro’s eyes went between the siblings and where Katsu sat in the grass watching them and how his eyes took on a nostalgic gleam. 

    “You alright, Master?” 

    Katsu smiled back at his student. “Today is a good day, my boy, one that will surely be remembered for generations to come. Today is the day a demon conquered the sun.”

    Zenitsu was sweeping the front steps of the Fox Mansion with Inosuke, the two having placed a bet over who could sweep up the most fallen leaves from the maple and wisteria trees around them. Makomo sat on the steps to keep score and to practice her knitting, the remnants of those attempts having been shredded and discarded next to where she had placed her Fox mask. 

    Inosuke giggled to himself as he swept. Zenitsu pushed his mask to the side of his face to quirk and eyebrow at him. “What’s so funny?”

    “I can sense Nezuko coming back~” The stone breather teased, laughing out loud when the Water Tsugoku sat up straight and started trying to tame her black hair with her fingernails. 

    Zenitsu cupped a hand to his ear and listened down the road. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s with a group, I hear her and four other guys, all carrying swords. Hold on a minute—“

    He closed his eyes to listen more intently before his discolored eyes went wide. He dropped his broom and tore off down the road. “Follow me!”

    Inosuke did the same. “What’s wrong? Are they hurt?”

    Makomo followed the young men with an alarmed expression, not realizing that she left her kitsune mask back on the steps of her home. 

    The three ran down the road a bit until a crowd of Demon Slayers came into view all wearing brand new uniforms. They saw Nezuko marching proudly backwards as she spoke to the men following her. One looked like an older, black-haired version of Tanjiro and chuckled at everything Nezuko did. The one next to him was short with purple tips to his hair. Next to him was a tall, muscular boy with yellow hair tied behind his head. Next to Nezuko and gesturing widely with his arms like he was signing while he spoke was a tall boy with fiery red hair, red eyes and water tattoos hidden under the Demon Slayer uniform he was dressed in. At his hip, like the others he walked with, he carried his own sword that looked to have a thickly wrapped handle to not injure his scarred palms. The two of the three running to meet them froze in their tracks. 

    Makomo gasped as she clamped a hand over her mouth. Zenitsu’s mouth gaped open in shock. But Inosuke didn’t stop. He sprinted the rest of the distance there and threw his arms around Tanjiro. 

    Nezuko snorted while Tanjiro blushed and hugged him back. 

    Inosuke pulled back and looked him over. “How is this possible?! What the hell happened at the Village!? Are you still a demon!?”

    Katsu laughed softly. “Allow us to return to the Fox Mansion and explain everything.”

    So they did. They gathered all of the workers of the Fox Mansion together, save the recluse Giyuu who refused to be removed from his room, and told them everything that happened at the Swordsmith Village. How Nezuko found the sword in the living doll, how Upper Moons Four and Five attacked them in the night, how Katsu and Obanai took them on by themselves - and Obanai interjecting to say that if the sun hadn’t come up, he would have “totally freaking died!”

    As they finished retelling their tale, a sparrow flew through an open window and chirped at everyone. “Chu chu! Chu chu! The Master of the Demon Slayer Corps is requesting an audience of all Hashira and Tsugokus! Chu chu!”

    Nezuko giggled to herself as Obanai let out an exhausted groan and collapsed onto Makomo for her to carry him. “Looks like their work is never truly done, huh?”

    Tanjiro shook his head, happy that someone found him a hairbrush and ribbon to fix his curls with. “It never is.”

    A week passed before Nezuko and her friends received new orders. During that week, Giyuu thoroughly examined Tanjiro and found nothing wrong with him, he just did not burn in the sun.

    “So how does that explain why I can talk now?” Tanjiro signed curiously. His voice was still extremely weak, so he opted to just use his hands to communicate.

    Giyuu shrugged behind his mask. “Well, you did catch fire, right? Your clothes burned away and all?”

    “Yes, that did happen.” Tanjiro blushed a little at the memory.

    “Then it’s perfectly believable to claim that the sun might have burned away more than just your clothes.”

    The door to the examination room slid open and a man wearing an olive-colored kimono stepped in. “Almost like you exist now as a half-human, half-demon?”

    Tanjiro snapped his head around and smiled widely. “Yahaba!”

    He hugged the demon doctor tightly while Giyuu crossed his arms. “That’s our running theory, at least. Demon Physiology is still totally foreign to us, even with Hashira Kibutsuji and I’s combined knowledge. That’s why Oyataka-Chan has brought in Yahaba here and his assistant. It seems that the two of you are already acquainted?”

    Tanjiro pulled back and nodded happily. “We met a few weeks before you and I first met, back when Nezuko had a mission in Asakusa.”

    Yahaba rolled his palm-eyes and found himself a stool to sit on. “Yes, yes, and Susamaru is residing at the Kibutsuji Estate with your Master’s family. Seeing as she’s known our enemy the longest and closest, she will be helping coordinate training regimens from now on.”

    “Training regimens?” The red-eyed demon tilted his head to the side.

    “Oh yes,” Yahaba chuckled, “you don’t think Ubuyashiki Kagaya won’t retaliate, do you? Your friends’ frail bodies need to be sharpened to their finest points, hardened like boulders and molded into the perfect killing machines. Prepare your sister, Kamado Tanjiro, her Hashira training begins at once.”

    Nezuko and Inosuke were doing horrible jobs at hiding their excitement as they bounced down the road with a calm Zenitsu and Tanjiro signing silently behind them about the weather and flora they passed.

Tanjiro knew where they were going, but elected to not inform his friends for the sheer comedic effect his meddling would have when they arrived. Since he wasn’t an actual Demon Slayer, the uniform he was lended had been replaced by a comfortable yukata and a green-and-black checkered haori that had been sewn together so fast by Teruko and her brothers that Tanjiro was worried for their hands. However, he was given his sword to keep, which he greatly appreciated. It made him feel special. 

    As they got closer and closer to their destination, Zenitsu’s ears picked up a familiar sound, eliciting a groan from behind his mask that he wore on the side of his face.

    “Tanjiro… where are we?”

    “Zenko! Inoko! Nezu-Chan!” An airy voice called to them up the road that made all three Demon Slayers cringe hard. “I was wondering when you would be joining me!”

    A casually-dressed Douma stood at the steps of a grand mansion in the woods. His deep maroon-colored robes hung off of his frame loosely and the sleeve of his right arm was tied off at where his elbow should have been. He was also missing the top half of his left ear. He looked healthy despite the toll the battle of Yoshiwara clearly took on him.

    “Oh, fuck m--” Nezuko was cut off by Tanjiro slapping a hand over her mouth.

    Douma let out a clearly forced gasp. “By my name, is that Tanjiro? Kamado Tanjiro in the sun? The world has flipped on its head! Will you be joining our training?”

    “Pleasure to officially meet you as well, Lord Douma.” Tanjiro signed politely. “And no, I will not be joining the training. I’m not a Demon Slayer, as much as I would like to be.”

    “Very well then.” The retired Hashira sneered at the others. “Follow me and prepare yourselves, little sheep. You are about to begin the worst training you have ever experienced and if it doesn’t kill you, you’ll wish it does!”

Chapter Text

    “Demons have stopped appearing at night.” Giyuu whispered behind his mask as he felt Muzan’s back with a stethoscope.

    “Then our enemy has already begun forming his army.” Muzan whispered back, his voice barely audible and his breathing shallower than ever. “It’s time we finished building ours.”

    The Hashira maneuvered the dying man around to lie him down gently on his back. Muzan was paler than he had ever been before and was practically just a skeleton with skin and hair. His red eyes looked up into nothing and tiny, hoarse noises escaped his cracked lips. Giyuu sat down on his knees at his Master’s side and took his hand, his heart breaking at his weakness. Muzan tried to hold his friend back, just for his motor functions to fail completely and his fingers went limp. Just a few months before, the young man had been so vibrant and full of life. Now it seemed even existing caused him agony that he didn’t dare show his loved ones. The burden of Atlas would have been a worthy comparison to make. 

    Giyuu bowed his head and brought Muzan’s hand to his masked forehead. “My lord, do I dare ask what you see coming in our future?”

    The Master’s lips quirked up slightly, causing the Hashira to lean down and nearly put his ear to the man’s mouth. His mask’s perpetually angry expression remained unchanged as he listened to the tiny whispers. 

    Giyuu stood up and bowed himself out of the room, shutting the door behind himself silently before gliding down the hall. 

    “What is your business here, demon?” He stopped next to a lazy-looking Susamaru that leaned against a wall. “My Master called you to us to be helpful, did he not?”

    “Is that any way to speak to a guest? You know, I remember knowing your ancestor, he was a lot more talkative. And expressive.” The demon woman giggled. “How can I help ya, Foxie?”

    The Water Hashira sighed before speaking again, his shoulders slouching a tiny bit as he did. 

    “It was the dream of someone very dear to my heart that demons and humans could coexist and work together. We all thought him a fool for that thought, but he perished before he could see his dream come true.” Giyuu did not turn to face her, merely staring ahead down the hall. “I have a favor to ask of you, demon. You may say ‘no’ at any time, I would not mind.”

    Susamaru’s orange cat-like eyes studied him. “You’re a peculiar little queer, aren’t ya? Alright, I’ll bite. What’s the plan, Foxie?”

    Hashira training was… difficult, to say the least. With demons having all but vanished from the night, Demon Slayers were instructed to journey to the estate of Douma Kibutsuji to start a circuit of training. After passing the trials of the ex-Hashira, the swordsmen would move on to the next Hashira and then the next one after them, working their way up the ranks until they had trained with all seven Hashira. It was hard, grueling activities that the swordsmen were subjected to. Douma meant it when he said that his trainees would want to die. Many quit. Many gave up. Nezuko swore she would not be one of them. 

    Grueling physical training that pushed her body to its limits, tests of stamina and even specialized training from Douma himself, she endured it and used every opportunity as a springboard to get even stronger. 

    “If you want to pride yourself on being one of the few Demon Slayers to know more than one Breathing Technique, your body needs to be able to keep up with the sudden changes in breathing styles.” Douma explained as he used a wooden sword to slap Nezuko around. “I’m efficient in Water, Ice and Stone Breathing, Hashira Iguro Obanai is skilled in Flame, Love and even a bit of Wind Breathing and now you have your Sun Breathing and your Flower Breathing. Both are efficient ways to slay demons in their own right. Flower style is a good defense to fall back on to preserve stamina while your Sun style is a good offense at the expense of your energy. Do you see why it’s imperative that you master both?”

    Nezuko fell on her rear and caught her breath. “Are you… actually giving me good advice?”

    “Is that so surprising?” He leaned against his sword with his arm-stump. It didn’t look comfortable. “I am a plethora of good ideas and thoughts!”

    “Could’ve fooled me…” She mumbled under her breath. 

    “Now, my dear student,” Douma chuckled and produced a crate with a tarp over it. “In seventy-five seconds, a young girl is going to run through this field. When she does, we are going to ambush her by throwing as many eggs as we can at her and watch her try not to get hit by any of them. Let’s go!”

    Nezuko shook her head, trying to make sense of the order. “We’re gonna what !?”

    Douma pushed an egg into her hand with a deathly serious tone. “Egg the girl, Kamado.”

    Feeling silly and a little humiliated, Nezuko hid with the Hashira in a bush with the crate of eggs. 

    “Just to be clear, what’s the purpose of this?”

    Douma laughed. “To complete my training program and move on to the next Hashira like so many of your fellow Demon Slayers have, we are going to put my Tsugoku’s reflexes to the test.”

    “You have a Tsugoku?”

    “An unofficial one, yes.” The Hashira chuckled. “However, from this point on you are to refer to her only by the most formal of titles and honorifics, do you understand me?”

    Nezuko nodded and readied her throwing arm as a tiny figure sprinted into the field in front of the estate. She was a young girl, no older than thirteen, and had brown hair cropped to her shoulders similar to Nezuko’s own style. Her brown eyes were furrowed in focus as she ran with a small dagger in hand. Nezuko noted that a tattoo of a dragon ran from her left shoulder to wrist before vanishing under bandages she wore on her hands. She wore a loose-fitting yukata and hakama pants, fitting for the Tsugoku of one of the strongest Hashira. 

    Nezuko lobbed an egg at her and grabbed another as Douma launched his own. To the pink-eyed girl’s amazement, the girl with the dragon tattoo twisted her arm around and smacked the eggs with the flat side of her dagger, launching it back with enough force that they smacked Nezuko in the forehead and sent her sprawling. 

    “I know you’re there, Oji !” The girl huffed. 

    Nezuko sat up and rubbed her egged forehead. “Kiriena?”

    Douma flicked her in her forming bruise. “That’s Master Kibutsuji to you.”

    Kiriena made her way to the bushes and helped Nezuko up. The swordswoman noticed that the young girl had put on quite a lot of muscle during the two and a half months they were apart. That and she had a thin scar tucked under her bangs from Yoshiwara. 

    “Sorry about that, Kiri-err, Master.” She bowed at the hip. 

    Kiriena snorted. “No worries. I’m more mad at my uncle for roping you into his prank. And no need to be so formal, just ‘Oyakata-Chan’ works.”

    “Does that mean that your father…?”

    Douma shook his head. “My brother is still alive. However, before you is the Acting Master. Only to be referred to as Master or other honorifics, understand?”

    Nezuko nodded, even though she didn’t. She spent one more week with Douma before she moved onto the next level of her Hashira training.

    She was summoned to the Demon Slayer headquarters before she could travel to the next estate, finding herself sitting in audience of the seven current Hashira and Kiriena, along with Susamaru and Yahaba, whom she shared tight and tearful hugs with. 

    Kiriena clapped her hands together as the group sat in a sunless room in her family mansion. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I understand that the current training regimens are unrelenting. I would know, I’ve been running the circuit myself. In fact, I begin training with Mitsuri on sword skills in two days.”

    Mitsuri made a pleased noise from behind her bandages, her snake flicking out its tongue. 

    The young Master continued. “A few days ago, I met with all of the Hashira to discuss the battle in the Swordsmith Village and we brought up the markings that had appeared on Obanai and Katsu. Since that battle, the markings have vanished, but it seems that our demon allies recognized them. Doctors?”

    Yahaba cleared his throat. “Thank you, your Excellency. We call them ‘Demon Slaying Marks.’ Susamaru and I know them well, they were in abundance during the Sengoku Era, back during the Golden Age of Demon Slaying.”

    “That’s the era my sword is from…” Nezuko muttered. 

    “Indeed. In fact, your specific sword was wielded by the first known wearer of a Mark. If you remember, the Haban0 doll was based off of her movements and abilities. It was said that the physical capabilities of Demon Slayers skyrocketed after unlocking this Mark.”

    Obanai itched his collarbone where his Mark had been. “So then… why are we just now learning about them?”

    “I can answer that.” Kiriena smiled. “It’s because no one with a Mark ever lived past age twenty-five. In fact, I am a little concerned for dear Katsu. His Mark was reported to have been made of dried blood and I believe that you are a little older than twenty-five.”

    Katsu chuckled lightly. “It’s true, I do turn fifty this year.”

    Nezuko’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?!”

    The Mist Hashira winked playfully. “And it’s also true that I felt a leap in my psicial capabilities after the Mark appeared. Obanai? What about you? Yours remained on your skin for a noticeable amount of time longer than mine.”

    Obanai scratched his head. “Well, I did notice a difference.” He spread his hands out to gesture largely. “I was angry and was like WOOSH ! And then I was like HI-YAH ! And then I started kicking serious butt!”

    Kaigaku choked down a laugh as Shinobu smacked him in the ribs. “Sup-super helpful, man-“

    “So, why am I here?” Nezuko looked around. 

    Susamaru spoke up for the first time from where she leaned against a wall. If it was possible for her skin to get paler, it probably had. 

    “Because out of everyone in this room, you unlocked your Mark first.”

    “Huh?!”

    Kiriena stood up and moved over to her, lifting the back of her shoulder-length hair and tapped the back of her head. “Right here, the doctors said that they noticed you had it when you first met.”

~~~

    The giant demon swatted her out of the air and sent her sprawling through the trees. A tree stopped her fall, but Nezuko ended up smacking her head into a rock. She tried to get up, but the wind had been knocked from her lungs and her mind spun. Her sword had been knocked from her hands. Nezuko got to her knees and noticed that her hairpin had been smashed against the rock.

~~~

    Nezuko touched the spot delicately. “That spot… so I’ve had a Demon Slaying Mark since Final Selection?”

    Susamaru nodded. “Can you describe the situation from when you got the Mark?”

    The pink-eyed girl thought for a second, Final Selection felt like forever ago. It had been nine months since Nezuko destroyed the white-haired demon that she now knew belonged to Rui the Spider Demon. 

    “I was fighting against a giant demon on the mountain. One that had been there for forty-nine years and had been responsible for the deaths of nearly all of my Sensei’s students. I remember it was bragging about how it killed the two strongest students and I saw red. It smacked me around and I hit my head on a sharp rock; split my head right open!”

    Nezuko was about to comment on the sudden change in Shinobu’s scent before Yahaba spoke up. 

    “To put it simply, the Mark appeared in a high stress and emotional moment? Hashira, does that add up?”

    Katsu and Obanai agreed. Kiriena returned to her seat. “The reasoning behind putting every single Demon Slayer through this Hashira Training, including the other Pillars, is simple: we are trying to have every Hashira unlock their Mark.”

    Nezuko gasped. “Does that mean—“

    The young Master sneered, perfectly emulating her father’s expressions. “We’re bringing the fight to Ubuyashiki Kagaya and we’re going to end this fight once and for all.”

    A beautiful woman with vibrant green eyes sat alone in the cozy house at the top of the hill, light emanating from a warm fireplace as she knitted in a chair. Rain battered against the side of the house, so she hummed a folk song as she worked to the rhythm of the weather. 

    There came a knocking at her door akin to large thuds. 

    “I’ll be right there~!” She sang in a gorgeous voice. The woman set down her things and moved to the door while still humming. 

    Who could that be at this time of night?

    She opened the door and stumbled backwards, her hip bumping a table that knocked over a clay bowl that shattered on the ground, the rain drowning out her shriek of terror. 

Chapter Text

    Tecchin the masked Swordsmith eyed the green-clad Hashira warely. “And you’re damn sure about this?”

    Giyuu was silent behind the face of his mask. 

    Tecchin sighed and pulled out his smithing gear, rubbing the forehead of his clown mask. “As much as I hate to do it, I’ll have to call in my brother Kotetsu to help with this project.”

    “I’ll cover the cost of travel and materials.” The pillar whispered. “Whatever you need, I can provide.”

    The Swordsmith waved him off. “No need. The Tecchikawahara Family happily serves the Hashira of the Corps, even in times like these. With my father dedicated to rebuilding the Village, it’s all hands on deck, but don’t you worry. Even with the supply chain running low, you bet your ass that whatever you need, we’ll make it!”

    Giyuu bowed at the hip. “This favor will not go forgotten by my household. You honor us and your own family.”

    Tecchin bowed back. “You better know what you’re doing, man, for all of our sakes.”

    “If I don’t,” Hashira Tomioka turned to walk away, his green-and-yellow haori flowing behind him, “we’re all dead.”

    After the meeting, Nezuko ventured to Obanai’s estate for the next level of her training. According to the others, the Love Hashira’s training was all about flexibility, something Nezuko was a bit nervous about. However, upon reuniting with Zenitsu at the Love Estate, her nervousness was replaced with excitement for her mission. She would reawaken her Demon Slayer Mark and she would master Sun Breathing!

    That is… until Obanai started to fold his trainees literally in half and twist them around until shoulders popped from sockets and ankles touched spines. 

    “Too much! Too much !” Zenitsu tapped out as Obanai folded him like paper, gasping for air behind his oni mask as the Hashira giggled and let up. 

    “What’s the problem, Zenny? Can’t handle some pain?”

    Zenitsu threw his mask off and gagged on his own vomit. Nezuko watched in terror as Obanai selected her next for his final test. 

    “Kamado Nezuko, come here.” The Hashira’s two-colored eyes pierced her. 

    She gulped and went to him, sitting down and folding her legs in front of her as he spoke again. 

    “To pass my tests and move on to the next Hashira, you must fold yourself up as tightly as you can. If I believe you can go smaller, I will push you until you do. Do you understand?”

    Nezuko nodded. The point of flexibility training was for defense and escaping perilous encounters, but Douma mentioned to her that each training built on the last. Douma’s regime was pure physical training, Obanai’s added expert physical maneuvering and rumors were that Katsu’s added reflex training. Whatever that meant. 

    Our protagonist got to work pulling her knees to her shoulders and looping her calves behind her head like a pretzel. She tucked her head in, ignoring how she fell over onto her face, and pushed her hands through the hole between her torso and knees, pulling them around so that her fingertips brushed the ground. She was completely tangled in herself. 

    Obanai examined her over and made a disappointed sound. “I was hoping for better, Nezuko. Hold still, I’ll help you.”

    As he closed in, Nezuko’s instincts kicked in and her fingertips pushed her up, remembering how she spun around on her hands during the battle of Yoshiwara. As she spun on her hands, her knees and legs freed themselves and spun around like a deadly spinning top, striking Obanai in the ankles and toppling him as her momentum somehow landed her on her back. 

    The other trainees watched in horror as Obanai groaned and sat up. 

    “You… pass!” He laughed as Nezuko also sat up, completely mortified. 

    “Obanai, I am so sorry—“

    He waved her off. “Nonsense! That was great! Folding yourself up super small is great, yeah, but using your own body as a weapon is a Demon Slayer’s secret weapon! Spring loading your own limbs is super creative, you know. Your friend Inosuke did the same thing and only spent a single day here with me. He’s quite the contortionist!”

    Nezuko also laughed, standing up to bow respectfully, feeling every joint in her body groan in protest. “Thank you, sir!”

    Nezuko waited for Zenitsu to pass his own test before the two moved on together, Obanai catching them before they left. 

    “Hey you two, hold on! Katsu’s place is a long walk and there’s some information that Oyakata-Chan wanted me to pass along before you left.”

    The three fell in stride with each other on the dirt road. With demons no longer appearing in the dark, traveling was a lot less stressful for the Demon Slayers. They could train during the day and sleep fully through the night without worry of being attacked by something supernatural. 

    “What did you need to tell us?“ Zenitsu asked after walking for a while. 

    “Oh, right! Nezuko, how would you rate your ability to breathe?”

    Nezuko thought for a moment. “Well, I was raised on a mountain and trained on Mt. Natagumo, so I would say pretty good.”

    “Okay…” Obanai squinted. “How do you feel when you switch between Flower Breathing and Sun Breathing?”

    “Oh, it’s awful!” The pink-eyed girl shivered. “If I do it too fast, my entire body locks up and I want to die!”

    The Hashira laughed. “Yeah, that’s right! What Douma and the Master wanted me to help you with was that transitional period when you want to die. Douma told you that I know a few different styles, right?”

    Zenitsu blinked behind his mask. “You know multiple Breathing Techniques?”

    “Of course! To create Love Breathing, I had to master Flame Breathing. I’m teaching myself Wind Breathing for fun, too. Douma’s much cooler, though. He’s a master of Stone, Water and Ice! But that’s only because he was trained by demons.”

    “I’m sorry he was what-“

    Nezuko interrupted her astonished friend. “So how do you do it? The fast switches? Flower Breathing is more for defense while Sun is offensive, Douma said I should master both.”

    Obanai unbuttoned his too-big gakuran jacket and patted the skin-tight shirt he wore underneath. “This right here! My own invention, I call it the ‘Chest-Constrictor!’ Or, a binder. Basically, it compresses my chest and lungs down to hold them in place to flatten out my breasts, but it also helps me in combat.”

    “I’m sorry, your what-“ 

    It was Zenitsu’s turn to interrupt Nezuko. “I think I get it; by squeezing your lungs, it forces you to make more impactful, but smaller breaths. This makes rapid changes in Breathing Techniques easy since you know your lungs won’t collapse in on themselves. At least, that’s how Makomo described it.”

    Obanai cheered. “Correct answer! So the question is, how do we help Nezuko do that?”

    Nezuko shook her head like she was shaking away off-topic thoughts. “Do you have any other binders?”

    “Oh, absolutely not. All of mine are hand-made to my exact proportions. It could seriously damage your ribs if you wore one, especially if you’re not used to them.”

    The girl sighed. “Guess I’m back to being overly conscious of the movements of my lungs again.”

    “Don’t worry, Nezu-Chan,” Obanai patted her back, “I’ll think of something. In the meantime, really give it your all in Mitsuri’s training, she’s training technique and will snap you in half.”

    Katsu’s house was characteristically humble, unlike the grand mansions the previous Hashira were homed in. It was on the edge of a small town and backed by a sprawling forest that Nezuko and Zenitsu sensed hid the next training.

    Nezuko took a deep breath and adjusted her sword on her hip. “Ready for reflex training?”

    Zenitsu’s shoulders slouched in a sigh before pulling himself back up. “It’s probably already started, given our luck.”

    Linking arms, the friends ventured into the woods, instantly gobsmacked by how many unconscious Demon Slayers littered the forest floor, some groaning in pain.

    Nezuko shivered. “You know, I think I’d much rather swap places with Tanjiro and be jabbed by needles by the Tomioka’s.”

    “Yeah, you would like that.”

    She pushed him into a tree.

    They walked a little further, silently, until they came to a small clearing where a fight was happening. Both of their jaws hung agape as they saw three figures going at each other with wooden swords, all of which Nezuko recognized.

    Katsu was staying on the defensive with an unreadable smile while Mitsuri and Kaigaku attacked him with obvious force, the air shivering with every loud CLACK of their wooden swords.

    Mitsuri’s green eyes were narrowed and her breathing came out as labored behind the bandages covering her mouth, her dropping down into low, sweeping stances as she twisted around and swiped at the older Hashira. Kaigaku, on the other hand, was moving slower, but stronger. His shoulders rotated with every strong strike that shook the trees in large arcs. He and Mitsuri danced around each other as Katsu expertly parried every attack and slash.

    “You know,” Zenitsu whispered, “Makomo said that Hashira Kanroji and Kuwajima were the strongest Pillars, but your friend Katsu is showing them both up.”

    “Probably because he’s been a Demon Slayer for thirty-five years.” Nezuko whispered back, awestruck by the display before her.

    Katsu whispered something that made Zenitsu choke on a cough and Kaigaku bashed his wooden sword down, breaking Katsu’s and sending him sprawling while Mitsuri stood up and brushed off her skirt.

    “Nice job handling those Big Boy Emotions, Kuwajima.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

    Kaigaku took a deep breath and helped Katsu back to his feet. “Sorry, but that was really below the belt, old man.”

    Katsu hummed delightfully. “Oh well, such is war.”

    This earned him a punch to the arm.

    The three laughed like old friends before Kaigaku peered over his shoulders. “Oi, you two here for the training? You’re late.”

    “S-Sorry, sir!” Zenitsu went stiff.

    Katsu chuckled. “No worries, we were finishing for the day. Come, I’ll treat you two to dinner while you tell me of your journeys.”

    The other two Hashira walked past them and Nezuko swore she could feel power radiating off of their bodies. Even the way Kaigaku and Mitsuri walked as firm as stones and how their eyes were straight ahead, not paying her any mind, humbled her. She was the Sun Breather, but they were the Veterans. One of Kaigaku’s hands could crush her head, Mitsuri’s green eyes shot venom. As they marched past, Nezuko noticed scar tissue covering Mitsuri’s knuckles. The snake around her neck flicked its tongue and she was gone. 

    Katsu gathered himself and led the two back to his house. Nezuko and Zenitsu were surprised to see how modest it was on the inside, too. Minimal decorations outside of ceremonial furniture left the walls feeling bare and unlived in. If it wasn’t for the worn floor mats, Nezuko would have thought that it was a new house. 

    “Ever consider decorating?” Zenitsu pushed his mask to the side of his face and eyed a broken calligraphy set in the sitting room. 

    Katsu made an unsure noise. “I don’t have many material sentiments, it’s from how I was raised. Besides, I’m never here enough to use the space. What would you like to eat?”

    They ate quietly, Nezuko and Zenitsu recounting the training they had already undergone while Katsu stated that he had been busy trying to reawaken his Demon Slaying Mark. 

    “The theory is that it appears when one is under extreme stress, so us Hashira have been participating in each other’s training to try to simulate an environment like that. We’ve been… unsuccessful so far.” 

    Nezuko’s hand went to the back of her head. “Maybe it only works if we’re in danger?”

    “That’s what we thought, hence the spar the two of you walked up on.”

    They helped the older man clean up dinner before he directed them to a set of cots laid out in the only other bedroom in the house. It smelled like Senjuro, Nezuko noted. 

    While getting ready for bed, Nezuko noticed that her cot was missing a blanket. Katsu directed her to grab one from the wardrobe in his room and as she retrieved it, she noticed the photo on the wall above the bed. 

    Two young men nearly identical to Katsu posing with their pregnant wives, one smiling kindly and the other staring coldly at the photographer. 

    Nezuko pulled the photo down and sat on Katsu’s bed, staring at the smiling man. Even though it was covered by his bangs, she could see the faint edge of a familiar birthmark. The exact one her father and brothers had. 

    “Find the blankets alright?” Katsu appeared in the doorway in a comfortable looking robe. Nezuko’s eyes widened as she tried to think of what to say, but the older man cut her off with a smile. 

    “Find anything interesting?”

    Nezuko’s brain started to work as Katsu sat down next to her. “Who are these men?”

    Katsu took the photo and looked it over, a smell of nostalgia wafting off of him. 

    “This is… myself and my twin brother. We were quite handsome twenty-nine years ago, weren’t we?” The way he said it was more like a realization of the time that had passed than a quip about his looks. 

    Nezuko nodded before pointing to the smiling man’s forehead. “That mark, my own father and brothers had the same ones. Even Tanjiro before he got the scar he has now. What’s it mean?”

    Katsu’s smile wavered a little as his fingertip traced the side of that man’s face. “No one in my family knew, none of the other men had a mark like it. I assume it has something to do with our relation to the original Sun Breather, which means there’s a good chance that you and I are very distant cousins.”

    Nezuko snorted and bumped his shoulder. “Nice.” Her smile quickly fell. “Wait, if that’s you, where’s your wife? Your kid?”

    The scent of sorrow nearly knocked Nezuko onto the floor with how quickly it punched her in the face. Yet, Katsu’s face didn’t change once. 

    “They’ve passed on a while ago. My son a bit more quickly than his mother.”

    “I’m sorry for your loss.”

    Katsu’s smile came back a little too fast for Nezuko’s liking as he stood up to return the photo to its original position. “There’s no need to waste sympathies on an old man like me. Now, off to bed. We have a lot of work to do in the morning!”

    He wasn’t kidding. Dawn was greeted with a fast breakfast before they were in the woods with a dozen other Demon Slayers, all armed with wooden swords and desperately trying to avoid being stuck and smacked around by Katsu and the various traps he had set up among the trees. 

    Nezuko noted that they seemed to take inspiration from Hisa’s setup back on Natagumo Mountain. When she commented this to Katsu, he laughed lightly. 

    “Ah, old Hashira Tsuyuri, eh? She retired to be a Trainer after I finished my Hashira initiation. She and Hashira Shinazugawa Shizu helped me come into my own and mentored me to be able to mentor the next Hashira.”

    “That’s so cool!” Nezuko said in awe before Katsu swept her legs out from under her. 

    “A-a-a-and that’ll be five hundred laps around the yard for letting your guard down. I’ll see you at dinner!”

    The final test from Katsu was simple once Nezuko learned to smell his traps. She avoided flying knives, swinging logs and Katsu’s insane speed for an entire two hours before the Mist Pillar called it quits. 

    And just like that, leaving as quickly as she had arrived, Nezuko was on her way to the next part of her training. Three Hashira down, three more to go. 

Chapter Text

    Tanjiro sighed as Makomo put a tiny bandage on his arm with a small hum.

    “All done for today, how are you feeling?”

    The demon opened his mouth to speak, but gave up immediately and opted to use sign language. “What are you even doing with these blood samples?”

    Makomo set the vial she had just drawn to the side and adjusted on her stool in the examination room of the Fox Mansion. “Doctor Yahaba is running several tests with Wisteria extract on the samples to test reactions. Some of the extract is pure from the flower, some is a diluted version that Hashira Douma used and some is the special poison Hashira Shinobu uses in her battles. Everyone’s hoping that combining the two together can make a chemical to potentially cure demonic transformations. That’s good news for you if it works.”

    Tanjiro nodded and slid off of the examination table, moving to the door before halting and turning back around. “May I ask you a question?”

    “Sure, what’s up?”

    “How are you holding up?”

    The Tsugoku raised an eyebrow and quirked her head to the side in confusion. “Beg your pardon?”

    “How have you been? I’ve seen the doctors and Lord Giyuu leaving every night and then working in the lab all day. Meanwhile, you and Murata have been alone in tending to the injured Demon Slayers coming in from their training.”

    “We haven’t been completely alone, it’s not like the Kakushi disbanded. And you’ve been a big help, too. The kids really love having you around.” Makomo smiled warmly.

    Tanjiro shook his head. “You’re avoiding the question.”

    She turned around so that she didn’t see his hands anymore, busying herself with sorting her vials and labeling them. “How I am feeling doesn’t matter. All that matters is killing Ubuyashiki Kagaya and everyone needs to pull their own weight.”

    Tanjro coughed and spoke with a raspy voice. “With all due respect, you really don’t weigh that much.”

    A snort escaped her. “Ever notice how you only speak to say something sarcastic?”

    “It’s a gift.” Words felt weird in his mouth as he was reteaching himself how to speak. He left without another quip and ventured back to his room. All of the hallways and rooms in the Fox Mansion had been blacked out with curtains, instead utilizing the newly installed electric lights to illuminate the building. This allowed Susamaru and Yahaba to freely traverse the mansion as they saw fit. Sometimes they involved Tanjiro in their activities, but most of the time left him to his own devices.

    Nezuko’s sparrow Ukogi occasionally visited him to chirp updates on his sister and friends’ training, but he was isolated from them other than that. He hung out with Murata when the guy wasn’t too busy, but even that was scarce interaction. Was Tanjiro lonely? He didn’t think he was. Perhaps he was just missing Nezuko a little. And Inosuke. He missed Inosuke too. A lot. 

    He turned a corner and ran into someone, instantly apologizing in his raspy voice as the person reeled back. 

    “You’d think that magic eyes would let you see where you’re going.” Senjuro rubbed his nose where it hit Tanjiro’s iron forehead. 

    “Sorry!” He signed with a wince. “You okay?”

    Senjuro responded with signing as well. “Yeah, I’ll live. How’ve you been since… you know.”

    “Eh, I’ve been better. Everybody’s busy here and I’m doing my best to stay useful, but there’s not much for me to do besides draw blood and drink strange liquids that make my stomach hurt.”

    “Ouch. Wanna grab some lunch?”

    The Fox Mansion’s kitchen was silent besides the sound of Senjuro’s chewing, Tanjiro sitting next to him and tapping his fingers on the table. 

    “So… how’s Nezuko doing?” Senjuro signed after wiping his hands on a napkin. 

    “Haven’t seen her much recently. According to her letters, she’s improving a lot in her skills. She should be with the Serpent Pillar next week or so.”

    “I just finished Hashira Kanroji’s regimen, she’ll need all the help she can get.” Senjuro popped a rice ball into his mouth. “But with how quickly she’s moving, she should be heading to the next Pillar at the same time I am. I’m only staying here to finish helping the Kakushi with some research before moving on. Want me to keep an eye on her for you?”

    “No.” Tanjiro thought back to Nezuko’s confidence against Upper Moon Four, how she held her own against Upper Moon Six despite bleeding horrendously, how she faced down Kagaya Ubuyashiki only a week out of training. She didn’t need a babysitter. Tanjiro relayed his thoughts to Senjuro, who hummed and nodded. 

    “Does that upset you? That she’s growing up?”

    Tanjiro hesitated before nodding. “I can’t grow any older, but she keeps changing.”

    Senjuro smiled, wiping his hands again to keep signing. “Look at it from her perspective: she’s slaying monsters and making new friends. She’s coming into her own and based on who I met back during Final Selection, she hasn’t changed a bit. Perhaps you’re just viewing her differently than how you used to.”

    The demon boy stared at the table before a sigh escaped him. “How do you always know what to say?”

    Senjuro snorted before slipping off of his stool and clapping Tanjiro on the shoulder, returning back to speaking out loud. “Because I’m a little sibling that changed. Embrace who Nezuko is and embrace who you are, man. You’ll be alright.”

    Tanjiro held his hand there for a second before releasing it and placing Senjuro’s dishes in the sink. “Awfully confident coming from someone who has to bite what he needs to kill.”

    “Oh please, like you aren’t into that.”

    The boys shared a hearty laugh, Tanjiro finding the action to not hurt his throat as much as talking did, as strange as that was. It was hard to explain the relationship he had developed with Senjuro during Nezuko’s two month coma. Senjuro was the one who taught Tanjiro sign language, which he had learned from his original Hashira master before Katsu. Senjuro had a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach to sharing life stories and it made Tanjiro thankful to have someone to talk to that wasn’t related to him or related to his sister’s crush. 

    However the casualness of their relationship did lead to the two of them sharing their thoughts with more candor than Tanjiro would allow himself with someone like Makomo or Inosuke. Senjuro knew of his fear of himself. Tanjiro knew of Senjuro’s anxieties towards facing his older brother. If Tanjiro could call anyone he had met along his journey to return to being human a friend, that was Senjuro. 

    The two caught their breaths, did a handshake and right as Senjuro was about to duck out the door, Tanjiro spoke up. 

    “You’re good with that gun. Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s not right to use.”

    Senjuro laughed again. “Okay, we gotta stop reading each other’s minds. It’s weirding me out. See ya when I see ya!”

    And he was gone. And Tanjiro was alone again. 

    He considered going back to Makomo to find a way to annoy her. Then there was also Giyuu’s personal library that he could look through again. Or seeing if Murata or the doctors needed any help. 

    Tanjiro smelled familiar scents outside. He carefully made his way to one of the doors in the Fox Mansion and slipped out of it carefully, bolting it behind him in case any sunlight managed to sneak by him. The sun was warm on his skin, it tingled his senses in strange ways. 

    “Tanjiro!” The little brother of the late Wind Hashira sprinted over and tackled him in a hug. “I can’t believe you’re outside!”

    Tanjiro hugged Genya back tightly as a short woman with white hair approached them. 

    “So Genya wasn’t lying. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

    He let go of Genya to bow respectfully to Shizu, who returned the gesture. In the months following the battle of Yoshiwara and Nezuko’s coma, Tanjiro had taken up being Genya’s pen-pal. He especially wanted to keep the boy up to date on Nezuko’s training as he figured that Shizu was invested in that part as well. 

    “What brings you both here?” He signed, Shizu translating for him to Genya before answering. 

    “The current Hashira Tomioka summoned me on request from the Master. I’m sure someone will explain the reason behind this as soon as I get inside.”

    She was more cleaned up than how Nezuko described her originally. Shizu’s hair was done in a tight topknot that resembled how Sanemi wore his. Or it was a style that Sanemi emulated. Tanjiro wondered what Shizu looked like in her prime, when her eyes weren’t sunken by years of alcohol abuse and grief. She looked alive - more alive than Giyuu at any given day - but she still resembled a bamboo tree, bending to the wind but threatening to snap if pushed too hard. Tanjiro thought it best not to push her. 

    She strode past the boys with a powerful purpose in her movements, the worn handle of the sword on her waist evidence of the decades she spent in the field. Her blade guard was a simple green diamond, nothing flashy like the one Sanemi’s sword had, the one that was given to Nezuko. She didn’t radiate raw power like the current Hashira, but Shizu Shinazugawa was a powerful woman still. 

    As she vanished inside the house, Genya sighed. “Sorry for her rudeness, it’s all still a work in progress.”

    Knowing that Genya didn’t understand his signing, Tanjiro opted to try talking. “It’s fine. Healing takes time.”

    “Yeah, but she’s a lot better than… how she was.” Genya smiled. “So, wanna show me around? Give me the grand tour?”

    As they walked around the inside of the mansion, Tanjiro giving the best tour that he could with his minimal vocabulary, Genya asked him a question that one could tell he had been waiting to ask for a while. 

    “… what did it feel like?” He had asked softly once they were in Tanjiro’s room, cross-legged on the floor while looking through Tanjiro’s books. “… to turn into a demon?”

    Tanjiro’s mind instantly took him back three years, to the day his father commanded him to take care of Nezuko, to the day the white robes of Kagaya Ubuyashiki destroyed his life. 

    “I don’t remember. All I remember is being hungry, really really hungry. And then there was Nezuko, crying and screaming for me to wake up. And then I was scared. And then Hashira Kocho was there. And then it goes black.”

    Genya nodded slowly in understanding. “Did it hurt?”

    Tanjiro nodded, subconsciously touching his stomach like he was hungry. He remembered feeling each and every one of his cells freeze and transform. “A lot.”

    “Oh.”

    Tanjiro racked his mind to figure out why Genya would care about that until he remembered what Nezuko had told him about the Shinazugawa family’s past. 

    Genya shook his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ask so many personal questions. Guess I’m just curious about the process.”

    “No, it’s fine, no one’s ever asked before. I don’t mind talking about it.” Tanjiro smiled sweetly. “Were you asking because of your father?”

    Genya hugged his knees to himself and nodded. “Sorry, it’s not that big of a deal.”

    “It looks like it is. Six years and no answers?” Tanjiro patted the bed and Genya climbed up next to him. “Ask away, I have all the time in the world.”

    So they spent hours talking, Genya asking questions about Tanjiro’s demonic nature and Tanjiro trying to answer to the best of his abilities. When his throat got too tired, he found a chalkboard in his old box and began writing on that. Then they switched to Genya trying to learn more sign language. Then they just goofed around like the kids they were. 

    They chased each other into the gym where Kiyoshi, Shoichi and Teruko were setting up training equipment, coaxing the three to join them in their fun. They chased each other around and laughed until their legs and lungs gave out, collapsing into a giggling and huffing pile in the middle of the gym until Makomo found them and ordered them to go to bed. 

    Tanjiro let Genya sleep in his bed while the demon boy grabbed his sword and went outside to practice his Sun Breathing again. The hardest part of his routine was telling himself that he was doing a sword technique and not a dance. The movements were slightly different; his strikes had to be precise and his footing needed to be firm. Not to mention that the blade needed to be facing the right direction. 

    “Your form is too sloppy.” Yahaba appeared behind him with his usual closed eyes. 

    Tanjiro rolled his eyes and took his stance again. Yahaba circled him and adjusted his arms. 

    “Try again.”

    The younger demon started his not-dance once more, adjusting when Yahaba would tap his arms or when Yahaba would use his Blood Demon Art and twist the dirt beneath his feet. 

    The daily routine solidified itself. Mornings were preparing food for the Demon Slayers, afternoons were more tests with Giyuu and Makomo, nights were training with either Susamaru or Yahaba, whichever one was around. Prepare more food, more tests, some play time, more training. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat.

    Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat.

    Rinse, repeat.

    Rinse, 

    repeat.

    rinse… 

    One month passed before Nezuko’s next update came in. All Ukogai said was just a few simple words, but it only took a few words to make him decide to head to where his sister and friends were. 

    As he was looking for Giyuu to let him leave, he came across Shizu and Susamaru in an exam room surrounded by books, seemingly deep in a conversation with each other. 

    “Say that again?” Susamaru asked. 

    Shizu frowned. “Which part?”

    “The part about your son, what exactly did you promise?”

    The ex-Hashira thought before taking a deep breath. “I promised that I would give him my entire heart, that my life would be for him. I spent too long drowning my heart and my feelings, I can’t take back the years of pain, but I can start somewhere.”

    Susamaru squinted before her entire face lit up. She jumped to her feet with an excited exclamation. “YOU’RE A GENIUS!”

    “I am?”

    “She is?” Tanjiro poked his head inside.

    Susamaru nodded furiously. “What do you do when you become a parent? You give your heart to your children ! That’s how he did it!”

    Shizu shrugged. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

    The demon woman only got more excited, if that was possible. “It all makes sense! Following Ubuyashiki around always gave me a weird feeling unless he was with his kids. Why is that? How can a human woman even give birth to a demon baby? Let alone a half-demon? It doesn’t make sense… unless he gave his hearts to his dumb family!”

    Tanjiro let himself into the room and went back to signing. “You lost me.”

    “Think about it! Having all of his hearts make him more powerful, but that man collects children like spoons. Hell, Upper Moons 3 and 6 were kids, he even offered me a heart at some point! Ubuyashiki Kagaya likes his kids and he likes them strong. And there’s no way a half-human half-demon child could’ve survived infancy, right?”

    Shizu nodded like she understood, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that she didn’t. Nonetheless, Susamaru continued.

    “Five kids plus that witch wife of his, plus a heart left over for himself…” her grin grew evil. “Hey, Shinazugawa, you know how easy it is to kill five kids. What’re our odds?”

    Tanjiro instinctively flinched as Shizu clicked her tongue and her eyes narrowed. 

    “I’m not sure, let me ask your little girlfriend for you.”

    A heavy beat of silence passed over them. 

    “How many hearts does he have?!” Tanjiro pushed his hands between them to disperse the tense air. 

    Susamaru held up seven fingers, undeterred by Shizu’s cold expression nor taunt. “Seven hearts, twelve brains and a whole bucket full of ‘he-don’t-know-what’s-coming-for-him! Now we just need to find a way to capitalize on this and we’ll be golden. You’ll wanna stick around for this, Tanjiro.”

Chapter Text

    Nezuko’s last night in Katsu’s home was quiet. 

    Zenitsu was asleep on his cot in the guest room while Nezuko sat in the living room, meditating. It was a practice she didn’t have much time for after completing Final Selection, but as Katsu kept saying in his wise, old voice: “one must master the basics before mastering themselves”. Whatever that meant. 

    So Nezuko was meditating. She smelled Katsu moving around in the kitchen, most likely looking for a snack. She wanted to ask him more about his brother, about his family, about Sun Breathing, but there never seemed to be a right time. Even if he didn’t outright say it, the Hashira implied that the smiling twin in the photograph above his bed was his twin brother. It was also implied that said brother was dead. If he was still alive, why would Katsu avoid talking about him? Nezuko’s curiosity was going to kill her. 

    Fuck it. 

    She abandoned her sitting position and moved into the kitchen, sitting herself up on a counter while Katsu sipped a cup of tea, raising an eyebrow at her entrance. 

    “I thought you were meditating.”

    “Got bored. What happened to your brother?”

    Katsu’s eyebrows shot up at her audacity, but he didn’t choke on his drink like Nezuko had expected him to. He set down his tea and folded his hands into each other, moving to lean his back against the counter and stare at the wall. 

    “What happened to your family?” He replied calmly. It wasn’t a taunt, even though it was worded like one. 

    Nezuko still glared at him. “They were murdered by Ubuyashiki, you should know that.”

    “But why?”

    She stopped to think. Had she ever really thought about why her family was killed and she and Tanjiro conveniently knew the Hinokami Kagura dance? Tanjuro and her brothers’ birthmarks?

    “… because the Hinokami Kagura is just a watered down form of Sun Breathing…” She concluded out loud. Her eyes went back to Katsu. “He targeted us, didn’t he?”

    Surprisingly, Katsu’s normal expression of constant amusement had shifted ever so slightly. His lips that seemed to naturally quirk up formed a thin, focused line. His eyebrows didn’t pinch together, but they didn’t look relaxed, either. If Nezuko hadn’t just spent weeks staring at his face to read incoming attacks, she would have missed it entirely. 

    “Sun Breathing, the original breathing style.” His voice dropped nearly an octave, making Nezuko do a double take. “And Demon Slayer Marks that kill the wearer before they turn twenty-five. If you’re lucky like me, getting one after 25 should cancel out the curse. Being born with one is more like a death sentence. What have you been told about your black Nichirin katana, about what it means?”

    “It’s bad luck, that black swordsmen die early on in their careers.”

    Katsu’s silence was deafening. 

    Nezuko found her own voice becoming very, very small. 

    “… your brother had all three, didn’t he…” she trailed off. 

    His silence held for another minute before he sighed softly and his face returned to Nezuko’s idea of normal. “That’s all in the past now. Go get some rest, Hashira Kanroji’s estate is a bit of a hike away.”

    “But,” she slid off the counter, “I want to know more. No one else seems to know jack shit about Sun Breathing and if both of our families were targeted because of it, I want to know more— no, I deserve to know more.”

    Katsu took a deep breath. “Then what do you want to know?”

    “I want to know exactly where Sun Breathing comes from, how it’s learned, why I had a fucking vision of a white haired chick doing it when I nearly died against Lower Moon Five!” She didn’t realize her volume was growing. “What does it have to do with my Hanafuda Earrings? Why did learning about it make Shinazugawa Shizu go off the deep end? What sort of conspiracy have I inherited?!”

    She even surprised herself with the sudden outburst. Katsu looked taken aback as he thought of a way to respond. 

    “Sun Breathing was created during the Sengoku Era by a swordswoman close to your friend Susamaru. As the legends go, she had many disciples that studied under her, but the vast majority of them never managed to recreate her techniques. Instead, they developed their own styles based off of her’s: Water, Flame, Thunder, Stone and Wind. Other variations came later, but those were the main five techniques created by the disciples. Two of those disciples went on to father the Tomioka and the Shinazugawa clans. After the death of the swordswoman, the history of Sun Breathing became obsolete, it wasn’t taught anymore outside of the Kibutsuji clan and the other clans that the swordswoman sired. One of those clans became the Tokito clan, which branched out and became the Tsugikuni clan.”

    Nezuko made a noise of understanding before Katsu began again. 

    “The Swordsmiths told you of inherited memories, correct? That is also my best explanation as to why you saw the swordswoman in your time of need. It is possible like I said when you first came to his house that the Kamado clan is also related to the swordswoman, it would explain Tanjiro’s markings and your father’s dance. Records do also state that the swordswoman wore Hanafuda earrings, possibly the same pair you wear now. Perhaps they’re good luck charms or family heirlooms. As for Hashira Shinazugawa Shizu? It is possible that the pressure of one day surpassing her forefathers in strength caused her to crumple under the knowledge that there was a sword style stronger than the one she had cultivated her entire life, a style that could not be learned unless one had inherited the memory to do so. I remember the night she learned of Sun Breathing, she nearly kicked down my door and begged me to say it wasn’t true…” he sighed deeply. “It was the same night her son Sanemi had left for Final Selection, only a year or two after Hashira Tomioka Tsutako had died and been replaced by her ward, Sabito. We were all so delicate after losing Tsutako, one push too far and snap . That was it.”

    Nezuko went back up on the counter, more confident to push for more information now that Katsu was finally speaking freely. “Tomioka Tsutako, I heard Makomo mention that name, who was she?”

~~~

    “Katsu, I fucked up big time!” A shrill voice was followed by a young woman with coal black hair, wide blue eyes and a maroon haori over her Demon Slayer Corps uniform barging into a quiet room. 

    Katsu, noticeably younger than now our readers would recognize him and looking close to his mid-thirties, sat in a meditative posture with a young Kaigaku in front of him, the future Thunder Hashira immediately relaxing his shoulders at the interruption. 

    Katsu opened his eyes with a glare. “I’m busy , Hashira Tomioka, or has the meaning of a closed door changed in the last thirty seconds?”

    “Woah there, Tako, what’s up?” Kaigaku leaned back on his hands. 

    Tsutako tugged at her hair in a panic. “I don’t know why I did that, I’m not even married yet—“

    “We can fix that~” Kaigaku wiggled his eyebrows, earning a smack from Katsu. 

    “Shut up , Kaigaku, this is serious!” She took a few deep breaths while Katsu just stared at her, dumbfounded.

    “So… what did you do?”

    “Is sixteen old enough to be a mother?! I know Lady Rei is going to be a special case as soon as Oyakata-Sama is old enough, but what about me?”

    Kaigaku went completely pale. “You’re pregnant ?! But we only—“

    “No, you dumbass!” She nearly kicked him. “I found two orphans on the side of the road and took them into my home!”

    The beat of silence was heavier than the sky. 

    Katsu shifted to turn around to face her, but didn’t stand yet. “You… adopted two strangers.”

    She started talking really fast. “We’ll one of them is this cute little boy that’s Giyuu’s age and the other is this little toddler and they looked so hungry and I couldn’t help but take them home and give them some baths and now I need advice on what to do now!”

    Katsu took a deep breath. “So… you thought that coming to the only man in the Hashira that isn’t married and has no children was the next best choice?”

    “Hisa and Shizu would literally kill me and Jigoro would just try to adopt them himself. You know he’s weird about that. No offense, Kaigaku.”

    “None taken, I know my Pops.”

    “Anyways, Katsu, what do I do?”

    “Hell if I know, I don’t know jack shit about kids. Even if Shizu decided to kill you, she’s got like two kids of her own and another on the way. She’d be better at this than me by a long shot.”

    Tsutako knelt down before him and clasped her hands together. “ Please , Katsu, I can’t trust anyone else like I trust you.”

    “And why the hell do you trust me of all people?”

~~~

    “She was the Water Hashira before Sabito, who was before Giyuu. She was only a Hashira for seven years before her life ended, but those were some of the best years of my life.” Katsu smiled sweetly as he also hoisted himself onto his counter. “I once asked her why she trusted me to take care of Giyuu, Sabito and Makomo if she somehow passed before they were of age and she had the most profound answer: ‘because it would be good for you. ’ Didn’t even know what that meant until she was gone.”

    “And what did it mean?” Nezuko asked curiously. 

    “Oh I still don’t know.” Katsu shrugged. “Compelled me, though. Maybe it’s why I advocated to Kaigaku about taking over young Senjuro’s training. Or maybe this old man wanted to feel special.”

    “You’re not that old, old man.” She gently rammed her shoulder into his. “Reaching fifty in our line of work ain’t easy.”

    “Forty-nine.”

    “Same thing.”

    “Welp.” He slid off the counter with a yawn. “That’s enough heavy exposition from me. Sleep well, live long and prosper. If our paths ever cross again, I’ll deny everything and won’t talk to the cops.”

    Nezuko giggled and returned to the guest room to find Zenitsu sitting up waiting for her, his mask at his side. 

    “Hey, dude… having a party in here?”

    “Can’t sleep with all the deep talks about dead people and sword styles.”

    “Oh, that reminds me!” She flopped down on the cot next to him. “You can hear emotions, right? His tea was blocking my sniffer, couldn’t get a read on him at all. What was he feeling like?”

    Zenitsu rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t hear any emotions from him at all. Like, none at all. Usually I get a noise of unbotheredness or something similar, but he was feeling nothing.”

    “That's kinda creepy.” Nezuko pulled a blanket over her. “But I’m too tired to unpack that. Night!”

    “Night.”

    Mitsuri Kanroji’s estate looked like something out of a horror novel. Broken shutters hung off of creaky hinges, there were faint traces of blood in the air, there wasn’t a soul outside. 

    Nezuko shuddered outside the door. Zenitsu stared the front door down before marching inside. “It’s never too early to die.”

    “Nope.”

    Mitsuri greeted them inside with her jagged, violet sword in her hands. 

    “Welcome to hell, little shits. Your test is to hit me. If you mess up in your form, I’m gonna glue you to the wall.”

    “Excuse me?” Nezuko blinked. 

    Mitsuri was gone. The entire house started to move. Walls flipped around and bound and gagged Demon Slayers appeared, attached to said walls and looking quite frantic. 

    “Move!” Zenitsu shoved Nezuko and drew his sword as Mitsuri’s blade landed right where she had been standing. 

    Nezuko drew her sword and dodged another attack, careful about her form now that the glue threat was serious. 

    The two spent hours and hours and hours trying to dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge around Mitsuri’s calculated strikes while also not hitting any of the poor souls on the walls. The moon was high in the sky by the time the Serpent Hashira backed off. 

    “Acceptable, you survived.” She mumbled from behind her bandage mask. The snake around her neck hissed. 

    Nezuko’s legs trembled as she finally sat down on the floor. “Obanai warned us about this and somehow it still ended up being harder than I thought!”

    Mitsuri’s eyes went wide. “… Hashira Iguro mentioned me?”

    “When does he not?” Zenitsu snorted, falling back onto his back with a thud . “He’s like a lost dog.”

    The Serpent Hashira grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air with an uncharacteristic flame in her eyes. “Don’t you ever insult Hashira Iguro in my presence again if you value your eyes, ears and tongue. Got it?”

    “Y-Yes ma’am!”

    She released him and stormed off with a mumbled message of when dinner would be. Her snake flicked its tongue at them and she was gone. 

    Nezuko and Zenitsu sat in silence for a moment before Nezuko grunted and got to her feet. 

    “Welp. That happened. Want me to show you how to forage for edible plants in the woods just in case dinner is poisoned?”

    Zenitsu stared at her before nodding and getting to his feet too. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

    All of Nezuko’s attempts to talk to Mitsuri were met with threats of wall-gluing and snake hisses. 

    She couldn’t help it! So far, Nezuko had managed to basically befriend every single Hashira she interacted with - Douma and Kyojuro Rengoku being obvious outliers - but she was completely confident in her ability to get the Serpent Hashira to warm up to her. 

    “Your confidence is going to get you killed.” Zenitsu commented on the fifth day of training. 

    “No it won’t!” Nezuko brushed him off as she bandaged a sore forming on her palm. The skin there was so thick and tough already, it was a miracle that she could still feel the sores. 

    “Yes, it will.” He frowned at her. Nezuko found that he has stopped wearing his mask as often as he used to after the Mugen Train. Which meant that Nezuko was now subjected to his incredibly expressive face that nowadays seemed to be permanently stuck on “vague disappointment”.

    “Look, Zenitsu, I managed to befriend you . Need we remember that you tried to kill me when we first met?”

    “So did Makomo and you still want her to—“

    “And that’s enough with that!” She rolled out of their tent outside Mitsuri’s mansion to begin the day’s training. 

    A number of these tents set up a campsite outside the mansion. Unlike the previous Pillars, Mitsuri didn’t care about letting the Demon Slayers lodge in her house. To be fair, she had the largest number of trainees because of her wall-gluing habits and a ridiculously hard final test, but Nezuko was undeterred. She was going to become Mitsuri’s friend or possibly get glued to a wall trying.

    She peeked inside the dark house to find all the people attached to the wall fast asleep. Perhaps it was too early in the morning to begin training? Where was Mitsuri? Nezuko dared to step inside the house and look around. 

    She moved past the sleeping captives and into a living space, shocked at the comfortable bedding littering the floor. Did Mitsuri not have a bedroom in a mansion like this? Nezuko went down a hallway and found an open door. 

    She let herself inside, figuring there was no harm in going further if she was just gonna be glued to the wall if she was caught. Inside this room, Nezuko smelled incense and candles, was there a shrine in here?

    Nezuko drew open one of the heavy drapes covering the windows and a beam of sunlight fell onto a hand-carved shrine sitting against the far wall. The incense was cold and the candles new, but Nezuko had a feeling that these were merely replacements for well-used adornments. 

    On the mantle of the shrine sat a number of sketches and a singular photograph. Nezuko knelt down in front of the shrine to look them over, finding that nobody on the mantle looked related to Mitsuri. Instead, the sketches were of a man with dark hair and a scar on his face, and five small children who all resembled the man. Nezuko picked up the photograph and squinted to see who was in it. 

    The photograph was grainy, but had two subjects, a stocky boy with white hair pulled back behind his head and a giant smile who pointed at what looked like a younger version of Mitsuri, who’s hair was only a light color. It was Sanemi. She had never seen him smile as wide as he was smiling in the photograph before. Then again, she had only known him for a single night. God, that felt like an eternity ago. It had already been eight months. He couldn’t have been older than fourteen or so in the photograph. Was this how he looked before Final Selection?

~~~

     “Stop that.” He spoke calmly. “You’ll reopen your wound. Remember, you’re injured too. You know if you die, Nezuko, I become the loser. Wouldn’t want you to be a liar now.”

     Nezuko turned to look at him and a gentle breeze sifted through their hair. “Sanemi…?”

    “Come here, I’ve got some last things to tell you.”

~~~

    Nezuko’s heart twisted horribly in her chest and her throat felt dry. The green blade guard she kept in her inner chest pocket felt like it weighed a million tons. Would Sanemi be proud of all she had accomplished? Upper Moons Six, Five and Four were defeated, Tanjiro had conquered the sun, the demons had been driven away for now. Was that something to be proud of?

~~~

    Blood pooled from his missing leg and soaked his pants. Sanemi continued, lifting his head to smile at Nezuko. “And one more thing, Miss Kamado… know this: I believe in you and your brother. I accept him as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps despite how I behaved during our first encounter. I saw him bleeding, I saw him fighting, to protect the passengers of the train. Any being who throws themself into battle against demons is a rightful member of the Corps if I’ve ever seen one. Live with your chin held up proudly.”

    Nezuko began to cry and whimper again as Sanemi’s voice grew louder, more complete. “I can’t! How can I do that when I can’t even swing my sword?!”

    “No matter how weak you may feel, no matter how useless you may seem, run towards the wind. It will let you soar. Even if you crouch and curl up into a ball, the wind will lift and carry you on. Don’t feel bad that I’m dying. As a veteran Demon Slayer, it’s my honor to be a shield for you juniors. Any other Hashira worth a damn would do the same. Young buds who get nipped serve no purpose. You, Nezuko, and your friends… you have purpose. It’s written all over your auras. I believe that you all will become the next Pillars supporting the Demon Slayer Corps. Do you want to know how I know this, Kamado Nezuko? Because you and I are the same.”

~~~

    I’m trying, Sanemi, I really am.  

    She put the photograph back and bowed her head in respect, wishing she had a match on her to light the incense sticks in front of her. 

    I hope you’re happy, wherever you are.

    “What are you doing in here?” Someone yanked Nezuko away from the shrine by her arm. It was Mitsuri. 

    Nezuko’s blood turned to ice. “I don’t-I mean, I didn’t mean to intrude, I was looking for you.”

    “You found me. What do you want?” Her lime green eyes bored holes into Nezuko. 

    “Just…” The smaller girl looked around for an answer, “wanted to know when I should take my final test?”

    Mitsuri stared her down for another loaded moment before releasing her. “Go.”

    “Pardon?”

    “Get out. You can go. You pass.”

    Nezuko wasn’t really processing what was happening. Mitsuri didn’t smell upset, she smelled more anxious than anything. Still, Nezuko high-tailed it out of the house and back to her tent where Zenitsu was getting ready for the day. 

    “Zenitsu, I’m moving on to the next Hashira!” She announced. 

    “Holy—“ He jumped as he pulled his gakuran jacket over his naked torso and lighting scar. “You scared me!”

    “Didn’t you hear me coming?”

    “Hearing you coming and anticipating how fast you move are two different things. You said you’re moving on?”

    Nezuko nodded and started to pack her things. “Sort of broke into Hashira Kanroji’s house and pissed her off so she said I can go.”

    “Nezuko, that’s the opposite of making friends.” Zenitsu sighed and pulled on his oni mask. “You’re insane.”

    She cackled as she left the tent. “Sorry, can’t hear you from being one Pillar above you!” She gave Mitsuri’s house one final stink eye before setting off down the road, excited to train under the next Pillar.

    Mitsuri placed Sanemi’s picture back on the shrine where it had been before Nezuko moved it and stared at the scars on her knuckles. Newer than the dozens of other scars littering her skin, but they felt as though they had been a part of her for years. The snake around her neck flicked its tongue in and out. 

~~~

    “I came as soon as I heard.” Mitsuri pushed her way into the dark room. Bandages covered a face flushed from emotions, pink hair pulled above her head in a giant bun and tied down with a bandana. 

    She narrowly avoided being hit upside the head with a sake jug that was launched with superhuman strength. 

    “Hashira Shina—“

    The tiny woman sprawled on the floor in clothing that reeked of alcohol cussed at her. “‘Hashira Shinazugawa’, pah ! What a useless title for a useless family.”

    “Lady Shizu, what are you talking about? You can’t be ser—“ Mitsuri stopped herself and straightened her posture. “Just tell me what happened.”

    Shizu sat up, her white hair matted and messy and wild. Her eyes were puffy and dull as she jabbed a finger out the window and slurred her words. 

    “It’s all his fault , that good for nothing, hair for brains, snot-sniffling, weak little piece of shit !” She hiccuped. Whether it was from drinking or crying, Mitsuri couldn’t tell. The Serpent Hashira moved to the window to see Sanemi with a broken arm and leaning against a crutch as he spoke to a crowd of servants and Kakushi attendants. The crowd dispersed and Sanemi turned around, catching Mitsuri’s eyes for a second before quickly hobbling away out of sight. Even in that short second, Mitsuri didn’t recognize the dead boy behind those eyes. 

    She left Shizu alone to wallow in self-pity, also not recognizing the leader of the Hashira anymore, and went into the yard of the Wind Estate. She found Sanemi talking to some sort of merchant about tree seeds. 

    “And how long will it take for these to grow?” He asked the merchant. 

    The merchant held up a bag of seeds. “From seeds, a few years. If you buy saplings, only a single year. Wisteria doesn’t usually grow year-round, are you sure you wanna fill a garden with them?”

    Mitsuri was taken aback by his strong voice. 

    “If I had my way, I’d cover the country in them. For now, I want to start with a wall of them around the property.”

    “I’d need to consult the master of the estate before we got to planting—“

    “No.” Sanemi said firmly. “I am the Master of this estate. My father is dead and my mother is invalid at the moment, I am their inheritor. If it’s too much work to plant the trees, I will do it myself.”

    The merchant left soon later and Mitsuri barely had time to get to Sanemi’s side to catch him before he collapsed from exhaustion. 

    “You need to be more careful, Mister Master of the estate.” She helped him back to his feet and adjusted his sling. “Where’s Genya?”

    “Sabito’s working on him at the Fox Mansion. He’s hurt, but he’ll be okay.” He didn’t look at her. 

    Mitsuri moved to stand in front of him and met his eyes. His cold, dead, broken eyes. He looked like a complete stranger and not the bright little boy who had sewn Mitsuri her first haori. She did something she would never do again and had never done voluntarily before, she hugged him. She tenderly placed a hand behind his head and an arm around his shoulders, cradling him and letting her snake lick his face. She felt him start to cry. Sanemi Shinazugawa never cried. He was his father’s son. 

    “I’m sorry, Mitsu- Ane , I’m so sorry…” he wept into her collar. “I couldn’t—I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I swear! I just wanted to keep her safe…”

    “Have you even slept?” She asked softly. 

    He didn’t respond. She cursed and moved to scoop him up into her arms and carried him inside. Past the broken front door. Past the bloodstains still drying in the floor mats. Past the smell of carnage that made her snake tighten around her neck. She carried him to his bed and gently laid him down, careful to mind his broken arm and ankles and as she was leaving, she spied a brand new sword sitting against his wardrobe. 

    She grabbed it and looked over the green glass that made up the blade guard. She ran a thumb over the smooth pinwheel blades and got an idea. 

    Mitsuri took the sword from the room and sat down on the front porch of the house with a knife in hand. She removed the sword’s blade guard and got to work carving nine names into the nine leaves with detailed precision. 

SHIZU, KYOGO, SANEMI, GENYA, SHUYA, HIROSHI, KOTO, TEIKO, SUMI. 

~~~

    They were the first names she ever learned how to write, even before her own name. She had vented anger, grief and a plethora of other emotions she didn’t have the vocabulary to name into that small, seemingly insignificant memorial so that her friend would know that his family would stay with him as long as he had the strength to carry his sword. She stared at the black-and-white photograph on the shrine. The faded ink formed the image of a smile. She sighed. 

    What a lotta good that piece of junk did him.

    Nezuko was a good distance down the road before someone ran up behind her.

    “Kamado.” Mitsuri appeared at her side. 

    “Hashira Kanroji! Are you still mad at me for breaking into your house?” Nezuko winced.

    Mitsuri shook her head. “I was quick to react, I came to apologize for my actions. I actually had a question for you. Maybe several depending how you answer.”

    The younger girl smiled. “Fire away!”

    The Serpent Hashira thought for a moment before walking with Nezuko. “Do you think you have what it takes to be a Pillar?”

    Nezuko shrugged. “Probably not. I’m nowhere near the skill levels of you or Katsu. Shinobu’s the one who’s been tracking my journey, we can check in with her since she’d have the best gauge. When do I go to her training?”

    “Oh, Hashira Kocho isn’t running any training.” Mitsuri said. “I heard she was helping the doctors with poison making, but I’m not sure how well it’s going.”

    Nezuko stopped. “She’s not? Why would she be part of the training? Isn’t it for all Hashira?”

    Mitsuri shook her head. “That’s a question only Kocho can answer. Anyways, I’m asking you if you think you can be a Hashira because of your past battles.”

    “My past battles?” Nezuko started walking again. “You mean like how I took on some Kizuki demons?”

    “I meant more like how close in power you seem to be with the Hashira you were battling alongside during those battles.”

    The younger girl laughed. “Oh, god no. I’m nowhere on par with Katsu or Douma. I’ve still got leaps and bounds to make in my training with Flower and Sun Breathing, but it’s nice to think that I was of help to them.”

    “And what of your talent compared to Sanemi’s?” She asked with an unsure scent.

    Nezuko’s hand went to her heart, clutching the guard in her pocket. “You had a shrine of him, you were close to him?”

    Mitsuri nodded slowly and slowed her walk. “I lived with his family when he was young.”

    “Oh, then you deserve this more than I do.” Nezuko was quick to pull the green guard out of her pocket and hold it out to Mitsuri, who stared at it in disbelief.

    She took it gingerly. “Where did you get this?”

    “Shinazugawa Genya gave it to me after the battle.” Nezuko answered. “But if Sanemi meant that much to you, then you deserve it much more.”

    Mitsuri ran a thumb over the kanji names on the leaves of the guard before shaking her head and giving it back. 

    “Genya’s always had a good head on his shoulders. You hold onto that. He wouldn’t have given it to you if he didn’t think you’d have more use for it. You got that new sword from the Village, right? Add it to that, have your sparrow take it.”

    Nezuko threw her arms around Mitsuri and her snake in a big hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Forget what Douma and the others say about you, you’re alright!”

    Mitsuri’s arms circled around her waist like a deadly python and squeezed, her scent quickly changing to fury as Nezuko struggled to gasp for air.

    “Who says what about me?!”

Chapter Text

    Nezuko barely managed to get away from Mitsuri and tore off down the road before the Serpent Hashira decided to try to kill her. She tucked Sanemi’s blade guard back into the velvet pouch she carried it in and whistled for Ukogi.

    “Chu chu! How can I help you?” The little sparrow appeared and landed on her outstretched arm.

    Nezuko scritched the bird under its beak. “Are you able to send a message to Master Kanamori? I have a guard I want to add to the Sengoku Sword. Tell him to meet me at Hashira Kuwajima’s Estate, I should be heading over there in only a few weeks with the rate I’m going at.”

    “Chu chu! Message understood! Chu chu!” Ukogi took the bag in its tiny feet and even though it stumbled in the air, it eventually gained momentum and flew off.

    Nezuko hadn’t been using the 300 year-old sword she found in the ancient doll. Even though Kanamori had polished it, the blade was still dull and the handle needed to be replaced. Nezuko had been using a borrowed sword since she descended down the mountain and the Swordsmiths had gone into hiding. Nezuko hoped that they were all okay. 

    She started walking down the road and after stopping for lunch and continuing on for another hour or so before she smelled someone sprinting at her.

    “Hey, Inosuke! It’s been a while, what’s going on-”

    Inosuke basically tackled her to the ground with the smell of terror coming off of him in intense waves. “Run! Run for your life! Go no further!” 

    Nezuko pushed him off and got to her feet. “Slow down, what happened?”

    He trembled. “The next Pillar’s crazy! He’s actively tryna kill us! Forget this, I’d rather be a science experiment!”

    Nezuko did what any good friend would do; she smacked Inosuke on the face. He sputtered as she hauled him to his feet. “Pull yourself together! How bad could Hashira Rengoku’s training be?”

    Inosuke’s legs became jelly and he clutched onto Nezuko’s clothing on his way down. “He’s a monster! Running insane drills everyday and not letting us eat or drink anything until we land a hit on him!”

    That sounded familiar. Nezuko sighed and took Inosuke’s hand, set on dragging him back to Hashira Rengoku’s Estate.

    “Honestly, he really can’t be that bad. If I need to, I'll break a couple more toes on his dick just for you.”

    “HASHIBIRA! GET YOUR ASS BACK TO TRAINING!” Someone stomped over to them.

    Inosuke yelped and leaped to attention as Nezuko smiled at the scarred Hashira.

    “Long time, no see, Mister Rengoku!” She beamed and they all started walking back towards Kyojuro’s home. “I’m excited to start training with you!”

    Kyojuro glared at her over his shoulder, his yellow-and-red eyes that resembled Senjuro’s so much boring a hole into Nezuko’s soul. 

    “Don’t get carried away. Regardless of how the others see you, I still don’t approve of you.” He growled.

    “That’s fine, I don’t like ya either! You stabbed Tanjiro!” Nezuko smiled brightly and increased her walk to a jog, dragging a whimpering Inosuke around the sputtering Hashira. 

    She quickly realized why the ever-cocky Inosuke was reduced to a blubbering mess. Kyojuro’s training was by far the most intense of all the different estates Nezuko had traveled to. It was a simple striking exercise where she would try to hit Kyojuro, but that was proving to be an impossible challenge. Each session dragged on and on and on until Nezuko would vomit blood and pass out.

    When she awoke, Inosuke cussed her out for bringing him back like she had slain his parents. Nezuko’s response was to force-feed him some dirt.

    Nezuko noticed as the training went on that it seemed that Kyojuro was being especially hard on her. If she lost concentration during their bouts for even a second, she’d end up seriously injured and would have to sit out in recovery. During that time, Zenitsu came and went from the Flame Estate while Nezuko and Inosuke lagged further and further behind. Even Aoi Kanzaki appeared and moved on before they did.

    One day as Nezuko wandered around in the mansion recovering from a swollen face and searched for a bath to wash the vomit out of her hair with, she heard a familiar voice shouting down a hall.

    “Kyojuro, wait!”

    Nezuko, nosy as ever, peeked around the corner to see Senjuro jogging over to Kyojuro with an excited tent. Seeing the two next to each other, they could have been twins. Nezuko knew Senjuro was much younger, but the little brother was tall and very muscular compared to the Hashira with the mohawk. Senjuro smelled excited and nervous. Kyojuro smelled like nothing.

    “I wanted to speak with you-”

    “You just don’t give up.” Kyojuro spat at him. “I don’t have a little brother. If you don’t knock this shit off, I’ll kill you.”

    Nezuko could count on one hand how many times she had smelled the total break of a spirit before. This was downright devastating. She almost came out from around the corner. She couldn’t imagine ever saying such things to one of her brothers.

    Kyojuro wasn’t done, his eyes flashing with white-hot rage. “Don’t talk to me all familiarly! From what I’ve seen, you’ve got no talent! Just quit the Demon Slayer Corps.” He turned away. “Someone who can’t even use a Breathing Technique ’s got no place calling himself a swordsman.”

    He flicked out his fire-hemmed cape and started to walk away as Senjuro tried to mutter out a response.

    “W-Wait, Kyojuro!” Senjuro grabbed his arm. “I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for so long.”

    You can do it, Senjuro! Don’t let him win! Nezuko silently cheered.

    Kyojuro ripped his arm away without looking back. “Seriously. I. Don’t. Care. Get lost.”

    Senjuro watched him walk away with his mouth gaping open and eyes welling up with tears.

    “But I… I fought so hard… I even ate a demon!” His voice cracked along with Nezuko’s heart.

    Kyojuro’s presence shot up in intensity as he dared to peer over his shoulder. “What? What did you just say? A demon?”

    “I…”

    “You ate one?” Veins popped across his temple. Nezuko began to get nervous.

    In a flash, Kyojuro was gone. Nezuko leaped out from behind the corner and used her superhuman leg strength to launch herself at Senjuro.

    Kyojuro appeared directly in front of Senjuro, arms outstretched and poised to clap Senjuro in the ears with such an intensity that it would have definitely ruptured his eardrums. Nezuko managed to get an arm around Senjuro’s large waist at the last second and used all of her strength to throw the two of them through the wall and out into the yard, the hands missing Senjuro’s ears and instead hitting his forehead and jaw, instantly leaving giant welts behind.

    The falling wall cushioned their fall, but the other Demon Slayers in the yard screamed and pretended to be passed out. Inosuke yelped as one of the other trainees promptly collapsed onto him and let himself go limp.

    “Nezuko, what the fuck are you doing!? He’ll kill you for taking out his wall!” He screamed at his friend.

    Nezuko ignored him and put herself between a trembling Senjuro and the house. “That’s enough!”

    Inosuke watched the house with bated breath. The vibrations coming from within reminded him of when he first discovered the identity of Upper Moon Six. 

    A scarred hand gripped the wall so hard the wood splintered. Kyojuro’s silent fury took a step from the house to the outside.

    Nezuko yelled at him. “What do you think you’re doing?! Do you want to kill him?!”

    “I won’t kill him.” Kyojuro jumped down from the house’s walkway to the gravel. “That’d be too easy and it’s against Corps rules. I’ve decided to just damage him beyond repair. However, if he quits the Demon Slayer Corps right now, I’ll forgive him.”

    “Knock it off, you creep! You don’t have the right to do that! You can’t force him to quit!” She got to her feet. “You said earlier that you don’t have a younger brother, right? Then shut your mouth! You don’t get to have opinions on what Senjuro chooses! Whether he’s got talent or not, he has risked his life to fight demons by my side! If you say you’re not his older brother, then I won’t let you interfere with my friend! If it wasn’t for him, I’d never have been able to defeat that Kizuki demon! We’d never be able to drive the demons into the night! So I refuse to let you hurt him beyond recovery!”

    “Oh?” Kyojuro’s lips curled into a snarl, his eyes wide and crazed. “If you say so, then I’ll just hurt you first.”

    Here he comes, here he comes!

    Nezuko kept her eyes on him, but he vanished. He appeared directly in front of her and landed a hard uppercut to her gut.

    “ Nezuko! ” Inosuke screamed.

    Kyojuro lifted her into the air with the force of his punch, but froze.

    This kid… just stopped one of my punches!

    It was true, Nezuko had caught the punch and let herself get swept up by the force of the blow. With a shout and a twist of her body that popped something it shouldn’t’ve, Nezuko swung a leg around Kyojuro’s shoulder and landed a kick upside his head with a solid Crack .

    She twisted out of Kyojuro’s grasp as the Flame Hashira recoiled and shot her boys a frenzied look. “Inosuke, get Senjuro outta here!”

    Inosuke was about to protest, but Kyojuro recovered quickly and responded by sweeping his own leg out and catching Nezuko’s face with his toe. Even if it was just a graze, he still cut skin.

    “You’ve got some nerve, girl.” He growled. “It seems that you want to die, so I’ll kill you like you want.”

    Senjuro got to his feet. “Hold on! Nezuko’s got nothin’ to do with thi-!” He was interrupted by Inosuke scrambling to his feet and dragging him away from the tussle as fast as he could.

    “Oi!” Senjuro protested. “Who the hell are you!?”

    “It’s good to separate people who’re fighting!” Inosuke ansewered. “The name’s Hashibira Inosuke, Nezuko’s best friend! That guy’s your older brother? Man, what a freak!”

    Senjuro punched him in the face. “DON’T INSULT MY BIG BROTHER!”

    After that, everything was just a big mess. The brawl that broke out continued well into the night until everyone ran out of energy or were knocked out. Nezuko received a harsh scolding from her superiors and training with the Flame Hashira was suspended until further notice. Nezuko was also forbidden from ever approaching Kyojuro again. 

    Even after all of that, Nezuko felt bad that she hadn’t been able to help smooth things over between the Rengoku brothers. She didn’t mean for any of it to happen and worst of all, she didn’t feel like her training was bearing any fruit in regards to her Demon Slayer Mark.

    “I think you’re too hard on yourself.” Inosuke commented as they walked up a winding mountain path. “You stood up to the Pillar of Hardass, that’s pretty incredible.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, my only question now is…” Inosuke gestured to the endless trees around them. “WHY ARE WE SO DEEP IN THE FUCKING MOUNTAINS?! WHY WOULD THE THUNDER HASHIRA BE SO STUPID TO LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE LIKE THIS?!”

    Nezuko didn’t have the heart to tell him that this was a similar location to where her own Trainer lived. “I think we’re almost there?”

    They ventured on further until they heard rushing water and found a waterfall. At first, Nezuko was excited, until she saw that a line of people in the hakama pants of the Corps’ uniform were standing in a squat under the falling water with their hands folded in front of them. They were all chanting some sort of Buddhist prayer and Nezuko recognized the yellow hair of Zenitsu and the pigtails of Aoi among the ones struggling not to collapse under the weight of the water.

    “Thus I have heard! In the presence of the Buddha! When in Shravasti! At Jetavana Vihara!” They shouted over and over again. 

    They looked around to see the giant figure of Kaigaku grinning as he squatted under a giant log weighted down by three giant boulders tied to both ends of the log. He held his prayer beads in his hands as his eyes challenged the two new arrivals.

    “By extinguishing your heart and mind,” Nezuko became aware that he was in fact standing in the middle of an open flame, “even fire becomes cool!”

    In that moment, Nezuko and Inosuke thought the exact same thing as they felt their souls leave their bodies.

    What the actual fuck?!

Chapter Text

    The boy gagged and gasped for air as the voices of those around him mixed together in a slur he couldn’t begin to decipher as his vision went in and out. A man in a yellow haori and black uniform knelt over him with concern written across his scarred face.

    “Are you alright, boy?”

    The boy’s response was to vomit onto the ground between them. The man patted his back and hauled him to his feet, a second boy with pale-red eyes watching them from a short distance away with a sly smile and a cane resting in the crook of his elbow. 

    “Careful, I don’t want you to damage my new investment.”

    Nezuko’s first impression of Hashira Kaigaku Kuwajima was back when she was on trial in front of the Pillars. He seemed intense, but caring. Emotional. An empathetic soul who cared about his friends.

    Whoever the hell this Kaigaku was, he was a completely different person. 

    Nezuko watched him throw off the log and boulders he was carrying and brushed off the fire licking his pant legs. “Alright, let’s get started!”

    He led Nezuko and Inosuke around his estate. “My training’s got three simple components: first, standing under the waterfall. Then, carrying three giant logs down the mountain. Finally, you need to be able to push a boulder one cho . Every day you fail to complete the training is a thousand laps around the mountain! Am I understood?”

    “Yes sir!” Nezuko barked. She turned to Inosuke to get him to do the same, only to find that her friend had collapsed onto the ground from just the thought of doing all that work. “Oh, he went to sleep.”

    Kaigaku rolled his eyes. “Throw him in the river.”

    They did and Inosuke bolted awake with a scream. “COLD!”

    Aoi dragged herself out from under the waterfall and collapsed onto one of the giant boulders near the riverbed. “Come lay on the rocks, they’re warm and they’ll dry you off.”

    Inosuke didn’t hesitate to do as she said, draping his wet self on top of a boulder and sighing. Nezuko laughed at him until Kaigaku slapped her back and launched her into the freezing cold water, too. 

    And so the training began. 

    Every morning began with standing under the waterfall, chanting the Buddhist verses until their bodies were numb. Then after drying themselves on the warm boulders, they carried the three giant logs up and down the mountain. The tasks were easier for Nezuko because of her strong legs, but she still found herself collapsing from exhaustion after returning with the logs. 

    Pushing the boulder was the most difficult. No matter how hard Nezuko planted her feet and tightened her core, the boulder barely moved an inch. And because of this, she had to run the thousand laps around the estate every night. She wondered if Tanjiro was faring better as Yahaba and Giyuu’s science experiment. 

    As she let the sun-warmed boulders dry off her battered body one day, she smelled someone familiar walk up to her. 

    “The sword for Kamado Nezuko is complete.” 

    Nezuko slid off the rock and bowed to Kanamori. “It’s good to see you!”

    “The sword forged over three hundred years ago has been replenished and sharpened by my family’s hand.” The masked Swordsmith held out a sword wrapped in cloth. 

    He knelt down on the ground in front of her and unwrapped the sword, Nezuko kneeling down with him and watching as the other Demon Slayers gathered around in curiosity. 

    “This sword is the finest creation of our people.” Kanamori said as he slid the sword out of the cloth, showing the finely wrapped handle, the pink rivets, the polish of the scabbard, the green glass of the blade guard inscribed with names. He presented the sword to Nezuko, who took it and ran a thumb over the kanji for Sanemi’s name before drawing the sword. 

    Everyone watched with bated breath as color ran up the sharp steel, turning the sword a coal black. This was now Nezuko’s sword. She gave it a few practice swings before sheathing it and throwing her arms around Kanamori’s neck. 

    “Thank you so much, I’ll never forget this gift!”

    Kanamori went stiff under her. “It is my job as a Swordsmith. I have created my finest sword. Remember to sharpen it properly.”

    He left soon after and another familiar face approached Nezuko. 

    “Congratulations, you’ve earned a sword fitting of a Hashira in training.” Shinobu appeared with a warm smile. 

    Nezuko hugged her, too, saying that it had been too long since they last spoke. 

    “Are you here to participate in Hashira Kuwajima’s training, too?” She let go of Shinobu and tucked her new sword into her belt. The weight of it felt right. 

    “Oh no, I’m just here to visit a friend.” Shinobu gestured to Kaigaku’s house in the distance. 

    “Hashira Kanroji said that you aren’t running any training, are you that busy with making the anti-demon poison?“

    She shook her head. “Only Hashira can run training like this. I’m merely a participant.”

    “What do you mean you’re not a Hashira?” Nezuko tilted her head in confusion. “Aren’t you the Insect Pillar?”

    Shinobu shrugged. “I never finished Final Selection. Technically, I’m not even a proper Demon Slayer.”

    Her scent was conflicted. Nezuko was about to ask her what she meant, but Shinobu vanished. Nezuko was about to chase after her until Kaigaku appeared behind her. 

    “And why are we slacking off?”

    Nezuko squeaked and ran off to find her logs to carry. There was never any rest at the Thunder Estate.

    What Shinobu said didn’t sit well with Nezuko. After she finished running her laps, she collapsed onto the cot she was given inside Kaigaku’s mansion and chugged a skin of water before getting up and following her nose to find the Insect Breather. 

    She smelled Shinobu in Kaigaku’s kitchen and as she padded down the hallway, she called to her. “Is that you, Shinobu?”

    “It is! I’m making tea, would you like some?”

    “I’d love some!” Nezuko rounded the corner into the kitchen, but froze. 

~~~

   “Oh please, you could never pierce the tree with that weak charge!” A light voice called from above. Nezuko looked up and saw a young woman around her age with long black hair and purple eyes. The girl wore a kimono with a butterfly pattern on it and had a hairpin in the shape of a pink and green butterfly clipped to the back of her hair. She leaped down from the tree branch she was perched on and landed next to Nezuko without a sound.

    It occurred to Nezuko that the girl had a sword on her hip. The guard of the blade was shaped like a four petalled flower. “What makes you think that you will ever pass Final Selection as you are? Don't worry, young lady, me and my sister will get you ready.”

    “Who?” 

    Nezuko looked around. Out of the corner of her eye came a figure dressed in white moving extremely fast. It was a girl her age carrying a dark pink sword. She jumped above Nezuko with amazing speed and brought her sword down on Nezuko. The pink eyed girl leaped back and readied her sword.

    The oldest of the three smiled calmly. “Now, let us see what we’re working with!”

~~~

    “Kanae?”

    The name spilled out of Nezuko’s mouth before she had a chance to register that she’d said it. She was standing right there by the screaming kettle, hair down and wearing her butterfly-print haori. Nezuko blinked and Shinobu turned around with an expression that was both defensive and confused. 

    “Who told you that name?” Shinobu took the kettle off of the stove and set it next to two cups. 

    Nezuko shook her head. “Sorry, you look just like a girl I knew during my training with Hisa.”

    “That’s impossible, the girl with that name—“

    “Died? Yeah I know.” Nezuko entered the kitchen and leaned against the counter next to her mentor. “It was pretty weird to find out she and her little sister were ghosts after they trained me for half a year.”

    Shinobu said nothing as she poured the tea. She smelled both sad and angry. After she was done, she pulled her hair up and clipped in place with her usual butterfly hairpin she had in her pocket. 

    “Kanae- Ane was the only person to die during our Final Selection.” Shinobu whispered as the tea cooled. “In all honesty, she’s the one I consider to be Hisa’s successor, not me.”

    “Why? Because you can’t use Flower Breathing?”

    Shinobu’s eyebrow twitched. “Maybe being around boys so much has made your tongue too sharp. But, yes, that would be one of the reasons. Tell me, have you ever seen me decapitate a demon?”

    Nezuko shook her head. Shinobu hummed. 

    “I physically do not have the strength to do so. Because of this, I developed Insect Breathing at a young age. It would allow me to poison demons to kill them, and I got very good at developing my poisons. So good that Hisa let me take Final Selection alongside my older sister when I was barely thirteen.”

    Nezuko didn’t like where this story was going. She reached around Shinobu and took one of the cups of tea. 

    Shinobu breathed out a dry laugh. “Can you imagine a thirteen year old trying to survive Final Selection? One that didn’t even have the strength to properly decapitate a demon? I sustained a head injury early into the first night and my older sister entrusted me with other swordsmen before going off on her own. Thanks to her, not a single person died on the mountain that year.”

    Nezuko frowned. 

    Except for one. 

~~~

    The demon’s laugh made Nezuko feel sick. “My most favorite insects I’ve eaten have to be those sisters who came at different years! The tall one with her fancy footwork thought that she could sneak up on me from behind, but her sword shattered on my tough neck and I crushed her skull!”

~~~

    “So that’s why Kanae never told me her family name.” Nezuko realized out loud. “She didn’t want me to tell you that she didn’t move on after death. Oops.”

    Shinobu actually laughed at that, her damp mood lifting a little. “That sounds like Kanae, always the selfless bitch.”

    “If she’s a bitch, what does that make you?”

    “Ultra Mega Bitch.” Shinobu answered and sipped her tea. “I ended up waking up at the very end of Final Selection and heard the news from one of the other survivors. I believe that woman Kanzaki Aoi that I’ve seen you talk to was among that class.”

    “Aoi was one of them?” Nezuko blinked. “That’s incredible! Without Kanae’s bitchiness, I would have never made a friend like her or defeated Lower Moon Five’s minions!”

    Shinobu laughed again. “I suppose so. I always hated Kanae- Ane for dying, I guess. Thought it wasn’t fair that I was made Hashira instead of her or little Kanao. I don’t know. Is that silly?”

    “Very.”

    “Ah. I see.” 

    “So you didn’t run any Hashira training because you don’t think you deserve the title?” Nezuko asked. “I think you should reconsider.”

    “And why should I?”

    “Lots of Demon Slayers look up to you! And remember how easily you killed Lower Moon Five? That took some serious skill! And besides, you need to be as strong as possible for when we kill Upper Moon Three.”

    “And why would I want to kill Upper Moon Three specifically?”

    Nezuko grinned. “Because the demon that killed your sisters worked for him. He told me himself the night that Sanemi died.”

    She watched and smelled Shinobu’s newfound lightness harden into a fury that caused a vein to protrude from her forehead. “Oh, that’s the same little punk that killed Sanemi?“

    “The very same. He’s got a vendetta against me for killing a bunch of his minions, I’ve got proof of it.” She showed Shinobu her faded wrist scars. “If we find him, I’d want the Insect Pillar at my side to help me gut that little shrimp.”

    “Time and place, I’ll be there.” 

    Kaigaku stepped into the kitchen. “ Wow , you are scary when you’re angry. Who are we jumping?”

    “Upper Moon Three.” The girls said at the same time. 

    “Say less, sounds like a plan. Ain’t that the one that killed Sanemi?”

    “And Shinobu’s sisters.” Nezuko elbowed the woman next to her. 

    Kaigaku nodded, gave them a thumbs up, and left to go do whatever else he needed to do before bed. 

    Nezuko and Shinobu talked for a bit more, mostly just catching up with each other, before they said goodnight and Nezuko retired to her cot feeling accomplished. Tomorrow would spawn more challenges and she was sure she’d fail to move the boulder again, but that didn’t dampen her spirits one bit. 

Chapter Text

    Nezuko was beginning to wonder if it was possible for anyone to move the boulders. 

    Every day, more and more Demon Slayers were giving up and descending down the mountain. Nezuko was more surprised that Kaigaku was letting them leave without a fight. Did he know something she didn’t? 

    A week or so after her talk with Shinobu, there was a new cot in the communal bedroom. Nezuko and Aoi sat together chatting about different ways to get around having to wear a shirt during training when a luggage bag got dropped onto the new cot. 

    “Hey, Senjuro!” Nezuko got to her feet and hugged the yellow-haired boy. 

    Senjuro hugged her back and sat down to start organizing his things. “How have you been? Working hard?”

    “Oh yeah, Hashira Kuwajima’s been running us ragged trying to finish his training.” Nezuko groaned and flopped onto her back. “Where have you been?”

    Senjuro shrugged. “Got kicked out of Kyojuro’s training and was sent to get punishment from Katsu. He, uh, he wasn’t too happy with me… but I’m not too worried about Kaigaku’s training. He was my master before Katsu, I’m used to his training style.”

    Aoi crawled over to them. “So you know his tricks! How are we supposed to move the boulder?”

    Senjuro frowned at her. “Boulder? What boulder?”

    “That boulder.” Nezuko pointed as she climbed out of the freezing cold river, Senjuro shivering behind her. 

    “Oh damn. That’s a boulder.” He commented as he slapped his wet body onto one. 

    Nezuko did the same and let out a deep sigh. 

    “We’ve been doing this training for weeks and I don’t think any of us have gotten any closer to unlocking our Marks. It’s a little disappointing.”

    Senjuro frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. If it makes you feel any better, it looks like your hair’s gotten lighter.”

    “What?!” Nezuko launched herself off her rock and looked at her reflection in the riverbed, seeing that, sure enough, the white roots of her hair had grown out quite a bit. She groaned and dropped her forehead into the mud. “I’m gonna look like a Grandma before I’m twenty.”

    Zenitsu pulled himself out from under the waterfall and moved over to them with his oni mask over his face. “Don’t feel bad, at least yours is a gradual change. I got struck by lightning.”

    Senjuro blinked. “That’s really cool.”

    “Not really, I’ve never met someone with naturally yellow hair before. Makes me look ugly.”

    “ I have naturally yellow hair.”

    “Oh.”

    Aoi snorted at them as they all watched Inosuke collapse under the waterfall and swim over to them. “So you all are the group of kids who fought the Kizuki demons? You must all have insane strength.”

    “Damn right we do!” Inosuke laughed proudly. “I slit the throat of Upper Moon Six all by myself!”

    Nezuko flicked his forehead. “Yeah, you and Zenitsu took one head while me and Douma took the other. You ain’t that special. And I’m the one that killed Upper Moon Four with Obanai’s help. Don’t get too ahead of yourself, pretty boy.”

    He fell back into the river and leaped out with a screech. The group shared a laugh before Nezuko turned her attention back to Senjuro. 

    “I know it wasn’t any of my business, but did you say that you don’t have a Breathing Technique?” 

    The group went silent as all eyes fell on Senjuro. He swallowed and nodded. “That’s correct.“

    “That’s amazing!” Nezuko beamed. “It takes serious talent to be able to do all you can do without a Breathing Style!”

    “I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, Inosuke, I’m sorry for punching you. Emotions were running a little high.”

    Inosuke punched his arm as he threw himself onto a warm boulder. “No worries, I get it!”

    Aoi poked Senjuro. “Alright now spill, what’s the secret to moving the boulders? How does Hashira Kuwajima do it?”

    Senjuro shrugged. “He’s got a specific style of breathing. Those chants he’s making us say? They’re part of how I’m able to kill demons. We call it: Repetitive Action. By picking a rigid way to breathe, aka a chant or mantra, we’re able to push oxygen to more muscles and give ourselves a boost of strength. It also lets me keep a stable mind when I eat demons, I wouldn’t want to lose my head when I’m in that state.”

    Zenitsu fell off his rock. “You eat demons?!”

    Nezuko punched his arm. “Yeah, keep up. It’s not that weird.”

    “Yes, it is!”

    Aoi waved them all off and got up to go carry her logs. “You kids are a bunch of freaks. I’ll see you later.”

    Nezuko managed to get some time between carrying her logs and pushing the boulder. She snagged Senjuro and dragged him into the woods. 

    “Teach me Repetitive Action.” She ordered. 

    “Why? Don’t you have two Breathing Techniques?”

    Nezuko groaned. “I do, but it’s impossible to switch between them quickly. Obanai said he’d try to find a way for me to make the switches less painful, but I don’t think he’s come up with anything. I wanna try your thing, I think it can help my problem.”

    Senjuro nodded and had her squat down into a fighting stance. “When Kaigaku taught me this, it made me realize that he’s actually a really, really , shitty teacher. Luckily, Katsu was able to show me the correct way to grasp this.”

    He went on to explain that Repetitive Action only works if you’re holding onto a strong emotion. Senjuro picked his determination to face his older brother as an equal. Nezuko decided on her determination to kill Kagaya Ubuyashiki. Senjuro then told her the chant he always repeated in his mind during a fight. 

    “ Namu-Amidabutsu .” He told her. “As far as I know, Kaigaku uses the same phrase.”

    “Is he religious?”

    “No, but he grew up in a monastery and carries prayer beads with him. I think the beads are more of a physical focus for him, like the rubber end of a lightning rod.”

    Nezuko nodded and started chanting. It took her a few hours of chanting until the words slurred together and lost their initial meaning, but it wasn’t until then that she internalized the emotion she was trying to focus her entire being on. 

    She didn’t just have the desire to kill Ubuyashiki. No, it needed to be more than that. It needed to be a righteous fury. A burning star of passion. She thought about Tanjiro’s face as he stood in the sun as they returned from the Swordsmith Village. She thought about the old well right outside Hisa’s house on Natagumo Mountain. She thought about the demon chained up in Yahaba and Susamaru’s old basement. She thought about the three little girls, Kiyo, Naho, and Sumi, who were brave enough to navigate the den of Gyokko the artist. She thought about Satoko and her fiancé Kazumi. She thought about the man Goto on Mt. Sagiri and the other Demon Slayers strung up by spider webs. The tired eyes of the conductor of the Mugen Train and the woman with leukemia. The scent of Akaza when he died. Kanae Kocho and Kanao Tsuyuri. Makomo and her mask. Zenitsu and his mask. Inosuke’s bright eyes. Tecchin the Swordsmith and his five-armed doll. The burning buildings of Yoshiwara. Masachika “Soyokaze” Kumeno. The Peach House. Giyuu’s empty smell. Sanemi’s empty house. Her father’s New Year’s Dance of piety. The earrings hanging from her ears. The red-and-white haired woman from three hundred years ago. The old loom and spinning wheel sitting abandoned in an old shack on top of some mountain somewhere. 

    Nezuko drew her ancient sword and sliced at a tree. 

    Total Concentration Flower Breathing, Fourth Form: Crimson Hanagoromo!

    Her sword went through it like butter. And the next tree. And the next tree. After the fourth tree, Nezuko changed her grip and threw herself forward. 

    Namu-Amidabutsu. Total Concentration Sun Breathing, Eighth Form: Sunflower Thrust!

    She sucked in a breath and stabbed the tree in front of her with enough force that the bark split from root to leaf. Senjuro watched in awe as Nezuko held her stance while the tree’s halves collapsed with loud thuds . 

    Nezuko took a deep breath and sheathed her sword before giving Senjuro a thumbs up. 

    “I think I got it!”

    All of the Demon Slayers training at the Thunder Estate shouted and cheered as Nezuko dug her shoulder into her boulder. 

    Namu-Amidabutsu . Namu-Amidabutsu . Namu-Amidabutsu !

    The boulder shifted. The crowd went wild. Nezuko’s sandals snapped under her feet. She continued to push. The boulder started to slide across the dirt. Inosuke started to violently shake Zenitsu. The boulder moved more. Aoi started to violently shake Senjuro. Nezuko started to scream from the force she was exerting. 

    The crowd’s cheer came to a climax as the boulder stopped moving. Zenitsu was quick to count how far Nezuko had pushed it and lifted her above his shoulders. 

    “That’s one cho ! She did it! Nezuko did it!”

    Nezuko went limp in the arms that lifted her sweaty body. “Is it nap time yet?”

    A mountain of a man approached the cheering crowd. “Not yet. The rest of you need to start running your laps.”

    The group groaned and jogged off, leaving Nezuko to sit against the boulder and try to catch her breath. 

    “Is there anything else I need to do?” She asked. 

    Kaigaku shook his head and crossed his arms over his exposed chest. “You pushed the boulder. Senjuro told me he showed you Repetitive Action. He’s a good kid.”

    “He said you were a shit teacher.” Nezuko found that she had sweated out her filter. 

    “That’s true.” The Pillar laughed. “Hey, Kamado, I’ve got a question for you.”

    “Fire away.”

    “You’re only the second person in the Corps still alive after meeting him, what do you think our odds are at defeating Ubuyashiki?”

    Nezuko shrugged. “We’ve got the entire Corps training like crazy and the Hashira working towards getting their Marks. Add that with my Sun Breathing the demons’ inside knowledge on him, I’d say we’ve got a decent chance.”

    “Final answer?”

    She nodded. “But it’s gonna be a tough fight. Not all of us are gonna make it.”

    Kaigaku nodded and sat down in front of her. “You’re honest, I appreciate that in a person. It’s not every day you meet an honest kid. Most of the time, kids, as innocent as they can be, are cruel and selfish. They care about themselves first and foremost. They fucking suck. You’re different. You have my respect.”

    “That’s an… interesting world view.” Nezuko coughed. “I agree, children can be cruel, but I don’t deserve respect based on the assumption that I’m different than that alone. I want to earn it through hard and honest effort. That’s something you can understand, right?”

    He nodded again and his hand went to fidget with the blue cord around his neck. Nezuko eyed it curiously. 

    “What’s that?”

    “A keepsake from my old man. It helps keep me calm and focus my mind. They’re similar to your earrings, I think.”

    Nezuko touched her earrings. “How’d you know?”

    “Who do you think taught your brother sign language?” Kaigaku grinned. 

    “You know sign language?”

    “Of course, had to learn after I went Deaf.”

    Nezuko’s eyes widened. “You’re Deaf ?”

    “Mostly, I can still hear loud noises.” Kaigaku snapped next to one of his ears. “But other than that, I’ve got nothing. I get by with reading lips and sign language. It’s never held me back before, I don’t think. It’s just part of who I am now.”

    Nezuko leaned forward. “How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

    The Thunder Hashira sat back on his hands. “It’s… a long story.”

    “I’ve got time.”

    “Then you better buckle up, Kamado, because we’re gonna be here for a while.”

    Makomo was wandering the Fox Mansion at night when she heard Giyuu call her into his study. 

    He was kneeling on the ground with his mask in front of him, his blue eyes deep with conflict. 

    “Makomo, come sit down.” He whispered. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

    She did as she was told and sat behind him, waiting for him to turn around before speaking. “Is everything okay?”

    “For now, yes. You know of the power that the Master’s family has, correct?”

    Makomo nodded. “The Kibutsuji Family is blessed with a type of clairvoyance. It’s their weapon against the demons since their family always dies young.”

    “You’re right.”

    The girl didn’t like how Giyuu’s eyes shifted around. 

    “Did Oyakata-Sama see something you didn’t like?”

    “… that is correct.” He signed. “What I’m about to tell you, you won’t agree with. I need you to promise me that you will follow my orders as my Tsugoku to the letter regardless of what I say to you now. Do you understand?”

    Makomo frowned, but nodded. “What do I need to know?”

Chapter Text

    Kaigaku didn’t remember a life before the orphanage. 

    He was sure that he had one, maybe parents, but he couldn’t remember. 

    It frustrated him that he didn’t remember. It frustrated him that he couldn’t ever seem to get adopted and soon he became the oldest child in the monastery. He didn’t have a way to express this frustration. So he just kept getting angrier and angrier. 

    There was a monk around his age that understood him. Gyomei Himejima, a blind boy who often took care of the toddlers under the monastery’s roof. He was strong and sturdy and Kaigaku’s best friend. Gyomei did his best to catch Kaigaku when he got angry and divert it somewhere healthier - like repairing the monastery’s windows - instead of trying to beat up the other kids. Kaigaku was grateful, but he couldn’t ever find a good time to show it. 

    Despite Gyomei’s coaching, Kaigaku couldn’t stay out of trouble with the elder monks. If he ran through the halls because it got him places faster, he got popped on the wrist with a stick. If he got extra food because he was a growing boy, he’d be forced to put it all back and get at the end of the dinner line. None of it seemed fair to him. Kaigaku was growing to be larger than the monks and soon, he’d be too old to be in their care. 

    He told Gyomei of his concerns, but Gyomei didn’t know how to help him. 

    “Your only options seem to be either get adopted or join the church. I’ll speak with the elders and plead your case, but this is the time to be really thinking about your future.”

    Kaigaku didn’t want to think about his future. He just wanted a roof over his head. 

    A foreign missionary came to the monastery when Kaigaku was thirteen. She was a tall woman with light yellow hair and big eyes. She brought with her books in another language and a device she called a “ pianoforte ”. If you pressed a key on the pianoforte , it made noise. Kaigaku would sit and watch for hours and hours as the missionary plucked away at the keys to make a beautiful melody. 

    Surely, Kaigaku thought, that something that made such beautiful music should be shared with the world. He asked the missionary to teach him how to play. And she did. 

    Kaigaku’s days of antagonizing younger children were replaced with days with the missionary, plucking away at that pianoforte . He listened as she corrected his hand placements, taught him to read music, and showed him how to make beautiful noise. 

    She was at the monastery for a year before she suddenly left. She left behind the pianoforte . Kaigaku couldn’t get any answers from the elder monks to why she left. He was alone again. He didn’t want to be alone. 

    Kaigaku was approached by Gyomei soon after his fourteenth birthday. 

    “My friend, I know you haven’t been doing well, but the elders are at their wits ends. Are you going to join the church?”

    Kaigaku refused. “I can’t be a monk, I ain’t smart enough.”

    “Then you better figure something out.” And Gyomei left him sitting in his room alone. 

    The blue-eyed boy began to panic. He didn’t know anyone outside of the monastery. He knew the closest town was a day away. Would anyone even be willing to hire an orphan who only sort-of knew how to read?

    Kaigaku made a decision. He snuck into the monastery’s treasury and stole some money, figuring that if he was gonna get kicked out, he might as well have something to keep his belly warm. 

    He didn’t even get out of the building before he was caught and lashed. It turned out that the elders of the monastery were all heading into town for the night to meet with a traveling priest in the morning at the same time that Kaigaku was trying to leave. 

    They threw him out into the dirt with nothing and left, leaving him to wallow in a pit of anger and despair. 

    Gyomei came out to him and helped him to his feet. 

    “Heading south will take you to a road where many merchants pass by. You’re fast, very fast. I’m sure they good fortune will find you wherever you—“

    “Shut up.” Kaigaku snapped. “You won’t even help, you don’t even care that they’re sending me out on my ass! I have nothing ! You were supposed to be my friend! Just leave me alone!” And he took off into the night. 

    Kaigaku knew he was being ungrateful, that this was all his own fault, but he was still angry. Angry at life, angry at the world, angry at the universe for giving him a shitty hand at life. What was he supposed to do? Become a servant to some rich punk? Join a church? The only thing he was remotely good at was playing the pianoforte and the person who was supposed to help him left. 

    He trudged through the trees until he was stopped by two men wearing wide brim hats that covered their eyes. 

    “Pardon us, boy,” one of them smiled with his teeth that went a little too wide, “we’re lost and looking for a temple nearby. You wouldn’t know where that is, would you?”

    Kaigaku was about to brush them off, but the other one stepped behind him and caged him in. It occurred to Kaigaku that these men weren’t human. Kaigaku didn’t believe all of the religious doctrine the monks preached, but he knew of their fear of demons. It was why wisteria candles were lit every night. Lighting the candles was done by the elder on duty.

    “W-What’s it to you?” His voice shook.

    The thing behind him laughed. “We are but humble wanderers looking for a meal to keep our bellies full before we take our leave. Surely, that is something you can understand?”

    Kaigaku trembled when one put a boney claw on his shoulder. He feebly raised his arm in the direction of the monastery and in a flash of wind, the two men were gone. 

    “We won’t forget this!” Their voices said on the wind. 

    Kaigaku stood there petrified for a minute before continuing on his way, not really realizing what had happened. Or what he had done. 

    No, Kaigaku walked and walked through the woods as the night got darker until he realized that he too was lost. He glanced back behind him and saw a light in the far distance. A fire. A big one. The wisteria candles were supposed to be lit by the elder monk on duty. But the elders were gone. And Gyomei was alone. 

    He felt his blood turn to ice and a choice was presented in front of him. The monks threw him out, discarded him because he couldn’t get adopted and was difficult to deal with. But the monks were gone for the night and only the blind boy Gyomei was there to protect them. Regardless of how strong Gyomei was, he was only one person. 

    Kaigaku swallowed his pride and started running back towards the monastery. Gyomei was right, Kaigaku was fast. He was the fastest runner among all the other boys in the orphanage. He wasn’t even sure his feet hit the ground with every reaching step with how fast he was moving. He was a blur in the trees, but it wasn’t fast enough. He pumped his arms harder.

    The fire had engulfed almost the entire building. Smoke billowed out of the windows and holes in the roof, screams filled the night. Kaigaku cursed and ran inside, calling Gyomei’s name.

    There was no response. Instead, he pushed his way into one of the bedrooms to find a group of kids holed up in there.

    “Where’s Gyomei?!”

    One of the boys stared at him. “What are you doing back here?”

    “Not our biggest concern, we need to move!”

    He scooped up a toddler that he remembered was named Fuku into his arms and had the kids follow him out into the hallway. They went around a collapsed beam and Kaigaku tried to ignore the bodies of children they passed along the way.

    “Lookie here, we meet again! You’re pretty fast for a kid!” A voice of one of the demons with too-wide smiles called to them through the fire.

    The children froze. One girl screamed. “What do we do?”

    “Out the window! Go!” Another boy pointed to the window and started running.

    Kaigaku told them not to, that there was a second demon somewhere, but they didn’t listen. The children clambered out of the window and ran off into the woods. Kaigaku did his best to deafen himself to their screams.

    The demon in the fire pounced. Kaigaku dropped Fuku and took the brunt of the attack. Even though he was a kid, he was strong. And he had to be strong for the inhuman strength that knocked him to the ground. They struggled and Kaigaku managed to get on top of the demon before bringing his fists down.

    He wasn’t sure how long he was punching the demon before he drove a burning stake through its heart and found the other, dragging it into the courtyard of the temple and beating that one senseless, too. 

    He beat and punched and clawed at the demons until the sun peaked between the trees and the fire was reduced down to nothing but smoldering ashes. 

    “What happened here?!” Someone screeched from the entrance of the monastery.

    Kaigaku turned his head as the demons around him turned to dust from the sunlight. His breathing was hard and too fast. He couldn’t even see what was happening around him.

     It was weird how ash clung to surfaces as it fell. The scalding snow blanketed the corpses of the children that littered the smoldering grounds of their home. It was all nothing but simmering coals now.

     Every time the boy tried to take a deep breath to stop hyperventilating, he would just inhale more and more ash to the point he was coughing more than he was breathing. His fists were covered in blood that miraculously wasn’t his.

     Kaigaku stood silently over the corpses, the ash having not been disturbed and if one looked close enough, they would see that they had clearly been mauled to death by some sort of clawed beast. However, Fuku was soon surrounded by nameless policemen and bald elders in large robes and larger beards. She stared dead at the boy with only one whisper falling from her trembling lips.

     “He killed them. He killed them all.”

    “What have you done?” The head monk grabbed Kaigaku by the ear and dragged him to his knees in front of the crowd. “What have you done ?!” He was punched in the ear. Then the other. “You evil, evil child! You were so lazy and conceited that you committed the worst crime known to mankind, huh?!” Another punch. This one dislodged something in his head. Kaigaku was crying now, but couldn’t form coherent words. The punches continued until Kaigaku couldn’t hold himself up and he collapsed into the ash and morning dew.

    His ears rang, but the ringing was getting fuzzier. His fingers found something under a piece of wood and he held on tight as the police hauled him up and away. He passed out on his way to town.

    He woke up to cold water being thrown on his face. Kaigaku sputtered as someone shouted at him, but he couldn’t quite hear it. Everything was blurry and fuzzy. He realized that he had grabbed a set of prayer beads and twisted them in his fingers as another policeman dragged him out of a dark cell and into the light.

    His eyes adjusted to the light and the first thing he saw in front of him was a wooden gallows.

    Wait.

    “Wait, wait! What did I do? I didn’t do anything!” He screamed and thrashed in the officer’s iron grips. “Please, wait!”

    They ignored him. He kicked and flailed as they dragged him up the gallows’ steps and stood him in front of a noose. Kaigaku started to cry.

    “I tried to save them, you gotta believe me!” He couldn’t even hear his own words. “It was demons, I swear! I didn’t hurt nobody! Fuku’s lying, she’s a liar!”

    A magistrate and the monks seemed to read off a list of crimes as a crowd of townspeople gathered around. Each crime that was read got the crowd more and more excited to watch the boy the size of a grown man swing.

    Kaigaku’s knees gave out and he had to be held up by the policemen. They began to shove his head through the noose. “ Please , someone, help me! I didn’t hurt anyone! I wanted to save them!”

    The noose was tightened. Kaigaku was wailing and clutching the prayer beads in his bound hands. He was shaking.

    His eyes went to the heavens. “God, please, you gotta see that I didn’t do anything wrong! Please, God, please!”

    A monk spat on his foot. The ground gave out beneath him. His neck didn’t break.

    His blue eyes bulged from his face as he thrashed around, trying to gasp for air as the world spun from tears and strangulation.

    The crowd watched with a fascinated hunger. A short man in the crowd in a yellow haori and a Demon Slayer’s uniform looked sick. The boy standing with him pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

    “Everyone wait!” The boy shouted. He couldn’t have been older than ten. The crowd went silent. “I want to buy this man’s body to add to my collection of criminals in a cemetery I own. He’s almost done choking on his own fluids, go ahead and cut him down.”

    The police scoffed until the boy pulled a rather large sack of coins out of his black kimono and threw it onto the gallows. The officers nodded in amazement and in a flash, the Demon Slayer appeared on the gallows, yellow sword drawn and noose sliced.

    Kaigaku tumbled to the ground and light pierced the darkness that had become his vision. The crowd, policemen and monks dispersed as the boy gasped and gagged for air. The Demon Slayer with a scar on his face immediately went to his side.

    “Are you alright, boy?”

    The boy’s response was to vomit onto the ground between them. The man patted his back and hauled him to his feet, the second boy with pale-red eyes watching them from a short distance away with a sly smile and a cane resting in the crook of his elbow. 

    “Careful, Jigoro- San , I don’t want you to damage my new investment.”

    Kaigaku came-to in a bed that smelled like peaches. He gasped himself awake and bolted upright, hand going to his bandaged throat as he gagged.

    The scarred man appeared at his side and gently pushed him back down. His mouth was moving like he was talking, but Kaigaku didn’t hear a thing. He only heard muffled noises. The man seemed to pick up on this and left, quickly returning with a chalkboard.

    “ My name is Kuwajima Jigoro, the Thunder Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. Can you read or write your own name? ” He scrawled onto the board.

    Kaigaku took the board, erased it, and wrote his name in big lettering. Jigoro took the board back and smiled at it, mouthing Kaigaku’s name gently.

    “ You can’t hear me, can you? ” He wrote next.

    Kaigaku shook his head, the realization hitting him like a mountain and tears welled in his eyes. Jigoro ruffled his hair tenderly and kissed his forehead. Kaigaku started to cry from that, too.

    “I ended up passing out again after that and when I came to, the old man started teaching me sign and lip-reading.” Kaigaku had moved to sit against the boulder next to Nezuko, who looked horrified at the story he had told her. “But something in me was broken and I couldn’t sleep soundly without feeling that damn rope around my neck. So Pops got me this cord as a therapeutic device. Seems hypocritical, but I can’t sleep without it. Guess I’m just really messed up.”

    “And the boy that bought you, was that the Master?”

    “The very same, just fifteen years younger. Little shit was so spoiled back then!” Kaigaku laughed. “It wasn’t until he got married to Lady Rei did he straighten his act out and realize he had responsibilities besides sitting in the big house. But he always had a good heart and I owe him everything. Anyways, after I got back on my feet, Pops let me take his name and made me his apprentice. I learned Thunder Breathing and he was able to retire, it was a win-win! Muzan and I hung out a lot more and we ended up becoming really close friends. I also got to meet Tomioka Tsutako, Giyuu’s older sister. She was…” his eyes got a dreamy look. “Amazing.”

    “She seemed popular.” Nezuko remembered what Katsu had said about her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

    “Nah, that was ages ago.” Kaigaku got to his feet and helped Nezuko to hers. “Anyways, you are done with Hashira training. Go forth and fuck off, or however the saying goes.”

    He walked back to his house with a weird feeling in his chest. It had been a long time since he shared any of that with someone, but Nezuko had asked, so he didn’t feel guilty over the face she was making at him. It was funny.

    Kaigaku got to his front door when a beautiful woman his age approached him. “Excuse me, Mister Kuwajima. May I have a moment?”

    He got a good look at her. Long hair plaited over her shoulder and a shimmering green right eye, her left one was covered by an eyepatch made out of torn fabric. Kaigaku recognized her.

    “Miss Urokodaki, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Chapter Text

    “Hashibira! Come here!” The Thunder Hashira called out to the pack of joggers.

    Inosuke happily peeled himself away and ran over to the house with a laugh. “How can I help ya, boss?”

    “You got someone here to see you.” Kaigaku said coldly.

    The boy’s smile fell. “Is something wrong?”

    “Just follow me.” He turned and marched back inside his house. Inosuke followed, not liking the vibrations he was feeling around him. But he was Inosuke Hashibira, he wasn’t scared of anything!

    “You know, despite all the shit we’ve been through, Kaigaku’s a decent guy. A foul mouth and a hardass, but he’s got a good heart.” Senjuro commented as he stirred a pot of dinner. “He told me he couldn’t make me his Tsugoku because I didn’t have a Breathing Style, but he still trained me to be able to be taken in by Katsu, who was one of his masters back in the day. I owe him a lot.”

    “That sounds really sweet.” Nezuko smiled as she held out a bowl for her and Zenitsu.

    “Yeah, he’s also the one that told Katsu I should see Hashira Tomioka about me eating demons and how it affected my body. To be fair, I did grow twenty centimeters overnight and put on a lot of muscle. It was weird. Giyuu was really pissed about my health for a long time.”

    “I bet, he’s always fussing about mine, too. And Zenitsu’s.”

    Zenitsu rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just get yourself a poison immunity and you’ll be fine.”

    “He says like his left eye isn’t permanently fucked up because he’s immune to a lot of medicine, too.”

    They ate and Nezuko happily put her bowl down. “After this, I’m heading out to Hashira Kocho’s place to ask for some extra tips on my Flower Breathing Technique. Either of you want to come with me?”

    Zenitsu shook his head. “I’d love to, but I’ve still gotta move my boulder a cho .”

    Senjuro nodded with him. “Same, I’m so looking forward to it.”

    Nezuko accepted this, and they began cleaning. As they finished, she tapped Senjuro on the shoulder.

    “I’m gonna make a plate of food to bring out to Inosuke since he never came back inside with us, can you come with? I’ve got something I need to tell you.”

    “Yeah, sure, what’s it about?”

    “Your older brother, the Flame Hashira. There’s something I smelled about him that I gotta tell you.”

    Nezuko found Inosuke sitting on top of a boulder by himself in the yard. She couldn’t really get a good idea of what he smelled like, the stench of sweat had soaked the dirt.

    “There you are,” she called out to him. “Come eat, Senjuro made food!”

    “No, I’m fine, but thank you.” He responded softly. He didn’t turn to face her. She frowned. Inosuke turning down food? Something must be horribly wrong. 

    “Bud, what’s eating you?”

    Inosuke breathed deeply. “You moved the boulder, shouldn’t you be moving on?”

    “Yeah, I’m heading to Shinobu’s house in the morning-”

    “Go do that. I’ll be okay. There’s just some things I need to do.”

    Nezuko nodded and reached up to set the food on his lap before kissing his cheek. “Don’t tire yourself out, knucklehead.”

    He grunted as a response and as she walked back towards the house, she thought she heard him say: “thank you for being my friend.” She didn’t know why her heart was breaking. She found Ukogi and had the sparrow send Tanjiro a message about Inosuke’s worrying behavior before getting a full night’s sleep and heading out when the sun rose.

    The journey to Shinobu’s estate was long, which made the fact that she spent days at a time at Kaigaku’s place make more sense. Nezuko managed to get a map from Ukogi (wow, that was one useful sparrow) and was trekking her way through a bamboo forest when she came across a house tucked away in the brush.

    Figuring she was in the right spot, Nezuko adjusted her pink haori and used her hair ribbon to tie her white-and-black hair back. She needed a haircut. She looked around the house and found it empty. She sniffed the air and walked in the direction of Shinobu’s scent.

    She stepped through some bushes to find a clearing in the bamboo where Shinobu stood across from a familiar yellow-and-red mohawk, both of the Hashira wielding wooden swords.

    Kyojuro dropped his stance and readied the practice sword in his hand. He smelled focused.

    Total Concentration Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire.

    He launched himself at Shinobu, who only barely pulled her sword up in time to block the searing slash from the Flame Hashira. She grit her teeth and skidded back as Kyojuro recovered and readied another attack.

    “What’s the big deal, Kocho? Didn’t you say you were different from the rest of us?” He taunted. Nezuko wanted to shout that he clearly didn’t understand what she meant when she claimed that, but Shinobu had already launched herself at him with a vein protruding from her forehead.

    Total Concentration Insect Breathing, Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter.

    Her wooden sword struck Kyojuro’s and Nezuko was amazed that she could follow the fight with her eyes. Kyojuro leaped into the air and the two struck each other again.

    Flame Breathing, Third Form: Blazing Universe!

    Insect Breathing, Dance of the Dragonfly: Compound Eye Hexagon!

    Their wooden swords snapped and shattered into splinters against each other. They fell back and glared at each other. Kyojuro rolled up his sleeves and tugged off his flame-hemmed cape.

    “Alright, now to go at each other with our bare fists.”

    “Wait! Hold on!” Nezuko tripped as she clambered out of the bushes. “Let’s not do that!”

    Kyojuro glared at her. It seemed to be his regular expression. “Be quiet. Aren’t you supposed to stay away from me?”

    Nezuko didn’t know what to say, so she pulled something out of her ass to blurt out. “Are you fighting over ohagi ?”

    The Flame Hashira blinked at her, totally dumbfounded. Nezuko cheered internally at her plan working. Confusion was sown. “... what?”

    “ Ohagi ! I smelled some at your house!” Nezuko put herself between Kyojuro and Shinobu. “Lots of mochi and red bean paste, oh and lots of nice green tea! You’ve got a serious sweet tooth!”

    Shinobu blinked. “Rengoku, you like ohagi ?”

    A vein popped in his forehead. Nezuko continued rambling. “Yeah, it’s pretty tasty! Do you like it more coarse or more fine? I personally preferred the way my Grandmother made it, but I know that some people can be pi--”

    “SHUT UP!” He snapped and punched her and everything went black.

    Nezuko came to on the ground with Shinobu staring at her. 

    “Oh, there you are.” The Insect Hashira giggled.

    The younger girl sat up. “I didn’t think he’d get that mad. So… what were you fighting about?”

    “It wasn’t a real fight.” Shinobu explained. “It was just a spar between Hashira, but apparently he didn’t understand something I said a while back and took it as an insult. Fitting, he’s got a stick up his ass. At least I know what his favorite food is now, I can ask Hisa to teach me her green tea recipe.”

    “Yeah! And now we can keep ohagi in our pockets to give to him next time we see him!”

    Shinobu laughed and ruffled her hair. “That seems like a good idea. I absolutely cannot see how that could go badly. If I may ask, what brought you all the way out here?”

    Nezuko smiled. “I was gonna ask you for some tips on how to improve my Flower Breathing. Douma said that Flower Breathing was a good defensive technique to use, but in some of the major battles I’ve used it in, I’ve had to fall back on its final form, the Vermillion Eyes.” She pointed to her mis-colored eye. “Any advice?”

    “You’ve learned the Repetitive Action from Kaigaku, right?”

    “I have, but I want to mostly use it for switching between styles.”

    Shinobu hummed. “Have you considered trying to use it all the time, like Total Concentration Breathing? I know that can be a mental strain, but I’m pretty sure that’s what Kaigaku and that boy Rengoku Senjuro do.”

    “You know a lot about Kaigaku’s swordsmanship.” Nezuko noted. “You two must be really close friends!”

    Shinobu coughed and turned away so Nezuko couldn’t see the pink starting to dust her cheeks. “Y-Yes, I suppose you’re right. We are very close.”

    Nezuko hugged her. “I’m happy that all my friends have other friends they can lean on. Inosuke has Tanjiro and you have Kaigaku. Still working on Senjuro and Zenitsu, those loners.”

    “I don’t think it’s the same for your brother and the Hashibira boy--you know what? I agree, it is very nice to have close companions like that. You’re one lucky girl to have such a tight-knit group.”

    “You’re part of that group!” Nezuko beamed. “If it wasn’t for you, Tanjiro and I wouldn’t even be here. We owe you our lives.”

    Shinobu pulled back from the embrace. “I wouldn’t barter with lifes. They’re rather finicky and hard to pay off. Try bartering with beans or information. It’s what I do.”

    “Do you use beans as currency?”

    “You don’t?” The Insect Hashira tilted her head to the side.

    Nezuko blinked at her. “Oh my god you have never used money before.”

    Kyojuro grumbled to himself as he marched down the path away from Shinobu’s house. Who was that little shit to have the audacity to keep humiliating him?! She must have had a death wish or something!

    He sighed and stopped. Sanemi had given her his blessing, Obanai gave her his blessing, Kaigaku gave her his blessing, Katsu gave her his blessing, Mitsuri gave her her blessing, even Master Muzan gave her his blessing. And she had looked out for Senjuro in the Swordsmith Village. As much as he hated to admit it, she was untouchable. Annoying, but untouchable.

    Something rustled in the bushes next to him and his hand shot out to grab it before it escaped. It squished in his iron grip and Kyojuro brought it up to his face, seeing that he held the bloody remains of a red-and-blue eye sporting the kanji for UPPER-FIVE.

    “What the hell is this?” He muttered to himself under his breath. He stared at the dripping blood of the eye until his face fell and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

    He threw down the eye and tore off into the woods, his feet leaving behind scorching footprints in the dirt.

    The ancient mansion sat silently under the full moon. Wisteria and cherry trees shook softly in the wind, their petals dancing around without a care in the world. The air was serene and calm. One could hear a pin drop for miles.

    A door to the patio sat open, the master of the Demon Slayer Corps covered in bloody bandages and sores laying on a cot and breathing slowly. His wife Rei sat at his side with a bucket of water and a damp towel. Her eyes were resigned and focused. There was a sword behind her.

    The wind shifted and old looking geta sandals touched down on the gravel in front of the house. A billowing white robe settled around the shoes and black hair framed a gorgeous face, previously half-covered in a sickly burn but now staring with wide purple eyes. Rei reached behind her and grabbed her sword, not once taking her brown eyes off of her husband. 

    “This would be our first meeting,” the master croaked out, “Ubuyashiki Kagaya.”

    “And you look absolutely unsightly, Kibutsuji.” The king of demons responded.

Chapter Text

    Muzan struggled to turn his head to the side to face the demon. His pale-red eyes were attentive despite the number of sores all over his skeletal body.

    “You have finally come to me.” He spoke weakly, knowing that the demon would be able to hear him. “Ubuyashiki Kagaya, you are the demon that our clan, that the Demon Slayers have pursued for a thousand years.”

    The demon just stared at him. Muzan scoffed softly. 

    “Nothing to say to a cripple like me?”

    “You are correct.” Ubuyashiki’s polite smile did not waver. “I am disgusted by you, Kibutsuji. For over a thousand years, your family has never known their place. They interfered with my work and caused me much distress. I will have you know that I came here with the notion of finding the legendary Master of the Demon Slayer Corps, one who participated in his men’s training alongside them. A strong warrior who, against all odds, picked up a sword and got to work to prove to his soldiers that he was a human like them.

    “And yet, you have proven to be both a coward and a liar.”

    Muzan’s mouth formed a pressed line as he pushed himself to sit up. Blood trickled from those pressed lips. “That may be true. I am a liar. And I am a coward. I have held a sword a total of six times in my life, one of those times to don a disguise to trick the assassin you sent after me. Did you ever miss Douma?”

    The polite smile fell. “I did not.”

    “I thought so.”

    Ubuyashiki’s nose crinkled in disgust. “You already smell like a corpse.”

    Muzan almost laughed, but it dissolved into a cough. “I suppose you’re right. Six months ago, my physician gave me mere days to live. And yet… here I am. Even my most trusted doctor is at a loss of words, that poor boy. Do you know why I have refused to die?”

    “I do not, enlighten me if you chose to waste your breath.”

    The Master rested his weight on his skinny palms and faced Ubuyashiki with his fully bloody, sunken, dying face. 

    “I refused to die until the fire burning in me to defeat you was satisfied.”

    “Poetic words, I admit.” Ubuyashiki nodded. “But tonight, that fragile dream will shatter. I am going to kill you.”

    “Maybe you will.” Muzan leaned back against Rei, comforted by her touch. “But may I ask you another question since neither of us are going anywhere?”

    “You may.”

    “Did you know that the two of us are from the same bloodline? Well, since we were born a thousand years apart, we wouldn’t be that closely related. Still, I find it to be an interesting fact.”

    The king of demons rolled his eyes. “Am I supposed to feel sympathy for you now?”

    “No, but everyone who knows me knows that I love to talk.” Muzan coughed and hacked into one of his hands. His hand came away bloody. “But it is interesting that the same clan that gave birth to a monster like you was the same clan suddenly cursed with weak and dying children.

    “One by one, the children would start to die, born from the womb weak and fragile. A priest offered counsel. He said that because a demon had come from our bloodline, we had to dedicate ourselves to defeating him. If we did, the clan would survive. Masters of the Demon Slayer Corps took wives that had history in the temple and after that, our children did not die as easily. But still… not a single person in our clan has lived past thirty.”

    “Such pure nonsense makes my stomach churn.” Ubuyashiki scoffed. “Has your sickness reached your brain? None of those events bear any relation to this. Heaven has never once punished me. It has forgiven my killing of thousands, and in a thousand years, I have never seen the gods or the Buddhas.”

    Muzan smiled. “Is that how you see it? I see it differently. If I may ask another question, Kagaya, what is your dream? For the last thousand years… what have you fixed your eyes upon in desperation?”

    Ubuyashiki’s face hardened. He had a strange feeling in him. Before him was the dying leader of the Demon Slayers, an enemy that escaped him for years, but he sensed no hatred from this man, no malice. On the contrary…

    There was nobody in the house besides Muzan Kibutsuji and his wife. There were no guards. He felt odd, relieved and disgusted.

    “Should I guess, Kagaya?” Muzan stared him down with a soft smile. “I can see your heart, your dream is eternity, isn’t it? To be completely undying?”

    Kagaya shifted his arms in his giant sleeves to be folded across his chest. “You are correct. I only need to find Tanjiro. As it stands, I know the location of over sixty percent of all of your Demon Slayers. My goal will be complete soon, and your corpse will be still cooling as it happens.”

    Muzan started to laugh.

    “Your dream won’t come true, with or without me living, Kagaya.”

    “You are confident in Tanjiro’s hiding place. Unlike you, I have all the time in the world to search for him.”

    “There is a mistake you have made, my relative.”

    “And what is that?” Ubuyashiki frowned truly now, clearly impatient.

    “I know what eternity is.” Muzan kept smiling. “Eternity is human feeling. Only human feelings last forever and are undying.”

    “Rubbish, your words make me recoil.”

    Muzan leaned more on Rei and reached up to kiss her cheek. She returned his smile for only a second before she brought her sheathed sword up to set into his lap, if only to show that she had it.

    “For a thousand years, the Demon Slayer Corps has persevered.” Muzan explained. “Many good people have died, but I know they are not gone. You call it rubbish, but it has been proven time and time again that human feelings are undying. Feelings are undying in their refusal to forgive those who unjustly steal the lives of their loved ones. And I can assure you that no one has forgiven you. Not once in a thousand years.” He spoke over Ubuyashiki’s open mouth. “Furthermore, you seem to not have noticed that you have stepped on the tiger’s tail and awoken the dragons. They would have remained asleep, but you provoked them. Their eyes are fixed on you… and they will not let you escape.

    “Killing me won’t harm the Demon Slayer Corps one bit. I myself am not that important, as I have discovered. But you… you cannot understand human feelings and human bonds. Because you… you demons…” he shook his head. “If you die, all of the other demons die too, correct?”

    Kagaya’s eyes widened. Muzan laughed again.

    “That got your attention. Am I right? Do I win a prize?”

    “ Silence .” The king of demons demanded.

    “No. I have always wanted to talk to you, I refuse to spoil that now. But if you insist… may I say one last thing? I said that I personally am not that important, but that doesn’t mean that killing me would be insignificant. I am fortunate that the Demon Slayer Corps - and more importantly, the Hashira - are very fond of me. If I die, their determination and hatred of you will skyrocket higher than ever.”

    “Are you done?” Veins protruded across the demon’s skin.

    “I am, I never really expect you to listen this long, I’m impressed. Thank you.”

    Across the countryside, messenger sparrows frantically screeched alarms.

    “EMERGENCY SUMMONS! EMERGENCY SUMMONS! CHU CHU! THERE IS AN ATTACK ON THE KIBUTSUJI MANSION! AN ATTACK ON THE KIBUTSUJI MANSION! CHU CHU!”

    Kyojuro sprinted as hard as he could, eyes wide in anxiety as he pumped his arms even harder.

    Master! I’m coming!

    The rest of the Hashira were closing in around the headquarters, too. All thinking about hurrying. Being faster. Getting there faster. Nezuko raced behind Shinobu, her Hanafuda earrings slapping her chin as she ran.

    Gotta get there sooner! Gotta run faster!

~~~

    The Hashira sat in the meeting room inside the headquarters. Obanai frowned at Kaigaku.

    “You’re the Master’s best friend, isn’t there anything you can do?”

    Kyojuro nodded. “Right, the Master should always have at least two bodyguards.”

    “Not possible. Been begging him to get new bodyguards for years after I became a Pillar, but he kept refusing. He insisted that Pillars were too precious a resource to expend on just him. It’s a serious problem.”

    Giyuu spoke up from behind his fox mask. “Apparently, leaders of the Kibutsuji Clan haven’t had dedicated guards for generations. Our master did for a few months, but the position was really to just lure in Douma before he came clean about his intentions. I can’t understand his reasoning.”

    In a cottage hidden in the woods, a blonde, one-armed man sat facing the darkness. His eyes were closed and a tear escaped down his cheek.

    “Tell me, Kagaya, what do you think our biggest difference is?” Muzan shifted his weight to sit more comfortably against his wife.

    The king of demons took a step towards the house. “I know when to shut up?”

    “No, try again.” The master of the Demon Slayer Corps stuck out his tongue. “But close, I’ll admit that.”

    “Then what , brat?”

    “You have an army of demons and a slew of supernatural powers, but I have one weapon that will ultimately be your undoing.”

    Kagaya sneered at him from the edge of the patio. “Oh? And what would that be?”

    “A house built on a mountain of dynamite.” Muzan answered sweetly.

    The mansion exploded.