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A glass bottle had been where it all started. Pretty amazing, all things considered.
Moon had noticed the abandoned bottle’s gleam while on the wing, spotting it due to the light of her namesake as it hung full in the sky. The strength of the moon, while so round and at its peak, made the rays it ghosted down upon the world reflect and bounce off of the curves of the discarded waste’s glass surface. The quick, sharp white flash it gave off was immediate in catching the giant’s attention, with just how much of a prominent sight it was to her impossibly keen eyes. Hawkish little growls of curiosity began to rumble in her chest and her great wings flexed, effortlessly shifting her position in the sky as she banked around. Finding a strip of fields where the trees were just absent enough for her to squeeze in a decent landing, she brought herself down to Earth, huffing as her run clumsily came to a skidding stop.
The griff then began to check over her wings, it was always the first thing she did after any flight. She had to keep them pristine – if she didn’t, she may not be able to quickly take off if the need arose, and if she couldn’t take off when there was such a need, she’d surely die. It was as simple as. Her survival was that of constant searching and fleeing, of migration and movement. Letting out a cross, odd bark of sorts at a particularly unruly and wayward feather, Moon furiously began licking it back into place. Her bloodshot eyes scanned once more over every inch of fluff, and only when she was truly sure her gear was in proper, flight worthy condition did she begin to carefully fold away each wing. She settled the pair back into their usual elongated love heart shape against her bony shoulders bit by bit with careful little shifts, not wanting to disturb the flowing pattern of feathers she had just so carefully fixed up.
Only when she was sure she was satisfied did the beast begin to head into the trees. Her giant frame stalked and shoved past each towering evergreen as well as the odd maple, bristling needles indignantly clawing against her skinny limbs, fighting back against her large frame’s rude intrusion and force.
The giant moved so oddly as she went that if anyone had been around to witness it, it would have become apparent to them that in many ways both subtle and obvious it was clear she wasn’t exactly just an enlarged human being. She was almost just as much of an animal as she was a person. Her wings gave her a different sense of balance than a human being, and it was reflected in her posture. Her usual walking gait was always extremely bird-like, much less upright than a regular person, with her hands held almost like a dinosaur, and her feet picked high with each step. As she walked, her pink, dark-circle rimmed eyes scanned the floor, beginning to seek out the bottle and fighting to see against broken up shadows as the trees blotted out portions of the moon’s light.
Litter was potentially a warning. While not always, as some places could end up abandoned, it did usually mean humans were probably never too far away. It was an easy to recognise sign that they frequently passed through an area, and for Moon, humans had to be avoided at all costs. But litter was also something the beast just couldn’t resist. It sometimes could promise accompanying discarded food, and even if not, it could be pretty fun to just mess and play with. It was something different from the same old same old of whatever she could scrounge up off of the forest floor. She still appreciated the beauty of nature’s gifts, of course. Likely much more than most others, in all actuality. She had taught herself to do so in order to find a point to her own existence. After being created as a beast of burden for experimentation, she had assumed herself to be born damned. She was heir to nothing by birth right - but then she escaped. She had escaped, and she was still alive, still existing whether she liked it or not. Fortune refused not to find her, luck graced her for just a fleeting moment, kissing her heels enough to give her the strength to run from the laboratories that had birthed her, the only place she’d known, and to become free. But both then left as quickly as they came, abandoning and leaving her with very little. She had had to find a reason to keep going on, or else she’d have gone mad. The trees and the ground and the wind, those had been all she had had. And so, simply bearing witness to their visage, she had decided that that was all she really needed, too. She had willed that to become the truth, and it had.
But a change could be as good as a rest - and by God, she didn’t get much change or rest. She was always stuck, stuck just trying desperately to survive. Staying on the run and hunting for her next meal was all often all she ever did. While she was glad to be alive, glad of her freedom, sometimes it felt almost like some kind of cruel carousel she couldn’t get off of. Each day bled into the next, becoming a tiresome blur all swirling together. Though guilt itched at her for feeling that way, given that she should have already been dead long ago, she still could not shake the longing she felt. A vicious longing to bite the stand and pole that bound her to that miserable carousel, to shatter them to bits and break free. But she had no way of doing so. She was bound, she could not ever hope to change course. So instead, the giant just took her life day by day instead, enjoying what simple pleasures she could along the way. In between the threats of starvation and freezing and poisoning, she enjoyed scrounged up sweet fermented apples and waterfalls and beautiful sunsets. Wherever there was pleasure, she took it. She grasped it tightly like any creature that was part eagle should - after all, a bird of prey, a raptor, the very namesake meant to seize, to take. There was nothing else for her to do but that anyway, nothing else to do but carry on and snatch fleeting joy.
From her inspections the sparse woods and small fields of the current area seemed to look remote enough for her to consider a quick little landing investigation to be more or less sound. It was night time, so most humans were asleep anyway. All tucked away in their warm little houses and beds. Any farmers or other households of country folk would more than likely remain unaware of her presence and sleep through it as she passed through for only a fleeting while, if she was quiet and careful enough. She needn’t worry so much. Moon would make sure not to stop for too long or stray too far from where she landed, and to leave before dawn. She just wanted to have a little bit of a nosy at this intriguing litter she had spotted, to play and eat sweet, wasted leftovers - depending on what she found. Then she’d see if maybe she could catch a bear or boar, and after that, she’d be right back on her merry little way again. Simple.
~
A demon of this nature and calibre, oh, now that was interesting. And more than being just intriguing, it was also very, very dangerous.
Kyojuro had seen the beast overhead as her impressive form had soared right on over him, blotting out the moon for a second with a wing, light flashing through gaps between the large, stiff flight feathers flexed and spread out at one end. The Hashira had watched as she’d descended and dropped altitude bit by bit, his eyes held open even wider than usual, jaw dropping slightly. The sight had put him in complete awe. A demon such as this one, who would have thought such a thing could ever exist! Her size was just so utterly, impossibly ginormous. He had seen much in his life, but nothing quite like that. Once he truly began to comprehend the implications of what he had witnessed, his heart began to pound and his body tensed. A sharp kind of tingling aliveness filled him from head to toe, all of his senses heightening at once. His body entered a new state, it was like he’d become a coiled and poised snake, ready to strike, years of honing himself for battle making the responses second nature.
The level of threat this giant posed… It was dreadful and unimaginable! Why, she could rip off roofs and dine on a whole family of human beings like sardines plucked from a can! Who knows how many people she must have already mercilessly feasted upon and consumed to get this big. The thought was horrific, but Kyojuro knew one thing - he had to slay this beast. He had to put an end to all of the suffering and misery that it must be causing, and he had to do it as quickly as possible. The demon had landed quite a ways away, and it may soon move on, especially if it was hunting and didn’t find anyone to eat. He knew he must not waste time.
Rengoku pushed off against the ground and began to run at a hurried pace, bright haori flaring behind him. While his jog was quick, he would have rather been full on sprinting, having to resist the urge to do so. He knew he needed to pace himself. The fight would be long, and it would be hard. The swordsman had no time to call for any other Hashira or lower ranking slayers to aid him, even though a demon of the calibre definitely warranted allies. No matter though. He had to get his sword embedded deep into her throat and carve that gigantic head off all on his own, and so he would. It may have been a tremendous challenge, but he was not afraid for it to be her or him. He’d kill her or die trying, as was his duty to do so.
Darting through the trees, he managed to make out the demon’s shadowy form, pulling his blade loose and quickly setting upon it.
~
Moon’s journey into the woods continued. Her hunched, unnatural body paced along, snapping a thousand twigs yet otherwise impressively silent as it loomed and creeped. She was well used to this by now, to moving as silently as possible. Upon landing, she always became like that, morphing into another state of being. Trying to be unnoticeable out of a wary kind of instinct, just like some kind of animal. She didn’t think about it, her mind just seemed to know she had to do it. She had to shift and sneak and blend like a shadow despite her bulk like she had to breathe in her sleep. And she was impressively good at it, all things considered. Despite her own body working against her, she managed to avoid making the ground tremble or the trees shake. She was certainly quieter than most could have been at her size.
Everything was uneventful until the sight of a very small spot of white made her stop dead. Blinking, it took the griff a moment to realise that the out-of-place brightness among the brown she was seeing, was fluffy in texture. It was feathers. White feathers, wispy and soft, the lining of the breast of a bird. Eyes flickering, she next took in a grimacing face, beak fixed to be hanging just slightly open. The face of the animal, with a band of dark brown marking it across the eyes, and the matching colouration upon its wings made her realise it was an osprey.
It was just a common hawk. Incredibly skilled piscivores, rather unique from other hawks, yet otherwise pretty simple. Widespread across the globe, dime a dozen. She had seen a couple live ones before, too, that hadn’t managed to scramble away from her line of sight in time while screeching with alarm. And yet the sight of this one made her breath hitch in her throat, belly squeezing with a brief but intense kind of nausea. A momentary, scared kind of sickness akin to that of having a rug pulled out from under her feet came over her. Her heart rate sped and her breathing picked up, eyes widening, yet she knew in her own mind that these reactions were stupidly intense in relation to what she was seeing. If anyone else had been born her size, surely such a discovery would have felt insignificant, meaningless. This bird was tiny compared to her, about the size of the end of one of her fingers. It should have been just a dead insect, akin to a crisp, abandoned fly corpse found somewhere benign such as a windowsill. It was something small and average found in exactly the kind of place you’d expect to find hopeless, long gone creatures such as it.
Yet the perished bird felt terribly sad and significant instead. It felt profound, and it felt wrong. Perhaps such a response that was to be expected, after all, she had been created with strands of the natures of such beings as ospreys woven into her very own. It made natural sense that she would relate to them, that a feeling of kinship would come with ease. They were quite literally a part of her, and more than just that, they lived a similar life. They soared and exerted their mastery over the exact same skies as she, they were some of the few beings that shared and used it in the same way. To them both, the sky was often a source of freedom and sanctuary. These birds, like her, lived a busy, merciless routine of finding food. They were paranoid in order to survive, anxiously watching and judging and feeling everything around them. They were vicious, talons always prepared to strike, mouths held agape as they screamed with fury to defend their right to take their next breath. They were true animals. Animals she had had to become like in order to survive. In them she easily saw herself - herself and something more fiery and willful. Something to aspire to be.
Moon stepped closer with trepidation, the image of a child uncertain about approaching a relative’s casket at a funeral. The bird was glaring in its obviousness, the white only feeling more shocking and vivid with each blink. There was a ghostly blue sheen to it from the moon’s light, contrasting with its brown so much that the shade became an ominous black. Its wings were sprawled out as it lay on its spine, neck rolled back, legs held mismatched. The sprawled look it had was akin to a windmill that had broken off and collapsed to the floor. One foot was tucked up against the body like a tight fist while the other was extended by the leg and reached out as far as it could go, as if to take someone’s hand. It was like the bird had died while stuck between two impossible decisions, or that it perhaps even meant to reach out to the woman now viewing it in some desperate way from beyond the grave, its remnants a final anchoring attempt. Looking into its sharp yellow eyes held wide open, pupils small as if from pain, Moon realised they should have been reflecting the gleam of the moon’s light back at her. But the bird was dead and gone, so its eyes did not. Instead, it looked more like there were vacant holes where real pupils should have been, hollow pools of nothingness. Her heart ached. This all seemed like such an unbefitting end for a beast that was such a natural wonder, that was such a supreme flyer, a master of its craft, a skilled huntsman. For its life to end in such a way that it now lay haphazard and filthy like this, stuck against the ground in a twisted, muddy mess with its feathers ruffled… Deep inside Moon’s heart, it felt almost like the osprey had been robbed of its honour in its death - and she just couldn’t stand it. Rationality be damned, she would give this dead, honourable acquaintance the proper burial it deserved, righting the wrong.
The beast began to paw at the Earth with her claws, solemnly digging a plentifully deep hole with relative ease, the dampness of the soil a few layers down aiding her. Reaching out with a deep breath, she stopped still for a second, almost too scared to touch the osprey. She had dealt with plenty of dead things in the past, of course she had, but those were to eat. Damaging them did not matter. This weak and tiny thing, the goal was to honour it. She’d hate to mangle it, and she knew it could already be rotting and falling apart inside. Taking a deep, uneasy breath, she decided to pinch one of its feet between two claws. As she did so, jerkily unsticking it from the soil, the grimace on its face became like judgement as she so rudely dragged and disturbed it in its eternal rest. The woman grimaced, but the idea of some kind of fox or other scavenger finding the bird and ripping it up to eat was enough to make her decide to grin and bear it. She barely dared to raise it, instead dragging her hand along the ground until it was flung into its grave. She winced at how it bumped and slid to the bottom of the hole, settling sadly. She almost regretted her choice to move and disturb it, but it was too late, there was no backing out now. The best thing to do now was to hide it. After a moment’s hesitation, the griff finally began to flick dirt over it, sealing it away.
Seeing the osprey getting tucked under the Earth, made to disappear like it had never existed at all, made it undeniable for Moon. Seeing it was seeing a dead vision of herself. She had to wonder if it would eventually be her. If the apparition was an eventuality. Perhaps that was the sole root of her intense reaction. The knowledge that she would join this bird underneath all the forest floor, never again gracing the sky. There would be no relatives, no mourning, no coffin or headstone. Just cold glassy eyes decomposing.
But it was inescapably inevitable, and there was no refuge from that plaguing fact, that knowledge which flooded her brain and filled her body with a tense, panting kind of dread, from her toes to her tail tip to her scalp. After all, how long could a cat dance from a cobra’s strikes? Death was coming, it awaited. She didn’t know how or when, but it lay ahead all right, all roads lead to it and there was no escape. It was a thought that made her want to curl up and hyperventilate if she focused too hard on it, it made her feel like walls were closing in, like she was suddenly being constrained by an invisible box. Death was coming to claim her, and though she didn’t know when, it was. And there was nothing she could do. It would face no resistance. All she could do was hope that it was later than sooner. The wilds were a cruel and constraining master. She’d suffered from every previous winter’s cold, ending up huddled, shivering and desperate, blankets of snow settling over her body as all she could do was sit out in it. Several times it had gotten to the point of a close call, the beast only narrowly dodging frostbite. Overheating had equally been dangerous at times, if she let herself get caught out. Her skin ended up burned and peeling, her tongue dry and a delirious sense of dehydration taking over. And that was just the weather. Food had always had its ups and downs, her lithe frame reflected how she often didn’t find enough. It was bound to be a constant fluctuating struggle with a body her size, a curse beyond her control, foisted upon her at birth. It had often led to her having to sit through many vile tasting or unsafe meals. There was the time she almost died from poison, via bad carrion, likely left out by a farmer who had assumed his missing cattle was the work of a wild cat or dog of some sort and had gotten sick of it enough to do something. The griff had played a dangerous, risky game by preying on farmer’s livestock. Her existence often drove her to desperate measures, but still, she had definitely been asking for trouble with that one especially. She was just lucky she herself hadn’t been spotted, just some of her activity.
Humans most of all were always her biggest threat - the one time she’d stumbled across a hunter he’d panicked and shot her in the arm. If nature did not claim her, she was sure a human would. If one were to become curious or fearful enough, she was sure they’d put an end to her. Still, she’d prefer being put down to being taken captive, though. Without a doubt.
Now the bird was finally covered away from sight, everything suddenly felt ominous. Foreboding. Like storm clouds had rolled in. Perhaps Moon should go. Yet, she did not. Despite surviving largely on instinct for the past couple years, she decided that she was just being irrational in this case. She had found a wonderful creature and it was dead, of course she’d feel a little miserable. But death was the order of the forest. Things fell sprawled and slack jawed onto it before being carried away into nothingness all the time. This should be no different, and she shouldn't give into letting herself be consumed by crippling dread. There was no point in that, nothing to gain from it. Yet it was easier said than done.
Swallowing, the beast turned her head away, eyes staying fixed until she forced enough movement for her face to be unable to see the spot of Earth where the osprey lay. Once she wasn’t stuck staring still, she kept moving.
Mind heavy with thoughts, a feeling like being stuffed with cotton, Moon’s brows stayed furrowed as she walked on. She didn’t like this mood that had now come over her, but it felt hard to banish. All the usual rationale wasn’t working, telling herself that creatures died all the time and that there was no point in worrying, that she should just focus on living, none of it was really swaying the feeling in her brain of being hollow yet too full at the same time. She didn’t even really feel like she was in her body anymore, she felt like an observer.
She almost missed the bottle because of it, but her foot catching on it and making it clink against a thick fallen branch was unmistakable. The beast gasped, her ears pinned with sudden horror, her huge body clumsily jumping back, wings fluffing with alarm and half spread, ready for an impromptu take off. Only for her to see the offending noise maker. Ah. Right. The thing which had made her land in the first place. Breathing out shakily, the giant crouched, giving herself a giddy moment to hop back out of her flight mode. Instinct was a hard master to be quite so heavily ruled by.
The bottle. Moon didn’t exactly feel like playing anymore, she felt like going on her way. But it would be a waste after all the fuss of landing. So she idly and halfheartedly forced herself to poke at it, huffing out a sigh. The bottle slid and rolled dramatically in response. It took a bit, but her pupils widened, and her tail perked at the sight of such fun movement. She poked again. It repeated its zany movements, even doing a little spiral, the neck of the bottle whacking a pine cone. She poked again. And again. Soon, she was skidding after it as it rolled and bumped down small hills in the forest floor. She pawed and smacked, playing with reckless abandon. She forgot her worries and gave into simple joy - things returned to how she felt they should be. These moments were why she was alive.
~
Kyojuro thought quickly and resourcefully as he made his charge into the clearing where the beast was sitting. He assessed everything around it. No victims or bystanders in the way to worry about, just had he had been expecting. Good. He could let loose. It was just the beast, the beast and him and an imminent fight to the death. Hopefully, a quick and clean one, in which he would be an effortless victor. Things seemed promising, it didn’t appear to be that alert, seemingly oddly invested in messing with that bottle under its fingers. Rengoku wouldn’t question it. He would just capitalise on the chance he had been given to use the element of surprise. Not the pair of them could be allowed to leave alive.
The swordsman planned a path using the environment around him. He couldn’t reach the beast's neck, even with her crouched over rather than standing - she truly was gargantuan. But no matter. He’d get her sprawled on her back or belly one way or another, and then he’d claim her head. For now, he just had to work on overwhelming her body or tripping her up so that she fell.
Kyojuro’s movements were like a dance, an intricate show, yet they were not slow. They were anything but. His run and his leaps were blinding with their speed, over before the demon had even fully comprehended the sight of them. He ran up along a fallen tree’s trunk, hopped off of it and onto the thick branch of a tree that was still standing, and then launched himself at his target’s side. Slashing with his blade, he carved into her side. He was able to cut through flesh enough to just, just make very light contact with her ribs, the very edge his blade scraping against them, eliciting a frantic squeal and causing himself to get spattered in a stream of the beast's warm, wet blood, a large drop catching his forehead and soaking a portion of his hair.
Once the cut was made, Kyojuro slammed the soles of his shoes sharply into her side, using her body to push off so that he could cleverly ensure he landed on his feet. He braced himself for a hard landing as he fell back to Earth, haori flaring up behind him, just like rising flames. Huffing at the impact, Kyojuro didn’t let himself rest, quickly leaping back to avoid any retaliation, blade poised in front of himself, held at the ready for another attack should giant fingers come swiping towards him.
He needed to start planning another route of attack, he needed to be sure he could counter any attempts to grab or smack at him, he - oh.
The demon was not attacking back. It was running. Such cowardice!
“Get back here, demon! You won’t get away from me!” His voice cut out into the woods as Rengoku immediately gave an unrelenting chase. This wasn’t good. The demon had wings. If it retreated, it could easily get away. It could slip out of his grasp and be gone forever, untraceable in the sky! Once again able to freely terrorise human beings. He wouldn’t have that, this was his duty! It was his duty to bring it to an end, here, tonight, no other night!
Her legs were the answer. She was running away, not flying just yet. Rengoku realised that an escape to the skies must be difficult for her in these woods, what with the trees crowding her. Not only that, but she probably needed her balance in order to take off. He needed to carve up one of her legs, wound it beyond good use. In doing so, he would destroy her balance and her thread of escape. Kyojuro grit his teeth with determined focus, eyes filled with a building, hot fury.
“I’ll cut you open again!” As he barked out the threat, the Hashira’s grip around his sword tightened and his eyes focused on her calf as he visualised his blade stuck in it. Bolting forwards, he made his next attack.
~
Terror took over Moon’s mind completely. It was almost too much to comprehend, one minute she had been having a normal, average night to herself and the next she had a blade racking her ribs, cutting her open and spilling her blood all over the forest. Everything about it was too much, the pain, the fear, and how utterly foreign the experience was.
When humans had hurt her before, it was with her tied to a table, or stuck in some kind of chamber fighting against rising water or electrical shocks. Arguably worse in many ways, and yet everything about those experiences was different. They felt almost sort of slower and more calm, the cruelty and suffering of everything was detached. It all felt scientific and removed and she had time to think about it. She would know it was coming, there was a build up, a waiting. While it wasn’t necessarily better, this kind of an assault was something completely new. It was fast, and it was furiously intense. Her attacker was completely determined and relentless in his goal and it made it feel all the more intimate as opposed to indifferent and clinical. She could feel this human’s focus on her, she could feel his drive, his heat, his furious desire to put an end to her life that raged like fire. Every movement he made radiated it, burned with it, burned with anger and fury all directed right at her. It was too much to think about.
So she didn’t think. She let pure fear guide her and took off into a haggard run, jaw hanging agape as she quickly began to heave and pant, feeling like a hyena being pursued by a lion. Move, make a move, get away. That was all that mattered. Any other thought or action was irrelevant and useless and far removed. Distance between her and this human, nothing else even existed for a second.
Time passed, and her brain collected itself a bit more. The giant made a plan. There was a clearing, once she got to it, her trusty wings would take care of everything. She felt them tense at the ready against her back, not unfolding just yet, they’d drag on her and slow her. But they were ready, ready to spread open with a swift and impossibly loud, reverberating clap, faster than they ever had before.
As her run continued and she gained towards the clearing, Moon’s ears rang once she realised what the human at her heels was actually saying. What was he calling her? Oh, it was demon - demon. It almost stung. Not only was this strange man going to kill her, he had decided to call her names too! There must be sadism to his actions, then, since clearly he either had a desire to rub his prowess and superiority into her wounds, or to shame and mark her existence as a beast. Both options made her feel smaller than her height could ever hope to make up for.
“Demon!? Oh now that is just cruel, I mean what did I ever even do to y- aiyee!” A pathetic squeal filled the air as Moon felt rushing air from a slashing sword right close to her.
The feeling of the moving air was almost surreal. It felt almost sharp in of itself, like a casing of blades around the real one as her adversary kept up his unwavering attacks right at her heels. She heard his words, too - cut her open! Vocalised like that, it sounded so horribly malicious that her face became even whiter than it already had been.
Hurrying her bulky frame to be as quick as it could go, Moon trampled over fallen branches and uprooted shrubs, crackles and pops sounding out. Her eyes fixated on the clearing – she just had to get away from this incomprehensible, crazy, horrible man, and she would be okay. The sky would be her salvation, her sanctuary. It had never failed her before. It was where she always retreated to in times of exposure, a place where her existence just disappeared from the ever-present threat of mankind – truly, it was her greatest and most reliable ally, her element. She’d have been dead long ago if not for her proud gift of flight. But she had to get there first, and this human seemed so intent on stopping her – his overwhelming determination was coming more apparent with each passing second and it made her stomach squeeze with anxiety so hard it felt like it was going to drop out of her body. He was actually keeping up behind her, and seemingly so effortlessly! She could only believe that because she was directly witnessing it. How was he able to do that? His legs were tiny compared to hers! It felt unheard of, almost unnatural – it was frightening. In a more distant part of her mind, Moon supposed this must be what the deer she hunted felt like, and thinking about it gave her a very odd feeling. But she didn’t have time to ponder it further. Everything about this stranger was threatening and formidable and dangerous - his appearance, his stances, his power, his speed. Getting away was all that mattered, getting to that clearing.
“Face your end, demon!” The human spoke again, strong voice yelling out and calling her that same insult – Moon barely processed his words, or that he’d suddenly leaped closer and landed a blow, not until the hot, searing white pain made her jaw open, fangs bared as a choked cry left her. Her jaw stayed open with pure shock and pain and she couldn’t even make a sound beyond that first choked cry. It was like the pain was strangling her, snuffing out any other moans or gasps or whimpers, the veins in her bulging eyes strained with horror.
The stranger had struck her lower leg. Her calf split apart like well cooked meat falling from bone, blood spraying into the air in thick ribbons. Her solid flesh was so soft against his blade that it may as well have been butter. It ranked pretty high up there as one of the most terrifying experiences Moon had ever gone through – the lab had had some ones which were probably impossible to beat, but never before had someone just ripped apart her very being like that. Never had they injured her body so swiftly and severely, and with so little effort. She had always been pinned down in the past, when she had been cut open. But here and now, this human was moving suddenly, unpredictably, with blinding speed. She was being cut without any chatter about it, without warning or control.
A mournful howl tore its way out of Moon’s throat, rising in volume as she got more frantic at the loss of control over her body she was experiencing. She stumbled for purchase desperately, but the pain, the injury was just too severe. Her huge frame slid onto its knees as her wings spread, flapping out of both blind panic and an urge to try and right her balance so she could get back up – of course, that too failed. She was doomed to go down now, there was no escaping it, no escaping the severity of that cut.
“Oh Jesus fucking Holy Christ, man!” Moon sobbed out as she skidded across the forest floor on her side, ripping up flimsy layers of pine needles and revealing the darkened, clumped damp ones underneath. She scrambled for purchase to get up as soon as she began to spill, though it was hopelessly off, jerky from how disorientated she was. She was a total mess, uncoordinated limbs flailing, wings haphazardly flapping like a baby bird thrown off a cliff, frantically unable to move correctly.
Her chest was tight as she clawed harder at the floor of the forest once she was done sliding and had ended up on her belly. Letting out pathetic little whines and gasps, Moon couldn’t help the tears that were beginning to build in her eyes. This couldn’t be it - wait, maybe - maybe there was still - there was still the clearing! The clearing, the clearing, the clearing – if she could just still get over there, then maybe she could still take off? The giant’s cat-like eyes were fixed upon it, too scared to even look elsewhere at this point. Especially not at that man, that mad man and his creepy, unsettling eyes. From what little of them she had seen, they had felt much too intense, like burning fire. They felt like they were boring into something beyond just the sight of her visage, but rather, into her very being, her mind and soul. She felt invaded at just being known by them, and she wished not to see them again. Though soon, she may not have a choice. She knew he was approaching, a sinking despair and nausea stirring in her gut as she sensed it.
The sight of the clearing was beginning to waver, swaying like flickering flames from how her tears distorted the sight of it. Deep down, she knew it was hopeless. She’d never made it. And taking off while stuck lying down was a laughably pathetic notion. But the girl couldn’t help but cling to something, anything, her mind desperately wanted to believe her life still could be saved, that there was still a chance of survival. The increasing awareness that there wasn’t made her feel like she was drowning, like she was going to puke out all of her organs, like she couldn’t even breathe at how truly panic and terror inducing it was.
The griff began to helplessly and distantly think of the osprey, detaching herself a bit as her eyes became more wild and crazed with how widely they stared into the clearing, refusing to give up on possibility, searching for something more, perhaps even something beyond it. Like peace. She wished to a God she didn’t believe in that she could take off as effortlessly as other birds were capable of doing. She saw them do it all the time, showing off their gift. All it took was one simple first flap of their wings; a flick up together, a fan out, and the fellow creature would be gone. Ghosting between the trees and into sanctuary. So easily could it become like they were never there. But not her. She was not like that no matter how much she wished she was, her body had been built woefully different. Her vast bulk meant that she needed space, and much of it. In all reality, her body was actually more akin to a heavy aircraft than to a bird, a harsh reminder and reflection of how irregardless to all of her feelings of connection towards nature, she wasn’t actually a true part of it. As much as she wished she was a perfect evolutionary machine, she wasn’t. She was manmade and synthetic, awkward. She needed to run like a plane on a strip of open land, build up the air under her wings like laying the foundations of a house. Each take off required a mandatory investment she had to put effort into making, it was a fight against her own size, an appeasement of two sides of her own biology as they warred against each other. For all her kinship with the osprey, flight came much more naturally and masterfully to it. While it was alive, it had come and go whenever it pleased, while she was shackled unless her leaving was planned.
Her mind began to try and argue that her size had at least afforded her other privileges, like protections from predators and such, and that it was the poor osprey who had paid the ultimate price and lost the game, not her. The osprey was the one that was dead, after all. But then a sinking took over, gripping ahold of her as she realised such hopefulness would look foolish once this stranger made her into a corpse too. She would soon join that stiff, wincing, dead eyed bird, and it truly would have fulfilled itself as an omen. She should have trusted her instincts. She should have left.
“I-I don’t understand!” She sobbed desperately.
Humans were always doing things to her, why? Why couldn’t she just be left alone. That was all she wanted, she wished for nothing more than to just… to just be! To be left alone and allowed to just exist! But they always wanted to do something or another to her. And that something was usually to inflict pain. Worst of all though, it was never for reasons she could understand. Never for something simple like a predator being hungry and needing to kill prey, and never for a wrong they believed she had committed, something that she perhaps could work to fix. There was always nothing she could do to change their minds, to bargain or reason. She was very much remembering now why she preferred her freedom to being held prisoner in the laboratory - even with the wild’s constant threat of starvation, overheating and freezing, she could at least make sense of those threats. They weren’t some kind of personal attack upon her. They were just how the world was, they were the forces of nature itself. Nature couldn’t be any other way. What was was what was. They weren’t conscious choices someone who should know better actively chose to make against her, choices and actions all for the sake of strange lofty concepts that felt simply too far away from the situation at hand. She was tired of the abstract.
“What did I do wrong? What did I ever do to you!? I just… I was just there and you’re attacking me!” The griff yelled further.
She tried her best to mask it, but she was shaking terribly. Her whole body was practically jerking and shaking from the tremendous, overriding fear she felt. She’d spent so long avoiding humans, running away in order to save her hide, and now not only was there one, but one with a blade pointed at her. A blade already covered in some of her blood. She could see how some of her blood was soaked into the fabric of his clothes too, even, beginning to crust and dry. She felt sick at the realisation. Everything about the situation made her feel clammy and cold and frantic, her insides clenching as she curled her legs up against herself. She longed to get away from everything to do with this man. She wanted to escape him, his blade, his gaze, his very knowledge of her existence. But she just couldn’t. She was trapped and stuck, waiting for her end to bring itself about already. No matter how desperate she felt, there was nothing she could do, and the more she thought about it, the more she realised she was trapped, the more her heart pounded.
“Why are you so intent on stopping me from being alive!?” She pleaded one last time for some kind of answer, her eyes set to the side, looking close to the man responsible for her suffering as to try and see him, yet still not quite looking enough to lock eyes. She still couldn’t bear to meet them, even though she was trying to look more. She wanted to comprehend him now there was no other choice, curiosity overcoming her, and even more than that she wanted her plea to work. At the very least, if she were to be brought to an end, she would like to know why, for what purpose. She needed to make herself earnest for that, to try whatever she could. But his gaze was just too scorching. She could not yet meet it.
~
Kyojuro felt odd. He didn’t feel proud or pleased or even relieved upon seeing her stumble and fall. He felt… uncertain. Some demons had abilities which made them hard to sense as being demons, but this one… not only was there no aura - that could be just explained by some kind of blood art anyway - but she just didn’t act right either. There was something wrong with this one. She didn’t regenerate at all, and was so fixated on the clearing, clawing and scrabbling at the dirt like a frightened animal, not like a true monster. Sure, plenty of demons could panic or become cowardly when faced with an adversary that was stronger, when faced with something that wasn’t helpless prey, but still. Even despite that tendency, this demon’s best bet now would be to slash and bite to the bitter end. She had nothing else anyway, other than to use the size she must have worked so tirelessly to build up and accrue - if her lack of any show of regenerative abilities was anything to go by, at least. Why bother working so hard and devour so many to accumulate it, only to practise such cowardice? If she didn’t start using it, she’d certainly die. He’d kill her easily. But it couldn’t be that simple. Something was off, and he was trying to figure out what.
“Don’t play games, demon!” He crowed. She wouldn’t have been the first to mercilessly slaughter so many and then act like she had done no wrong, like it was not an issue. Demons were horrific things, and thus their own logic and minds inner workings always followed suit. Every part of their beings was twisted right down to the core, and Rengoku would not let himself be fooled so easily. More often than not, there was always something else to it when it came to demons.
“Just how many have you eaten, hm?” His voice demanded, accusing.
“Did you focus all the energy from those you killed into growing larger, and into the demon art that allows you to hide your aura even now, rather than into having a good recovery rate?” His eyes narrowed and flickered to her bleeding calf, some flecks of her blood still clinging to and dripping from his blade. His light smile widened, the ends curving upwards sharply, turning it into a pleased V.
“That shall prove to be a mistake. To be your end!” He pointed the blade out at her threateningly, staring down it with a confident, toothy grin.
“I shall take your head today, here and now!”
The demon’s voice was quick to bark back at him.
“Piss off and do one, you insane psychopath!”
Kyojuro’s expression fell at the reply - it definitely wasn’t what he had been expecting. It was rather vulgar, though that wasn’t what shocked him. That was to be expected with slaying demons. Many before had had quite the indignant mouths on them.
No, what got him about this reply was the last bit. The part accusing him of madness. Him, insane? But surely a demon would understand why a slayer would engage in combat, even if it enraged them? It was perfectly logical. The war between demons and slayers felt almost sort of eternal. It was an ancient right of passage, a hundred year battle that had continued on for generation upon generation. How could she not understand?
The winged giant broke the silence again.
“I don’t have a single clue as to what the fuck you’re on about! You bizarre crazy cunt! How can I focus my energy into growing larger as opposed to having a recovery rate? That’s not something you choose, your body just does it.” The beast went on, barking angrily.
“I’ll also have you know I’ve been fully grown for several years now already. I didn’t just wake up and choose to be this big for fun one day, so sorry to disappoint whatever weird assumptions you have. Plus I’m skin and bone out here! How am I the spitting image of choosing to develop larger exactly!? You think being this big is a choice? That this is a game? That this is some kind of game for me!? Look at the state I’m in!”
Kyojuro gently lowered his blade, but just slightly, still guarded. He didn’t say anything, however. He just watched and observed. He was perplexed, trying to figure out all the inconsistencies, and she seemed content to keep yelling more information at him for the time being. As was proven by the cross glare and the way the demon lashed her tail behind herself at his silence before going on again.
“What is with that weird grin as well? You’re just standing there and smiling. What’s so good about what you’re doing right now!? I mean, I kill deer and cattle and stuff in order to eat them, sure, but I don’t grin about it! Freak!”
What could be so good? Well, he was slaying a demon. Demon slayers killed demons, and they were glad to do so. They took pride in it because it was their job. Yet again, he couldn’t help but wonder, why did she seem so confused about the whole affair? It was simple and clear enough to other demons, even if it did enrage them. He’d get to the bottom of this.
She just mentioned animals too, eating them. Kyojuro honed in on that, because it was a key bit of information in how odd it was. Demons did not favour eating mere cows. A demon eating an animal was not entirely unheard of, sure, but it certainly was unusual. Even if a demon did sometimes dine upon animals, it was more frequent in the ones who were incapable of speech, and they were still never a true staple of any demon's diet, as far as he was aware. No, humans were always their true targets. This demon he’d cornered was proving to be odder and odder by the minute.
Unless… What if this creature was simply not a demon? What if it was something else entirely? The thought was so strange it almost made Kyojuro go blank as it came to him the more he reasoned. Though that would certainly be something the Hashira - and probably most people - had never heard of. Humans and demons were all he had ever known, and to be fair to him, he had been all over Japan from his missions. He was fairly well read on some things, in the little free time he had, he did quite like to read. History in particular, as it just so happened, was his favourite. And something like her should have been well recorded across the ages if she was a naturally occurring kind or person or creature. But then, he also knew that the world could be a strange place. A very strange place, full of strange and secretive things. His life as a slayer alone was more than enough to make him realise that.
In that case however… if she was innocent… oh God. His stomach and blood felt like they had been turned to ice. He’d have actively and deliberately injured someone completely undeserving - and judging by her frame and words and mannerisms, someone who had enough problems as it was! Someone weak, from an already bad circumstance. The idea made him feel sickened - but how could he have known!? No, no. He should have been much more alert and on his toes, thinking ahead and properly assessing the situations he rushed into. A demon this size was an extremely unusual concept, after all. He had known that from the beginning! Why couldn’t he have questioned it more, why hadn’t he? Well, it was too late now. All he could do now was make up for the mistake by continually probing and thinking.
Thinking things out. That’s right. He had to stay calm and keep doing that, uncover what was really going on. As all these thoughts circled through his head, his external appearance didn’t change. He kept that same, classic smile and assured stance as he played with many different concepts and theories of outcome.
Just because she was not a demon, that did not mean this beast was necessarily good or pure of heart. However, her lack of strikes back at him certainly singalled at least some level of purity, right? Unless they were born solely of cowardice. But then again, that line of thinking didn’t exactly work too well. She was so cornered, doomed. So even if she was a coward, surely self preservation would make her try a bit of everything? Yet there she had stayed. Quivering and talking and watching, but otherwise utterly unmoving. While her words had been quite venomous at times, she had not even particularly bargained or pleaded, either. Instead she had just pathetically kept asking him why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe a trick, but it seemed genuinely so bewildered and earnest. Unlike with any of the other demons he had faced, Rengoku truly did sense no malice. All he sensed was fear.
Finally, he spoke back to her.
“Why are you so large?” Kyojuro asked, gaze unblinking and smile still wide as ever.
“You cannot expect me to believe you grew that way from cattle alone, demon!”
“Stop calling me that!” An exasperated huff left the beast before she continued, steam practically shooting out of her nostrils as they flared.
Ah, there it was. Finally, more of what could really be considered anger or indignation. And yet, still definitely not malice.
“It is so fucking rude! It’s not like I chose to… to look like this! You know what, I - I truly hate you, all of you. I hate all of you humans.”
Kyojuro couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s voice lacked any real conviction, any sort of anger to it was just hollow. It was like she wished she could hate even when she couldn’t bring herself to. Like a child cursing parents they usually treated adoringly because they’d been denied a dessert that night or given an extra chore. It was rather sad, honestly. Pathetic, even. Like a half deflated balloon trying to present itself as a full one. His brows furrowed sadly by just a tad, slightly wrinkling his skin.
“A bunch of you make me into this just because you can, then you punish me for it, and now you call me names over it.” The strange woman’s voice wobbled, like she had to stop herself for a moment in order to not cry.
The swordsman felt his stomach twist sharply at that. He no longer felt sure of what to even do or say, hesitating. He didn’t want to exactly comfort a demon, if she was one, but if she wasn’t then he most certainly did. He would owe her that much, since he was the one who caused this. But more than just that, he felt bad. She looked scared and sad and… awfully alone. If she truly did live out here, then she rarely saw people - and he’d given her an encounter like this.
But first, more and most importantly, he still needed any information he could get.
“Please.” He began.
“Explain to me what you mean by that, and what you are exactly, then.” He requested.
The creature before him seemed to hesitate, warring with various considerations that he could see flicker through her mind with each slight change in her expression.
“I-I was created in a laboratory. By humans like you. Then I escaped, and now I am here. That’s what I mean about being made like this. So, now there. I don’t see why I should have to share more than that.” The beast seemed intent on being firm and as fierce as she dared muster now, giving a bit of an ultimatum and pushing back with her refusal to go on anymore than a brief explanation.
Her voice sounded stroppy, and it wavered pathetically. Some level of indignance was battling against fear in regards to the whole situation, clearly. Perhaps she had been pushed to a final limit.
“It is my personal business and not that of somebody who sliced me up!” The giant gave a last concluding argument, pinning her ears as she raised her voice.
She glared to the side, huffing hard through her nose. A display of submission and defiance intermingled, both emotions somehow existing at the same time.
So there it was, then. Sure, maybe this strange woman's explanation was still some elaborate demon lie, it did sound a little far fetched and half baked. Yet with every single passing second, Kyojuro became more sure that it was not. It wasn’t just the story alone, it was everything else adding up, all of her behaviours, her bewilderment and lack of violence or regeneration. She truly didn’t even seem to know what a demon was.
If that was the truth, then Kyojuro could also really understand why she was angry. He couldn’t help acknowledging in his brain that if it were him in her shoes, he’d likely have been a lot angrier, in all honesty. Plenty of other people he knew and held dear as friends would have been, too. They would have actually lashed out, retaliated physically. But she had taken it all without any such violence.
Oh dear. This was a complete and utter mess - no, mess was an understatement. It was a disaster. He’d made such a mess of everything here, and now he wasn’t even sure of what to do. But he did know that whatever he did, he should try to fix things - arguably it was now a duty. A duty he would put his all into fulfilling! He would make things right! And he wouldn’t let anything stop him!
Something gave him pause. There was a shimmer of light flitting against the side of the large pines nearest to him. Sunrise! Head turning for just a moment to glance at the horizon behind him, Kyojuro checked the sun’s position against the Earth, seeing it just begin to peak over the ground and fight for its bright light to be seen between the many trees all around.
He turned back to look at the beast, seeing her feathers begin to gleam golden as they were bathed in it. And yet they did not burn. Final confirmation of what he was already sure of at this point.
She was no demon.
~
As the human stood before her seemed to consider her words, Moon’s vision got hazy. The sun behind him made him appear shadowy, dark apart from his edges, which were now outlined with gold. He looked almost sort of ethereal or divine. Perhaps it was fitting, Moon had read before, back when she had had access to books about angels, that some brought death. She had read, with intrigued surprise, all about how they were quite capable of waging war and violence, and of killing.
Killing. Moon did it every day, she would become yarak, if needs did must and the devil of hunger drove her. Every inch of her body would become coiled and tense, ready to lash out in any which way she demanded of it, her whole being becoming like a snake ready to strike, becoming like an extension of her desire to live at the necessary cost and takedown of another. Her claws would twitch and her lips would curl back with anticipation. Her eyes would become intently hyper focused, yet also still somehow aware of seemingly so much more than her regular state was able to take in. Her demeanour went from scared of everything - spooking and shying - to being ready to claim anything.
That demeanour was what was able to drive her into using those powerful wings to take up into the sky and then to heavily plummet back to Earth, to descend again and again upon any of the deer herds she was lucky enough to find out in open plains, until she caught enough meat to sate her appetite. She’d mercilessly grasp one underneath her and quickly rip off its head, her sharp teeth claiming a fellow wild life like it was nothing, one after another. Though it wasn’t nothing, of course not. It was the opposite. It was a whole other, complex being just gone, wiped away in a brief moment with a simple and swift, an effortless action. She never took any kind of joy in it, but simply, the desire to survive, to better oneself could pull away any and all considerations of sadness or ethics. Hesitation evaporated and the giant would give in and play the grand game of life.
Now, her own life was now about to be claimed like it was nothing as this human played that same game. It was time. But there was nothing unjust about that, surely? Nature had its way, and there was no escaping it. It had never promised her survival. In fact, it had always promised her the opposite, death always had a foot in the door. This was its way.
Yet no, because this man was not nature. Or was he? Moon wasn’t even sure. She was pretty sure he wasn’t going to consume her flesh, she had noticed humans only tended to eat animals like cattle, hooved herbivorous creatures. And he certainly wasn’t killing her because she was genetic competition to his own lineage, or for her fur, she had none. So then, why? She’d never gotten her answer, and now she supposed she never would. So all she could do was speculate.
Perhaps the farmers had cottoned on and she hadn’t known, and they were paying him. Perhaps he wanted her wings as a prize, she knew some hunters loved male deer for their antlers. Could her feathers be the same? Maybe in that way, it could still be argued that he was also nature, nature enacting nature upon her. Killing for money was just nature with extra steps - either way, he’d use the money to buy food to feed himself, to buy shelter to survive, to buy things which would win him the affections of others, something a social animal like a human needed to do. Yes. It was still just the way of the world, then. And she may as well give into it.
Everything was beginning to become mired and hazy - every kind of reasoning imaginable all made complete sense to her in this state, every justification made on the human’s behalf gave her an odd kind of peacefulness as she slipped into a state of blood loss. A mental fog which danced the urge to survive out of her was taking over, she was forgetting how to even worry or care, how to resist hopeless and blithe acceptance. The giant raised her hanging, trembling head with her last bit of energy, jaw slack and chattering slightly as she appealed with her exposed neck, offering the pale, bare skin. If this human truly wanted so badly, then perhaps he should just take it. She should let go, say blast it all, welcome her end. There was nothing else to do and nothing more to say. Her story was ready to end.
The swordsman seemed to take her offer, as he stepped closer. Closer, and closer still, walking towards and over to her. She had expected a lashing movement to kill her quickly. His newfound slowness was confusing, and it made her uneasy. The closeness to a swordsman brought her more back to reality, and the griff flinched.
Moon’s ears pinned back as hard as they could go, her body gleaming with a fresh coat of anxious sweat. She pathetically whimpered and grasped her own hands together, keeping them held tight against her chest as the only form of comfort she had, neck retreating back against her shoulders.
“No no please - please. At least make it quick, please please. Don’t play around if - if you’re gonna-” Moon’s voice was utterly pathetic and weak, high pitched. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed every muscle, flinching into the smallest ball she could muster.
“I am so sorry. Truly, I cannot express it enough.”
Moon’s eyes flew open as she realised she felt the human’s palm pat against her clenched fist. Was that… an attempt at comforting her? The beast locked eyes with him as he stood beneath her. She hadn’t realised it but she had been holding her breath, and so she let it wheeze out of her before daring to take in a few much needed fresh ones, albeit they were still shallow with fear. Completely confused and still very tense, the woman swallowed and shifted a little, slightly unballing as the human before her went on, explaining himself with a soft and kind tone. Nothing like the threatening tones he had taken before, certainly. This one sounded like it could be reasoned with, like it would give her a chance.
“I thought you were something you’re not - I thought you were a demon. They’re creatures which are very real, even if you’ve not heard of them, and they’re very dangerous. I work as a slayer, culling them for the sake of humanity, to protect others from dying by their hands. I only did to you what I did because I thought you were one. But I see now that you are not, nor are you malicious or a threat. So I will hurt you no further.” The strange man paused for breath, expression softening and looking even more worried as he apologised to Moon.
“I know my words don't change what I’ve already done, but know that you didn’t do anything wrong, and know that I deeply regret my actions, they were truly a mistake. Please, I’d like to try and make it right. You are hurt because of me, but I can reverse some of the damage, even if only a little. If you come with me, I can make sure your wounds don’t continue to bleed, and that they don’t get infected. We can go as slow as you need, after all, I would know that I am the reason you have to limp.”
The griff’s ears pinned, and she opened her mouth to immediately insist on refusing his offer, only for a slight movement of her leg to make her freeze with pain, eyes swelling slightly with tears from it. The searing sensation brought her thinking back to reality.
She really was badly hurt. She’d lost blood and was still losing it, quite fast, too, her wounds dripping away, spattering the ground every now and then. She was exhausted, and most of all, unable to really fly like this. She hadn’t worried about it before, because getting a blade lodged through her neck had been a bigger concern. But now she had survived past that, Moon could see that her survival still looked grim. She couldn’t flee or hunt. She was doomed to die anyway.
Unless, of course, she accepted this man’s help. She would say it was against her better judgement, but it was the only real option she had. There was no other way she would even have a chance of making it without this newfound help.
So after a moment of pause, the giant nodded at Rengoku, mouth dry as she gave her response verbally too.
“Yes. Yes, alright then. I’ll accept your help.”
There was nothing else to be done except accept, and so the giant did.