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Chapter Text

    Nezuko was numb.

    She was numb as a small army of Kakushi rushed onto the scene, evaluating the injuries of the Mugen Train’s passengers thoroughly and evacuating those close to critical condition.

    She was numb as her friends lifted her up by her shoulders and started to drag her away from the Wind Hashira’s corpse.

    She was numb as she was handed over to the Kakushi and lifted onto the back of a familiar medic. Ozaki carried her carefully on her back, a grim look in her eyes as she jogged softly away from the train wreckage and towards the Fox Mansion in the far distance. Two other Kakushi members carried Inosuke and Zenitsu behind her, no one spoke a word. There was no wind to waft away the scent of mourning in the air.

    She was numb when she was set down gently on a bed and Murata appeared at her side to examine the gash on her cheek and the hole in her side. Nezuko barely registered an exhausted Makomo ushering a tall, muscular boy with yellow hair out of the estate. It was that kid from Final Selection, the impatient one. He put on a few feet. Makomo’s blue eyes were hiding a brokenness that Nezuko had a feeling had something to do with Giyuu’s sudden need to shut himself in his room. She wore her fox mask on the side of her head.

    It seemed the loss of Sanemi was causing a ripple of imposition across the Demon Slayer Corps. The little siblings who were usually found scurrying around performing chores shuffled from place to place. The Kakushi spoke in whispers and ducked around the medical rooms. It seemed the only person comfortable with comforting Nezuko as she sobbed into the night, alone in a sterile surgical room after receiving stitches in her side and back of her head, was Tanjiro. The demon boy’s red eyes stared at the floor as his little sister clung to him and wailed softly into his green-and-black checkered haori. 

    Tanjiro didn’t know how to help her. He wanted to have some way to help her grieve, but he didn’t know Hashira Shinazugawa all that well. He was at the Hashira Meeting and they met briefly on the train before he was gone. He wished that he could grieve for a person he didn’t know.

    Or maybe you’re finally losing your humanity. You don’t feel anything, do you?

    He pushed the intrusive thought down and wrapped his arms around Nezuko, ignoring how a hole ate at his stomach.

    Quiet people, humans, floated across the streets of the town. The air had a peaceful stagnation to it. This was fine for the woman walking down the road with groceries in her arms. 

    The woman wore modern dress, cinched at the waist was a faded purple skirt that complimented her white dress shirt. It was different from the white kimono she was used to wearing, but when in Rome…

    The heels of her dress shoes clicked against the paved sidewalk. The smell of the food she held made her want to crinkle her nose. It was disgusting, absolutely revolting to her. Yet, she kept her indifferent expression. The wind threatened to rip her purple hat from her head of dark hair, but she quickly freed a hand to place on top of it. She quickened her walk. 

    The large house she approached was away from the town. A driveway with a brand new car led her to a grand front door that was unlocked and waiting for her. She moved through an entry way and into a kitchen where she left the food. Everything about his house screamed Turn Of The Century. In a sitting room off of the kitchen, the woman could hear a group of people laughing and talking.

    “How dear, those children sound like a blessing!” One woman chuckled.

    An older man nodded from the chair he rested in. “Indeed, it is nice to have a full house again. It’s a shame the family has their skin condition, they’re truly a handsome bunch.”

    Another man glanced in his direction. “Do you plan to take the husband as your successor? He seems to be the age for it.”

    “No, that man is too frail and I’m concerned for his health. He has a terrible burn that has rendered him blind and his wife is his caretaker. However, he does have a son that shows promise. I plan to ask to make the boy my apprentice to learn about the pharmaceutical side of my work.”

    The woman moved into the sitting room and leaned against the doorway with a smile. “I hope that’s not my son you’re talking about.”

    “Ah, Miss Amane, you’re back! I wondered if that was you!” The old man stood to greet her. “And it’s nothing set in stone. Are you heading down?”

    Amane nodded and stood up straight. “Need to put the youngests down to bed, you know how it is. I won’t keep you from your company any longer.”

    She bowed to the room and descended down a staircase into a basement. The old man returned his attention to his party and gestured in the direction she disappeared in. “She pays rent, she buys groceries, she makes herself useful around here. It almost makes me wish I had children of my own when I had the chance. It’s a shame she and her children have their condition, they can’t go out during the day.”

    In the large basement there were several rooms. Amane went to each one, checking on the small children sleeping, before she entered the final room and took off her hat, pulling down her dark hair from her updo.

    “I’ve returned, my lord.”

    This was the only room in the basement with a window. Heavy curtains hung from it, but they and the window were open to let in a light breeze. The king of demons sat on a plush bed with a warm smile.

    “You’re wearing the new dress?”

    She had an unamused expression as she tugged at her collar. “I don’t see what was wrong with my usual robes. They were much easier to move in.”

    “Sacrifices we all must make, my dear.” Kagaya chuckled softly.

    The curtains shifted in the wind and Rui now kneeled on the floor before the couple. Amane’s eyes turned a demonic red as she peered down at him. “Upper Three.”

    “My queen, my master.” The little demon kept his red and blue eyes down.

    “Report.”

    “I still have not located the Crimson Spider Lily, however I did eliminate a Hashira as you ordered me to do.”

    “Rui.” Amane’s expression turned sour. “Our master has shown you favor by gifting you with incredible power, slaying a Hashira should not be a feat you boast about. There were three other Demon Slayers there and the four of you escaped with your lives.”

    Kagaya shifted on his bed and a wave of excruciating pain stabbed Rui from all angles. It was like the cells in his body were ripping themselves apart faster than he could regenerate them. Blood welled up in his mouth as his periwinkle skin flashed purple, it dripped from his lips as he grit his teeth.

    “Our master called you to that train to ensure no one would walk away, yet two hundred passengers and three Demon Slayers did. One even rightfully denounced you and called you a coward for fleeing. You have abused our master’s privileges with nothing to show for it. He is disappointed in you, child.”

    The pain subsided and Rui was left with a boiling rage. He vanished into the night, seething about the girl who dared call him a coward. The girl who killed his demon family members.

    Amane glared at the tiny dribbles of blood the demon boy had left behind, not acknowledging her husband as he reached over and took her hand.

    “Well done, my love. Come here and let me ease your tensions.”

    She was silent as she sat down next to him and he ran his hands through her hair. Her hair returned to its white color where he touched and the frown lines on her face vanished. 

    Kagaya held her head in his hands and gently massaged her temple. “Your beauty has only grown over the years you have been by my side. How lucky I am to have a wife like you. It’s a shame that brother of yours left our family, he had such promise in him. Of course, I would much rather be able to take you into my arms than listen to his terrible poetry.”

    Amane’s features softened despite how her eyes burned with unbridled fury. “I am in your service, my lord, for as long as you would have me. I will not fail you like that fool did.”

    Rui screamed into the night as he pulled at his hair, ripping his skin and making his scalp bleed.

    The master’s disappointed in me?! ME ?! Why didn’t I just kill that pink-eyed brat when I had the chance!?

    He eyed the black katana he had pulled from his body and left stabbed in a tree. He vented his frustration by taking a handful of his deadly threads and shredding the Nichirin sword to tiny shards of metal.

    Another reason to destroy the girl with Hanafuda earrings now boiled in his heart and blood.

    Inosuke snuck around Murata, switching a plate of rice balls out with an empty one in the kitchen behind the doctor’s back and hurrying back to the bed room. He wanted to bring them to Nezuko as a way to cheer her up. Whenever he felt sad as a child, his mother would bring him good food to lift his spirits, he figured he could do the same here.

    He felt lacking. Inosuke had spent the entire fight aboard the Mugen Train struggling to keep up with his friends. From what Zenitsu told him, they all had somewhat horrific dreams except for him. They all took their own lives to wake up except for him. Inosuke had woken up from his dream by accidentally falling down the hill his house sat on, Nezuko had cut her neck open countless times. He was falling behind their strength. Inosuke didn’t have a major loss motivating him forward, he didn’t understand the broken vibrations of their souls. 

The green-eyed boy reminded himself not to take his childhood for granted.

    Inosuke moved to slide open the door to the bed room when it was violently shoved upen by a distressed Teruko squealing to anyone who could hear. “Nezuko’s missing! Nezuko’s missing!”

    The swordsman twisted out of her way to avoid being run over and grabbed the girl by the back of her pink kimono. “What did you just say?!”

    The tiny girl looked frantic. “She’s gone! Lord Giyuu said that she couldn’t leave after her surgery, but she grabbed her things and she’s gone!”

    Inosuke stuck his head into the bed room where only Zenitsu sat on his bed rebandaging a cut on his hand. “She took the demon and left!”

    Nezuko held her side as she ran. While she had no sword on her hip, she still wore her uniform, haori and Tanjiro’s box. As soon as she was let out of the emergency procedure room, she had gathered her things and brother and left the Fox Mansion with a piece of paper in her hand. The paper being the letter she had retrieved from Sanemi before he died.

    Ukogi flew in front of her, leading her through a town and into the mountains. Nezuko had been running since sunrise and it was almost noon now. Her stab wound threatened to pop her stitches, but she kept going. She would just get it fixed later. Part of Nezuko didn’t mind having M&M (Makomo and Murata) fussing over her.

    The sparrow chirped and slowed its flight as the scent of Wisteria filled the air. They were here. Nezuko slowed to a walk to find a beautiful house sitting in the middle of a grove of Wisteria trees, a boy around her age sweeping the front steps with puffy eyes. He wore his black hair in a short ponytail and was sporting a scar on the right side of his face.

    This must be Genya. They don’t look similar, but they have the same scent.

    “Umm, excuse me?” Nezuko slowed to a stop and bowed to the boy who gripped his broom tight. “I am Kamado Nezuko of the Demon Slayer Corps, I’m here to deliver a message to Shinazugawa Genya.”

    Genya leaned his broom against the side of the house and bowed back. “I am he. If you’re here to tell me in person about Hashira Shinazugawa, I’m afraid I’ve already heard.”

    He sounded dead. Nezuko’s heart shattered for him. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and held out the letter. “I was fighting alongside your brother when he passed, he asked me to deliver this to your family. I hope you don’t mind that I peeked at it, he did not specify who the letter was for before he…”

    He took the letter and tucked it into a pocket of his purple yukata. “You were with him in his final moments?”

    Nezuko nodded solemnly. “He also had verbal messages for you and your mother--”

    The hoarse voice of a woman grunted behind Nezuko. She hadn’t smelled anyone approaching. “Bah, like that kid would have had anything meaningful to say.”

    The swordswoman turned around to face a tiny woman with white hair carrying a large jug of sake. The woman’s clothing was falling off of her loosely and the stench of alcohol only hit Nezuko’s nose when she turned to face her. “And you might be?”

    “None of your business, now get off my property.” The woman sneered. “Genya, enough moping, the funeral’s over. There’s chores to be done.”

    Nezuko already felt weak from her run, but now a fire lit inside her. She put herself between this woman and Genya with a glare. “How dare you speak to him that way? He’s just lost his older brother, he is allowed to mourn!”

    “And who are you to tell me how to raise my kid? Huh?!” Shizu’s words slurred slightly as she peered at Nezuko. Her face slackened as her eyes fell on Nezuko’s earrings and on the new scar she sported on the left side of her jaw from when she was thrown from the Mugen Train. “Oh… I see how it is… You’re here to mock me, aren’t you, Sun Breather?”

    “... what?”

    “You come to me, to my house, sporting your blessings from God for all to see after I have just buried my only child worth a damn to remind me of my own failures, is that it?!” She threw down the liquor jug. It smashed on the ground into a million pieces.

    Genya stepped around Nezuko and put his hands up to calm his seething mother. “It’s alright, she’s just here to deliver messages from Sanemi. There’s no need to make assumptions about her character-”

    “No, it’s alright. I can defend myself.” Nezuko put a hand on his shoulder, feeling her wound throb. “You speak of blessings from God but truth be told, I have none. When Sanemi was fighting, I was on the ground cowering in fear. I called the demon who took him from us a coward as it fled, but I was the one who was useless during the entire encounter. In fact, his final words to me were to come here to seek wisdom from your family to grow stronger. I failed Sanemi and to that,” she stepped to the side and bowed deeply at the hip, “I deeply apologize.”

    While Genya smelled sympathetic, Shizu’s never changed. She pulled the collar of her clothing on properly with a glare. “And what would my family be able to offer you, Sun Breather? What you see here is all we have: two failures. I suppose you might fall into that category as well.”

    The pink-eyed girl furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth to give this woman a piece of her mind, but the black haired boy put himself between them. “Mother, please , haven’t we been through enough? Can’t Miss Kamado just deliver his messages in peace?”

    Shizu looked between them before she started marching towards the door, bumping her shoulder into her son and shoving him aside. “Sure, go cry about it too. I’m sure he had only rotten things to say about me anyways.”

    Nezuko saw red. “Excuse me?! Do you want to know what the very first thing your son said to me when we formally met was? ‘Hashira Shinazugawa is my mother, you may call me Sanemi!’ He never claimed to be close to your equal until his final moments, did you know that? His greatest technique I saw him perform, the one that let him get close enough to start to slice off the demon’s head despite having lost an arm, do you know what it was called? ‘Shizu’! He never had a single rotten word to describe you! Do you want to know what was the worst thing he told me about you? He said that you were recluse from grief, but now I can see that he was describing you through pink-tinted glass because I can see exactly what you really are: a huge bitch !”

    The tiny woman spun around with a flat handed jab aimed directly for Nezuko’s throat. Even though her reaction time was dulled from pain, she managed to sidestep out of the way and grab Shizu’s wrist. 

    Genya’s eyes went wide. “Mother, don’t!”

    Before Nezuko could understand what he meant, a leg swiped her feet out from under her and she was on her back with the wind knocked out of her.

    So this is the speed of a Hashira? Even though she’s drunk, I couldn’t have evaded that!

    Shizu put her foot on Nezuko’s throat and held her arm up, threatening to twist and shatter it. “Insult me again, child, and the Kakushi will be picking up your pieces for weeks. The only reason you are not dead yet is because of your earrings. You think you are entitled to my good manners, yet you come to my house to make me relive the loss of my eldest child. Your talents are wasted on you, Sun Breather, like how mine were wasted on me and my children.”

    Nezuko planted her feet and twisted her body to snap her arm back and scramble to her feet. “And you think you’re entitled to everyone putting up with your behavior, you’re wrong. Berating your children, belittling them, how could you do that when he’s clearly mourning?”

    “And what would you know of mourning, brat?” The woman’s voice was so harsh, so defensive, that Nezuko was at a loss of words. What did she know about mourning? She wanted to get mad and scream at Shizu about her own hardships, something the woman could never understand, but Shizu’s scent finally pierced through the stench of alcohol surrounding her. It was the same scent she got from Zenitsu, it was the same scent she got from Giyuu and Makomo, it was the same scent she got from Tanjiro and even herself.

    It was broken. It was empty. It was shattered into a million pieces. It was sunk down into the deepest abyss of Hell, never to rise again.

    “That’s what I thought.” The short woman took Nezuko’s silence as submission and stalked off into the house.

    Genya bowed repeatedly to Nezuko. “I am so sorry she did that! Mother usually never puts her hands on others, even when she’s in a fit!”

    “It’s alright, I’m used to people trying to kill me when we first meet.” She thought back to when she met Shinobu, Zenitsu, Makomo, all the demons she faced, the other Hashira. Wow, somehow Inosuke was the one person who didn’t immediately try to kill her when they officially met. 

    She needed better friends.

    The scarred boy frowned as he examined Nezuko. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to die.”

    Yeah, she did. Nezuko had a massive bruise on her forehead from when Tanjiro tried to wake her up on the Mugen Train, her skin was pale from blood loss and running for hours and she was sure that the cut on her jaw was starting to reopen.

    “I’ll be fine.” She mumbled, the exhaustion getting to her.

    “Would you like to come in for tea? My cook, Miss Koko, had some made for when Mother got back, but I don't think she’s going to have any.”

    “That would be nice, yes.”

    Nezuko set down the tea cup solemnly. “That’s when he finally collapsed, at peace. Now you have the whole story.”

    They sat inside the house. Tanjiro’s box was set in a corner as Genya refilled Nezuko’s cup from the pot beside him. It had been a few hours since the altercation in the front of the house. Shizu had left the house to buy more sake, leaving the teenagers to fill each other in on what transpired the night the Mugen Train derailed.

    The scarred boy nodded and handed the refilled cup to the young woman. “Thank you for coming to tell me all of this in person. That means a lot to me.”

    “I’m afraid delivering the letter wasn’t the only reason I came.” Nezuko looked around the room. “You see, Sanemi instructed me to come to this estate to help answer some questions I have about this new sword technique I stumbled across.”

    “Ah, he must have been talking about the Wind Chronicles. Mother keeps them in her room, I’ll fetch them for you in a second. Does it have anything to do with Sun Breathing?”

    “Not sure, what is that? Why did your mother call me ‘Sun Breather?’”

    Genya shrugged. “I don’t have a sound answer, but she attests her discovery of Sun Breathing, this super strong Breathing Technique that's impossible to learn unless you’re born to a specific family, to how she is now. From what I read in the Chronicles the one time I peaked in them, Sun Breathers could be identified by their red or white hair, markings on their faces and Hanafuda earrings. You have… sort of two of those?”

    Nezuko touched her short hair and frowned. “I mean, my father and brother have red hair and red eyes and our earrings were passed down from generation to generation, but we’re not a Demon Slaying family like yours. We’ve got records of being charcoal makers for centuries. But…” She glanced at Tanjiro’s box. “Tanjiro does fit that description to a tee. He would have gotten these earrings if Father had passed from natural causes. It makes sense, he was the one who learned the Hinokami Kagura dance, it should be him in this situation, not me.”

    “May I ask how your father passed, if it’s not prying too much?” The black haired boy followed her gaze.

    “Two years ago, a demon broke into our home and killed him and my four younger siblings while I was breaking bread and eating with my neighbor. Tanjiro survived, but turned into a demon. I’ve been on this journey to turn him back ever since.” She turned back to Genya with a small smile.

    “That’s what he meant.”

    “What?”

    Genya returned her smile. “When Sanemi said you were the same. He didn’t mean that you were of the same skills or talents, he meant that you had the same stories, that you had the same motivations, the same driving factor and that’s why he knew you would be alright.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. “Here, come with me.”

    She took his hand and stood, marveling at how soft to the touch he was. Not callous on his hand at all. He led her through the house and spoke as they walked.

    “When my mother was pregnant with Sanemi, she didn’t want to retire from being a Hashira. My father wasn’t a Demon Slayer, so he offered to take care of any children and be a stay-at-home dad. He did a great job being a support for us and Mother and he was still physically strong from his days as a prize fighter in his youth. A good man and a good husband. Never swung a sword in his life, but he would do anything for us.”

    Nezuko smiled. “That’s so sweet. He sounds amazing.”

    “That’s not even half of it! Father married into the Shinazugawa family, he took my mother’s name because he wanted her children to bear the name and history of the Wind Hashira. Now, Father's a huge, proud man who fought for sport, but he was so quick to drop everything to be Mother’s ‘trophy husband’ that apparently her father didn’t buy it. Even on Grandpa’s death bed, he still wasn’t convinced that Father truly loved Mother.”

    She laughed, thinking about how her own mother was the provider of the family. While it was a necessity because of Tanjuro’s health, Kie was always happy to go the extra mile. 

    “Now I really want to meet this guy, is your father here?”

    “Right here.” Genya opened a door to a side yard. Nezuko stepped through to face six headstones each bearing the Shinazugawa name. She recognized the names of the individuals buried there; she had read them on the pinwheel-esque guard of Sanemi’s sword. 

    Genya moved to one of the headstones and tapped it, reading the inscription out loud. “‘Shinazugawa Kyogo, beloved husband and father. 1873-1921’, forty-eight years old, giver of giant hugs and maker of the best dango for miles.”

    “Oh…” Nezuko radiated awkwardness. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

    “Five years ago,” the boy explained, “Sanemi left for Final Selection. Mother wanted to take his training up a notch, so she consulted the records of her family. That’s when she discovered Sun Breathing, the original breathing technique. Something in her broke and she suddenly just started drinking. Father told us not to worry, but she started going out. On the night Sanemi was to return, she didn’t come back at all. She was out drinking away whatever plagued her mind. Still, we all waited for her and Sanemi. 

    “Most of us children fell asleep in the sitting room, but Father never did. Sunrise was approaching and neither were home. There was a thump at the door, like someone had fallen against it, so he went to investigate. We thought it was Sanemi. We were wrong.”

    Nezuko didn’t like the way his voice dropped. Genya moved to the next headstone and rested his hand on it. “The demon moved too fast for Father to do anything. It cut him across the chest and ran past him. We were all asleep, we had no way of running as it barreled into the house, slashing and killing whatever it could.” He touched the scar on his cheek and Nezuko’s stomach dropped. “I only survived because I was the furthest away from the mess and because Father managed to get back up. He grabbed one of Mother’s spare swords and managed to hack off the demon’s head, but it got blood in his wound.”

    “No…”

    “I couldn’t move, I was in too much pain to do anything but watch as my father changed. Yet, he didn’t touch any of the bodies around him. Instead, he threw himself out the door and almost ran away. He ended up running into my mother, who he easily knocked down and nearly attacked. And that’s when Sanemi showed up. All he saw was a demon pinning Mother down, so he killed it.” Genya frowned at the ground. “Sanemi carried the guilt of what happened for years, it’s even in his letter, I’m sure. After that, Mother shut herself off from the world, retired from being a Hashira and became the woman you met earlier. And now it’s just her and me. I think Sanemi said you two were the same because of that. To this day, I don’t think Father would have attacked Mother, I think he just needed to calm down after everything that happened. He probably would have been able to live like your brother, hidden away from sunlight but still interacting with others. But we’ll never know.”

    Nezuko moved without thinking and hugged Genya. He held her back and the two stood there, the wind whistling through their dark hair as they embraced. 

    “I won’t let Sanemi’s sacrifice be for nothing.” She whispered into his chest. “I promise you that.”

    They returned to the house and Genya retrieved a leather bound book from a small library. “Here, the Wind Chronicles of the Shinazugawa family. This is the one Mother was reading when she… you know.”

    Nezuko sat down next to Tanjiro’s box and flipped it open. “Let’s see, Hinokami Kagura… what is this-?”

    She turned the book to Genya to reveal that the majority of the pages had been shredded, leaving them unreadable. The young man snatched the book from her fingers and frowned at the pages. “Mother must have done this, I’m so sorry.”

    “It’s fine, it’s just another obstacle for me to overcome.” The pink-eyed girl sighed. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. I should be heading back to the Fox Mansion before Murata gets an excuse to send bloodhounds after me.”

    She got to her feet, retrieved her things and let Genya show her the door. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, it lit up the Wisteria trees walling the estate. 

    “Well, despite the disappointments, it was nice to meet you.” Genya rubbed the back of his neck. “And again, I’m sorry for Mother’s behavior. I’ll talk with her later.”

    Nezuko bowed to him. “Don’t worry about it, I was rather insensitive. I let my temper get out of control, I shouldn’t have done that.”

    “Well, I do appreciate you coming all this way. I’ll do my best to restore the destroyed pages for you.”

    “Oh you don’t have to! I can figure it out!

    He frowned stubbornly. “Nope, not happening. Mark my words, Kamado Nezuko, I will restore those pages.”

    She giggled and ceded to him. A light breeze made Nezuko tuck her hair behind her ear and look around. “I’ve always been amazed at how Demon Slayers can make Wisteria bloom year round.”

    “Oh yeah.” He chuckled and his eyes scanned the wall of trees surrounding the property. “Sanemi planted those a week after we lost Father and the others. He personally saw to their upkeep while training himself so that we would never be caught off guard again. I read the letter you gave me and it seems that he still held himself responsible for what happened right to the end. I hope he’s at peace now.”

    A flurry of seven Wisteria petals danced around each other and into the twilight. Nezuko watched them fly away with melancholy in her soul. “You know… I think he is.”

    Genya perked up and reached into the pocket of his yukata. “Right, that reminds me!”

    He produced a small velvet bag and handed it to her. Nezuko pulled it open and shut it with a gasp. “Genya, I can’t take this!”

    “Sure you can.” He smiled and crossed his arms. “I’m giving it to you, it doesn’t do me any good sitting on a shelf.”

    Nezuko pulled out the green blade guard and read over the names inscribed on the leaves. “This is an heirloom now, it belongs with your family.”

    Genya pushed it towards her. “Please, just carry it with you as a sort of good luck charm. If you really don’t want it, you can bring it back once you’ve healed from your wounds. Got it?”

    She nodded and tucked the bag into her haori. “Well then, I promise to take good care of it.”

    They said their goodbyes and Nezuko was off again. She waved goodbye to Genya with the setting sun framing her smile and the wind in her face. She turned and decided to run towards the wind, feeling it lifting her spirits and letting her soar.

    Genya returned inside the house to find that his mother had returned. She sat in her room with an empty jug of liquor by her side, door open to the outside and staring at the way the Wisteria trees shifted in the setting sun’s breeze. The boy stood outside her door, daring to peek inside.

    “She’s left, Mother.”

    “Good.” Her voice was cold. She did not turn to face him.

    “She left Sanemi’s last message to you, would you like to hear it?”

    “No. I do not care for whatever last spit he had been saving up to throw at me.”

    “He said that he wanted you to take care of yourself, that he didn’t want you to become more recluse. He never had a bad thing to say about you, ever.”

    “Get out.” She whispered. Her voice cracked slightly.

    Any other time he would be ordered by her, Genya would have escaped to the kitchen to wait for Sanemi to find him. But Sanemi was gone. Everyone was gone. It was just them.

    Genya moved silently into the room, knowing his mother could sense his movements, and knelt down behind her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging the tiny woman to his chest.

    He waited for her to throw him off, he waited for her to curse his name, but it never came. Instead, he felt her slim fingers gently touch his arms. She took sharp breaths in his arms before she eventually started to cry. Tears welled in his eyes too, but he remained silent as Shizu started to wail loudly, finally cracking her shell and allowing herself to feel the emotions she had hidden away for half a decade as she sobbed into her son’s arms.

    “My babies… my babies are gone…”

    Time passed quickly at the Fox Mansion. After Nezuko was chastised for running off and Kozo Kanamori brought her a new sword (after chasing her around the estate for many hours), it was right back to work.

    During the day, she and her friends would throw themselves into physical training. With Makomo running exercises and Murata providing medical aid, Nezuko noticed a change in her body. Her muscles became firmer, her movements refined. She was becoming stronger. 

    The nights were almost more strenuous. Since Tanjiro was sticking to sleeping during the day, he would keep Nezuko up for hours into the nights teaching her, training her in the Hinokami Kagura. Often, performing techniques would end in her having a coughing fit and shaking limbs, but she was slowly working up her strength.

    One thing that Nezuko did notice was that the cut on the left side of her jaw did not heal properly. None of the Kakushi nor Makomo could figure out why it left a scar on her face, but there wasn’t much any of them could do. Inosuke loved it, he said it gave her an ugly, rugged look. She responded by pulling on his hair and feeding him grass. Zenitsu had to pry them apart.

    Nezuko and Genya kept in touch via letters. As Nezuko trained in Sun Breathing (which is what they were calling the Hinokami Kagura), her scarred friend had pulled out almost every record his family kept for generations to piece together the Chronicles Shizu destroyed. Their letters often were just Nezuko rambling about her annoyances - mostly concerning Inosuke and Zenitsu’s antics - which Genya found very entertaining, but they both enjoyed it. Nezuko liked watching Genya’s responses become gradually more energetic and include good news about Shizu.

    Summer came and went, a chilly breeze coming with the changing of the leaves. The Kakushi working at the Fox Mansion shifted around and Nezuko said goodbye to her friend Ozaki. The young woman was being reassigned into the field, but promised to come back once her mission was done. Nezuko worried a little, but since Kakushi never got involved in fights, she was assured that her friend would be alright. So she continued to train, continued to grow stronger.

    Missions came steadily to Nezuko and her friends. Sometimes she would go out with one or both of her friends, other times it was just her and Tanjiro. Some missions were like the one she found herself on now. It was four months since the night Sanemi died. Nezuko wore a straw hat over her head as she approached the barn, the rainclouds pouring and covering the moon. She had chased the demon inside to the small farm and held her sword at her side, ready to attack.

    Tanjiro stood behind her, claws sharp and ready to attack. They observed that their prey had incredible speed, they needed to keep their eyes peeled.

    The siblings shared a nod and the demon boy dashed around the side of the barn, ready to prevent the demon from escaping. Nezuko pulled the barn door open and peered inside. If the demon tried to run again, she would have to resort to using her Vermillion Eyes technique and she really didn’t want to do that. Her left eye still hadn’t gone back to its original color since her fight against Lady Tamayo almost half a year prior.

    The demon stood at the back of the barn, yellow snake-like eyes darting around to find an escape. His blue tattoos were covered in a nervous sweat.

    “You, demon, are to be executed by the Demon Slayer Corps.” Nezuko’s voice was firm. “Do you repent for the sins you have committed?”

    The bald demon snapped his teeth at her and his tattoos glowed softly. He was about to use his Blood Demon Art again. Nezuko took a deep breath and held her sword up. 

    “I’ll take that as a no.”

    They moved at the same time. They dashed at each other and the swordswoman brought her sword up to strike. The demon was a blur of blue as it changed directions and launched itself out a window. Nezuko turned to give chase as she heard several popping noises from outside the barn and smelled smoke hit rain.

    Tanjiro was effective with his Blood Demon Art, Nezuko had discovered. He had no problem summoning pink flames in the palms of his hands to strike opponents with. Nezuko liked that the flames matched her brother’s hair, it was cute.

    Currently, her demon brother stood over their tattooed prey, flames flickering and dancing around his fingertips as the blue skinned demon grabbed at his face in pain. Nezuko was quick to remove the demon’s head and the two let out sighs of relief. It would have been a pain to run after it again.

    From the house nearby, a light flickered to life and voices could be heard. Both siblings shared a look before Nezuko returned her sword to her sheath and jumped onto her brother’s back, him using his inhuman strength to run as fast as he could away from the scene.

    They ran for a while until they realized the sun was coming up and swapped places. Tanjiro shrunk and slid into his box and Nezuko hoisted him onto her back. She made the rest of the journey back to the Fox Mansion on foot, singing to herself as she walked.

    The sun was high in the sky, greeting the cool morning happily, by the time the walls of the estate came into view. Nezuko sighed as she sped up her walk, excited to see her friends again.

    “No! Put me down!” A little girl shrieked.

    Nezuko smelled panic, but no monsters. It was a sunny day, what was happening? She broke into a sprint and slid around the mansion’s walls to an odd sight.

    A tall man wearing a white version of the Demon Slayer uniform with bushy blonde hair tied down his back held a thrashing Teruko and Makomo under his arms. He stood on one foot, the other raised in the air as he pushed back Teruko’s older brothers Shoichi and Kiyoshi. The man smelled heavily of Wisteria, like he bathed in perfumes.

    “Put them down!” Nezuko barked.

    Makomo glanced up and smiled at her. “There you are! Come talk some sense into this man!”

    “Silence!” The man’s voice was silky. “Your brother said that you would volunteer for the mission! And I quote dear Lord Tomioka: ‘ If there is anyone else you need to consult, simply stop by my Estate and skip conversing with me.’ See?”

    “This isn’t what he meant!”

    Kiyoshi rushed the man again, but was kicked aside. “Bastard! Give me my sister back!”

    Nezuko’s expression turned to a glare and her hand went to her sword. “Put the girls down, now.”

    “And why would I do that?” The man managed to spin around on one foot to reveal his rainbow colored eyes. Nezuko recognized him now. His lips curled over his sharp teeth evilly. “Who are you to stop me, little girl?”

    “Put them down! Teruko is a ward of the Fox Mansion, she’s not a Demon Slayer!” Nezuko ordered again. “She can’t go on missions!”

    The rainbow-eyed man considered it for a second before he let go of the squirming girl, dropping her on her stomach. “You’re right. However, I’m in need of female Demon Slayers for this mission. Miss Tsugoku Tomioka will have to do.” He threw Makomo over his shoulder and put his foot down. “I would not advise you get in the way of a Hashira, deary.”

    Nezuko moved to Teruko’s side and helped her up, standing between the children and the blonde man. “Any man, regardless of Hashira status, who hurts little girls has no respect of mine! I don’t respect you as a Hashira!”

    “Yeah!” Shoichi agreed behind her.

    “Get lost, loser!” Kiyoshi cheered.

    “L-Loser?!” The Hashira glared. “Me?! A loser?! I am the furthest thing from! Do you know who I am?! I am Hashira Kibutsuji Douma!”

    Nezuko stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t care! Put Makomo down!”

    Makomo kicked her legs back and forth. “Yes, can we put Makomo down?”

    Douma and Nezuko held an intense eye contact. She kicked off with her strong legs, arm out to grab the Tsugoku, but Douma was faster. Much, much faster. He stepped out of her reach and managed to jump into the air with minimal effort, landing perfectly perched on the wall of the Fox Mansion.

    “You’ll have to try harder than that, Miss Kamado!” He slapped Makomo’s rear end, making her squeak.

    Nezuko smelled the people approaching the gate change their walk into a run. Good. She knew who they were.

    “Good thing it’s not just me then, huh?” She smirked.

    Zenitsu and Inosuke launched themselves to the top of the wall, hands on their swords, surrounding Douma. The Hashira looked between them with a frown. As they leaped at him, Douma let himself slip out of their hands and onto the road leading up to the mansion. As he did, Makomo managed to wriggle out his grasp and stood a distance away. Nezuko jogged to them as her friends jumped down from the wall and the three formed a triangle.

    Douma sighed and put his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine, but who will go in her place, hmm? I need female Demon Slayers for my mission and it is of utmost importance.”

    Nezuko held her chin high. “Then I’ll go, take me.”

    The Hashira hummed. “Yes, you will do, your face is good enough, bu-u-u-u-ut…” his eyes danced over to Inosuke. “My mission requires more than one. Would your darling yet strangely buff friend be interested?”

    Inosuke rolled up his sleeves and started to stomp towards Douma, Zenitsu needing to jump to hold him back. “What did you say?! Huh!? I’m no woman!”

    “Well not with that attitude.” The blonde man remarked. “What if I were to tell you that my mission will bring you in contact with an Upper Rank demon?”

    As his final words rolled off his lips, the four young Demon Slayers froze. Nezuko smelled the fear on Makomo, the fury on Zenitsu and the excitement on Inosuke.

    Her boys had wide smiles on their faces. “We’re in!” 

Chapter Text

    “Let’s get one thing straight.” Douma ordered. “I am your superior officer on this mission. As of now, anything I say should be taken as gospel. I am a priest and you all are simple-minded sheeple. If I say ‘jump’, you ask ‘how high’. If I say ‘run’, you ask ‘how far’. If I say to throw yourselves off a roof and die, you say ‘yes sir!’ Got it?”

    The three Demon Slayers struggling to keep up with his fast march made various noises of agreement, all of them regretting their decision to follow the rainbow-eyed man in some fashion. The sun was just beginning to set, the afternoon still new, as they approached an inn on the side of the road. Douma had yet to explain the details of the mission, only sharing that the mission might span several weeks and that it involved minimal combat.

    They checked into a room and shed their swords. Douma flopped down onto a mat casually as the younger swordsmen knelt before him. “Look, kids, this mission is strictly a search-and-rescue one. Over the past few months, Demon Slayers have been disappearing in the Yoshiwara Entertainment District and it’s on us to find them. Does that make sense?”

    They nodded. Nezuko was still annoyed that she couldn’t smell this man’s emotions, only Wisteria. She remembered Douma from her first encounters with the other Hashira, how he had Tanjiro nearly kill himself to prove his innocence. Nezuko wondered if, like Sanemi, she would grow to understand and like this man. Having powerful allies would help her goal of killing the king of demons.

    Douma pointed his manicured fingers at them. “So the likes of you will be put into the pleasure houses to find me a little girl.”

    It was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop on silk. Inosuke made a disgusted face. “What the hell is wrong with you?! We’re not going to no brothels to find you a little girl, you sicko!”

    Zenitsu, who had been silent the entire trip, held up a hand. “Shut up for a second, let him explain.”

    Nezuko wondered what her yellow haired friend could hear from the Hashira. He smelled concerned for the man. Douma smiled. “Thank you, now as I was saying: I’ve had Demon Slayers and Kakushi alike going into Yoshiwara to draw out the demon prowing there, but my most recent and frankly valuable informant went off-grid a week ago. You see, I don’t care what happens to the other people I put undercover. However, if something happens to my younger informant…” He leaned forward, eyes piercing the souls of those kneeling before him. “I will flatten the entire district.”

    The pink-eyed girl didn’t need to be able to smell him to know he meant it. Inosuke gulped. “So, we can start by learning more about her and where you last spoke to her, yeah?”

    The Hashira leaned back. “True. She floated as a servant between three of the biggest houses in the district. Short little thing with brown hair, very stubborn. Her name is Kiriena.”

    Nezuko’s jaw hung open as her voice came out as a shriek. “Kibutsuji Kiriena?!”

    “The one and only.” Douma’s expression never changed from slightly amused.

    Zenitsu coughed. “Who is that?”

    Nezuko was fuming. “You sent the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps’ young daughter into a Red Light District to hunt for an Upper Rank Demon and you lost her?!”

    The Hashira held up his hands. “I admit, I messed up on this one.”

    “Yeah, no shit!”

    Inosuke put himself in front of his seething friend. “Okay, okay, we’ll find her. What about the demon?”

    “Oh, we need to find that as well.” Douma thought out loud. “First priority is the girl. If you find the demon, you are not to engage. That is where I step in. I will be searching day and night around while the three of you blend in with the servants of the houses, does that make sense?”

    “And how are we supposed to do that?” The green-eyed boy tilted his head.

    Inosuke regretted asking. It was only a few minutes before Douma was gripping his chin and plastering his face with paints and powders. He struggled and gnashed his teeth, but the Hashira was unbothered. Hell, he looked like he was enjoying the challenge. It was like putting lipstick on a pig.

    Nezuko sat with her eyes closed as Zenitsu delicately painted her face. “How do you know how to do this?”

    Zenitsu was happy she couldn't see the way his cheeks flushed. “I’m from Edomura. I was raised by a traveling thespian group and since I couldn’t sing, I was put in the costume department. That’s how my wife and I met.”

    “So you're an expert in this type of stuff? That’s so cool!” She smiled slightly, careful to not mess up her face. “Hashira Kibutsuji?”

    “Please, just call me Hashira Douma, wouldn’t want you to confuse me with my brother now.” The blonde man glanced over with a smile as he knelt on Inosuke’s chest to pull his hair into a tiny ponytail on top of his head.

    “Hashira Douma, do you know what our exact roles will be in this?”

    Douma thought for a second, pulling his hand back so that the thrashing boy under him didn’t bite off his thumb. “The three of you will be placed in the three houses that I’ve narrowed down to be where the demon lives. While you search for Kiriena, you’ll pose as servants in these houses. Basic chores may involve playing instruments, mending clothing, cleaning, simple things. Just keep your eyes and ears open and report back to me when I come calling.”

    “And if we find the demon?” Zenitsu raised an eyebrow.

    The Hashira put his hand on Inosuke’s forehead to hold him down and used his other hand to reach into a pocket of his white hakama pants. He produced three pale blue knives and handed one to each of his underlings. “Nichirin daggers. Won’t do you much in a fight if you don’t know how to use it, but it’s a way to defend yourself if you get into a sticky situation.”

    Inosuke held up his knife in front of his eyes. “It’s blue, you a Water Breather?”

    “Ice, my dear.” Douma smiled. “A very versatile technique I cultivated myself. I can even perform it while standing on one hand.”

    Nezuko tucked her knife into a pocket of her haori. “Sanemi mentioned it when we officially met. He said that it stemmed from Stone Breathing, but that he wasn’t sure.”

    The Hashira threw his head back and laughed. “Oh poor little Sanemi! Yes, Ice Breathing is an extension of Stone Breathing, but with a twist of Water in it. Some dare say that it’s unpredictable and that I come up with forms on the fly, I think it mirrors me perfectly!”

    The green-eyed boy put his knife away as well. “I’m a Stone Breather! I was trained by Urokodaki Sakonji! Let’s train together!”

    Zenitsu sat back away from Nezuko, admiring how he covered up her scar with enough makeup. “Don’t you only know two forms?”

    “I’m learning, buzz-kill!”

    Nezuko giggled as Douma finally released Inosuke and had Zenitsu sit in front of him so that he could get his face done as well. “While in Yoshiwara, you boys will do your best to be perfect little girls, got it? Stone boy, you will be called ‘Inoko’. Yellow eyes, you are now ‘Zenko’. Do you understand?”

    Inosuke resisted licking his lips. “And what about Nezuko? Does she change her name too?”

    “Why would she? She’s already a girl.”

    Zenitsu made an agreeing noise. “You two should be aware of the social structures of these places going into this. Each house has a head courtesan, an Oiran. Oirans are the most beautiful, most talented girls of their houses, often being able to play a number of instruments, sing, dance, perform calligraphy and create art.”

    “Correct.” Douma commented. “The three of you will be placed in the top houses of Yoshiwara, some of which are known for their peticular Oirans, so try not to blow your cover immediately. These women just work there, be kind. Many of the courtesans are just trying to pay off their debts that landed them in the houses in the first place.”

    The dark haired Demon Slayers nodded. Douma’s next step was to dress them in beautiful kimonos, ready to be presented to the houses. Nezuko had never seen such expensive clothing before, much less been allowed to wear it. She stood alone in a washroom, a small area she had been dedicated to change in privacy, and looked at herself in a mirror provided for her. Zenitsu had done a wonderful job hiding the scar on her jaw and her short hair was waxed into a tiny updo. Her pink kimono was adorned with tiny false pearls making swirling patterns near her feet and edges of her sleeves. The silk belt around her waist was a pure white, giving her an innocent look. Nezuko kissed the scars circling her wrists for good luck, gave herself a confident smile, and returned to her friends.

    Inosuke and Zenitsu - Inoko and Zenko, if you will - waited wearing blue and yellow kimonos respectively. 

    “Aww, you two look beautiful!”

    While Zenitsu smiled stiffly, Inosuke looked ready to claw off his clothing and spat in people’s faces. Douma appeared from another room with his hair down and wearing a loose, pale pink kimono. His stench of Wisteria was even stronger now, like he had applied an entire bottle of perfume to himself as he got ready. “Who’s ready to be sold to a brothel?”

    Nezuko was reminded of the lights and sounds of Asakusa as the topless coach she and her companions sat in rolled through the lively streets of Yoshiwara. Beautiful women with waxed hair and painted faces called and waves from balconies, music drifted from windows and open doors and it was all illuminated by red lanterns and lamps hanging between the rooftops.

    Douma had the carriage halt and the four of them slipped out. He led them through the crowd, keeping his hands on them to keep the group together. “Our goal is to get you into the Tokito, the Kyogoku and the Ogimoto houses. Keep your eyes peeled for their owners and make yourselves look hireable.”

    As they walked, a group of courtesans whistled and waved at them. 

    “Yoohoo! Douma-Sama! Are you here for another vacation?”

    “Mister Douma! Over here!”

    “Would you like to come listen to our shamisen again, Douma?”

    Ignoring the appalled and disgusted faces of his underlings, Douma waved the girls off with a polite smile. “Not this time ladies, I’m afraid I need homes for these girls here.”

    Zenitsu and his friends stared at him, unimpressed. The Hashira shrugged. “What? If I am going to be constantly searching this place for Kiriena, I have to have some sort of cover.”

    “You’re disgusting.” Inosuke growled.

    “Perhaps… where’s Nezuko?”

    Their pink-eyed friend had vanished. 

    They found Nezuko a distance ahead, helping lift luggage from a carriage and into a large house. Tanjiro’s box perched on her back, she was efficient in moving the larger luggage pieces first for the other servants who seemed to struggle. Douma grinned and moved next to an older couple who watched intently.

    “My, my, looks like my little Nezuko is keen on helping even before I can sell her~” His voice was smoother than silk.

    The older lady blushed and put her hand on her cheek. “Yes she is, and she’s for sale? I need more girls willing to do hard work. So many of them are committing Ashinuke these days, it’s hard to keep them around.”

    “You’re in luck, madam,” Douma gestured at Nezuko, “because she’s as cheap as they come. She’s working off a debt her brother racked up for her that I’ve taken responsibility over. If I were to leave her with the esteemed Kyogoku House, would you promise to take care of her for me?”

    “Of course! In fact, she can start working immediately!” The woman’s husband laughed. “Come with us, we can discuss details. Soyokaze’s procession is about to begin.”

    Zenitsu and Inosuke stood awkwardly to the side as the couple led Douma and Nezuko inside their building. As they waited, the crowd in the street parted with the sound of a drum. Zenitsu perked up and he grabbed onto his friend excitingly. “Look! An oiran procession!”

    Slowly moving, a group of glamorous men and women of various ages marched up the street. The tallest of the parade, a beautiful woman standing on giant shoes with a parasol held over her hair, slid her feet across the ground. Her foot slid out, crossed in front of the other, pulled back and then took a step. Her other foot did the same, mirroring her own actions. Her steps lined up with the clanging of bells and beat of a drum. Young assistants surrounded her in the straight line they formed, only making the woman look more graceful and elegant than she already did.

    An old woman next to Zenitsu sighed. “The Oiran of the Kyogoku House, Miss Soyokaze, she’s really something else. Her walk matches next to none in all of Yoshiwara. Look, she’s on her way to meet her next client. How lucky of her house to have a beauty like her.”

    Zenitsu nodded, studying the oiran’s face. “It seems her makeup is heavily applied on her cheeks, giving her face a more rounded, youthful look. It balances her rounder eyebrows and the crease of her hairline.”

    The woman examined him, scrutinizing his face and posture. “Miss… have you ever considered taking vocal lessons to raise the pitch of your voice?”

    He panicked, remembering that he was supposed to be mimicking a woman. Zenitsu pushed his voice into a crappy falsetto. “Uh, well, I took some when I was younger, but they didn’t work very well, hehehehe…”

    The woman was not deterred. “You seem very knowledgeable in our practices, how would you like a job at the Ogimoto House? I can provide vocal lessons to help improve your tone.”

    That’s one of the houses the Hashira wants us in!

    “Of course!” Zenitsu kept his voice high, feeling it wanting, straining to crack. “I would love an opportunity to study at such a prestigious place!”

    By the time Douma returned, the procession was over and Inosuke was alone.

    “Where is our little Zenko?” He tapped his foot, visibly annoyed.

    Insouke pointed in the direction he was led away in. “Ogimoto place.”

    “Then that leaves you in the Tokito house. Good, that’s where Kiriena was last stationed before she cut contact.” He grabbed Inosuke by the arm and started to drag him across the street. 

    It took a lot of arguing and bartering with the woman who ran the Tokito house to finally get him to hire “Inoko”, but in the end Douma was successful. He made Inosuke swear to never speak, his voice would give him away as being a man in disguise. Zenitsu could fake it, Nezuko had no issues, but Inosuke had the gruffest voice of them all.

    Just like that the three of them had infiltrated the Yoshiwara Entertainment District.

    Nezuko was happy to be of service in the Kyogoku House. They gave her a small room in the attic and immediately assigned her chores. Tanjiro was happy to sit in the room, hiding in his box when someone came near, and sleep the days away. In the daytime, Yoshiwara would fall asleep. There would be no customers, only preparations for the next night.

    The head chaperone for her house was quick to notice Nezuko’s adeptness with sewing. If she wasn’t transporting heavy luggage to various rooms, she was sitting with the younger servant girls repairing torn sleeves and collars.

    At first, Tanjiro was not even remotely happy to wake up inside a pleasure house. He was visibly pissed off at Douma for selling his sister, but Nezuko was quick to assure him that it was a mission.

    However, her work hadn’t been completely problem-free. When her new boss wiped her makeup from her face, she nearly lost her mind at Nezuko’s scar. Since then, the pink-eyed girl didn’t make many appearances in the front of the house. Rather, she was reassigned behind the scenes and focused on her sewing.

    The little girls she worked with seemed to be happy with their positions. Nezuko learned that this was mostly caused by the oiran of the house and her kind soul. Nezuko learned many good things about the illustrious Soyokaze: that she was gentle with children, that she was a skilled musician, that she always carried candy in her pockets. Nezuko wanted to meet her as soon as possible.

    Inosuke was having a different experience. Douma’s selling point for getting him into the Tokito House was that “Miss Inoko is quiet and charming”. The young man was insulted. He was stuck in the music rooms, polishing and upkeep instruments for the courtesans to use. He could have been assigned physical labor to do, but he wasn’t. He often even had to meet with customers and lead them to specific rooms. His unfortunately effeminate face was keeping him in rooms full of people he did not want to meet.

    Through the whispers behind doors and rumblings in the walls, Inosuke learned a little about the oiran of his house. She was beautiful, rivaling Soyokaze of Nezuko’s employers, but also cruel to the staff of the house. She often did not come out of her room during the day and her nights were spent being picky about her clients and who she spoke to. Inosuke was happy to never run into someone like her. Lady Kokushibo could go take a fucking hike for all he cared.

    One day, as he moved from room to room, Inosuke heard one of the courtesans throw down an object and storm out of her room, fuming at some invisible being. He slipped into the room to find a beautiful 25-string koto sitting in the middle of the floor, various fingerpicks scattered around haphazardly. Two of the strings had snapped.

    Who would break something this cool? Stupid bitch.

    He located extra twine for strings, repaired the instrument and bent over to retrieve the picks. As he moved to store them away, his eyes fell back on the expertly made koto.

~~~

    A beautiful plucking sound filled the house on the top of the hill. Inosuke sat in his mother’s lap as she guided his hands across the instrument. As the young boy drew music from the koto, Kotoha sang a sweet lullaby in his ears, adjusted his posture and aided his technique.

    “A stone is not just a hard rock too stubborn to move,” she instructed, “it is also a beautiful mix of veins streaming from all over the place. Crack a stone open and you can find beautiful gems. Sit it in a river and it will smooth down to feel gentle to the touch.”

    Inosuke switched back and forth between focusing on the koto and his mother. She kissed his hair and raised his elbows. “Let yourself be sanded down, smooth out your rough edges. Perhaps your inner serenity will be revealed through time, not hardships.”

    The boy kept plucking away, carrying a tune that sent pleasant vibrations all around the house as his master and upperclassman trained at the bottom of the hill. By the time the song ended and his mother finished singing, Inosuke realized that Kotoha had removed her hands and let him finish by himself. He beamed proudly at her, matching green eyes meeting each other.

    “How’d I do?”

    She kissed his hair. “Beautifully.”

~~~

    Inosuke was slipping the fingerpicks on before he realized what he was doing and knelt before the instrument. It was methodic, practiced, how his hands rested over the strings and he tenderly plucked the first note.

    One note after another, he recreated the first folk song he was taught. The vibrations from the instrument comforted him, cleared his mind. He smiled softly, imagining his mother’s hands correcting him, her voice calming him. He remembered the nights they would spend making music as the other men in the house would sit by a fire and relax.

    The melody finished before he realized it and someone sniffled from the door. Inosuke snapped his head around, biting his tongue to keep from shouting, to see the woman who ran his house and several other employees crying.

    “Inoko, why didn’t you tell us you could play?” The woman wiped her eyes. Inosuke remembered hearing that her husband had thrown himself from the roof only a few days prior. “Would you tell us where you learned to play like that?”

    He panicked, not knowing how to respond. Inosuke was quick to shrug and tap his heart, hoping that his vague gestures could spin some story. One of the courtesans crowding the door giggled. “Remember, she’s mute. I think her mother taught her.”

    Inosuke nodded, glad that he got his crude message through. Unfortunately, his boss was impressed by his skills and now he was assigned to perform every evening.

    Zenitsu was having fun. He fell into a rhythm of helping courtesans with their attire, instructing the younger girls where to stand, learning how to raise his voice and delivering food around the house. His routine reminded him of his life before he eloped with his wife, a little boy scurrying around the theater with cloth tied over his sensitive ears running costumes and supplies to the performers.

    However, a drawback of running around the bustling Ogimoto House was that all the muffled noises were messing with his hearing. Sleeping at night was near impossible, discerning unique sounds as he walked was a challenge. Hunting the Upper Rank demon that dwelled here would be difficult.

    He kept his mask with his belongings in the small room he was allotted. The first few days he worked in the house, he had to hold it over his face until he got used to all the constant noises. Zenitsu had to learn to manage the noise, or he would become a liability on this mission. 

    Who in their right mind would send a little girl undercover for such a dangerous mission?

    Two girls he passed whispered among themselves. 

    “Did you hear that Ozaki’s fallen ill?”

    “Don’t be silly, she’s a doctor! I bet she’s trying to commit Ashinuke. It seems everyone is nowadays.”

    Zenitsu knew that name. That name belonged to one of Nezuko’s Kakushi friends. That lady must have been called on by Douma previously.

    “Umm, excuse me?” He stopped and walked back to the gossiping girls with his falsetto ready. “Did you say Miss Ozaki isn’t feeling well?”

    “Oh hey there, Zenko.” One of the girls smiled. “You’re right, she’s been in her room for days before you got here.”

    The other girl huffed. “And I’m telling you that she’s fine. She’s got medical training, she’s either trying to sneak out or is quarantining herself.”

    Zenitsu nodded. “I’ll take her some food later, thank you.”

    “You’re so sweet, Zenko!”

    He bowed to them and shuffled away to finish his assigned chores. He felt proud of himself for locating one of the missing Demon Slayers. He planned to drop by later to make sure Ozaki was alright and then signal Douma - who was prowling the district day and night - to come and pull her out.

    Ozaki’s room was quiet. Silent. The windows were covered in heavy, black drapes. In fact, everything was covered in heavy fabrics. They hung from the ceiling, creating a heavy maze that would turn anyone who ventured inside around and back towards the door.

    All to hide the horrifying image in the back of the room.

    Ozaki was upside down, eyes furrowed in pain as her hair and sweat touched the ground. She was suspended by thinner versions of the drapes around her room. Blood dribbled from where they touched her. Each time they shifted, it was like sandpaper against her skin. A soft, sultry voice floated through her ears, ignoring her pained noises that were muffled behind the rough fabric gagging her.

    “How long will you keep this up~? Tell me where the girl is and it will all be over. I might even kill you quickly, how does that sound~?”

Chapter Text

    Douma sat on a rooftop, the sun in the sky, and watched the workers of the Red Light District scuttle around below him. His rainbow eyes hid what he was thinking, his lips forming a natural smile. Metal fans stuck out of the belt of his white pants, his sword sat next to him and a sparrow fluttered around his head.

    “Tell my dear brother that the investigation in Yoshiwara is slowly approaching its climax. And prepare the mice.” He spoke calmly. “Oh, and tell him Kiriena and her husband wish him the best, but that they’re sorry they cannot return to the Headquarters for her birthday. That is all.”

    The sparrow chirped and flew away. Douma sighed softly and stared into the sky. He had meant it when he said he would flatten the district if Kiriena were to be harmed. He didn’t understand why his stomach twisted at the thought of his niece being hurt, nor did he understand why he felt guilt creeping up his back for letting Kiriena be put into a situation like this. These were alien experiences to the Ice Hashira. Was his cold heart finally melting? He itched the inside of his right forearm. 

    Shame, I would have liked to remain indifferent for a little while longer. I hate it when I feel like this.

    Douma could only name two other times in his life that he felt his stomach twist so negatively. Both times were absolutely miserable. Was this the price he paid for being a human? 

    Oh well. Time to get back to work.

    Inosuke wandered around the Tokito House, bored out of his mind. He was done with his chores, he searched the place top to bottom for any signs of a demon, he subtly asked around for missing Demon Slayers. Nothing came of his searches like usual, but he still did it.

    I wonder what Tanjiro is doing right now…

    Insouke had noticed how often he was thinking about his demon friend. During the four months between this moment and when Sanemi died, the two had gone on a few missions together and gotten to spend a lot of time together. The green-eyed boy couldn’t deny that being around Tanjiro secured him, but was there a word for how his stomach jumped when he thought about him?

    I could also just be sick. I want to fight something.

    He was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of a little girl crying softly. Inosuke located the source of the sound to find a tiny servant girl desperately trying to scrub lipstick stains off of a floor mat in a very well decorated room. However, the room was in a state of disarray with furniture knocked over haphazardly.

    Inosuke stepped in and knelt down next to the girl, silently asking if he could help her. He recognized this child, she was hired only a little after he was. She wiped her eyes only to widen them at him. “Miss Inoko! You-You can’t be here! I have to clean up the oiran’s room before she gets mad again!”

    His heart broke at how her voice shook in fear. Shaking his head, he got up and started to upright heavy furniture for her. During his time here, he was lucky to avoid being in the house at the same time as the resident oiran. Part of him wondered just what made her so mad as to demolish her entire room.

    “What do you think you’re doing in here?” The presence snuck up on Inosuke, the voice seeping into his ears evilly, cruelly. His entire body shuddered as the intense vibrations of a powerful entity smacked his senses.

    He turned around to gaze upon the woman at the door. She was short with bright teal eyes, her black hair was styled beautifully above her head, her kimono was made of fine black and blue silks and satin and her skin was as pale as snow.

    The servant girl cowered on the floor. “L-Lady Kokushibo! I’m so sorry, I’ll have this cleaned up! Miss Inoko just wanted to help me-” Her voice was cut off by a shrill scream.

    Inosuke watched as Kokushibo grabbed the girl by her ear and lifted her into the air. “No one is allowed into my room. No one. Why do you always mess everything up? Useless. Worthless. It’s no wonder your mommy and daddy didn’t want you.”

    Blood trickled from her ear as the girl cried in pain. Inosuke moved before he realized what he was doing and grabbed Kokushibo’s arm, his voice coming out as a hiss between gritted teeth. “Let her go right now.”

    The oiran released the bleeding girl and made eye contact with the Demon Slayer. It was the most intense presence he had ever felt. It was suffocating, crushing, invading. Inosuke wanted to let go of her and run away and crawl into bed, but what type of coward would he be to do that?

    He blinked and he was on the floor, back smashed into a wooden dresser and bleeding from cuts on his cheek. Inosuke gasped for air as the pain hit him a second later. He hadn’t even realized Kokushibo had backhanded him until it already happened. She sneered at him with an untold fury.

    “Put your hand on me again and I will not be as merciful.” Kokushibo snarled.

    A woman fell to her knees at the door, it was the owner of the house. “Miss Kokushibo, please, they’re new hires! They didn’t know what they were doing! Forgive them, please!”

    Inosuke’s vision was blurring from hitting his head. He watched the oiran cast him another cutting glare before she gathered herself and left. Inosuke had a feeling that they were thinking the exact same thing.

    I know exactly what you are.

    Zenitsu carried a tray of warm tea and food through the hallways of the Ogimoto House. No one was able to tell him why Ozaki was sick and part of him wondered if it was as the gossipers said, if she had run away and escaped with her life.

    No, the closer I get to her room, the more I can hear her. Ozaki is here, but she sounds weak.

    He approached her door and pressed his ear to the panel, listening for any movement, any heartbeats. He heard a weak one, it sounded muffled.

    Quietly, Zenitsu set the food down and slid the door open to find the room was completely dark. Heavy drapes hung over the windows and no lanterns were lit. He wrapped his fingers around the blue knife he had been lended by Douma in his pocket and slipped inside, sliding his feet across the floor to not make a sound.

    He ducked around the fabrics hanging from the ceiling, careful to not touch a single one. He had never seen heavy fabrics like them before and he didn’t trust them. Zenitsu was sure he had just entered the trap of a demon. Something shifted at the back of the room. He snapped his head in the direction of the noise to barely see the outline of a drape sliding into the rafters and darting away.

    There it goes!

    Zenitsu darted back out of the room, ears straining for the sound of the mysterious yet obviously demonic fabric escaping through the walls.

    So that’s how it gets around, it’s skinny enough to fit through all the buildings.

    He skidded around corners and stairs, following the demon drape until it suddenly dove down into the ground and vanished. He cursed loudly and stomped his foot into the wooden flooring, furious that he could have done nothing to prevent its escape with Ozaki.

    Zenitsu needed backup.

    Nezuko hummed to herself as she carried spools of fabric through her house. The couple who owned her house had taken a liking to her sewing skills and asked her to repair clothing belonging to the Kyogoku House’s oiran, Soyokaze.

    She trekked up a flight of stairs to the oiran’s room and knocked softly on the door. “Lady Soyokaze? I’ve brought you the silk you requested.”

    A soft voice floated through the door, followed by the giggles of little girls. “Come in!”

    The pink-eyed girl slid the door open to find an absolutely beautiful woman sitting in front of a mirror brushing the hair of one of the young servant girls in the house, a second girl popping a piece of candy into her mouth nearby. Nezuko smelled a kind scent like honey, sweet and filling. Soyokaze’s face was as packed with makeup as Nezuko had ever seen and her hair was waxed up like she was about to leave for a procession. The satin robe she wore, clearly a leisure one, hung off of her loosely, comfortably.

    Nezuko found her voice lost in her throat. “I… I’ll just leave these here for you, ma’am.”

    Soyokaze smiled and held out a hand. “Bring them here, will you? I’m afraid I haven’t met you yet. You’re the new hire, correct?”

    The young girl nodded and knelt down beside the oiran, setting down the fabrics as she did. “I’m Nezuko, it’s an honor to meet you.”

    “Please,” the oiran smiled warmly, Nezuko’s heart pounded in her throat, “the honor is mine. I’ve heard all about how you help around the house. A girl your age with such strength is almost unheard of.”

    Nezuko blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear, brushing her earring. “It’s nothing, I was raised by charcoal makers before my father died and had only brothers so I just had to keep up.”

    Soyokaze laughed and plucked a piece of candy from her pocket to press into Nezuko’s calloused hands. “Here, for all your hard work.”

    “Thank you, ma’am, you’re very kind.” Nezuko popped the piece into her mouth, nearly drooling over the sweet sugar taste.

    “I believe all good acts yield rewards. Don’t think too hard about it.” The older woman winked.

    Her smile made Nezuko feel like she had known her for years, it was warm and soft. The Demon Slayer was floating as she left the room to return to her own. She realized she felt the same about the oiran as she did with Kanae from her training on Mt. Natagumo. Even though Kanae turned out to be a ghost - a concept Nezuko herself wasn’t entirely sure she understood - she was warm like an older sister. Nezuko wanted to talk to Soyokaze again as soon as possible.

A few weeks ago…

    A man stormed through the Tokito House, the full moon peeking through windows to watch him. He was absolutely furious.

    “I’ve had it up to here with you, Kokushibo!” He barked as he marched down the halls, approaching a decorated door on the top floor. “Two more girls committed Ashinuke because of you! I don’t care how beautiful you are, you’re--”

    He swung her door open and froze, finding the short oiran kneeling over a bloody woman with the metallic-smelling liquid dripping from her painted lips. The man froze at the sight of the scene, mouth agape and words stuttering.

    Kokushibo pulled her head up, licking her lips and looking bored at the owner of the house. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

    “I…” The man stammered in horror, pointing a finger at her. “I knew there was something off about you! In the District’s history, a beautiful woman who never aged who took on various aliases that all had something to do with poetry worked in the houses, eating people who discovered her secret! T-That’s you, isn’t it! I’ll expose you! I’ll tell everyone what you are!”

    She rose, putting her arms out to the side to let the large sleeves of her silk kimono float around her like the wind billowed through them. The man blinked and found himself outside on the roof of the Tokito House with the short woman standing before him. 

    Kokushibo’s appearance had changed. Her hair fell from her waxed bun, the pupils of her teal eyes were replaced with the words “ Upper Six ”, her black and blue robe had been shredded into some sort of form-fitting unitard but kept its giant sleeves. She had an inhuman aura about her; dangerous, cruel. Completely evil.

    The man blinked again and found himself suspended in the air. Kokushibo’s left sleeve had formed a pillar for her to lean against as the right grew to wrap the poor man up and dangle him by the neck. He gasped for air, shivering in terror and clawing at the thick, itchy fabric asphixiating him as Kokushibo cupped his face tenderly, her long talon-like nails digging into his skin.

    “Poor thing, are you scared of heights?” She giggled, her eyes gleaming in the lights of the district. “You were right about my history, I’ll give you that. It’s so nice to finally have someone to confide in! But there’s a little something you should know about your house before I let you down~”

    She leaned in and whispered in his ear sweetly. It was a false sweetness, dripping like sap from a tree waiting to trap unsuspecting insects in her grasp. The man’s eyes bulged from both shock and a lack of oxygen before the tight cloth around his neck released him and dropped him all the way back down to the bustling street below.

    Kokushibo giggled as humans shrieked and crowded around the corpse before she felt a tugging in her mind. Using her sleeves like grappling hooks, she vaulted herself across the District to a smaller house with dark windows. It was out of business.

    The short demon slid into a window and fell to her knees in piety, a blissful smile on her face. “My Master! The Queen-Mother!”

    Kagaya and Amane Ubuyashiki sat on a wooden bench together, returning the smaller demon’s smile with a familial kindness. Kagaya held out a hand to the Kizuki. “Yuichiro, come here.”

    The demon moved across the room and rested her head on the knees of her master, practically purring as Amane stroked her hair tenderly. “You’ve grown quite strong, my dear, possibly strong enough to be deserving of a gift like the one our lord gave to me.”

    Yuichiro’s eyes shot open in excitement. “Yes please! I’ve been very good at eating those pesky Demon Slayers and I never run away from any Hashira I meet! Please, please, please , Master, give me one of your hearts like you gave the Queen-Mother!”

    Kagaya lifted her chin despite not having eyes to see her. “In time, dear Yuichiro, but first I wanted to congratulate you on eliminating the heir of the Demon Slayer Corps. Such an achievement, to leave the Kibutsuji Family without an heir as the current Master grows fatigued with his curse, has never been done. I will give you one of my hearts if you rise the ranks of the Kizukis even more, do you understand me? Continue to prove your loyalty to this family and I shall reward you with even more of my love.”

    The short demon made a happy noise and dropped her head back in Kagaya’s lap.

Present Day…

    Inosuke regained consciousness in his rented room with various servant girls kneeling over him. He felt the tug of a bandage on his cheek as he sat up and tried to remember how he got here.

    Kokushibo launched me across a fucking room with a single slap! She’s the demon, she’s gotta be!

    He silently waved the girls attending to him away and pressed his palms to the floor, feeling the many vibrations running through the house and deciphering them. He could tell that the short oiran wasn’t human the second she appeared, he just needed to find her again.

    Douma said to call for backup if we ever came across the demon, but I can’t wait that long! She definitely knows who I am, I’ve gotta get the jump on her before she comes and kills me!

    He searched around his room for his rented knife and examined the light blue blade in the small lantern light of his room. He had no idea how much time he would have. If he could somehow sneak up on Kokushibo and cut off her head, then the problem would be solved! Easy peasy!

    Inosuke gathered himself, gripped his knife tight and slipped back out of his room. He slid his bare feet across the wooden paneling of the floor, feeling the hum of many different vibrations across the house. He did his best to single out the oiran’s, but it was faint like she was standing on one thin foot.

    Or she’s not touching the ground period and is standing on something to throw me off.

    He slipped quietly upstairs, back towards her room. He held his knife loosely now like he had been taught. Before setting off on this mission, Douma had given him a speedrun in How to Wield A Dagger and now it was coming in handy.

    Inosuke approached the room he felt Kokushibo standing in and slid the door open as silently as he could. The room was dark with heavy drapes identical to the fabrics that made the oiran’s sleeves hanging from the ceiling like curtains. Contorting his body around them, Inosuke moved his way deeper into the room, the demon vibrations throbbing in the floor and air getting stronger as he did.

    The middle of the dark room held nothing but a single heavy curtain dangling from the ceiling, rustling in a slight breeze that Inosuke could not feel. His green eyes searched around for any movement, but his blooze froze in his veins as he felt a rustling behind him.

    He had stupidly walked right into the middle of a demon’s maze.

    “SHIT!” Inosuke yelped as a heavy drape shot out at him from behind with the intention to kill. He twisted his body inhumanly around it and smacked it aside with his knife. All the drapes in the room started to shift around him, writhing like demonic snakes. Inosuke did his best to smack them away as they converged on him, but was quickly overwhelmed by the sandpaper-like fabric. He could do nothing but cuss and struggle as the drapes wrapped around his body like a coiling vice, silence filling the air as he was completely engulfed and the drapes slithered into the rafters of the ceiling like they carried nothing at all.

    All that was left behind in the still room was a blue Nichirin knife.

    The halls of the grand estate were quiet. Too quiet. No laughter filled the manion’s walls, no aromas of feasts spilled from dining halls, the place was dead. Kagaya’s mouth watered lightly as he traversed the halls, his white robes spilling behind him as he squeezed the hand of a tiny white haired girl. He could smell the scent of blood. Lots of it.

    The little girl pulled her hand free and ran ahead to the large room at the end of the hall. She slipped inside ahead of Kagaya, who approached the room with a soft smile. He expected to find the small boy in the room crying, but he simply sat on his knees in the pool of blood that did not belong to him and stared at the wall.

    The child does not wail despite the carnage around him?

    He could hear the girl whispering to the boy, taking his hand and lifting him up. Part of him swelled with joy at seeing the two children interact. 

    “Amane, have you made a friend?” He stepped closer to the pair, ignoring how the layer of blood seeping from the bodies around him soiled his white robes.

    The tiny girl smiled, missing some of her front teeth. “Yes sir! He’s gonna be my new brother!”

    “That’s absolutely wonderful, my dear.” The demon smiled back. “I’m sure he will be a splendid addition to the family.”

Chapter Text

    The sun danced behind the clouds of the warm day. Nezuko sat on the roof of her house and waited patiently for Zenitsu since Ukogi had told her he was holding an emergency meeting. She wondered what he needed and where Inosuke was. Did her masked friend locate a clue about the missing Demon Slayers?

    Nezuko fell onto her back and stared up at the sky, at the rolling clouds. Tanjiro was back at the Kyogoku House finishing some sewing for her. She itched the pink scars on her wrists, her mind drifting to the new nightmares that she associated with them.

~~~

    The pink-eyed girl watched a few droplets slip from Sanemi’s left hand, his sword held weakly in his right, almost slipping from his grasp. Then the arm fell off all together.

    The only sound was Sanemi’s breathing as the blood from his wound slowed to a stop. The air held still, anxiously anticipating his next move. 

    Nezuko’s body trembled from where she sat on her knees. The wind had died down, only Rui’s foul scent floated around. It was overwhelming, overpowering. 

~~~

    Stop it, you have a mission to complete.

    Nezuko smelled Zenitsu approaching and sat back up, brushing her hair behind her ears as she did. “Everything alright?”

    Zenitsu sat himself down next to her on the roof, yellow kimono a little wrinkled from climbing and his face painted with a little bit of makeup. “I know where the demon is.”

    “Holy shit, really?” Her two-toned eyes widened.

    Her yellow haired friend explained his encounter with the demon drapes, how it snuck into the rafters and escaped him. She could smell his frustration coming off of him in waves, so she took his hand to help him calm down.

    “When do we want to move in on it?” She asked softly.

    Zenitsu grumbled and squeezed her hand back. “Immediately. If it’s an Upper Moon like Hashira Douma thinks, we need to eliminate it as quickly as possible.”

    Nezuko frowned. “But we’re just Mizunotos, we don’t stand a chance against Upper Moons. You said that back when--”

    “I know what I said. But we’re not Mizunotos anymore. We’ve risen in the ranks.” He pulled his hand away and held it up, making a fist in front of her. “ Show Me My Rank! ”

    As he finished his chant, a red kanji appeared on the back of his hand, spelling out the word Kanoe .

    “See?” He grinned. “We’ve gotten stronger. I think we can do it. Not that we have a choice, it’s our duty to eradicate demons.”

    “Wow you two are naive.” Douma sighed.

    The two young swordsmen yelped and nearly fell off the roof as they noticed the Hashira sitting next to them. 

    “You two are only Kanoes. I’ll admit, it’s impressive how quickly you rose the ranks, but I’ve seen it be risen faster. If the two of you really think you can take an Upper Kizuki demon in a fight, then by all means go for it, but it won’t end the way you think it will.”

    Nezuko stared him down, mismatched pink eyes glaring at rainbow. “You have no idea what me and my friends are capable of. We may just impress you with our skills.”

    “Or you’ll die uneventful deaths without completing your goals.” Douma shrugged, the smell of his Wisteria perfume overpowering Nezuko’s senses. “As it stands, I am the Demon Slayer Corps’ resident demon expert. You may not trust me or like me, but I know how the demons work. Attempt to fight it alone and you will die.”

    She opened her mouth to protest, but Zenitsu clapped a hand over her face before she could say something she potentially could regret. “So then what do we need to know, sir?”

    Tanjiro glared harshly at Nezuko as she explained the plan, chopping one hand into the palm of the other to cut her off.

    “But if Inosuke’s been compromised--”

    He chopped again, this time with a gruff hum. His eyes read: “ as if I would let any of you do anything so dangerous! ”

    “Tanjiro, think about it!” She grabbed his hands. “We’ll be one step closer to defeating Ubuyashiki if we kill this demon. One step closer to getting revenge for everyone we’ve lost.”

    The demon pulled his hands away and dug out his trusty pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket. He slapped the parchment against the wall and scribbled furiously before pushing the paper into his sister’s hands.

    “And where will be your Hashira Douma during this? When he sends you and Zenitsu along ahead alone, where will he be?”

    Nezuko scoffed. “Obviously he’ll be right behind us. We’re just the bait to lure the demon out.”

    Tanjiro widened his eyes and pointed to them, the hand gesture they made up for Inosuke.

    “Zenitsu and Hashira Douma both said that they could sense him. He’s alive, probably being held captive by the demon. See? Even more reason to go take its head.”

    He didn’t look convinced. Nezuko was sure that if he could speak, he would give her a number of reasons that she and Zenitsu approaching the demon first - alone no less - was a terrible idea, but he resigned himself to shrinking down and sitting himself in his box.

    Nezuko knelt down in front of him and pat his head with a frown. “Don’t look at me like that, Tan-Chan. I, no we have done nothing but train for an opportunity like this. It’s not like we’re fresh out of Final Selection again staring the Devil in the face--”

    Tanjiro jabbed a finger into her chest in an accusatory manner. Nezuko smacked his hand away with a small smile. “Okay, yeah, that was me--”

    The tiny demon scribbled words down on a new piece of paper he pulled from a pocket within the box and shoved it in his sister’s face.

    “Yes, it was you. You carrying me into battle and rushing into danger, as always. Father made me promise to keep you safe, but this plan - if I can even call it that - keeps me from doing that. I have sat in here for weeks waiting for you to come up with a better plan than “wait for Zenitsu to draw the demon out and then jump in hoping that the Hashira provides support”. Where is he? Where is the Hashira?”

    “Tanjiro, where has all of this come from?” Nezuko sat on her knees as her brother glared at her furiously from inside his box. “Hashira Douma is searching for his niece and the other missing Demon Slayers. Zenitsu and I just have to trust that he’ll be there when he says he will be. That’s what being a Demon Slayer is about: trusting your comrades.”

    He tucked his pencil away and pulled the door to his box shut. Nezuko shook her head in disbelief and stood up, retrieving her uniform and sword that she stored in the rafters of her attic room.

    “Fine, if you’re gonna be stubborn, then so will I. Like it or not, this plan is happening. If you wanna stay in your box then so be it. I’ll just kill this demon all by myself!” She grunted as she slipped out of her expensive kimono and wiped her makeup from her face.

    Nezuko readied herself for battle, yet her stomach churned. Buttoning up her gakuran jacket was a chore, her pink haori felt weighted down and her hand shook slightly as she strapped her sword to her belt. The pink ring scars around her wrists itched and burned as she thought about the spider demon Rui.

~~~

    “You cannot hope to come out on top in a fight to the death, Sanemi.” Rui’s voice floated through the static atmosphere. His blue on red eyes narrowed slightly. “Become a demon, become my brother, and the pain will go away. Your arm would be instantly restored, your cuts sealed. Yet here you stand: bleeding, dying.”

    Nezuko tried to get to her feet, but the strength in her body vanished. Her stab wound throbbed, threatening to reopen, her wrists burned and her shoulders ached from attempting to use the Hinokami Kagura without proper training. She was useless.

~~~

    Nezuko clapped her hands to her cheeks to pull herself out of her mind and hoisted Tanjiro’s box onto her shoulders. It was an action she had performed hundreds of times, but it felt unfamiliar now.

    The sun had set, the sky was a brilliant display of orange and purples outside of the windows of the Kyogoku House. The scent of sweet honey filled the air, the scent of the oiran Soyokaze.

    Perhaps I should say goodbye to her. It would help me get out of my own head.

    She moved silently to the oiran’s room and slipped inside. If anyone in the House saw her, the demon she hunted could potentially be alerted somehow. The oiran’s room was just as it had been when she visited the day before, beautiful clothing and jewels strewn about in a perfect chaos. However, the person sitting in front of the vanity mirror was not the same beautiful woman she remembered.

    Yet, they shared the exact same scent.

    “Miss Soyokaze?” Nezuko knelt down on her knees behind this person.

    The short haired man turned around, a scratch-like scar on the side of his cheek and chin. His smile was the same one that made Nezuko feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I was wondering when you would be returning.”

    “You’re a--”

    “A man?” He giggled. “Indeed. My real name is Kumeno Masachika. Soyokaze is my stage name.”

    Nezuko glanced around the room, spying a fancy wig next to a packed trunk. “You’re leaving?”

    Masachika nodded. “Tonight is my last night in Yoshiwara. One of my regular clients has bought my contract and I am to marry his daughter next month. It’s exciting, isn’t it? Not that I won’t miss this place, but I look forward to the next chapter of my life.”

    “I’m leaving too.” She looked back at him. “I came to say goodbye.”

    “I can tell. You’re a Demon Slayer, aren’t you?”

    Nezuko nodded and bowed her head. “Leave as soon as you can. The monster I’m after is incredibly dangerous.”

    “Oh, I’m aware. I knew something was off when you first got here, before that even. New girls would go missing or commit Ashinuke without a reason. I tried to keep myself above the gossip, but you do hear things in this line of work.” He clasped his hands together in his lap with another smile. “Be careful, will you? You have such good hands, it would be a shame if you were to injure them.”

    The young swordswoman returned the oiran’s smile. “Yes ma’am-err, sir.”

    The mistress of the Tokito House sipped tea as she overlooked records spread out on the small table in front of her. Her eyes were dull, fitting of a woman whose husband had thrown himself from the roof only a few weeks prior. She still had her establishment to run, regardless of how she mourned.

    The lantern illuminating the room was blown out by a sudden gust of freezing wind. The woman nearly got up to relight it when she felt cold metal pressing against her neck.

    “W-Who’s there?” She gasped out, stiffening as the dangerous edge of a knife pressed against her soft skin.

    Out of her line of sight, rainbow eyes glowed in the dark, followed by a deep yet airy voice. “Four months ago, a young girl’s contract was leased out between your house, the Kyogoku House and the Ogimoto House. One month ago, she left the upper end of the district’s service, why?”

    The woman sweat nervously. “Y-You mean Kiriena? She was becoming sick! Yes, I remember her! She was such a hard worker, made friends with everyone, but she was getting sicker and sicker as she worked. I had her move down to the lower end of the district for her health!”

    The knife pressed harder against her skin, the man holding it growled darkly. “You had an employee come down with an illness and instead of treating her, you sent her away?”

    “Yes, yes! I did!” Her voice was frantically high. “I didn’t want to risk contamination and she insisted that she was to go!”

    “You deserve everything that is coming to you.” The knife retracted and the fiend holding it vanished with another gust of ice-cold wind.

~~~

    Douma and Kaigaku, both younger than our readers know them now, sat facing each other in a sitting room in the Kibutsuji Mansion. Kaigaku’s blue eyes burned into Douma’s panicked rainbow ones.

    “Something on your mind, Kuwajima?”

    “I still don’t know why Muzan invited you here.” He grumbled. “You--”

    “Ah, ah, ah… that’s Master to you.” Douma’s lips curled over his sharp teeth despite the nervous sweat dotting his forehead. “And why not? I am his brother, am I not? It is only fitting that both of us would be in attendance.”

    Kaigaku looked ready to snap his neck. As he shifted, probably to do just that, a young woman wearing a maroon haori over her Demon Slayer uniform stepped into the room. “Oyakata-Sama has requested Mister Kuwajima’s presence.”

    Kaigaku sneered at the rainbow-eyed boy and stood up. “Thank you, Tomioka-Chan. Tell me, how's she doing?”

    Tsutako frowned. “There was some difficulty during the procedure…” Douma’s eyes flicked over to her quickly as he itched his right forearm. “The Master has asked for you to be by his side as we finish in here.”

    The giant man followed her out, giving Douma one last malicious smile before vanishing out the door.

~~~

    Douma leaped from one dark rooftop to another, eyes shut as he ran but never stumbling. This part of Yoshiwara was desolate at best, most of the houses without bright lights and desperately needing repairs. 

    All Stone Breathers - or those who know some variant of the technique - could sense vibrations. It was an essential part of performing the technique, regardless of variant or weapon used. Douma had never seen a more acute honing of this skill besides Inosuke Hashibira, by far triumphing his own ability. However, Douma was a Hashira for a reason. And he was trained by the best of the best.

    He slid down a building and skidded to a stop in a quiet street, eyes still closed and searching with his hands as he dropped down to his knees. He pressed his palms to the ground, searching and focusing as he pinpointed a familiar heartbeat, his own heart sounding in his ears.

~~~

    “Douma-err, Mister Kibutsuji, you may come in now.” Tsutako returned a short while later.

    Douma rose to his feet a little too quickly and followed the young woman through the halls of the mansion. His blood roared in his ears and his palms sweat in a way he had never experienced before. They paused in front of a cracked open door and stood back as Kaigaku stepped out. He glared at Douma and almost didn’t move, but the voice of Rei Kibutsuji called out.

    “Is Douma there?” She sounded hoarse, exhausted. “Send him in, please.”

    Kaigaku reluctantly stepped out of the way. As Douma moved to enter the room, the blue-eyed man grabbed his arm harshly. 

    “Try anything and I’m dragging you out by your tonsils.” He snarled.

    Douma kept his eyes low, but pulled himself free to finally make his way into the room.

~~~

    The Hashira opened his eyes and darted down the street at an incomprehensible speed. He skidded to a stop in front of one run down building. His heart pounding now being the only sound he heard. Douma drew his pale blue katana and kicked the door in. 

    Inside the small ground-floor room was a small girl wrestling with something under the blanket covering her body. Douma yanked the blanket off of her to find that little Kiriena had lodged a knife between the skin of her throat and a coarse looking piece of fabric that was attempting to choke her.

    “ Oji ! Thank god! Help me!” She choked out as the fabric tightened again, straining against her knife.

    Douma dropped his sword and pulled out his own Nichirin knife, grabbing the fabric and sawing it off. The black fabric fell to the ground and writhed around like a snake before it turned to ash, both of the Kibutsuji’s letting out sighs of relief.

    Douma pulled his niece into a strong hug and pressed a kiss to her messy hair. “Oh my sweet dear, how glad I am to have made it in time. I feel compelled to sing about how much I missed you!”

    Kiriena coughed and tried to push him away. “Douma, you smell again! Let me go, that’s an order!”

    He released her only to brush her hair out of her face and examine her over. “When was the last time you bathed? Had a proper meal? You look like you haven’t seen the sun in ages!”

    She retrieved a small vial from the pocket of her dirty kimono. “Well, poison does that to you. I found out who the demon was, but she also discovered me. To get out, I began poisoning myself and got transferred out of the upper level of the district. Don’t worry, I’ve already taken the anecdote. Guess that snake-thing figured it out too and hitched a ride.”

    “You little schemer, you!” Douma laughed and ruffled her hair. “Good news, my operatives and I are heading to the Ogimoto House to slay the demon now.”

    Her brown eyes went wide. “No, you’ve got the wrong place! The demon is the oiran of the Tokito House, Lady Kokushibo! She’s Upper Moon Six!”

    “The oiran of the Tokito House, Lady Kokusibo… Upper Moon Six…” Douma repeated her words as a whisper, his own eyes widening. “I’m sending them into a trap…”

    Kiriena pushed him again. “Why are you still here? Get lost, go fight! Only you know what Upper Six is capable of!”

    “And leave you? Absolutely not!” Douma returned his weapons to their respective storage mediums. “My mission was to retrieve you and finally get you married.”

    “I still have time--”

    “No, Kiriena, you don’t.” His voice turned deadly serious. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

    Her face somehow paled more than it already was. “... oh.”

    The Hashira shook his head. “No, no, this is on me. I take full responsibility for this. Don’t you worry, I’ll find a solution for this.”

    “ Oji ?”

    “Hmm?”

    Kiriena helped him to his feet and stared him in the eyes with a strength that did not match her frail form. “Kill Upper Moon Six then, find me my husband. That’s an order from the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps.”

    He poked her in the forehead. “You’re not the Master until your old man kicks it. Don’t get too big for your britches there.”

    She pushed him out the door. “Just go! And you’re not allowed to die on me!”

    Douma laughed and put a hand on his sword. “As you wish, Oyakata-Sama.”

~~~

    “There he is!” A young Muzan clapped Douma on the shoulder as the door was shut behind him. The Master of the Demon Slayer Corps held a cane in his hand, but did not lean against it. “Here, come see!”

    Muzan’s pale red eyes were sparkling with excitement as he dragged his older brother deeper into the room to a bed where a beautiful young woman lay. Her brown hair was messy and her eyes exhausted, but she visibly perked up when she caught sight of the blonde boy.

    “It’s about time, young man.” She laughed. “Tsutako said that you weren’t available, so Kaigaku of all people ended up being the first in the room.”

    Douma chuckled nervously, glancing back at the door. “Well, I certainly don’t wish to be responsible for a rift between best friends.”

    Muzan ruffled his hair. “Nonsense, you’re my older brother! And I told Kaigaku that we would have preferred you in here first. After all, she is your niece.”

    The rainbow-eyed boy looked back to Rei and finally noticed the small bundle in her arms. “My… niece?”

    Rei followed his gaze. “Would you like to hold her?”

    Muzan’s smile grew. “Not even Kaigaku has gotten to do that yet, and he’s the god-father.”

    Douma looked between the couple, taking a step back. “I don’t know…”

    The woman on the bed rolled her eyes and held out the bundle of blankets in her arms. “Kibitsuji Douma, come hold your niece while my darling husband fetches me some water. I was just in labor for an entire day and I want to take a nap.”

    He gingerly took the bundle and cradled it in his arms as gently as he physically could as Muzan moved away to find water. The baby was sleeping soundly, safely in his arms, a tiny tuff of brown hair decorating the top of her smooth head. She stirred slightly in her sleep and her impossibly tiny fingers wrapped themselves around one of Douma’s innocently, not quite reaching all the way around his slender index finger.

~~~

    Nezuko grunted as she pulled herself out of a window and onto the roof of the Kyogoku House. Hand on her sword, she began leaping and running across the rooftops of the Entertainment District towards the Ogimoto House where Zenitsu would be waiting for her. 

    I wonder what this demon will be like. Obviously it’s got some Demon Art related to fabric, based on Zenitsu’s report, but what else? Will it be like Lower One and have multiple Blood Arts? What will be the power scaling between the two? Is my Sun Breathing even strong enough?

    She pushed her anxieties out of her mind as a sickeningly sweet scent smacked her in the face. Nezuko skidded to a stop and put her nose in the air, searching for the scent again. It reeked of bloodthirst and malice. 

    There it is. Now where are you?

    Nezuko sniffed the air, trying to determine where the smell was coming from. She spun around in place until she decided on a direction and darted off, chasing the demonic trail. 

    Wait, I’m heading back in the direction I just came in…

    Nezuko tracked the demon back to the Kyogoku House. She halted on a roof across the street from the top floor and peered in through a window, gasping at what she saw.

    A beautiful demon with waxed hair, a painted face and wearing a black leotard with giant, billowing sleeves held Masachika in the air by his neck, blood dripping down where her nails dug into his skin. The human oiran kicked his legs frantically as his face turned red from a lack of oxygen, but the demon’s grip did not waver. Instead, she lifted her other pale hand and gently stroked his cheek.

    “Such a shame, Soyokaze,” she spat his stage name out venomously, “such a shame indeed. Here I am, coming all the way to your House to bid you farewell from Yoshiwara before I eat you and here I find that you’re a liar, a fraud! You have no powers like I do, no gifts or natural beauty, so you cake your face in all the makeup you can and play pretty tunes on your biwa, right? All for money, right?”

    He gasped for air pathetically. “P-Please…”

    Nezuko drew her sword. “Hey! Ugly!”

    The demon snapped her head around. Nezuko noted that her teal eyes carried no number indicating her Kizuki rank. “And who the hell are you?”

    “Kanoe Kamado Nezuko, the Demon Slayer who is gonna stop you! Now put Lady Soyokaze down!” She yelled back, holding her sword up ready to strike.

    “Okay.” The demon said sweetly before letting go of Masachika. However, the man didn’t hit the ground. He fell into the billowing fabric of the demon’s sleeves and like a heavy rock in the sea, disappeared without a trace. Nezuko’s pink eyes widened in shock.

    “What did you just do to him? Where did he go?”

    “Just a safe place… consider it my personal food locker!” The demon covered her mouth and giggled. “Would you like to go there too? I have more than enough room for any stinky Demon Slayer who wants to see it. I mean, just ask that green-eyed boy who looked just like a girl! Walked right into my arms, he did! Like a stupid boar!”

    Nezuko grit her teeth and launched herself at the demon, sword raised and nose searching for the kill-line.

    Total Concentration Flower Breathing, Fourth Form: Crimson Hanagoromo!

    The demon easily side-stepped her and with a flick of her arm, her sleeve smacked into Nezuko’s torso and sent her flying back into the roof she was just standing on moments ago.

    Nezuko smacked into the roof shingles and felt the air get punched out of her lungs. She struggled to get back to her already shaking legs as the demon moved to the edge of the window with a truly evil sneer.

    “Nice to meet you, Kamado Nezuko. The name’s Yuchiro and I’m gonna be the demon that tears you to shreds.”

    Yuichiro was caught off guard by a streak of blue flashing in front of her eyes. The blue Nichirin dagger embedded itself between her eyes and knocked her on her back. As Yuichiro recovered and pulled the dagger out of her skull, she barely dodged the black blade that appeared next to her, a furious Nezuko following the strike. 

Chapter Text

    The demon yelped and ducked under the sword swing, leaping out the window and onto the street below.

    “Watch it, I just got my hair done!”

    Nezuko waved a fist at her. “Should’ve thought of that before going after Lady Soyokaze!”

    The Demon Slayer leaped down to the street and attacked again. Yuichiro rolled her teal eyes and with a flick of her right arm, her giant sleeves split into a plethora of fabric strips. Nezuko remembered her fight against Lower Moon Five on Mount Sagiri, how Enmu’s fingers were used against her in a similar manner, and easily twisted out of the way.

    They stood facing each other, the strips of Yuichiro’s sleeves floating around her in a menacing manner while Nezuko readied her sword again. They launched themselves at each other without a sound, only a small swirl of dust left in their wake. 

    Total Concentration Flower Breathing Fifth Form: Peonies of Futility!

    Each heavy piece of black fabric that shot towards Nezuko was cut or slapped aside. Tiny droplets of blood spurt from the cut fabric and decorated the dirt street. They jumped to rooftops, shingles shattering under their feet, and leaped around in their deadly dance. Yuichiro wore a cocky smile as one of her sleeve shanks nicked Nezuko’s arm and tripped her up.

    The pink-eyed girl stumbled and fell on her face, only barely pulling her sword up to defend her head as a number of strips of that sleeve cut into her legs and back. Nezuko grit her teeth to muffle her scream as she twisted her body out of the way of another attack. As she did, she felt one of the shoulder straps of Tanjiro’s box snap.

    Oh shit.

    “Sorry, Tanjiro, gotta go at this alone!” Nezuko pulled her other arm free of the box and leaped at a cackling Yuichiro again, pushing down the feeling of pain pulsing from her wounds. 

    “Something wrong, Nezuko-Chan?” Yuichiro giggled, her sleeves writhing in the air like headless snakes. “Keep going, you could do to lose some more weight!”

    Nezuko swiped her sword at the demon’s neck again, narrowly missing her. “Wow, you must be so insecure in yourself for that to be your best insult. What, did Mommy not hold you long enough?”

    Yuichiro let out an indignant screech and connected the flat side of one of her sleeve strips to Nezuko’s gut. The Demon Slayer was sent flying down into the street, only having a second to react as the demon launched herself at her with her sharp talons aimed to kill.

    Several strips lashed Nezuko across her chest before she could cut them down. She grimanced and held her sword up defensively.

    Everytime I try to get close, she just swats me away! I need to be faster than her, but the cuts on my legs are slowing me down…

    “Focus your breathing again and connect your nerves to every part of your body to slow the bleeding.”

    Nezuko tried to focus her breathing as Sanemi’s instructions flashed across her mind. She didn’t have much time before the split sleeve of Yuichiro struck again, but she was able to slow her bleeding and jump back out of the way. 

    Total Concentration Flower Breathing--

    “Just what is going on out here?” A woman stuck her head out of a doorway. “Take your fight somewhere else, some of us are busy!”

    The blood in Nezuko’s veins turned to ice as Yuichiro’s eyes flicked to the woman maliciously and the tendrils of the demon’s sleeves writhed around evilly.

    “Ma’am, go back inside!” Nezuko snapped her head around. “It’s not safe for you!”

    The woman scoffed and came out into the street. “I have half a mind to smack some sense into you, running down my street causing a ruckus! Who do you think you are!?”

    “I’m a Demon Slayer, but I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay here!”

    Yuichiro laughed loudly; it was a shrill, cruel noise. The ridges of her snake-like sleeve glowed a teal blue and they attacked everything around them.

    Nezuko barely had time to throw herself in front of the woman in the street before one of the strips of the sleeve struck her across her stomach, carving a deep wound down into her right thigh.

    Zenitsu paced around his rented room anxiously. The sun had set, yet neither Nezuko nor Douma were at the Ogimoto House. He had promised to wait for backup, to not rush the demon alone, but time was running out.

    Especially if it already grabbed Inosuke.

    Zenitsu whistled and a number of oddly muscular mice wearing white headbands appeared out of the rafters of the attic. They carried in their tiny yet buff arms Zenitsu’s sword, mask and uniform. These were the Muscle Mice, trained by the Demon Slayer Corps to help slay demons in tight spots. Ridiculous to look at, they did a good job of keeping Zenitsu’s thing on hand for easy access.

    He was quick to change out of his yellow kimono and wipe off his makeup, slipping his oni mask back over his face and strapping his sword to his side. He felt good, whole again now that he had his weapon. He could be scolded about rushing into battle alone later.

    He clambered onto the roof of the Ogimoto House and listened, filtering out the sounds of the Entertainment District to listen for a demon, for his friends.

    He picked up the unmistakable sound of Inosuke off in the distance. It was quiet, but intense. Fitting, Zenitsu thought. He started moving in that direction, noting how he was moving further and further away from the upper end of the district and closer to the dark, lower end.

    Zenitsu found that the noise was the loudest in the center of an intersection of streets. He slid down to the ground and pressed his ear to the dirt. What he heard through the street was a low, throbbing noise like a heartbeat. 

    Found you.

    He drew his sword and tipped a small pile of gunpowder out into the street. He then stood back and raised his sword above his head. With a single, strong strike, Zenitsu slammed his blade down on the gunpowder and jumped back as his strike ripped an explosion into the ground, opening up a hole to an underground chamber filled with black drapes.

    Zenitsu leaped down into the hole, swinging his sword around him to shred the drapes in his way.

    Total Concentration Sound Breathing Fourth Form: Constant Resonating Slashes!

    Explosions ripped apart the fabric and let him land on his feet at the bottom of the hole. Someone ran up behind him and hugged him tightly.

    “Zenitsu! It’s you!” Inosuke laughed.

    Zenitsu pushed him off to find a number of women huddled in a corner of the hole, all terrified out of their minds. Inosuke himself was still wearing makeup and a fancy kimono, his only weapon being the small Nichirin dagger in his hand.

    “Where’s the demon?”

    Inosuke shrugged. “Not sure. We all got dropped in here and sometimes the drapes come alive to try to pull us apart. I’ve been doing my best, but thank god you and the others are here. So… where’s everyone else?”

    Zenitsu returned his sword to its sheath. “No clue. They’re late.”

    “Oh…” Inosuke kicked the ground. “Oh! Do you still have your knife?”

    Zenitsu retrieved it from a pocket as Inosuke called over one of the women in the corner. “This is Ozaki, she’s a Kakushi and she sorta knows how to use a weapon. She can help us!”

    Ozaki bowed respectfully and took the knife. “I’ll do my best to protect these women.”

    “Good.” Zenitsu bowed back, recognizing Nezuko’s friend, and redrew his sword as the demon drapes snaked around the air with the intent to kill. “I’ll hold you to it.”

    As they leaped into battle, a man in a silk kimono tumbled out of a drape close to the ground and gasped for air. Zenitsu threw himself in front of the man and cut down a striking strip of fabric. “Get to the back corner, we’ll protect you!”

    The man nodded and scrambled to safety. “You all must be Nezuko’s friends!”

    Inosuke laughed proudly as he dragged his knife through a black drape that threatened to cut him in half. “That’s us! Happy to help!”

    An ungodly screech sounded from a mass of swirling drapes forming a ball that writhed around itself in the center of the chamber. “You ugly, ugly humans are ruining everything! Stay still so I can kill you and eat you!”

    “Not happening!” Zenitsu yelled from behind his mask. He moved to leap towards the ball of demon fabric, but a gust of freezing cold wind blew him back to the ground. Zenitsu moved to get back up, but he heard a new sound join the battle and held back.

    Some of the strips of the drapes holding the ball up in the center of the hole were cut out of the air by a flash of blue and white. On the far wall of the pit, a figure in white kicked off and threw himself at the ball of drapes, a pale blue sword in hand aimed to strike. 

    Douma cut through the shifting and swirling ball of demonic fabric in a single strike, landing with a slide in front of Zenitsu and those behind him with his rainbow eyes flicking about, taking in how the cut strips of black fabrics writhed around and lashed out at him from an impossible amount of directions.

    “Apologies for the tardiness.” That was the only thing he whispered before he took his sword in one hand and hacked apart a drape that got too close. He kicked off the ground with an inhuman speed, his sword slashing around him like a shield that shredded whatever got too close.

    Total Concentration Ice Breathing First Form: Shatter.

    His sword was thrown into a wall of the pit and Douma drew two metal fans from his belt. Now holding two weapons, he was free to leap into the air and dice the offending fabric in what looked like wild abandon but was actually calculated cuts.

    When his feet finally touched down to the ground again, Douma fluttered one of his fans in front of his face while he folded up the other and put a fist on his wrist. The tattered shreds of the demonic drapes fell around him like floating snow in a breeze.

    Inosuke and Zenitsu’s jaws hung open as Douma wordlessly retrieved his sword and turned to Ozaki. “Kakushi Ozaki, report.”

    She snapped to attention. “Demon is a shape-shifter with a fabric manipulation Blood Art, sir! Possible Kizuki rank, approach with caution! Goal is to cripple the Demon Slayer’s Leaders, sir!”

    Zenitsu pushed his mask up. “A Kizuki? We need to go give Nezuko support! What are we waiting for-”

    Douma ignored him. “It’s confirmed to be Upper Moon Six. Kibutsuji Kireina is safe and is in no need of immediate medical attention. Focus your treatment on yourself and these civilians.”

    “Excuse me! We need to go kill the demon now before it hurts Nezuko!” Zenitsu grabbed the Hashira’s arm.

    The blonde man ripped his arm away and swept Zenitsu’s feet from under him. 

    “Put your hands on me again and I will remove them from your corpse.” His voice was steely cold. It was a large shift from the smiling lunatic who gave him orders earlier that day.

    Zenitsu gulped and got back to his feet. “Got it, sir.”

    Douma’s characteristically charismatic smile returned. “Good! Now, to respond to your request, we shall leave at once.”

    The Hashira scooped Inosuke and Zenitsu up in his arms and threw the young men over his shoulders like they weighed nothing. Ignoring their yelps of protest, he easily bounded over the side of the pit and began running in the direction of Nezuko’s battle.

    Nezuko screamed as she collapsed, clutching the deep wound on her stomach and thigh. She felt like she was struggling to hold her leg on her body, any movement would tear it off.

    Shit, I need to make a tourniquet! That bitch cut my femoral artery; I’ve got maybe two minutes before I die!

    She was quick to grab a piece of spare fabric lying in the dusty street and tie it as tightly as possible around the top of her leg to stop the bleeding. As she did, the dust around her began to clear and the horror of the destruction that she narrowly avoided being killed by.

    Those glowing blue strips that had cut her open had shredded all of the buildings around her. Nezuko could smell the blood of dead bodies unfortunate enough to be in the way and a woman shrieked in pain behind her. 

    It was the woman Nezuko had been trying to protect. She was on her rear, clutching a bloody wrist. Her hand was gone. Nezuko tore off part of the woman’s sleeve and tied it around her wound. “Keep that on, it’ll stop the bleeding for the most part.”

    “My arm!” She wailed. “My arm is gone!”

    Nezuko grabbed her chin. “Look at me. You need to evacuate everyone around here immediately. I can hold off the demon for a little bit, but I’m waiting for backup. Go!”

    The woman sobbed as she got to her feet and began pulling people out of houses. Meanwhile, Nezuko retrieved her black sword and slowly got to her feet, pissed as all hell now that innocent humans were dead.

    Yuichiro was on her back laughing, kicking her legs in the air like a tickled child. Nezuko grit her teeth and charged the demon.

    Total Concentration Sun Breathing Tenth Form: Fire Wheel!

    The air heated up as Nezuko brought her sword down on Yuichiro’s neck. The demon yelped and thrust her right arm above her head, her sleeve shooting out like a grappling hook and pulling her to safety up on a rooftop.

    Nezuko gave chase, ignoring the burning in her leg as she vaulted herself up to the rooftop, narrowly cutting strips of Yuichiro’s sleeve out of the way as the demon attacked, her eyes wide and spooked.

    “How are you moving like that? You should be crippled! I should cut you up!”

    “Try it, bitch!”

    “Ugh, all of you ugly humans are the same!” She stomped her feet and her sleeve attacked again. Nezuko grunted and slashed the fabric away. “No class, no fun, all you do is whine and cry when one of you dies! Can you all just shut up?!”

    The screams from the street below echoed in Nezuko’s ears. She thought back to the spider-bodied demon from her first mission, Enmu and their army on Sagiri Mountain and all the other demons Nezuko had fought who had a disregard for life. She knew demons didn’t have to be that way, that the cruelty could be overcome.

    Blood soaked her clothing, making her uniform stick to her skin. Nezuko readied her sword and took a deep breath despite her aching bones and body. She was beyond pissed now. Nezuko meant war.

    Sun Breathing: Solar Heat Haze!

    She charged, arcing her sword across the space between her and Yuichiro. The demon laughed and jumped back. “You missed!”

    The fabric pieces in front of her shredded and a slice appeared across her stomach.

    What the hell?! I was sure she didn’t hit me!

    Nezuko moved in close, using Yuichiro’s confusion against her. 

    Sun Breathing: Flame Dance!

    She cut down the rest of the sleeve parts in her way and her sword connected with the demon’s neck. However, instead of decapitating her, Nezuko’s sword hit fabric and was shocked to find that Yuichiro had transformed her neck into the same fabric as her sleeves.

    “You little shit, you nearly killed me!” She kicked Nezuko back and flipped away.

    Nezuko paused and caught her breath while Yuichiro stomped her foot.

    “No no no no no no! Nobody has ever cut my neck before! That’s not fair, you cheated!” She screeched. “You’re making me have to get mean!”

    As Ozaki tended to the women inside the pit, she noticed movement in the corner of her eye. She pulled out her dagger and watched as the shredded pieces of the demon drapes floated in the air and flew away into the night.

    Well that was weird… where are they going?

    The tattered pieces of fabric shot across the night sky over Yoshiwara to where Yuichiro and Nezuko stood on a rooftop. The pieces slapped the demon on her right sleeve and seemed to become absorbed by the fabric.

    Nezuko watched Yuichiro change with each addition to her sleeve. Her hair fell out of its waxed updo, the tips turned a light blue, her sclera turned blacker than coal, even her physical form changed. Standing before Nezuko was no woman with unparalleled good looks, but a beautiful boy close to her age. He opened his eyes and snarled at her, the words Upper Six decorating his teal pupils.

    “Now, that’s better.”

    He raised his right arm and it exploded into streams of glowing fabric, much faster and much sharper than before. Nezuko grit her teeth and smacked them away, but some made it through her defense and sliced at her skin through her haori and uniform.

    Shit, I can’t keep up with them! Can I really afford to fall back on that technique? Sun Breathing is already so taxing, I can feel my arms wanting to fall off… God damnit! Flower Breathing Final Form; Equinoctial Vermilion Eye!

    The blood in her head rushed to her eyes, flooding them and slowing down her kinetic vision. Blood pooled in her sclera and dribbled from her sockets like tears, but Nezuko’s face was set in stone cold fury.

    The attacks from Yuichiro’s demon sleeve slowed down in her vision, allowing her to easily slash and cut them down. The demon gasped and flicked his arm again, sending more strips of fabric her way.

No way, there’s no way she should be able to keep up with me now that I’ve shedded my disguise! What is this?!

~~~

    A woman with white hair, fire-like scars across her cheek and forehead, charged Yuichiro with a fire-red sword at her side. Her eyes burned a bright, furious red. The demon trembled in terror.

~~~

    What was that?! Who was that woman? I don’t remember meeting a swordswoman like her… No… these must be Master Kagaya’s memories! Even his cells inside of me are trembling! How could a human make the King cower?!

    “GET AWAY FROM ME!” Yuichiro shrieked and summoned another onslaught of fabric attacks. Nezuko took a deep breath and started to knock them all aside.

    Sun Breathing: Dragon Sun Halo Head Dance.

    Her movements sped up impossibly so. Sparks flew from where her sword made contact with the fabric. All she thought about was cutting off Yuichiro’s right arm and head.

    Closer. Closer. Closer she got. The tip of her blade was raised above her head. She was right next to the demon. With a guttural yell, she dragged her sword down on Yuichiro’s right shoulder, effectively severing his demonic sleeve.

~~~

    “Nezu-Chan! You need to breathe!” Little Rokuta screamed.

~~~

    Right before Nezuko could cut off Yuichiro’s head, her lungs collapsed in on themselves and she fell to her knees in a hacking mess. 

    The Kizuki demon stared at the coughing Demon Slayer before him and regrew his right sleeve silently, realizing just how close he came to defeat.

    I was scared of this?

    He raised his foot to crush Nezuko’s head, but something like a bullet struck him from behind, sending him flying and screaming across the rooftops, through a power line and landing on his face.

    Nezuko finally got a large breath of air in her lungs and lifted her head up to see Tanjiro standing over her, snarling behind his muzzle. The look he gave her was protective, but not without annoyance. He held out a hand over her head as if to say: “ stay here, I’ve got this. ”

    With a leap and a bound, Tanjiro chased after Yuichiro, claws out and eyebrows furrowed in rage. However, Yuichiro was quick to recover and flicked his arms towards his attacker.

    Tanjiro brought his arm up to defend himself, but it was sliced through like butter. In fact, the strip of fabric’s momentum launched him into the air and cut him in half, sending the pieces of him flying and crashing into a dark building.

    Yuichiro laughed and jumped down to the street next to where he disposed of the new challenger. “Such a weak demon! No wonder you need to travel with a Demon Slayer protecting you, you wouldn’t survive five minutes on your own!”

    The smoke cleared and Tanjiro emerged from the destruction. He regrew his severed arm and shucked off the tattered remains of his green-and-black haori. He snarled and bit through his bamboo muzzle with a sickening crunch.

    The Kizuki demon bounced on his feet. “Oh a little power up, huh? I’m excited to see what you got!”

    Tanjiro began to grow, growling cruelly as he did. His muscles filled his clothing, a blood-red horn sprouted from the scar on his forehead, his eyes pulsated with power and markings resembling rushing water wrapped around his exposed skin like his body was a rushing river.

    Gnashing his teeth and roaring, he charged Yuichiro, his claws easily shredding the younger demon’s weak defense and raking across his face. Yuichiro yelped and leaped away, slicing part of his sleeve through Tanjiro’s neck to decapitate him.

    Tanjiro landed a headbut that absolutely caved Yuichiro’s skull in, flattening him against the street.

Chapter Text

    How did his head grow back so quickly?!

    Yuichiro spat out the dirt in his mouth only for a strong foot to stomp down on his spine, snapping and crushing it. Claws grabbed his long hair and threw him violently through three more buildings.

    The Kizuki demon barely pulled himself up out of the wreckage, feeling splinters of wood impaling him, for only a few seconds before Tanjiro was on him again. 

    “How are you healing so fast?!” Yuichiro gasped out as he was lifted up and thrown again. “You heal faster than an Upper Moon!”

    Tanjiro snarled in response and made chase. Yuichiro managed to regrow his right sleeve enough to thrust an attack of writhing ribbons at the horned demon, but his blood froze when Tanjiro grabbed them and wrapped the strips around his arm.

    Pink flames erupted from Tanjiro’s skin, racing up the sleeve of Yuichiro’s leotard and engulfing him. Yuichiro screamed as he ripped off his right sleeve to get away from the flames that leaped out at him.

    Hot! Why is it so hot?! It’s burning off my entire shoulder!

~~~

    The little boy crawled across the empty house, bleeding from where his right arm had been ripped from its socket. He wailed in agony as he fought unconsciousness, fought death.

~~~

    What memory was that ?! What is happening to me?! Why am I losing?!

    “That’s it, no more playing around!” Yuichiro screeched and moved to regrow his sleeve, gasping when he discovered that the smoldering and smoking edges of his shoulder were not healing. His greatest weapon was rendered useless.

    Oh shit.

    Tanjiro grabbed his face and slammed him into the dirt, throwing himself on top of him and landing punch after punch into his beautiful face. Each time he tried to inflate his skull, Tanjiro would flatten and crush it again. 

    Thinking of a way to escape, Yuichiro clenched his left fist and the droplets of his blood that splattered all over Tanjiro’s skin and clothing transformed into tiny black spikes. They dug into Tanjiro’s body and shredded him apart into a dozen pieces.

    Tanjiro wasn’t sure how he got here.

    He had smelled Nezuko’s blood, lots of it. He had put aside his own stubbornness and climbed out of his box to find an entire street flattened and Nezuko on her knees. He had remembered his argument with his little sister earlier that day and pushed it aside in favor of the last thing his father had instructed him to do.

    “She is the rising sun on the horizon, you must be there to shield and guide her when I am gone!”

    It wasn’t hard to turn his demonic instincts against the beautiful demon. He enjoyed the way his fists drew blood from the flailing boy beneath him. He craved the screams of his enemy as he crushed his brain into the dirt. The rushing river markings on his skin were staining red with blood that was not his own.

    But it was starting to scare him.

    Or was it? Was this power really something to be afraid of?

    Tanjiro felt that he was not in control of his actions. He felt like he was just sitting inside his brain as something evil tore apart his enemy. He opened his mouth to scream or somehow stop himself, but couldn’t. 

    Didn’t. 

    If this was who he was going to be, he had to be all in.

    The spikes that formed from Yuichiro’s blood shredded Tanjiro apart into a bloody mass of flesh. However, his streams of blood that connected the pieces of himself pulled him back together like he was a puzzle. His skin erupted in cracks and fissures that didn’t seem to hurt. Or if they did, he didn’t care.

    In the time Tanjiro took to heal, Yuichiro managed to kick him off and tried once again to regrow his right arm, still nothing. Tanjiro’s eyes glowed in the dark like red spotlights. Did Yuichiro tremble?

    This is what the Master meant when he mentioned a rogue demon outside of his control. I had no idea it would be this powerful. I’m Upper Moon Six, damnit! I need a new plan or he’ll burn me up!

    He stood in a defensive position, waiting for Tanjiro to come to him. The red haired demon charged, claws aimed for Yuichiro’s throat and fangs dripping with saliva. Yuichiro used his tiny stature to his advantage and ducked under Tanjiro’s talons, landing a strong kick to his stomach.

    It was like kicking a brick wall. Yuichiro grit his teeth as the bones in his legs shattered and his hair was grabbed. Like a ragdoll, he was thrown into the air, Tanjiro quickly leaping up next to him and headbutting him back down through a building with lights in the building.

    Lights?

    Tanjiro landed through a hole he made in the wall of the building, searching for his enemy. Instead, he found a number of injured humans, pieces of jagged wood from the walls having cut their arms and legs. One woman was even buried under the wreckage, already dead.

    The scent of their blood and flesh hit Tanjiro like a mountain was dropped on his head. It was overwhelming, tantalizing, mouth-watering. He lunged at the shrieking humans, feeling his pit of a stomach eating at him, clawing at him from the inside.

    He was too far gone to be able to reign in his cravings, not that he was aware enough to be disgusted at his actions.

    Nezuko’s eyes watered with tears and blood as she stumbled around the battlefield, trying to find her brother and Yuichiro, wincing as she limped on her bad leg.

    Oh where did he go?! He could be hurt!

    The scent of human blood, fear, pain flooded her senses. She half-ran/half-limped in the direction of the smells, terrified of what she would find.

    It was her worst nightmare.

    Tanjiro, looking more demonic than she had ever seen before, was baring dripping fangs at cowering humans. It took all of her strength to sprint to him and tackle him before he could attack anyone. They wrestled, her brother gnashing his teeth and snarling like an animal. Nezuko barely even recognized his scent as he thrashed around. 

    “Snap out of it!” She managed to pull her sheathed sword from her belt and shoved it in his mouth like a yoke. His fangs snapped around it as Nezuko twisted around behind him and held him to the ground. If he heard her pleas, he did not acknowledge them.

    Yuichiro regained consciousness and pulled himself out of the wreckage of the building, cursing at the universe for his right arm still having not regrown itself. In fact, his body was littered in burns that refused to heal. He growled and stumbled around the building until he found the struggling Demon Slayer and demon pet. 

    “Oh there you are you little-” His snarl was cut off by a cold blade slicing through his neck.

    “Jeeze, you’ve made a real mess, you two.” Douma yawned and rested his sword on his shoulder. “Wasn’t hard to find you, I just had to follow the trail of destruction and teenage angst.”

    Yuichiro’s head fell into his lap and he slumped to the ground, eyes wide in disbelief. Nezuko struggled against Tanjiro’s strength and wrapped her bloody legs around his waist to hold him down.

    “Thanks for the help, jackass!” She snapped at him.

    The Hashira smiled. “You’re welcome!” 

    “Hey, don’t ignore me!” Yuichiro shrieked.

    Douma ignored him, kneeling in front of a thrashing Tanjiro and examining him. “So what’s wrong with you? Don’t you remember when I saved your life? How ungrateful is this? Pull yourself together, man, this is just embarrassing. Hey, Nezuko, can’t you, like, calm him down?”

    “And how would I do that?!” The pink-eyed girl accidentally hit her throbbing head against the floor.

    “You think I know?” Douma shrugged. “Try singing or something. You know, nurture him.”

    Yuichiro smacked his fist against the floor. “Don’t turn your back on me!”

    The Hashira groaned, rolled his eyes, and stood up. “Oh my go-o-o-od, can you just shut up? I’m trying to do my job as a mentor here!”

    The Kizuki demon squinted at Douma before making an evil, upside-down sneer. “Then I guess you need all the help you can get.”

    “And just what do you mean by that?” Douma stood up straight and returned his sword to its scabbard. “Awfully bold words coming from a Fake Upper Moon.”

    “ FAKE UPPER MOON ?!” Yuichiro shrieked again, making Nezuko wince. “I’ll have you know that I am a genuine Upper Rank!”

    “Oh yeah? Then why was it so easy to chop off your head?” Douma yawned again.

    “Because I was distracted!”

    Tanjiro planted his feet and pushed as hard as he could, launching himself and Nezuko out of the house and onto the street below.

    The girl landed with a grunt, but managed to keep her vice-like grip on her brother. “Alright, that’s enough! Tanjiro, if you don’t calm down, I’m gonna bite you!”

    The demon continued to thrash around, biting down on the sword scabbard in his mouth.

    “Try singing or something. You know, nurture him.”

    Singing, huh? It’s worth a shot.

    Nezuko took a deep breath and started to sing a lullaby from her infancy. Her voice cracked and wavered, but she did her best to carry a tune as she recounted a story of a tiny rabbit on a hill.

    “Hush, hush, baby bunny on the hill, tell me why your ears are so long…”

    As she gained confidence in her singing, Nezuko noticed that Tanjiro’s muscles were starting to relax in her grip. She could only imagine what was going on inside his head at that moment.

    “Because I dined on long leaves is why my ears are so long…”

~~~

    “Hushabye, baby bunny on the hill…” Kie sang softly as she threaded beautiful strings of yarn through her loom, a tiny Nezuko in her lap watching her every movement. “Tell me why your eyes are so red…”

    Baby Tanjiro sat in his father’s lap and giggled when he felt Tanjuro sing along. “Because when my mother was expecting me, she dined on red berries from a tree… which is why my eyes are so very red…”

    The tiny boy looked up at his father’s boney face. “Is that why our eyes are red? Because your Mommy and my Mommy ate berries while we were in their tummies?”

    Tanjuro stroked his hair and kissed the birthmark on his forehead softly. “I guess so.”

~~~

    Tears formed in Tanjiro’s dimming eyes. He slackened his jaw grip around Nezuko’s sword and a hiccup escaped his throat.

    Tanjiro cried into the night. He wailed as his sister removed her sword from his mouth and shifted out from under him. The demon boy grabbed at his wild hair and pulled his knees to his chest as he rocked himself. His mouth moved like he was trying to form words, but he ultimately gave up and just sobbed mindlessly.

    Nezuko wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as he began to shrink. The red horn protruding from his scar shrunk into nothing, the cracks and water markings on his skin faded and he returned to the size of a regular teenager.

    She cooed and pet his red hair. “Shh, shh, you’re okay, Tan-Chan, I’ve got you. Could you shrink a little more so I can carry you? Can you do that?”

    He nodded and shrunk again, this time to his toddler size. Nezuko let out a sigh of relief as he leaned against her and fell asleep, all cried out and exhausted from fighting.

    Inosuke and Zenitsu ran over from down the street. Nezuko perked up and smiled at them. “You’re okay!”

    Inosuke, who was still wearing his kimono from the Tokito House but had his swords in hand, stopped and caught his breath. “Yeah… Hashira Douma dropped us and ran ahead! What a dick!”

    Zenitsu stopped over Nezuko and pushed his mask up. “What the hell happened to you?”

    “Upper Moon Six.”

    “Ah.”

    She pushed her hair out of her blood-soaked face and sighed. “Hashira Douma is still inside with him-her?-the demon. I need to get Tanjiro back to his box and we need to evacuate the district. Can the two of you do that?”

    Inosuke looked over at the sleeping demon and nodded his head. “Yeah you can count on us!”

    The three friends shared a fistbump and went their separate directions. Back inside the partly demolished building, Douma and Yuichiro were still going back and forth.

    “You’re not Upper Moon Six.”

    “Yes I am! I have the rank right here on my eyes!”

    “But your head is in your hand, I beat you so easily.”

    “Let me heal up and I’ll give you a real Kizuki-Thrashing!”

    Douma sighed deeply and put a hand on his sword. “You’re boring me. Just call up your brother already, he’s much easier to talk to.”

    “Hah! As if!” Yuichiro laughed. “But if you insist … MUICHIRO!”

    The air shook as the demon shrieked out a name. Douma yawned and placed his other hand on his hip patiently as Yuichiro’s body slumped over and his neck-stump bubbled. It expanded like a bubble of flesh, inflating until it formed a sac the size of a person. The skin split and the sac burst, a child identical to Yuichiro sliding out, his skin covered by a black yukata that clung to his form loosely and dark blue markings that resembled clouds running across his body.

    Yuichiro’s one hand slapped the new boy on the head. “Get up, useless! This asshole thinks you’re stronger than me! Hurry up and put my head back on, you sack of flesh!”

    Douma watched curiously as Muichiro sat himself up, rubbed his eyes and stretched. “What time is it?”

    Yuichiro hit him again. “It’s time to contribute and stop having me carry you around!”

    “Oh… sorry.” Muichiro picked up his brother’s head and returned it to his shoulders.

    As soon as it had reattached itself, Douma struck. He drew his sword faster than human eyes could follow and sliced it through the twins’ necks at the same time.

    Blood dripped from his split eyebrow and cuts appeared on the front of his white gakuran jacket. The twins eyed him with matching bored expressions as Douma realized that his attack never made contact. The air burned with the scent of Wisteria, the demons’ noses crinkled in response.

    “Still up to your old tricks, I see.” He chuckled and turned around to face them, resting his sword on his shoulder again. “And here I would hope that you would have picked up some new ones.”

    Muichiro waved a hand over Yuichiro’s right shoulder stump and his sleeve regrew good as new. “And we would have hoped that the Prodigal Prince would have come to his senses and finished his mission like he was instructed to. Looks like we’re all wrong.”

    Yuichiro’s burns healed and his sleeve struck. Douma deflected it away with ease and lowered himself into a fighting stance, his rainbow-eyes glowing in the flickering lights of the building.

    “I do hope you know that I hate to disappoint, but I’m afraid I’m one failed performance you will just have to live with.”

    He stabbed his sword into a pillar and smashed it to splitters. The building shook terribly, groaned and began to collapse around the demons. 

    Douma easily made his escape out to the street below as the building fell, creating a giant cloud of dust. The Hashira flipped out one of his fans to blow the cloud away and sighed softly as it cleared.

    Muichiro had a swirling sphere of dust and purple mist swirling around him and his twin brother, the black sclera of his eyes staring into the Demon Slayer’s soul or perhaps lack-thereof. He put his hands in front of him and the spinning sphere changed to a wall of mist that was barrelling towards Douma.

    Total Concentration Ice Breathing, Sixth Form: Pressure.

    He steadied his breathing and right as the wall was about to smack into him, Douma dragged his sword through the mist, cutting it in half and blowing it away with a gust of freezing wind.

    The two halves of the mist wall formed sharp spikes in the air and circled around. Douma clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest in an X-shape, fan in one hand and sword in the other.

    First Form: Shatter.

    His arms spun around him as he twisted and spun around on his feet like a trained acrobat. He cut at the mist and blew it away with a smile curling around his sharp teeth.

    “Now isn’t this such fun! It’s just like before! I almost miss it!”

    Yuichiro appeared at his side with a deadly edge of his sleeve ready to cut the Hashira in half. “Miss this?”

    Douma planted his foot on the sleeve and cut off the demon’s other arm. “Absolutely not. I loathe the two of you deeply!”

    “Then why are you just playing around? Hmm?” Yuichiro regrew his arm and tried to stab Douma in the eyes with his claws, which was smacked away by his metal fan. “Unless being among humans has made you soft.”

    “I wouldn’t say I’ve been made soft… But—“ Douma giggled as two swords embedded themselves in Yuichiro’s back and the ribbons wrapped around their handles ripped him backwards, tearing off his sleeve-arm and leaving it behind. “It certainly has its perks.”

    Yuichiro screeched as Inosuke’s swords dragged him away, leaving a tired looking Muichiro standing among the rubble of the collapsed building. 

    “I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t done that.” The boy whispered.

    Douma dropped down into another fighting stance and sneered. “I’d like to see you try, for old times sake, Tokito Muichiro.”

Chapter Text

    Rei slid the window open to let a soft summer breeze waft into the bedroom. Muzan coughed and twisted in his sleep, his young face scrunched up in pain.

    His wife sat down on the bed by his side and gently massaged the back of his arms to keep him from getting sore. He opened his pale red eyes and grabbed her sleeve, his expression being one of alarm.

    “Something is starting, Rei, I can feel it.” He whispered harshly.

    She slid a hand under his legs and lifted him up like he weighed nothing. In reality, he did weigh close to nothing. The muscles on his legs were fading and shriveling up as he aged. She carried him through the mansion to the porch and set him down on cushions out there so he could stare up at the moon.

    “I fear for my brother’s life, my love.” He mumbled as she sat down next to him. “He has faced too many challenges in his life, but I fear he has met his greatest opponent yet.”

    “Don’t count him out just yet.” Rei smiled and kissed his hair. “He’s proven he’s much stronger than he seems.”

    “And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

    Nezuko carefully shut Tanjiro’s box and sighed in relief. Her wounds burned, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. That was good, that meant that Nezuko could still fight. She took her few minutes of peace to clean and bandage some of her wounds.

    Her mind drifted as she worked. She wondered how Makomo would tend to her injuries. Would she scold Nezuko? Give her a pinch while stitching her up? Would she have an exasperated smile?

    The scent of Wisteria smacked Nezuko out of her thoughts. She looked back in the direction of where Douma was taking on Upper Moon Six. 

    Break’s over.

    She got to her feet slowly, steadying her breathing to push out the pain in her leg. 

    You can do this. You can beat this.

    Douma laughed as he slashed his sword through a purple mist cloud. “You’re getting slow, old man!”

    Muichiro held his hands out in front of him and summoned another wall of mist. “You abandoned your family.”

    “Did I? It seems our definition of the word differs. Shall we swap notes?” The Hashira sidestepped the attack and moved in close to the demon. In the palm of the boy’s hand, Muichiro summoned a small cloud of mist that formed a sword. Douma’s sword connected and his body reverberated like he struck solid metal.

    No matter. Douma clicked the heels of his boots together and tiny blades stuck out of the back of his soles. Like a skilled acrobat, he twisted his limbs around and sliced Muichiro across the chest.

    The demon winced and leaped onto a rooftop as his wound healed. “Do you know how the Queen-Mother wept for you after you never returned?”

    Douma made chase, leaping onto the same roof and planting his hands on the shingles to swing a knifed boot at Muichiro once more. His smile remained decorative on his face, but his eyes were strikingly cold.

~~~

    “Why are you treating me so kindly?” Douma stiffened when the red-eyed boy took his hand.

    “Douma- Aniki , do you know what a family is?” Muzan’s voice was soft yet curious.

    “Yes. I had two parents and a sister.” 

    The young master let out a small laugh. “A family is a group of people who love and care for you, not just who you share blood with.”

    The blonde boy considered this for a moment. “Then I suppose I do not have a family.”

~~~

    “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” Muichiro summoned two walls of mist around Douma.

    The Hashira sucked in a breath as the walls closed in on him and did not wince as the poison stung his wounds. He could feel it slowing him down, eating at him from the inside.

    Nothing I’m not used to. I’ll be fine.

    Douma’s sword struck Muichiro’s mist blade again, causing him to swing the fan in his hand down on the demon’s head. Muichiro jerked his head to the side and grabbed the Hashira’s face.

    “You are going to die a coward.” The boy whispered.

    The air, frigid from Douma’s attacks, warmed a little. He sneered. “If God wanted me dead, he would have killed me decades ago.”

    A black blade severed Muichiro’s arm at the elbow and bloody legs kicked the demon away. Nezuko breathed heavily as she put herself between the Hashira and Kizuki.

    “How are we looking?”

    Douma laughed at her. “Just in time, Miss Kamado, I love your dramatic flair!”

    “Where are my friends?” The pink-eyed girl took a defensive stance as Muichiro recovered.

    “I believe Mister Hashibira is facing down Yuichiro, the twin you fought previously. Mister Agamatsu? Haven’t seen him.”

    Nezuko groaned, her Hanafuda earrings dangling from her ears and dancing in the wind. “That’s fine, he’s trustworthy. He always shows up when he’s needed. Now, how do we kill these creeps?”

    Douma laughed again. “Commendable question! Sever their heads at the same time, that’s how you defeat them. If you don’t, they’ll just heal each other like the try-hards they are.”

    Muichiro lowered himself down to launch himself at the Demon Slayers. “You’re a traitor.”

    The Hashira did the same, a snarky smile curling over his sharp teeth. “I’m a human.”

    The boy’s teal-on-black eyes looked him up and down. “How human?”

    Nezuko grit her teeth as the demon shot forward at them. Her eyes were still blurry and her vision was shaking from her use of her Final Flower Breathing technique earlier, but she would have to persevere. She noted that the closer she got to the Hashira, the stronger the stench of Wisteria became in her nose. It was like his blood was made of perfume.

    What the hell is up with this guy?

    Muichiro was fast. He slipped around sword blades like they were easy obstacles and his face remained placid as his onslaught of poison mist clouds were cut down and blown away by katanas and fans. Sparks flew and Nezuko stumbled as she kept trying to use Sun Breathing against her opponent.

    This isn’t working. If I get any closer, he’ll cut me. If I move back, Douma is left open. Think, Nezuko, think! I could switch back to Flower Breathing, preserve my energy and provide support… yeah that’ll work! Total Concentration Flower Breathing, Sixth Form: Whirling Peach!

    She twisted her body around the Hashira, working with his dance-like sword style. It confused her, watching him twist and flail around with his sword, fan and the knives in his heels. Ice Breathing came from Stone Breathing and from what Nezuko had seen of Inosuke performing it, it was a mostly stationary technique. Despite this, Douma flourished in throwing his entire body into battle. He was dynamic, animated even, and was taking joy in the fight. He grinned as he cartwheeled over Muichiro and laughed as he wrapped a leg around the boy’s torso and threw him down to the street right as Yuichiro came crashing through a building.

    Inosuke, still wearing his expensive kimono, cackled from the smoking building, swinging his swords by their ribbons around him like a meat shredder. “How do ya like me now, ugly?!”

    The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Zenitsu, oni mask over his face, sped onto the scene and brought his sword down on Yuichiro’s neck. The beautiful boy yelped and twisted out of the way just in time and crashed into his brother.

    “Watch where you’re going, you buffoon!” The oiran screeched.

    Muichiro remained silent as Yuichiro grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet. The Demon Slayers watched as Muichiro was lifted into the air by his black-and-teal hair and his twin brother shook him around violently. 

    “Useless, so useless! Letting a couple humans get the better of you? Do I have to do everything myself?! You’re the weakest Kizuki there is!” Yuichiro dropped his brother back on his feet, ignoring how the quiet boy bled from his scalp. “Come on, let’s just finish this already!”

    Inosuke looked over to the rooftop that Nezuko and Douma stood on. “What’s the plan, boss?”

    Douma examined the bickering demons. “Beheading at the same time, I would think! From what I understand, Mister Agamatsu and Miss Kamado have experience in synchronizing your attacks? Just do that!”

    Yuichiro laughed, the shrill sound cutting through the night. His right sleeve glowed and Muichiro held his hands out in front of himself. Nezuko recognized what Yuichiro was doing and her eyes shot wide open. “Look out!”

~~~

    “So, Kinoe Douma!” Muzan had greeted him on his porch, oozing confidence and charisma. “You have quite the record, I see! Over two hundred confirmed kills in only five weeks! I’m impressed, truly I am!”

    Douma bowed his head respectfully to the Master. “Thank you, sir. It is an honor to gain your recognition.”

    “Tell me, who was your Trainer? You have none registered in our records and I’m curious who created such a magnificent fighter such as yourself.”

    “I had no Trainer, sir. Just jumped around a bunch of Senseis until I was old enough to enroll myself. I owe my success to the support of my friends and those who love me.” 

~~~

    Using his sword, Douma was able to slash through the giant wall of poisonous mist that was launched towards him and Nezuko, but he had to drag her down from the rooftop as the mist wall stopped and began reversing back on them. To the side, Inosuke and Zenitsu used their own weapons to cut through the mist, but still scrambled to get out of the way. Yuichiro continued to cackle as the mist came back to settle around the twins in a defensive dome.

    “Dodge this, cowards!” His sleeve-arm split into an uncountable amount of strips and lashed out in every direction through the mist.

    They were fast, but Inosuke was faster. He grit his teeth and, taking both handles of his swords in hands, ran around in a circle around the demons. As he did, he used his swords like extensions of his arms to smack and slice the glowing fabric out of the air. Dirt kicked up and soiled his kimono, but he ignored it and continued to slide and sprint around the demons, his body fluid like rushing water and his strikes the equivalent of boulders smashing against cliffsides. His green eyes were set in a focused fury that Nezuko had never seen before on him and his blue hair ripped around his face violently.

~~~

    “Stone Breathing is about being an immovable object, Inosuke.” The old man in the tengu mask paced in front of his young student who sat cross-legged on the grass. “You must find something worth fighting for, something worth taking a stand for, and protect it with your very being. Tell me, do you know what you fight for?”

~~~

    “Oh, not you again!” Yuichiro directed his hand and sleeve attacks at Inosuke with a furious expression.

    Inosuke’s breathing was steady as he dropped his sword handles in favor of their ribbons. He swung his swords around himself in a similar pattern of Muichiro’s mist-dome and shredded any demon fabric that got too close. He stopped running in circles and just made a mad dash for the demons and their heads.

    Nezuko pulled on Douma’s sleeves and started running after her friend. “There’s an opening!”

~~~

    “A stone is not just a hard rock too stubborn to move,” his mother instructed, “it is also a beautiful mix of veins streaming from all over the place. Crack a stone open and you can find beautiful gems. Sit it in a river and it will smooth down to feel gentle to the touch. 

    “Let yourself be sanded down, smooth out your rough edges. Perhaps your inner serenity will be revealed through time, not hardships.”

~~~

    Inosuke knew he wasn’t nearly as strong as his friends, he knew that well. He was still a Kanoto compared to Nezuko and Zenitsu being the rank of Kanoe. He had never lost anyone he cared about, he had never loved before, he had no tragedy that sparked his journey. He was a brash and abrasive boy who picked fights with everyone before running home to his mother’s arms. He had no specialized sword technique to set him apart, hell - he didn’t even have a completed sword technique to specialize in the first place!

    But if there was one thing he could do right; he could swing his swords. He could swing them hard and fast and accurately. He could make a hole in the swirling mist and deadly fabrics for the real swordsmen to move in for the kill.

    Douma and Nezuko ran up behind him with their swords in hand, Zenitsu following close behind them with his sword returned to its scabbard to recoat with more gunpowder. Closer, closer and closer Inosuke swung his swords on their ribbons, torquing his wrists and shoulders to generate more spin as he threw himself at the twins.

    Yuichiro kicked his brother aside, throwing the mist-dome with him, and held up his arms to unleash a larger attack.  “You know, I’ve met other Stone Breathers before and you’ve gotta be the strangest one yet! A breathing style based in sturdiness and yet you move with such vigor! Sure, Douma there has a reason for his little acrobatics since he’s not exactly a Stone Breather…”

    He held up a hand and caught one of Inosuke’s swords mid-slash, ignoring how the metal cut into his arm and side-stepping the other. The demon cocked his head to the side and his black eyes stared into Inosuke’s soul. 

    “So what’s your excuse?”

    Inosuke snapped his ribbons to try to hit Yuichiro with his slackened blades, but Muichiro appeared at his side with a deadly calm expression. The Demon Slayer could barely pull himself away in time to avoid being blasted in the face with poison mist and rolled to the side as Douma and Nezuko moved in once more to resume their trading of blows with the demons.

    He watched as Zenitsu streaked around behind the demons and drew his explosive blade. The masked boy swiped his sword at the twins, but Muichiro’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, throwing him into Nezuko and sending the two sprawling. Douma cursed as he twisted around the flying teens and stretched his sword out to try to catch it on Yuichiro’s neck.

    “As if I would let you use that old trick on me!” The beautiful demon did a sort of backflip out of the way and as he thrust his sleeve-arm forward to impale Douma, a crossbow bolt appeared between his eyes, protruding from his forehead and making him slump to the ground.

    “Brother-” Muichiro started to say before a second bolt struck him in the side of the head. Douma grinned and twisted his shoulders to slice off the boy’s legs.

    Nezuko recovered from her fall to see a tiny girl in a dirty kimono standing on a rooftop holding a crossbow that was larger than she was. She rested the crossbow against her hip to cup her mouth with her other hand. “Those bolts have Wisteria in them! They’ll buy you some time!”

    Douma stomped his foot at her. “Kiriena! You should be somewhere safe, you disobedient brat! Why don’t you ever follow orders?!”

    She laughed at him. “I learned from the best!”

    “That is true…” The Hashira considered. “But still! You need to leave!”

    “Never! You trained me to be a fighter, so I’m gonna fight!” She notched another bolt as the demons groaned on the ground and started to heal themselves.

~~~

    The mansion was quiet, too quiet. Little Kiriena sensed the heavy air and was silent as she crept around her home. In the kitchen, she found the most important adults in her life huddled around a bottle of sake, each with various expressions of grief.

    Her godfather Kaigaku, a giant man who always wore a blue cord around his neck, twisted a necklace of prayer beads around his large fingers while he leaned against the counter the liquor sat on. He looked like he wanted to cry, but was willing himself to keep his lip from trembling. “So, she’s really gone?”

    An older yet short woman with white hair grabbed the bottle and took a large swig. Kiriena remembered her name to be Shizu. “Sure is.”

    She held the bottle out to the one person around the counter not dressed in black, but the blonde man waved it away. His white Demon Slayer uniform stuck out and his rainbow eyes looked indifferent to everything around him. “It’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

    Kaigaku smacked his palms on the counter. “Can’t you grow a fucking heart, man?! Tsutako is gone and all you have to say is ‘It’s part of the job’?!”

    “Should I apologize for acknowledging that sacrifice is part of being a Demon Slayer, Hashira Kuwajima?” Kiriena’s Uncle Douma snapped back.

    A fourth voice shut up the arguing men. “Both of you, stick a sock in it.”

    The three Hashira turned around to glance at the man sitting on the floor. He had lots of black hair and his shoulders slumped deeply under his purple-and-black haori. Kiriena tried to remember his name, but all she remembered was that it was too long and she had trouble pronouncing it.

    “Kuwajima, while Kibutsuji could have been more sensitive with his words, he said nothing out of line. Kibutsuji, let him grieve. You know they were close friends.”

    “Sorry, Katsu…”

    “Apologies, Hashira Tsugikuni…”

    Both of them mumbled their apologies while Shizu took another swig of liquor. “Do we know who her replacement is gonna be?”

    “I heard she had a younger brother and a ward who both just passed Final Selection.” Douma commented. “It’ll probably be one of them.”

    Kaigaku perked up a little. “Oh yeah, Giyuu. I know him, he’s a good kid and a strong fighter. He’s only, what, a year or so younger than Oyakata-Sama?”

    Shizu nodded. “That’s right, sometimes he helps my eldest son train. If he becomes the next Water Hashira, we will be in good hands. That boy has a smile that lights up rooms, I swear, and he’s loyal to a fault.” She nudged Douma. “Careful, he also has a sense of wit able to keep up with you.”

    Douma laughed lightly and itched his right forearm. “I can’t wait to meet him. Now, if you all could excuse me for a moment…”

    He stepped away from the counter and moved to the door. Kiriena ducked behind the doorway to hide, but he addressed her as soon as he shut the kitchen door.

    “Young Master? And what brings you all the way over here?” He knelt down to her level and smiled.

    Kiriena frowned and put her hands behind her back. “Did Miss Tomioka get hurt? Why were you talking about her?”

    Douma’s smile didn’t falter, but a muscle in his neck twitched a tiny bit. He let out a small sigh and put a hand on his niece’s shoulder, his sleeve slipping down to reveal an ugly, purple scar that ran up his right forearm. “She did get hurt, yes, and she’s no longer able to work with us.”

    “But why?”

    “Because…” Douma thought about how to word what he had to say. “Because Miss Tomioka is in Heaven. She gave up her life to protect all of us very bravely. It takes a great warrior to be able to look danger in the face and keep going like she did.”

    Kiriena gave him a determined look. “I want to do that, too! I want to fight!”

    “Little Miss, you are five.”

    “I will get bigger!” She pouted.

    Douma chuckled and ruffled her brown hair. “Maybe one day, I’ll teach you how to fight. In the meantime, you just need to focus on being the best version of yourself that you can be. That is all any of us could ever ask of you.”

    The tiny girl accepted this and skipped away. Douma grunted as he got back to his feet and spied the red-eyed young man standing at the end of the hall. “Well spoken, Aniki .”

    Douma bowed. “I learned from the best.”

    Muzan leaned against his cane slightly as he moved to his brother’s side, a small smile tugging on his lips. “And you said you weren’t any good with kids.”

    “I’m not.” The Hashira rolled his eyes. “But who else was watching my performance?”

    The young Master laughed. “We need your humor now more than ever. When Kiriena is old enough, you may start giving her self defense lessons.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Have some faith, brother.” Muzan said firmly and held out his hand for Douma to take. “I trust you with my legacy.” 

~~~

    Yuichiro pulled the bolt from his head and screamed, thrusting his sleeve-arm into the air and summoning fabric strips to attack everything around him, shredding everything including his own brother’s legs. Inosuke got back on his feet and threw his swords at the screeching demon.

    Total Concentration Stone Breathing, First Form: Serpentinite Bipolar!

    The swords struck Yuichiro in the shoulder and throat, drilling into the demon’s flesh and spraying his blood around. He snapped his ribbons and dragged the demon back in his direction. “Zenitsu, on me! We’ll sever his head while Nezuko and Hashira Douma finish off the brother!”

    Zenitsu recovered and raced after where Inosuke was dragging the one-armed demon. As soon as they barreled through a building to another street, Muichiro removed the crossbow bolt from his own skull and got to his feet, his upper body swaying from the Wisteria poison still in his rapidly healing wound.

    “Yuichiro isn’t a bad person…” The boy demon whispered. “I wanted him out of the way so I could make him happy and kill the two of you… did you know our Lord wants the two of you dead? You two specifically? Recognized by the Queen-Mother herself… that’s impressive…”

    Douma scoffed, but made no comment. The pink-eyed girl wished that she could smell his emotions, but all she was getting was the nauseating stench of Wisteria.

    Nezuko’s mind jumped through hurdles trying to decipher what the demon meant before she remembered a conversation she had half a year ago.

~~~

    Yahaba nodded slowly. “Oh yes, as much as we try to avoid Ubuyashiki, we have been keeping track of his recent activity. The most noticeable action of his being him taking a human wife and somehow having children with her.”

    Susamaru giggled at Nezuko’s horrified face. “Don't worry, she’s a demon now, but she’s also always with Ubuyashiki. Nobody can get close to the old prune without his beloved witch being right there.”

~~~

    That woman Ubuyashiki was with all those months ago… how does Douma know about all of this? How does he know the demons? Is it because he’s the Master’s brother?

    Her thoughts were cut short by Muichiro raising his arms lazily in the air and summoning another dome of spinning mist around himself. He pushed it outwards and the Demon Slayers cut holes in it to avoid being hit. It was a relatively simple attack that Nezuko could easily avoid. A little too easily, she thought.

    Her two-toned eyes flicked up to the roof Kiriena was standing and how the rapidly expanding mist-dome was barreling towards her and her crossbow.

~~~

    Douma smiled. “Thank you, now as I was saying: I’ve had Demon Slayers and Kakushi alike going into Yoshiwara to draw out the demon prowing there, but my most recent and frankly valuable informant went off-grid a week ago. You see, I don’t care what happens to the other people I put undercover. However, if something happens to my younger informant…” He leaned forward, eyes piercing the souls of those kneeling before him. “I will flatten the entire district.”

~~~

    Total Concentration Sun and Flower Breathing: Whirling Solar Haze!

    Despite how her body ached and her wounds throbbed, Nezuko gripped her sword and launched herself at that roof. Kiriena had a Nichirin knife in hand, but that wasn’t going to be enough to defend herself, especially with the crossbow in her hand. With a brutal swing of her sword as she collided with the mist, the poison evaporated and fizzled away. The mist burned her skin to touch, but she would survive. She had to survive. 

    “Are you alright?” Nezuko put herself between Kiriena and Muichiro as Douma moved in close to the demon with a fury in his eyes. 

    “I-I’m alright.” She watched the battle and caught her breath. “What about the others? You need to go help them!”

    “Right now I need to help the Hashira.”

    The girl shook her head and jabbed a finger in the direction Yuichiro and Nezuko’s friends had ran off in. “I’m ordering you by the authority vested in me as the heir to the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps to go support your friends! My uncle will be fine, he’s one of the strongest Hashira there has ever been!”

    He’s the strongest?

    Her eyes glanced back to where Douma danced around Muichiro’s attacks. She took in how easily he slipped around blasts of mist and talons and managed to sneak in the occasional slice from his sword, fan and heel-knives that were venturing closer and closer to Muichiro’s neck. The demon’s mouth moved and he had a scent of curiosity, but whatever he was saying was eliciting no responses from Douma. He was far beyond entertaining the idle chatter and taunts. 

    “Orders received, ma’am!” Nezuko leaped off the rooftop and chased after her boys, her Hanafuda earrings slapping against the scar on her jaw as she ran on her injured legs. 

    Inosuke and Zenitsu were doing their best. They were keeping up with the sleeve attacks from Yuichiro when Nezuko arrived and were more than happy to let her leap into the fray. 

    “Everything okay?” Inosuke moved next to his friend while Zenitsu dragged his explosive blade through several glowing strips of fabric. 

    “Douma’s handling the brother right now. We just need to remove the head of this one and bring it over, right?”

    Nezuko nodded. “Careful, this one can turn his neck into the same stuff his arm is made out of. We’d do better with a serrated edge, but if we time our strikes, we can decapitate him.”

    “On your signal, Nezuko!” Zenitsu called over his shoulder as he resheathed his sword and leaped back. 

    Yuichiro’s eyes darted between them as he powered up another glowing attack. “Just try it, humans!”

    Nezuko nodded and the three charged. Nezuko and Zenitsu rushed the demon head on with their swords at their sides, striking down any attacks that came their way. Inosuke followed behind, giving himself enough distance to generate enough swing in his swords to slice off Yuichiro’s head. 

    The boy demon grit his teeth as his sleeve-arm was shredded down and the two charging Demon Slayers darted to the sides just for the one in the kimono to throw his swords at him again. Having already been taken out by this move several times, Yuichiro managed to leap into the air to avoid being struck fatally. 

    Inosuke counted on this. 

    “Let yourself be sanded down, smooth out your rough edges. Perhaps your inner serenity will be revealed through time, not hardships.”

    I love you, Mom.

    He twisted his shoulder back and snapped his ribbons up, catching the edge of his blade against Yuichiro’s neck that was rapidly turning into fabric. 

    Total Concentration Stone Breathing, Fourth Form; Volcanic Rock, Rapid Conquest!

    Yuichiro flailed and thrashed in the air, but his head was ultimately severed from his body. However, this was not without consequence. Right as he was decapitated, his sleeve-arm regrew and cut the ribbon connecting the handle of one of Inosuke’s sword to his grip, making the weapon clatter to the ground unceremoniously while Zenitsu caught the shrieking head. 

    “We did it!” Inosuke cheered as he retrieved his sword and sheathed both of his weapons. 

    Zenitsu nodded. “Let’s go help Douma.”

    They jumped back onto the rooftops right as the strong stench of Wisteria made Nezuko stumble. It was stronger than she had ever smelled before and it made her stomach queasy. 

    What was that?!

    Zenitsu noticed her hesitation and turned around to check on her, tucking Yuichiro’s head under his arm. “Nezuko, what’s wro-“

    His words were cut off by Muichiro suddenly appearing behind him and slapping a hand over his mask. A cloud of poison mist encased Zenitsu’s entire head and made him slump over and roll off the roof to his friends’ horror. 

    “Zenitsu!” They screamed. 

    Nezuko searched around frantically for Douma only to spy him face down in the street, copious smiths of blood pooling around his right elbow, the rest of his arm too far away and holding his sword. Kiriena was at his side, loudly sobbing and trying to tie a tourniquet around his wound, but he wasn’t moving. 

    Muichiro took advantage of the horrified states that left his enemies frozen and moved quickly to his brother’s body. He silently reattached Yuichiro’s head and the twins waited for the louder brother to heal before they unleashed their next attack. 

    Nezuko’s heart raced. It pounded in her chest and blood roared in her ears. Her hands trembled and her vision blurred even further. Every single wound on her body burned in languishing agony and all she could clearly see was the Hashira’s blood spilling onto the dirt. 

~~~

    “San-” Nezuko’s word was cut off with a gasp that quickly became a distressed wail.

    Sanemi laid on his stomach, still gripping his sword. His right leg had been severed and laid too far away. His white hair fell from his topknot and formed a shredded sheet across his back. 

~~~

    “…ve!” 

    Nezuko was ripped from her thoughts by Inosuke screaming in her ear. 

    “Move, Nezuko, run!”

    He was screaming because Yuichiro’s entire body was glowing teal. His sleeve-arm was split into a seemingly endless amount of strips that writhed in the air like abominable snakes that only grew in size. The air hummed with power as Yuichiro let out a shrill laugh and his arm struck out in every direction, shredding everything in his path. 

    Inosuke grit his teeth and shoved Nezuko off the roof right as the glowing demon fabrics destroyed the building they had been standing on. 

Chapter Text

    Fire licked at Nezuko’s bloody skin and ash filled her airways. She winced and whimpered in pain as she dragged herself out of the burning rubble of the Entertainment District. If she was hurting before, this was unbearable.

    She managed to get to her feet and stumbled around aimlessly, trying to regain her bearings. Her eyes fell on an overturned box and her heart leaped into her throat.

    “Tanjiro!”

    Nezuko fell down next to the box and turned it over, prying the door open to find the toddler version of her brother still sleeping soundly somehow. She let out a sigh of relief and touched his hair before shutting the box and looking around the burning landscape. She took note of her sword a distance away and dragged herself over to retrieve it.

    Where did everyone go?

    “Still alive?” Black fabric wrapped itself around her legs and dragged her into the air.

    Nezuko yelped and thrashed around before Yuichiro smirked and slammed her down into the ground. The twins stood over her, their teal irises glowing in the firelight evilly. Muichiro itched the side of his head and yawned. 

    “She’s got spirit.” He whispered. “And strong legs. Watch her legs.”

    Yuichiro giggled as Nezuko gasped for air and tried to crawl away, flicking his sleeve-arm and basking in the girl’s scream as his fabric strip snapped her ankles.

    Nezuko’s tears washed some of the blood from her face, but only turned the dirt on her cheeks to mud. Yuichiro cooed softly, feigning sympathy for the pain he caused, and turned to walk away. “Kill her, Muichiro, so I can claim one of our Lord’s hearts and rise the ranks some more.”

    Muichiro squatted down in front of Nezuko as her body dry-heaved from pain and gently touched her dark hair, ignoring how she flinched away. “You’re a strong girl. Very strong. Strong enough to beat one of us if we weren’t careful. You would make a stronger demon than my brother. Is that something you would be interested in?”

    She spat out blood at his bare feet and nearly bit him. “Why do you put up with him? Your brother clearly hates you.”

    “I don’t have anything else.” The demon shrugged. “I don’t care if Yuichiro hates me, as long as he feels something about me, that’s good enough.”

    “That’s-That’s no way to live!” Nezuko gasped out as she tried to regain feeling in her searing legs.

    “It’s better than spending eternity alone.”

    The Demon Slayer managed to push some strength into her limbs and pressed her palms to the dirt. Mimicking how Douma had twisted himself earlier, Nezuko swung her broken foot in the air as she put her weight on her arms and her heel collided with Muichiro’s skull with a loud crack .

    The demon stumbled and Nezuko got to her feet, breathing steadily to take pain off her broken ankles. She swung her leg over the boy’s head and dropped her foot onto his head, making him faceplant onto the street. The girl drew her sword with a yell and dragged it down onto his neck with as much force as her protesting body could muster.

    Total Concentration Sun Breathing; Dance!

    Muichiro made a pained noise as the scaldingly hot black blade bit into his flesh and started to cut into his neck. He moved to push her away, but let out another noise and went limp, another crossbow bolt appearing in his thigh.

    Nezuko looked in the direction the bolt had come from to see Kiriena on the ground with her crossbow shaking in her hands. Blood trickled from the little girl’s forehead, but other than that she looked unharmed. That was good. Even if Douma was out of commission, protecting the daughter of Master Muzan was the Demon Slayers’ top priority.

    She returned her attention to Muichiro and pressed down on his neck even harder. Blood roared in her ear as adrenaline blurred the sharp shooting pain all over her body. Time was slowing down in her mind and again just like before when she was fighting Gyokko in the mansion in the woods, it was like an out of body experience. Nezuko could see how her sword split Muichiro’s skin, how his breath kicked up tiny dust clouds, how the shadows from the fires around them danced around the destruction.

    The wind shifted, she smelled something. Yuichiro was coming back. Nezuko grit her teeth and pressed harder against the other demon’s nape. Muichiro grit his teeth and twisted his palms to face the night sky. Waves of poisonous mist chilled Nezuko and burned her skin, but she did her best to hold her breath and keep pressing. The mist pooled around where she was cutting into Muichiro and started to lift her sword away, so she put all of her weight onto her weapon.

    She was going to win no matter what, she had no choice.

    Yuichiro circled back around to check in on his brother and gnashed his teeth at the scene. He raised his sleeve arm, but as he did, a flash of blue threw him quite a distance away and a bloody Inosuke made chase, swinging one of his swords around himself violently and holding the other tightly at his side. His swinging sword connected with Yuichiro’s neck and lodged itself in the fabric that replaced the demon’s nape.

    Total Concentration Stone Breathing Combined Forms: Volcanic Rock, Serpentinite Bipolar Singularity!

    Snapping his ribbon, he pulled Yuichiro to him and connected his other sword to the fabric neck. As long as he continued to apply pressure, he was bound to cut it eventually. Each time they touched the ground, Inosuke kicked them into the air and bounced around with the demon in his grip, a glowing blue trail in the sky marking how far they flew and how fast they moved.

    Muichiro managed to push Nezuko’s sword up enough to roll away and pull out the Wisteria-tipped crossbow bolt in his leg. The Demon Slayer fell onto her back from the force of the push and scrambled to recover, but the pain in her broken ankles was becoming unbearable. As she scrambled to pull her sword up, Muichiro’s face took on a furious expression and he aimed his talons right for her two-toned eyes.

    His attack was intercepted by a Nichirin fan cutting into his fingers and a practically growling man barreling towards the fight. With his right arm tied off at his elbow stump, Douma had his sword in his teeth, a fan in hand and his right shoe still had the heel-knife. His rainbow eyes glowed in the firelight and for the first time since they met six months ago during Nezuko’s trial, she could smell his emotions through the Wisteria.

    Nezuko had smelled anger before, she had smelled fury, she had smelled bloodlust. This was so far beyond and more intense than any of the other emotions she had ever caught the scent of that it made her flinch. 

    Douma was pure, unfiltered rage.

    He spat his sword out, kicked it up with a shoe and launched it at Muichiro’s chest. The demon was impaled and stumbled back as his fingers regrew, but Douma was on him in less than a second.

    “Do you want to know why I was the one to survive?” He snarled as he swiped at the demon with his shoe-knife and fan. “Do you ever wonder I was the one to escape Hell?”

    Total Concentration Ice Breathing Final Form: Ice Age!

    Once upon a time, not too long ago, a lone church sat at the top of a mountain. The Head Priest of the church had a beautiful wife who bore him a son. The child was strange, it did not cry when it was born, nor did it sleep. The baby boy simply stared at his parents with eyes that shimmered with every color of the rainbow.

    His name was to be Douma, his eyes clearly being a gift from God.

    Eternal Paradise was constructed around him and his eyes. His parents began a church around their son, his eyes were taken as a sign of the coming of God. Douma was God, a gift from God and God’s watcher of the world.

    Yet, Paradise was not always as it would seem. Douma and his mother would notice strange things happening around the church as Eternal Paradise amassed a following. Money would vanish from the tithing coffers, Douma’s father would disappear for days on end on “outreach missions”. All things six year old Douma did not understand.

    He was always dressed in the finest of clothing and jewelry, a crimson crown placed on his head and beautiful people dressed in white would fall at his feet when he passed. Douma was God, a gift from God and God’s watcher of the world.

    So when he found his father in bed with some of his female disciples, Douma went to his mother to punish him. Douma told his mother in detail about what he found his father doing, saying that he demanded his father to be served the harshest punishment.

    Little Douma stood in the doorway as his mother took a knife to the dozens of people she had dragged into the sitting room of the mansion dedicated to the rainbow-eyed boy. She hacked them apart violently, screaming verses from the scripture she wrote herself as she gouged out her husband’s eyes and cut apart all of his adulterers.

    Finally, as she stood among the carnage she created, she bowed her head to her God-Son and slit her own throat. Blood dripped from the walls, the ceiling; there was too much of it. The floor was going to be permanently stained.

    The boy fell to his knees in the mess, not caring how dirty his pants got. He felt the filth seep through his clothing. Flies had not yet descended on the fileted corpses in the room. The stench of flesh was overwhelming. It was all messy messy messy messy messy. How could someone cause this without cleaning up after themselves? The room was too quiet, too empty. Where did all the people go?

Someone put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and a young girl whispered softly to him.

    “Hey.”

    Douma snapped his head around to stare at a girl not much younger than he was himself. Her hair was whiter than the purest snow and her purple eyes were filled with wonder. Her smile was missing a few teeth, but it only made her look more innocent.

    “Hey there, I’m Amane!” She giggled and held out her hand, ignoring the layer of blood on the ground that was staining her white kimono. “Wanna be friends?”

    Douma had never had a friend before. He had never even met someone his age before now. He took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, adjusting his crown to look presentable. As he did, someone else, an adult, entered the room.

    “Amane, have you made a friend?” The man had black hair and a terrible burn covering the top half of his face. His white robes were also being ruined by the blood, but he didn’t seem to care.

    Amane turned her toothy smile to him. “Yes sir! He’s gonna be my new brother!”

    “That’s absolutely wonderful, my dear.” The man smiled back. How he was able to see Amane smiled, Douma could not tell. “I’m sure he will be a splendid addition to the family.”

    Three things became certain in Douma’s life after he was found:

1. Demons ate humans.
2. Douma was a human.
3. Douma was only alive because no demon had eaten him yet.

    Each day serving Kagaya Ubuyashiki was a battle for survival. All of the demons attending their king were fascinated by his new human pet. He and Amane were the same age, six. Yet she was stronger than him already, she could use a knife to fend off the demons that tried to eat her.

    Douma learned that Kagaya Ubuyashiki liked to collect children. A third of his Upper Rank Kizuki demons were children, even more of his favorite demons were as well. Douma asked Amane if he was to call his master “Father” like his demons did.

    “No.” She said plainly as they sat together on the roof of Kagaya’s fortress. The day was when they slept, when they were safe. “You and I are not the Master’s children.”

    She was so sure. She was so young.

    Douma was seven when he was given his first weapon. Kagaya Ubuyashiki pressed a metal fan into his tiny hands and put him in a room full of demons. He had to kill them all to be let out. The fan was not made of Nichirin metal.

    For three days, Douma hacked and cut and sliced the demons apart, just for them to regenerate and attack him again. He was fast, that was the only reason he survived. The King of Demons pulled him out, let him tend to his wounds and put him back in the room.

    He and Amane called them “Black Rooms”. Sometimes the weapon was changed, but it was always the same. Three days with a weapon that was non-lethal to demons in a pitch black room. After three days, Kagaya Ubuyashiki’s smiling face would greet the two of them and nurse them back to health. The next week would be the same.

    Douma and Amane were ten when they were separated officially. The blonde boy was given a master who would teach him how to wield the Nichirin counterparts to his already familiar weapons, the white haired girl was hidden away inside the demon’s ever changing home.

    Sometimes he would see his sister roaming around the halls, deadly serious eyes and dressed to the nines in beautiful clothing. Some demons began to refer to her as the “Queen-Mother”. Douma just got stronger. His body was dedicated to killing, to survival. He loved every second of it. The demons began to worship him, fear him. He was the Prince of Demons, the King’s right hand man. He sang poetry of his own construction to all who heard it, danced with the blades he was given; all for his King and worshippers.

    Douma was fifteen when he finally spoke to Amane again. She came to his chambers within the sprawling castle and handed him a Nichirin katana.

    “Tomorrow, you are to participate in the Final Selection test of the Demon Slayer Corps. Our Lord has commanded you to end the Kibutsuji bloodline by slaughtering Kibutsuji Muzan, his wife and any relatives of theirs. Succeed and our Lord will make you a demon.” Her voice was monotone, controlled. Not an ounce of joy to be found. Lucky for her, Douma had plenty to go around.

    He took the blade from her with a grin. “Anything for our Lord!”

    “Another thing, Brother.” She took his right hand and pushed up his sleeve. As she held his arm in place, she pulled a black vial from a pocket and popped the cork stopper in the top. Douma said nothing as Amane poured the deep red - nearly black - liquid of the vial onto his bare arm. 

    The pain was agonizing, but Douma knew better than to wince. It bubbled and burned and ate at his skin until the liquid hardened and replaced his flesh with a hideous scab.

    “And what is this?” His rainbow eyes met her purple ones, masking his pain with curiosity.

    “Consider it insurance from our Master in case you were to ever become compromised.” Her gaze was steel cold. “Or could not follow through with your mission.”

    He wanted to return the emotion, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply smiled up to his eyes, pulling his arm back and tugging his sleeve down. “You don’t have to worry about me, Dear Sister. Shall I compose a poem as to how well I shall succeed?”

    She looked sick. “Spare me, just get it done.”

    Final Selection was child’s play for the rainbow-eyed boy. He had no difficulty whatsoever surviving a week on the mountain. After that, he performed his duties as a Demon Slayer ruthlessly. Anything to get close to the Kibutsuji Family to kill them, it didn’t matter how many people he needed to charm with his natural charisma or how many beings he cut down to get there.

    He rose the ranks quickly. Very quickly. Too quickly. By the end of his first month, he was already a Kinoe, the highest rank a regular Demon Slayer could reach. He was the fastest to ascend in the Corps’ history.

    As he suspected, Douma was summoned to the home of Muzan Kibutsuji. The young Master was no older than twelve, if he even was that. He walked with a confident gusto fitting of a boy his age and held a cane in his hands that he never leaned on. Add that to his handsome face and striking eyes, he had the same level of charisma that Douma did.

    “So, Kinoe Douma!” Muzan had greeted him on his porch. “You have quite the record, I see! Over two hundred confirmed kills in only five weeks! I’m impressed, truly I am!”

    Douma bowed his head respectfully, feeling the brand on his arm throbbing painfully the closer he was to the Master. “Thank you, sir. It is an honor to gain your recognition.”

    “Tell me, who was your Trainer? You have none registered in our records and I’m curious who created such a magnificent fighter such as yourself.”

    “I had no Trainer, sir. Just jumped around a bunch of Senseis until I was old enough to enroll myself.” He lied as easily as he was breathing. “I owe my success to the support of my friends and those who love me.”

    Muzan hopped down from his porch, wincing a little and rolling his ankle around before he took hold of Douma’s shoulders. “I see you’re as elegant with your words as you are with a sword. I have a proposition for you, sir. As I start nearing adulthood and take on even more responsibilities than I already have, I become more of a target of Ubuyashiki Kagaya’s. That is, the King of Demons. My staff here at the Headquarters are excellent, but how would you feel about adding yourself to my personal staff as a bodyguard? It would be a good way of serving the Corps if you’re not trying for a Hashira position.”

    “I would have to think about it, sir…” Another lie. Douma was going to jump at the opportunity to have the Master all alone to himself. Makes killing him and his family much easier. Being so close to Muzan made the pain in his arm agonizing, but again, he knew better than to show it.

    “Let me know, okay? I would love to see more of you around here, especially someone of your skills.” Muzan’s smile was practically blinding. “I can tell you’ll become a valuable asset of the Corps.”

    So Douma agreed. He was stationed inside the Headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps and he met Muzan’s other part-time bodyguard: Kaigaku Kuwajima, a hopeful for the position of Thunder Hashira and Muzan’s longtime best friend. Kaigaku was brutish and cruel to everyone who was not part of the Kibutsuji family, something Muzan apparently found entertaining.

    “You’ve got funny eyes! And weird hair! Is it naturally that color? Oyakata-Sama said you don’t have a Trainer, I call bullshit!” The invasive questions never stopped with this guy. Not that Douma didn’t enjoy playing around and pissing the guy off with offhanded responses that bordered a little too close to his actual childhood to be taken seriously.

    But, Muzan was his softer side, he and his wife were. While Muzan was twelve, his wife Rei was the same age as Kaigaku and Douma. She was an excellent cook and caretaker, often overseeing the Kakushi operations within and around the Headquarters. She was a priestess hand-selected to help dilute the curse on the Kibutsuji Family bloodline. Her children would be the next Masters of the Demon Slayer Corps.

    Not if Douma had anything to say about that.

    Rei and Muzan were the kindest people ever, in Douma’s opinion, but not naive. Both were true strategists who cared deeply for the Demon Slayers under their command. As Douma stood outside their door one night, he heard them planning the construction of some sort of anti-demon bomb through the entire evening. They only stopped because the sun came up and a maid brought them breakfast.

    Douma became included in these talks, he found. The young couple would strike up conversations with him as they roamed the gardens of the mansion, asking his opinions about gardening techniques, blacksmithing and any other topic that struck their fancy. It was nice, not having to fight for his life every day. He couldn’t explain why his chest bubbled slightly when they asked for his advice, when Muzan referred to him with casual, familial terms.

    But the constant pain in Douma’s arm reminded him of his goal.

    It was midnight. Douma knocked out the other guard on duty with him and slunk inside the couple’s chambers. They slept soundly in their bed, each of them close to the edge of their respective sides. It was too easy for Douma to draw his knife and approach Muzan’s sleeping form.

    The young Master slept on his stomach with his face in his pillow to muffle his soft snoring. Douma raised his dagger above his head to strike, but found himself hesitating. His stomach twisted and churned in a way he had never experienced before. His hand shook, threatening to make him drop his weapon. He remembered the long, calm walks in the garden, the late night debates he often got roped into, the peaceful training exercises that didn’t constantly threaten to rip him limb from limb. Could he actually go back to where he came from, could he willingly throw the last few months of bliss away?

    Douma stepped away from the bed and placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat in his throat and his breathing turn haggard.

    What is happening to me?!

    The ugly scab on his arm pulsed in truly excruciating pain. Douma grabbed at it, clawed at it with his nails and bit down on his lip to keep from screaming in anguish. The rainbow-eyed boy fell to his knees and dropped his knife, opting to pull a metal Nichirin battle fan from his belt. He flicked it open and pressed its razor sharp edge to the top part of his demonic scab. As he pushed with all his might, his mouth latched onto the collar of his black gakuran jacket to keep from biting off his own tongue. Blood poured from his wound as he began to basically saw and shave off part of his own arm right there on the floor. He wasn’t thinking, he just needed to get it off of him.

    He was vaguely aware of the occupants of the bed leaping up and a firm hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling his fan away from where he had halfway sawed off the demonic scab.

    “What the fuck are you doing, man?!” Kaigaku, wearing Muzan’s robe, screamed in his face. Even in Muzan’s clothing, he wore his iconic blue cord around his neck.

    Kaigaku?

    Rei pressed herself against the far wall, horror in her eyes at the scene. The door slammed open and Muzan wearing a Demon Slayer’s uniform stumbled in, looking a little delirious and sporting a bruise on his forehead from where he had hit the floor. “Everyone calm down!”

    Douma’s lip trembled, but no tears formed in his eyes. He had no idea what emotions he was feeling, which ones to express. There was no practice for this, no training. 

    “I… I can’t do it!”

    As soon as the words left his lips, a terrible demonic screech filled the night. Kaigaku dropped Douma’s wrist only for the half-cut off scab to begin to writhe around like it had a mind of its own.

    The rainbow-eyed boy yelled as he dragged the bloody blade of his fan across his arm one last time with all his strength, finally severing the scab before he slammed the fan’s blade onto the wriggling thing enough times to turn it to ash.

    As everyone in the room began to calm down, blood still pouring dangerously from Douma’s arm, he gasped and covered his mouth. “What have I done?!”

    Muzan fell by his side and tore off part of his borrowed gakuran jacket to tie around Douma’s arm. “Hey, you’re okay, we’ve got you. Rei, go find the Kakushi!”

    His wife nodded and dashed out of the room. Douma held his head in his free hand, making small, pained noises. “I can’t believe I just did that. He’s gonna kill me, they’re all gonna kill me…”

    Muzan pulled his hand away from his face. “Look at me, Aniki . You’re going to be alright. I won’t, none of us will, let Ubuyashiki anywhere near you. Right, Kaigaku?”

    Kaigaku gulped at the evil glare his young friend gave him and nodded slowly. “S-Sure thing, boss.”

    Douma kept his head low. “I don’t deserve your kindness. Truly, I can survive on my own. Let me leave you in the morning, you will be rid of me.”

    Muzan shook his head. “Not a chance. Demon Slayers stick together, right? So, why don’t you just explain to us how we got here, okay?”

    Douma tried to open his mouth, but he felt delirious from the amount of blood he had already lost. His vision blurred and spun before he inevitably slumped over and fell unconscious.

    He awoke feeling groggy. Douma groaned as he sat up, noticing that he was not restrained to the bed he found himself in. Muzan and Rei sat in chairs next to his bed, leaning against each other and sleeping soundly.

    His right forearm was bandaged tightly, the faint scent of Wisteria wafting from the covered wound. He recalled how he got in this position and let out a small sigh.

    I really screwed this up, didn’t I…

    Muzan let out a soft snore and snapped his head up, eyes awake and focusing. “ Aniki ! You’re awake!”

    Rei yawned and stretched, rubbing her face as she did. “Finally, Muzan was starting to think you were dead and nearly cried.”

    The young Master playfully pushed against his wife’s head. “I did not, lying witch!”

    Douma found a smile creeping onto his face. “Thank you, for saving me.”

    “Of course, man!” Muzan turned his smile back to the man on the bed. “As long as you’re okay, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

    For some reason that to this day Douma still cannot explain, he could not look the boy in the eyes. 

    “Why are you treating me so kindly?” He did not ask out of emotion, or at least that was not his main reason for asking. He was more curious than anything. In his mind, anyone else would have killed him for attempting to assassinate someone of Muzan’s importance.

    He stiffened when the red-eyed boy took his hand, not expecting the gesture.

    “Douma- Aniki …” Muzan whispered sadly. “Do you know what a family is?”

    Douma was tempted to answer with sarcasm, but decided against it. “Yes. I had two parents and I have a sister not related to the parents.”

    “A family is a group of people who love and care for you, not just who you share blood with.”

    The blonde man considered this for a moment. “Then I suppose I do not have a family. Why do you ask?”

    Rei giggled under her breath. “I think I understand what our glorious leader is hinting at here. Douma, how would you feel about joining our family? We could provide you with a home, support and the protection of the Demon Slayer Corps.”

    Douma shook his head, pulling his hand away and wincing as the action shifted his bandages. It felt like the fabric was pulling his skin off. “With all due respect, ma’am, I may be ignorant to how families work, but I am not naive enough to believe you would accept me after I tried to kill you in your sleep last night.”

    Muzan cringed a little. “Actually, you’ve been out for almost a week.”

    “Pardon me?”

    Rei nodded. “That demonic thing you hacked off your arm? It grew back almost immediately. It seemed that the only thing that could prevent it from regrowing was slathering it in Wisteria extract, which is the perfume you’re probably smelling right now. It must be eating away at you from the inside.”

    Muzan clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. “See, we’re both cursed! So, erm, how did you get yours exactly?”

    Douma told them everything. From Eternal Paradise to his mother’s murder/suicide to the Black Rooms to Amane’s “insurance”. He wasn’t even sure why he was saying all of this, it was out of character for him. Yet, he found that sharing his story with the couple came almost as easy to him as breathing.

    Perhaps you finally grew a human heart. 

    Whatever his reason was, he knew that he could never return to Kagaya Ubuyashiki or Amane. He had failed his mission. But, as he watched Muzan and Rei give him compassionate smiles, a warmth pooled inside of his chest that he never wanted to smolder.

    Or perhaps I simply found a new mission.

    “No offense, Aniki , but your ‘sister’ sounds like shit.”

    Unfortunately, word of what Douma had attempted to do spread across part of the staff before it was contained. Douma couldn’t prevent being dragged to the garden of the Headquarters and bound in front of the Hashira and their cold eyes.

    If he wasn’t used to being looked at like that, Douma would have been unnerved.

    The leader of the Hashira, a short, pregnant woman with white hair and purple eyes, sat on a chair while the rest of the Pillars stood or knelt around the empty porch of the mansion. She looked like an older version of Amane yet was obviously not her. “Can we get on with this? I have to get home before my son and husband burn down the house.”

    Another man close to her age with long, black hair chuckled softly. “Of course, Shinazugawa-San. Sanemi is what, four now? God only knows what trouble he could get into.”

    “Damn right, Katsu.” Shizu grinned and turned her gaze back to Douma. “So what are the facts here? What’s this guy’s deal?”

    A girl close to Douma’s age who wore a maroon haori over her uniform stood over Douma with her arms crossed over her chest. “Kinoe Douma here served as Oyakata-Sama’s bodyguard for five months after rising to the rank of Kinoe only a month after completing Final Selection. However, two weeks ago, he snuck into Oyakata-Sama’s room with the intention to assassinate him and Lady Kibutsuji with direct orders from Ubuyashiki Kagaya.”

    Katsu smiled. “Thank you, Tomioka-Chan. However, I would also like to inform the group that instead of carrying out his attack, Kinoe Douma turned his knife on himself and nearly took his own life.”

    Shizu laughed loudly, something Douma found unfitting for a woman of her stature. “Alright, then let’s put it to a vote what his punishment should be! All in favor of execution for threatening Oyakata-Sama’s life?”

    The girl called Tomioka, Katsu, Shizu and all of the other Hashira raised their hands. Douma groaned and tested the strength of the ropes around his wrists. He could snap them easily if needed and make his escape.

    The door to the porch slid open. “And what, may I ask, is going on out here?”

    All of the Hashira fell into line in front of the porch save Shizu, who bowed her head respectfully from her chair. Muzan strutted out to the edge of his porch and sat himself down casually. “So?”

    Shizu pushed her bangs out of her face. Douma noted that her eyes were a different shade than Amane’s and that facter made their features incomparable in his mind. “We came to a decision about what to do with the traitor Douma: he is to be punished severely for endangering your life.”

    Muzan yawned. “Yes, I agree. Which is why I have already come to a decision about what to do with him.”

    Douma didn’t like how Katsu’s eyes glimmered and his smile widened. “So we should carry through with his execution?”

    “And what exactly would that accomplish?” Muzan turned to the Mist Pillar. “Katsu, I love your enthusiasm and I agree that Douma must be punished, but I said nothing of execution. Douma is to be removed from service as my bodyguard effective immediately, but he is not to be harmed.”

    The Hashira all visibly deflated, but Shizu’s smile was quick to return. “Is that all, Master?”

    “In terms of punishment, that is all. Following his termination as my bodyguard, Hashira Kibutsuji is to begin taking regular missions outside of these walls once more.” The young Master said coolly.

    Everyone in the garden’s jaws hung open, including Douma’s. “Hashira…”

    “Kibutsuji?!” Tsutako Tomioka finished. “Sir, with all due respect, you can’t seriously be--”

    It was chilling even to Douma how quickly Muzan’s pale red eyes became sinister, giving his young face an evil shadow. “For how many generations has the Tomioka Family had a member among the ranks of Hashira? Or the Shinazugawa Family?”

    She averted her gaze respectfully. “Twelve generations, sir, the Shinazugawa Family being fourteen.”

    “And out of all those swordsmen, Tsutako, out of all of those generations of Pillars, how many of them have met an Upper Moon demon?”

    “I don’t know, sir, maybe a third?” Her voice dropped to a humble whisper.

    “And out of all those people, how many of them have met multiple? How many of them survived? How many of them can claim to have sat at the table of Ubuyashiki Kagaya and lived to tell the tale?”

    “I don’t know, sir. Probably none, sir.”

    “Well, if you can’t answer my questions, let’s try an easier one.” Muzan leaned back on his palms. “How many demons have you killed in your entire life?”

    Tsutako thought for a moment. “Approximately a hundred?”

    “Douma killed twice that in a single month. As a Kinoe, he has killed fifty-three demons, earning the rank of Hashira. In fact, he is more deserving of it than those of you who earned your rank through the Tsugoku program. If there is any doubt you harbor of his loyalty, I instruct you to banish it now.”

    The collective faces of shame and humility that washed over the Hashira made Douma want to giggle. 

    Muzan’s kind smile returned. “As of now, Douma- Aniki knows more about the demons than all of our generations of records. He is the Demon Slayer Corps’ most valuable asset and I should add that I’m making him our resident Demon Expert! He can track them better than any swordsmen I’ve ever seen! So forgive me if I simply cannot allow someone of his skills to be executed.”

    Douma snapped the ropes around his wrists like they were made of paper and adjusted so that he sat more comfortably on his knees, ignoring the alarmed faces of those around him. “I appreciate the compliments, Master, but referring back to the title you addressed me by…”

    “Hashira Kibutsiji, that is correct.”

    “So when Lady Rei said you wished for me to join your family… she meant literally?”

    “Literally!” The young Master laughed. “You do not have a family name for yourself, so how fitting and ironic would it be for you to have mine, oh Brother of Demons?”

    Three things became certain in Douma’s life after he was found:

1. Demons ate humans.
2. Douma was a human.
3. Douma was only alive because no demon had eaten him yet.

    Each day serving Muzan Kibutsuji as his brother and as a Hashira was like a breath of fresh air. All of the Demon Slayers who met him were fascinated by his “stories” of his childhood that could in no way be actually true. He and Muzan were three and a half years apart, 17 and 13. Muzan was growing weaker by the day; he began carrying his cane around more often even if he didn’t use it much yet.

    Douma’s own curse wasn’t anything better. To keep the demonic scab from regrowing and eating off his arm, he had to physically inject himself with a type of Wisteria extract periodically to dilute his blood with the poisonous flower. In the blink of an eye, it had been a year since he left behind the Ubuyashiki name and took on the name Kibutsuji. He adorned his sword with the title Oni-Aniki to remind himself of his roots and customized his uniform to make himself stand out as if he was born for the role. Regular Demon Slayers followed him like curious sheep and damn near worshiped the ground he walked on, enthralled by his talents and charisma. He was eccentric and thriving.

    However, there were parts of him that sometimes he thought he was missing. Douma didn’t think it was possible for him to love and in a way, he was right. In his mind, he only owed Muzan and Rei a debt for saving his life. They were kind to him, entertained him and he felt no immediate need to sneak away in the night and fend for himself. Feeling fond of them could translate to love, he supposed, but their roles in his mind were all of equal status. Master, human, family. Not one title stuck out to him. Yet, the family was always fascinating to him. Douma loved watching the couple come alive when they shared their interests and was in awe of how vast their minds were and how that translated over into their judgments.

    He asked Muzan once how he knew to swap places with Kaigaku that fateful night he attacked and the boy had simply laughed in his face.

    “I knew you were a spy since I first met you! You’re an unpredictable fella, but that’s why it’s my job to always be one step ahead!”

    A strange boy that Muzan Kibutsuji was, but maybe that was because Douma was ignorant to how most humans functioned.

    To be perfectly honest, Douma didn’t even understand what Rei meant when she announced she was pregnant. It was a foreign concept to him, even after Hashira Shinazugawa had her second son and explained the process to him. It still seemed alien to him even as Rei’s due date got closer.

    The day came that Muzan and Rei would have their first born child. Douma and Kaigaku appeared at the Headquarters at the same time and waited in a sitting room. Douma didn’t understand why his hands sweated or why he didn’t feel the urge to make an offhand comment about the situation.

    “Something on your mind, Kuwajima?” Douma noticed the larger man glaring at him.

    “I still don’t know why Muzan invited you here.” He grumbled. “You--”

    “Ah, ah, ah… that’s Master to you.” Douma’s lips curled over his sharp teeth, a defense mechanism. “And why not? I am his brother, am I not? It is only fitting that both of us would be in attendance.”

    Kaigaku looked ready to snap his neck. As he shifted, probably to do just that, Tsutako appeared in the room. “Oyakata-Sama has requested Mister Kuwajima’s presence.”

    Kaigaku sneered at the rainbow-eyed boy and stood up. “Thank you, Tomioka-Chan. Tell me, how's she doing?”

    Tsutako frowned. “There was some difficulty during the procedure…” Douma’s eyes flicked over to her quickly as he itched his right forearm. The demon scab hadn’t fully grown back, each injection of Wisteria into his blood assured that, but he could still feel it eating away at him. “The Master has asked for you to be by his side as we finish in here.”

    The giant man followed her out, giving Douma one last malicious smile before vanishing out the door. She returned an hour later with an uneasy expression.

    “Douma-err, Mister Kibutsuji, you may come in now.” She refrained from using his correct title.

    Douma rose to his feet a little too quickly and followed the young woman through the halls of the mansion. His blood roared in his ears and his palms sweat in a way he had never experienced before. They paused in front of a cracked open door and stood back as Kaigaku stepped out. He glared at Douma and almost didn’t move, but the voice of Rei Kibutsuji called out.

    “Is Douma there?” She sounded hoarse, exhausted. “Send him in, please.”

    Kaigaku reluctantly stepped out of the way. As Douma moved to enter the room, the blue-eyed man grabbed his arm harshly. 

    “Try anything and I’m dragging you out by your tonsils.” He snarled.

    Douma kept his eyes low, but pulled himself free to finally make his way into the room. He knew well that those who knew his story still didn’t trust him, but it was uncharacteristic of him to not snap back with a witty retort.

    “There he is!” Muzan clapped Douma on the shoulder as the door was shut behind him. The Master of the Demon Slayer Corps held a cane in his hand, but did not lean against it. Douma noted that he was carrying it more often. “Here, come see!”

    Muzan’s pale red eyes were wide with excitement as he dragged his older brother deeper into the room to a bed where a totally exhausted Rei laid. Her brown hair was messy and her eyes exhausted, but she visibly perked up when she caught sight of the blonde boy.

    “It’s about time, young man.” She laughed. “Tsutako said that you weren’t available, so Kaigaku of all people ended up being the first in the room.”

    Douma chuckled nervously, glancing back at the door. Tsutako and Kaigaku must have lied. They never liked him anyways. “Well, I certainly don’t wish to be responsible for a rift between best friends.”

    Muzan ruffled his hair. “Nonsense, and I told Kaigaku that we would have preferred you in here first. After all, she is your niece.”

    The rainbow-eyed boy looked back to Rei and finally noticed the small bundle in her arms. It was like his mind finally wrapped around the idea that the family he was adopted into was growing. “My… niece?”

    Rei followed his gaze. “Would you like to hold her?”

    Muzan’s smile grew. “Not even Kaigaku has gotten to do that yet, and he’s the god-father.”

    Douma looked between the couple, taking a step back. “I don’t know…”

    The woman on the bed rolled her eyes and held out the bundle of blankets in her arms. “Kibitsuji Douma, come hold your niece while my darling husband fetches me some water. I was just in labor for an entire day and I want to take a nap.”

    He gingerly took the bundle and cradled it in his arms as gently as he physically could as Muzan moved away to find water. The baby was sleeping soundly, safely in his arms, a tiny tuff of brown hair decorating the top of her smooth head. She stirred slightly in her sleep and her impossibly tiny fingers wrapped themselves around one of Douma’s innocently, not quite reaching all the way around his slender index finger.

    Douma had never held a baby, never interacted with one before. He couldn’t understand how a being so small, so innocent could even exist. This thing didn’t know about the horrors of the world, of the demons that hungrily tore flesh from bone, how humans ripped each other to shreds over meaningless disputes. No, she was only a few hours old and sleeping soundly, trusting that whoever held her would keep her safe.

    It was a mantle Douma found himself more than happy to take up for her.

    “ Aniki , are you alright?” Muzan returned with a cup of water for his wife.

    Douma pulled himself out of his thoughts and instinctively held the baby a little closer. “I am.” his voice cracked for some reason. “Does she have a name?”

    The couple shared knowing smiles as Rei sipped her water. “We’re thinking of naming her Kiriena, it means ‘beautiful’.”

    “She truly is.” The Hashira whispered, mesmerized by how those tiny fingers couldn’t wrap around his. He was confused as to why he felt liquid dripping down his cheek and chin, why his nose felt heavy and there was a lump in his throat. “What… What is happening to me?”

    Muzan smiled from ear to ear. “You’re happy, Brother.”

    “So it would seem.”

    That was the first time in Hashira Douma Kibutsuji’s entire life he ever cried and the only time he cried since. He shed no tears when Tsutako Tomioka lost her life five years later, he shed no tears when Muzan became completely reliant on his cane and could no longer walk without it as his curse ate him from the inside out, he shed no tears when Shizu Shinazugawa lost five of her seven children and lost her mind, he shed no tears when Tsutako’s replacement Sabito perished and he certainly shed no tears over the death of Shizu’s eldest son Sanemi. Maybe this was how he was broken, maybe it was his lack of empathy. It seemed to be human to visibly grieve and emote with one another, but Douma never understood it. 

    However, holding the future of the Demon Slayer Corps in his arms made sense. Wherever life took the baby, Douma knew that the fate of the world fell on her and that her father would not survive long enough to guide her like he was supposed to. That responsibility would fall on Douma and the other adults in little Kiriena’s life. And like Douma realized within himself earlier;

    It was a mantle he would gladly take up.

Chapter Text

    “Do you want to know why I was the one to survive?” Douma snarled as he swiped at the demon with his shoe-knife and fan. “Do you ever wonder I was the one to escape Hell?”

    Total Concentration Ice Breathing Final Form: Ice Age!

    Muichiro summoned walls of mist, creating shields and swords out of the poisonous gas that were all shattered, sliced and blown away. He was struggling to keep up with Douma’s increasingly rapid onslaught of attacks and nervous sweat trickled from the demon’s forehead.

    The Hashira thought about Muzan’s mischievous smile, Rei’s warm eyes, Kiriena’s prideful laugh, Kaigaku’s insufferable sneers, all the Hashira he watched grow up, the other Hashira who guided him to where he was. He had a family, people who genuinely cared about him. Their support, their love, it was something Kagaya Ubuyashiki could never take away from him. The King of Demons would have to rip them from the blonde man’s cold, dead body. He thought about his niece using his body as a jungle-gym, climbing up his arm and onto his shoulders to be carried around the Headquarters. He thought about Rei dragging him and Kaigaku into the mansion’s kitchen by the ears and making them try her new katsudon recipe. He thought about Muzan sitting on the edge of his porch, etching good luck charms into his cane as his curse slowly ate him from the inside out. Just like Douma’s. The rainbow-eyed man had one mission he dedicated his existence to: protecting those who saved him from himself.

    “I clawed my way out of Hell because I am God!” 

    Douma began laughing like an insane man even as his white gakuran jacket was shredded, even as part of his left ear was sliced off, even as his amputated arm bled and bled and bled. He even punched Muichiro in the face with his stump, smearing his blood all over the demon and watching as the Wisteria in his veins burned Muichiro’s blotchy skin.

    The demon yelled in retaliation and summoned more of his demonic powers. The air was frigidly cold, sparks flew from where Douma would collide his weapons together as he danced around violently, vigorously impaling Muichiro with one weapon and pulling out the next to fight with that one next. The burning buildings around them were flattened by the strength of their combined attacks as they shot around Yoshiwara. Sometimes Inosuke and Yuichiro would fly by, but ultimately the greatest lightshow was the struggle between Douma and Muichiro.

    Nezuko couldn’t even follow the battle with her eyes anymore. The two fighters moved too fast for her to pay attention, all she could see was a streak of white sometimes among the shifting shadows cast by the fires.

    “How are you getting faster?!” Muichiro yelped as he summoned another sword of mist only for it to be shattered against Douma’s pale blue sword, the metal fan being lodged in his shoulder.

    “I’ve been fighting with one arm tied behind my back for half of my entire life, it’s time I relished in the taste of freedom!” Douma laughed in response and jabbed his sword into the demon’s heart to grab his fan back and dance around with that.

~~~

    “A very versatile technique I cultivated myself. I can even perform it while standing on one hand.”

    Nezuko tucked her knife into a pocket of her haori. “Sanemi mentioned it when we officially met. He said that it stemmed from Stone Breathing, but that he wasn’t sure.”

    The Hashira threw his head back and laughed. “Oh poor little Sanemi! Yes, Ice Breathing is an extension of Stone Breathing, but with a twist of Water in it. Some dare say that it’s unpredictable and that I come up with forms on the fly, I think it mirrors me perfectly!”

~~~

    Nezuko thought he was incredible. 

    Wait, he’s not gonna be able to win by himself!

    She snapped herself out of her awe, grabbed her sword and willed herself to get to her feet. She sprinted after the battle with her sword at her side, the black blade warming the freezing air left in Douma’s wake. She thought about her father dancing the Hinokami Kagura in the snow of the New Year, how even the snow fueled the fire in his heart and inspired him to continue to show his piety to the fire gods. Nezuko remembered what Tanjiro had told her Tanjuro had told him before he was murdered, how breathing correctly could lead to dancing forever.

    She gripped her sword as tightly as she could and threw herself into the air above where Douma and Muichiro were battling. She could see the kill-line to the demon’s neck and watched the end of her black katana pull it taut.

    I want to dance, Father! I want to dance forever!

    Muichiro’s teal-on-black eyes flicked up to her as Douma’s fan cut him across the chest and he pulled one his hands free. His palm reached out to Nezuko and she had no time to twist away as he sprayed a funnel of poison mist into her mouth. She turned her head to the side as she tasted the burning mist on her tongue, but quickly felt something bite at her cheek and her teeth began to ache.

    The mist had burned a hole into her face.

    Nezuko screamed and dragged her sword across the air with all her might. The edge of her black blade connected with Muichiro’s neck right as Douma pressed his fan to the skin and began to cut.

    In the sky, Inosuke’s strength was beginning to falter. He was only tearing at Yuichiro’s fabric neck a miniscule amount and the demon was starting to realize this. The green-eyed boy kept fighting to keep up his momentum, fighting for every centimeter of fabric he cut into. He couldn’t let Nezuko down, he had to win no matter what. Even as he bled from wounds all over his body from Yuichiro’s retaliation, even as his eyes burned from ash and blood and pained tears; Inosuke Hashibira was going to slay this demon.

    Back on the ground and moving just as fast, Nezuko and Douma screamed together as they pressed their blades into Muichiro’s sturdy neck. The demon tried to rip himself away without taking off his head, but to no avail. The effects of his poison was showing on the Demon Slayers, purple splotches appearing on their skin as it ate them from the inside out. No matter, they had to kill the boy before he killed them.

    Nezuko felt her body surge with adrenaline even more than it already did. In her blind rage, she did not notice her sword turn crimson hot. She did not notice her eyes turn to the color of garnets. She did not notice the roots of her hair turn white and the rest of her dark locks turn bright red. She did not notice how the scar on her jaw that she got when she was thrown from the Mugen Train that connected to the scar on the back of her head from when she defeated the giant demon during Final Selection expand across her entire cheek and around her eye into her forehead where the men in her family bore their birthmarks, creating a pattern of flaming flowers across her skin. She did not notice how the faded scars on her wrists from her first time fighting an enemy demon flared and glowed in the same way, spreading up her arms like gauntlets of tattooed flames to strengthen her limbs. The markings were a map across her body of her battles, of her victories she had to give everything she had for. From the night in the temple, facing down those pink-on-black eyes to Mt. Fujikasane to all the other spider demons she defeated to meeting the King of Demons in Asakusa to joining Yahaba and Susamaru in their centuries-old battle against him to Sagiri Mountain and Enmu’s collection of strong demons to decapitating Akaza who had merged with the Mugen Train to watching Sanemi pay the ultimate sacrifice against the Spider Demon Rui and now here in Yoshiwara with the demon twins in her grasp, Nezuko was constantly getting stronger, getting closer to her goal of killing Kagaya Ubuyashiki. The brightness of the sun burned in her veins, heating up the air that was turning icy cold from Douma’s own attacks. 

    He was the New Year’s snow to her dance of piety, the crisp atmosphere that let her dance forever just like her father. Coming into her life for only a season and leaving just as quickly, but challenging her to grow and get stronger. She was no longer the frail girl who begged on her knees for her only family to not be taken from her. Now she stood on her own will above all her enemies, conquering and taking their heads.

    And she had no intention of losing here.

    Her and Douma’s blades slipped another inch into Muichiro’s skin. A person wearing yellow leaped from the rubble of the Entertainment District with a bronze sword clutched in his hand and raced after where Inosuke was dragging Yuichiro around. Zenitsu’s mask was damaged, the yellow paint decorating the oni ’s face was chipped and faded, but he still wore it over his burning eyes. Behind his mask, his skin was a sickly purple and he bled profusely from wounds he sustained when the district was destroyed, but Zenitsu still leaped into the air and connected his gunpowder-coated sword where Inosuke’s swords were trying to cut into Yuichiro.

    With the added pressure, the three combined swords finally cut through Yuichiro’s fabric-neck, sending his head soaring and making the boys fly into the burning rubble of the district. Back at Muichiro, Douma and Nezuko let out one more guttural yell and pushed their red-hot weapons through the demon’s neck, flinging his head into the night.

    The heads of the twin brothers landed next to each other, rolling so that their identical faces stared each other down in shock. One face adorned with beautiful features fitting of an oiran scrunched in indignant rage and beginning to yell, the other face covered in dirty splotches and scabs listening silently. Always silent when his brother opened his mouth.

    Nezuko landed on her side, gasping quickly to try to fill her wheezing lungs. She pushed herself up, feeling her broken ankles finally give out painfully, and tried to control her rapid breathing, but the hole in her cheek made it impossible. Her agony made breathing impossible.

    Douma landed on his back, quickly sitting himself up and grabbing at his arm stump and his eyes darted around frantically. To the side, Muichiro’s body began to shake and twitch, making the Hashira scramble on his knees desperately towards Nezuko.

    “MOVE! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THE W--”

    He was cut off by an explosion of poisonous mist erupting from Muichiro’s tiny body that flattened everything in the district until nothing remained.

    Tanjiro was curled in a fetal position in the darkness. He was no larger than a toddler, but he did not resemble a human. He had a blood-red horn protruding from his forehead scar and markings resembling rushing water covered his skin. Tiny fangs peaked out from behind his whimpering lips and his nails were sharp talons that he pulled at his long red hair with.

    “Tanjiro, get up.” A woman called to him.

    He opened his glowing eyes to see a beautiful woman before him. Her hair was white with tips redder than Tanjiro’s own hair, her eyes looked to swirl between a yellow-green and red, like they couldn’t decide what color to pick and decided to just swim together. Across the woman’s face and even down peeking out of her sleeves were fire-like markings. In one hand, she held a crimson-red katana. In the other, a red lily flower.

    The tiny demon wiped his tearful eyes pitifully and sat on his knees before the powerful looking woman. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but nothing came out. He had no voice. Her painted lips quirked up into a small smile and her eyes flicked between the items in her hands.

    “To believe that only these two things can bring victory against our enemy.” She whispered. Her entire being glowed softly, bathed in a holy light that Tanjro did not share. “Tell me why you weep, boy.”

    He tried again to speak, but to no avail. Instead, he tried thinking hard about what he wanted to say to her.

    I hurt people, I lost control when I swore I would never again. 

    “Your sister prevented you from hurting innocents, did she not?”

    I nearly killed her, too! Tanjiro balled up his fists on his lap. I enjoyed the power! I wanted to hurt the other demon! I’m a danger to people, I need to be destroyed!

    The woman shook her head. “Have you already forgotten your accomplishments?”

    Lights flashed in Tanjiro’s eyes. He saw himself on the Mugen Train with Inosuke and Sanemi, fighting to keep all of the sleeping passengers safe. He saw himself on Sagiri Mountain, burning his hands with a Nichirin sword as he helped Nezuko kill Enmu. He saw himself fending off the spider-bodied demon’s minions to protect the girls called Sayo and Satoko. He saw himself in a temple as the sun rose on the horizon, dragging and burying dead bodies while Nezuko battled her conscience to slay the demon who killed them. Lastly, he saw himself on the porch of the Demon Slayer Corps’ Headquarters, clenching his fists so hard he drew blood and inhaling a nearly fatal amount of Wisteria to keep himself from attacking the scarred Hashira taunting and tempting him with Marechi blood.

    “Kamado Tanjiro.” The woman’s voice pierced his subconscious and brought him back to the black void before her. “See all you have done and rejoice in all you will continue to do in the future. You are a blaze burning down a forest for new life to grow in the wake, the sun who steals away the snow from winter to make way for the flowers and above all else: your family needs you.”

    His eyes shot open as he became aware of his box flying into the sky. Tanjiro bullied his way out of it as he rapidly expanded back to his adult demon form to see waves and waves and waves of burning mist destroying everything around him. 

    Blood Demon Art: Blood Explosion!

    Tanjiro thrust his palms in front of himself and watched as pink flames sparked across the sky. The flames raced across the mist, evaporating and feeding on the poison to burn it all away. He landed on the ground and shrunk back to his usual teenaged size and examined himself over as his fires burned up the last of the mist. His horn and water markings were gone, but for the first time in who knew how long, he felt no hunger. In fact, he felt invigorated and ready to battle again. He had full control over his urges, his instincts and himself.

    He moved around the smoking rubble, looking for any sign of life. He found a piece of thick rope and tied it around his mouth for extra insurance. Just in case, you know? The demon continued to search around for people.

    He smelled someone buried under a destroyed building. Tanjiro dug his hands into the scorched pillars littering the ground and started to lift, taking advantage of his super strength to help whoever was trapped.

    Once he made a hole large enough for someone to crawl out, he made a happy noise that Inosuke tumbled out of the rumble. The green-eyed boy looked like he had definitely broken a few bones, but was otherwise unharmed.

    “Tanjiro!” He exclaimed happily.

    The demon fell to his knees and hugged the other boy tightly. They embraced warmly for a minute before they pulled away, both of them trying to dissipate the warmth in their cheeks that had formed.

    “So where’s Nezuko?” Inosuke cleared his throat.

    Tanjiro smacked himself in the face to stop himself from admiring how nice Inosuke looked wearing his kimono that was terribly stained in dirt (was he wearing makeup?) before standing up and looking around with a shrug.

    “Hold on, let me feel for her.” The other boy pressed his hands to the ground and closed his eyes, feeling for vibrations of any signs of life. “Got her!”

    Inosuke yelped as Tanjiro scooped him up in his arms bridal style, careful to not hurt him anymore than he already was. They searched around the rubble some more until they saw a pink sleeve peeking out from under a roof. 

    Tanjiro carefully set the boy in his arms down and tossed the roof aside with ease, gasping in horror at Nezuko’s broken body. She was barely conscious, her eyes half-lidded and threatening to close. Her skin was covered in purple splotches from what Tanjiro assumed was the poison mist. He could see that under her eye-lids, her eyes were red with blood. Her right cheek was the worst part of her face, a large hole having been bored through it and her skin was the deepest shade of purple. Her haggard breathing whistled through her exposed teeth each time her chest heaved up and down. Her hair was matted with blood and dirt, the roots of her hair having turned white from what Tanjiro assumed was the stress of the battle. The color made her resemble the woman from his vision a little bit. Nezuko’s ankles looked to be completely shattered and she had lacerations all over her exposed skin. She was dying.

    Tanjiro felt a pull at the back of his mind. He fell to her side and held his hands over her. Pink flames licked at his fingertips and covered his sister’s entire body. The warm flames burned off the purple splotches on her skin and returned her breathing to normal. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a deep groan of pain.

    Inosuke crawled over and let out a small chuckle. “Don’t try to speak or move, you look awful.”

    She glared at him and tried to raise her arm to smack him, but found herself lacking the strength to move. Tanjiro lifted them both up, carrying Nezuko bridal style this time while Inosuke got on his back and clung to his neck. If Tanjiro needed to breathe, he probably would have choked. Maybe being a demon had some perks. 

    His sister felt small in his arms, weightless. He worried that jostling her around would break her even more. He smiled around the rope between his teeth when he felt both Nezuko and Inosuke rest their heads against him, exhausted from fighting.

    Tanjiro wandered around more until he spotted Zenitsu slowly crawling on his face. He had his ruined mask in one hand, the other was clawing at the ashen dirt. The demon moved to his side to see that his face was worse than Nezuko’s in terms of splotches. He quickly burned off the poison and gave Zenitsu a satisfied hum.

    Zenitsu rolled over onto his back and sat up, holding his mask close as he caught his breath. “Thank you, Tanjiro… I can walk, I’ll be fine.”

    Holding onto Tanjiro’s arm to help him stand, Zenitsu wobbly got to his feet, but remained there. The two of them, with their nearly unconscious friends in tow, followed a sound that Zenitsu picked up to find Douma sitting against a destroyed house with Kiriena examining his wounds. The little girl wore a smile as she worked, but her eyes were panicked. Other than the cut on her forehead, she was completely unharmed. Douma must have somehow thrown himself over her when Muichiro’s body exploded.

    “Just hold on, oji , just a little longer, okay?” She whispered to the Hashira.

    Douma’s skin was completely purple and looked to be almost melting. His rainbow eyes were staring at the sky as he breathed deeply, rhythmically to keep the poison from spreading as quickly as it was. His right arm had been newly bandaged at its stump and no longer bled and Kiriena was tying another bandage around his head where his left ear had been sliced in half. Somehow, his white uniform was still mostly intact, only shredded in a few places like his sleeves and pant legs. His sword was discarded to the side, the blue blade having been shattered on something. His blonde hair had fallen from its low ponytail and hung around his shoulders limply, matted with dirt and desperately needing a wash. Despite how awful he looked, his lips were upturned into a calm smile. 

    “You look like shit.” Zenitsu commented.

    “Well ex cuse me.” He rasped out. “How about you try to become a human smoothie?”

    Kiriena smacked his ribs, making the Hashira grunt in pain. “Stop talking and save your breath, idiot! I saw a sparrow circle overhead, it’s bringing the Kakushi.”

    Tanjiro, with Zenitsu’s help, carefully laid down Nezuko and Inosuke, sitting himself at Douma’s side and holding his hands over the rapidly dying man.

    “You’re the demon, aren’t you. The one my oji saved from execution?”

    The demon boy nodded, smiling behind the rope around his face. Kiriena smiled back softly. 

    “He said the two of you were alike and I can see it. You’re brave for putting yourself in danger for humans, braver than I think you know.” She spoke with a sturdy voice, fitting of a leader. “I hope to one day have the honor of fighting by your side, Kamado Tanjiro.”

    Tanjiro nodded back. Douma coughed out some blood and turned his eyes to his niece. “W-Wait, you still need to--”

    Kiriena snapped her fingers. “Oh right! Oji , you still need to--”

    Tanjiro didn’t wait for them to finish before he lit the rainbow-eyes man on fire. Kiriena shrieked and grabbed Tanjiro’s hair to make him stop, but it was already happening. The pink flames engulfed Douma’s body and began to burn away all of the demonic poison in his blood. All of it. 

    While the girl wrestled with the demon in retaliation for killing her uncle, Douma regained the ability to move his left hand. 

    I’m not dying?

    Sucking in a sharp breath, he leaned against his left arm and pushed himself to his feet. Kiriena let go of Tanjiro and held her uncle up as he stumbled lightly. “Woah, slow down there!”

    “Mister Kamado, did you do this?” The Hashira examined himself, feeling lighter than he had ever in his life.

    Tanjiro nodded proudly, reading behind his head to put his hair back up in its ponytail. Nezuko groaned and sat herself up, holding a torn off piece of her haori against her cheek. “His fire destroys anything threatening innocent people. Whether it be demons or poison or magic ice, Tanjiro can burn it.”

    Zenitsu nodded in agreement, having witnessed many uses of Tanjiro’s Blood Demon Art firsthand. “You were saying something before you were lit on fire?”

    Douma thought for a second, leaning against his niece, before jabbing a finger at Zenitsu. “You, Mister Agamatsu, are you married?”

    “Yes, but-”

    The Hashira jabbed his finger at Inosuke, who also had sat up and was watching the scene curiously. “You, Mister Hashibira, are you married?”

    “No?”

    “By the power vested in me by the Eternal Paradise Church as its patron and priest, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Douma waved his arm stump between Inosuke and Kiriena.

    “WHAT?!” Inosuke’s eyes shot open wide. Tanjiro’s did too, his head snapping around so quickly there was an audible snap .

    “Tan-Chan… did you just break your neck?” Nezuko giggled.

    The demon flushed and shook his head “no”, even though they could all see his neck heal itself.

    Douma snorted and smiled. “Don’t worry, you can file for a divorce once we’re sure that the curse on Kiriena recognizes the marriage. Of course, until then, she is Hashibira Kiriena.”

    The little girl looked like she wanted to die and bring all of them with her. A woman with a deep voice laughed behind them, making them all turn around. Nezuko’s eyebrows went up. “You’re…”

    Mitsuri Kanroji was as Nezuko remembered her. Her long pink hair was still braided over her shoulders, turning black at the tips. Her green eyes were cold behind the bandages wrapped around her mouth and nose and she wore an albino snake around her neck like a scarf. Her gakuran jacket was open and bordering on indecency and she kept one hand on the sword on her hip.

    Douma stood up straight and bowed his head to her. “Hashira Kanroji.”

    “Hashira Kibutsuji. I arrived ahead of the Kakushi and was prepared to take all who were injured to them, but it seems someone has beaten me to it.” Her eyes went to Nezuko and back to Douma. “It seems that the district was evacuated already and had an out-of-uniform Kakushi watching over the residents. I ventured deeper in to provide aid for the lot of you only to find that you all already have aid. Impressive given the accounts I was told about the battle and the magnitude of the fallout.”

    “Well, it was Upper Moon Six we faced.”

    Her eyebrows went up a tiny bit. “Well done. Though, I have to ask, why is Oyakata-Sama’s daughter here? I mean no disrespect, my lady.”

    Kiriena pointed at Inosuke. “I was enjoying the music of the district while my husband was on a mission for my oji and I got caught up in the battle.”

    Nezuko knew she was lying, but she could only barely smell it. The kid was good.

    Douma cleared his throat. “Speaking of missions, that was my last one.”

    “Excuse me?” Mitsuri raised an eyebrow properly.

    The older Hashira nodded with a soft smile, leaning against his niece again. “I may not have as many years on the job as dear old Katsu, but I’ve served my purpose. I have orders to serve the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps as a Trainer once I am unable to fulfill my duties as a Hashira.”

    The Serpent Hashira blinked in shock. “You? Retire? Aren’t you the Hashira who always preached about fighting until our last breath?”

    “And you think I am immune from contradictory actions?” Douma laughed. “I am retiring now and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind. I’ve fulfilled my mission: to keep Master Kiriena safe until her thirteenth birthday and today is that day. Now, I move on to my next mission. Try to stop me and I’ll show you why Upper Moon Six’s last image of me filled him with fear.”

    Mitsuri nodded her head. “Alright, you will hear no protest from me. Thank you for your service, Hashira Kibutsuji.”

    With Kiriena supporting him, Douma began to walk in the direction Mitsuri had arrived from. He stopped next to the muscular woman and leaned down to whisper in her ear, his rainbow eyes flicking back to Nezuko. “Keep an eye on that one back there. I believe that this battle brought her one step closer to unlocking her full potential.”

    The other Hashira nodded silently and left as well, parting with a reminder that the Kakushi were coming and that the teens should sit still until then.

    Inosuke and Zenitsu happily laid themselves out on the ground. Nezuko, on the other hand, smelled something in the air and turned her attention to her brother.

    “Tanjiro,” she managed to whisper as she kept the fabric pressed to her holed cheek, “carry me for a second?”

    Her brother nodded and scooped her up. She directed him to a puddle of blood she smelled and had him pull a self-filling syringe from one of her inner pockets that had miraculously survived the battle. They filled it with Kizuki blood and tucked it away to have Ukogi the sparrow deliver to Susamaru and Yahaba later. As they turned to return to their friends, they heard a voice in the rubble.

    “It’s all your fault! We only lost because you’re so useless!”

    Tanjiro brought his sister around and the two gazed upon the vanishing heads of the Tokito twins. Yuichiro was still yelling at his silent brother, who had averted his eyes submissfully.

    “Oh look, now we’re dying ! Great, just great!” Yuichiro screamed. “If you hadn’t been so weak, I would have had the Lord’s heart by now!”

    Nezuko watched the tiniest tear form in the corner of Muichiro’s eye and felt her stomach twist. He smelled hurt, heart-broken that even in their final moments, his brother still chose to attack him. She averted her eyes away from the scene and rested her head against her brother’s chest.

    What a terrible way to die.

    “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?!” Yuichiro shrieked.

    Muichiro’s voice was even softer than his usual whisper as his tears escaped down his nose. “I just wanted you to dance in the clouds with me…”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” His beautiful twin scoffed as Muichiro’s head vanished into ash completely. “H-Hey! Come back! I’m not done with you yet! Muichiro, you weakling, of course you would die first!”

    His head vanished soon after, profanities filling the space he left behind. As Yuichiro’s vision went white, he found himself seeing a strange image.

~~~

    Two twin boys living in the lowest caste of Yoshiwara frollicked around and between the buildings together with streamers in hands. They laughed and giggled as their long hair flew behind them in the wind as the sun set on the horizon. An old woman in front of a house shooed them away and told them to go home, so they giggled and spun around on their heels to race away.

    A beautiful woman with a waxed updo and a painted face waved them over as they ran. “Dinner’s ready, boys!”

    “Coming, Mother!” They replied together. They ran up to the house and followed her inside, ducking through bustling hallways filled with courtesans until they stopped at a tiny apartment and bullied their way into the door. They passed through what seemed to be a sitting area and into a corner partitioned off of the main space by a couple thin folding screens put together. Beyond the screens was a tiny sleeping area and table that the boys sat themselves down at.

    “I’ll go grab the food, the two of you wait right here, alright?” Their mother produced a teapot and mismatched cups for them to drink out of as she left them alone in the room.

    The boys sat still, giggling to each other and making funny faces. They couldn’t have been older than ten. They were named Yuichiro and Muichiro; “existence” and “nothingness”.

    The twins sipped the tea until it was all gone and they heard someone come into the apartment. Thinking that it was their mother, they stuck their head out from behind the folding screens and smiled. It was not their mother.

    It was a man wearing a loose kimono with his hair tied tightly above his head. He looked just as surprised to see the boys as they were to see him.

    “I’m sorry, am I in the wrong room-?” He looked around in confusion.

    The door slid open behind him and the twins’ mother appeared holding a tray of food. “You weren’t supposed to be here for another hour! Boys, take this and go up to Master Tokito at once!”

    Surprised by their mother yelling and confused by the situation, the boys ran from the room, Muichiro taking the tray from their mother and Yuichiro sliding the door shut.

    There was some shouting from behind the door that the older twin stared at. Muichiro shifted the food in his hands. “Are we in trouble? Who was he?”

    Yuichiro frowned at the door, his beautiful features creasing. “We’re not in trouble, Mother will handle everything. Let’s just go see Master Tokito.”

    They moved slowly up a flight of stairs, avoiding the courtesans that moved around the busy halls, and slid the door open to a large office where a handsome man sat  behind a desk.

    “Ah, boys, how can I help you?” The owner of the Tokito house smiled at the twins.

    Muichiro moved to a table in the corner of the room and set down the food. “Mother has a guest right now.”

    “Yeah, he was early.” Yuichiro put his hands behind his head lazily. “Like an hour early. We’re not supposed to be in the room when she has guests.”

    “Ah, you must mean Master Dakishi. Yes, he was just in here discussing your mother’s contract. All boring adult stuff, I assure you.” Master Tokito chuckled. “Go ahead and stay in here while she works. Ah, Yuichiro, that book you wanted to read is in. Would you like to join me in retrieving it?”

    The boy’s teal eyes glimmered. “Yes, please!”

    Master Tokito chuckled again and led Yuichiro out of the room while Muichiro stayed behind to start eating his dinner. The man led the older twin down a few more hallways before arriving in a luggage room. He slid the door shut behind them while the boy grabbed the book he wanted.

    “Hey, Yuichiro… there’s something I need to tell you.”

    “Yes sir?” The boy turned around curiously.

    Master Tokito took a deep breath and kneeled down to his eye level. “I’ve been good to the two of you, right?”

    “Of course, sir.” Of course he was. Master Tokito was like a father to the twins. Their mother was nowhere near being a high enough rank to be an oiran because of her age, but she was in good standings with her boss. When she had a client, the twins could pass time helping out Master Tokito with chores and sometimes got to sleep in his room if she worked all night.

    “Yuichiro, I wanted to tell you this before I told your brother. You’re the mature one.” The man took another deep breath, his eyes looked pained as he tried to spit out what he wanted to say. “You see… Master Dakishi, the man with your mother now, has been a regular customer for a while. And… he just bought your mother’s contract with interest upfront.”

    “What does that mean?” Yuichiro tilted his head to the side.

    Master Tokito’s lip quivered. “It means that he is taking your mother away to marry her or whatever else he decides to do with her. He didn’t bother to tell me his plans.”

    “What does that mean for us?”

    “I-”

    “Master Tokito!” The door slammed open and a frantic maid pushed her head in. “We have a problem on the first floor!”

    The two in the luggage room followed the maid back down the stairs and both of their stomachs twisted as they neared Yuichiro’s mother’s room. There was a crowd gathering and people were shouting. It all blurred in the boy’s ears as he and the master pushed past the people to find the man who had entered that room earlier standing in the doorway with bloody fists.

    “You lied to me, bitch! You stole my fucking money!” He roared.

    Yuichiro managed to glimpse his mother on the floor, face bloody and clothing ripped. She cried and her hair fell out of its updo. “N-No, I--that’s not what happened! I never agreed to marry you! I never wanted to marry you!”

    He kicked her in the head. “You led me on!”

    Master Tokito grabbed the man and threw him to the ground before rushing to the mother’s side. He cradled her head in his hands before snapping his own head around with tears in his teal eyes.

    “You bastard ! You killed her!”

    Something shattered in Yuichiro’s mind. Anything that happened after that blurred together before his eyes. He vaguely remembered seeing Master Tokito throw himself onto Dakishi and land punch after punch until the floor was stained red with blood. The crowd screamed and women ran around in a panic until some men were finally able to wrestle Master Tokito off of Umeshi.

    It was too late, though, the killer was already dead. Tokito pulled himself away from those holding him back and went to Yuichiro, the blood of the man who had just killed his mother dripping the Master’s fists. “Close down the house tonight and get the bodies out of here. I want a proper funeral for the woman, she was the best worker out of all of you.”

    His other employees were hasty to comply. Master Tokito led the boy back up to his office who still clutched his book to his chest. The title was Dancing in the Mist , a light novel about a set of twins traveling across the sky together by dancing on clouds.

    They returned to the office to find Muichiro still sitting at the table. “I heard shouting, is everything okay?”

    Master Tokito pulled the younger twin aside and explained what happened to him. Yuichiro trembled as he watched tears spill down his cheeks. It all happened so fast. Too fast. They didn’t even get to say good-bye. Just like that, their only family was taken from them.

    “The samurai will be here any minute to arrest me, I’m sure.” Master Tokito spoke with a shaking breath. “Before then, there’s something very important I want to tell you boys.”

    He had the twins stand in front of him and he went on his knees before them so that he had to look up at them. “Yuichiro, Muichiro… I am your birth father. Since you two are my bastards, I cannot have either of you inherit my house, but that does not mean I will leave you with nothing. I have a sympathetic cousin set to inherit this house if I were to pass away without legal children and I have instructed him to provide for your needs until you are adults. Do you understand?”

    Yuichiro nodded while Muichiro shook his head. “You’re our real father? But why didn’t you tell us? You loved Mommy, didn’t you?”

    “Yes, I loved her very much.” He smiled and patted the boy’s head with his bloody hand. “But we were not married and I am going to be hanged for killing the man who struck her down. Please… forgive me for keeping this from you.”

    The twins stayed in his room, curled into his side as if he acted as their real father all along, until the samurai came in the morning. They dragged Master Tokito away and the twins headed up the crowd that followed curiously. However, he was not put on a gallows. Instead, he was tied to a tree surrounded by many logs. Yuichiro felt like vomiting.

    That Dakishi guy… he must have been a samurai himself.

    He took Muichiro’s hand and ran away, dragging his brother away from the execution right as the bonfire was lit so that neither of them had to see Master Tokito burn to death.

    A few days later, Master Tokito’s cousin arrived to take over the Tokito House. He was not sympathetic to his dead cousin’s bastards. He threw the twins out in a fit of laughter and they were lucky to find a shack to spend the night in out in the far edge of the lower edge of the district.

    In one fell swoop, everything was gone. Their mother, their father, their home, their innocence. Both of the boys lost their smiles too. Yuichiro’s was replaced by a scowl, Muichiro’s by a far off, distant look.

    They had to forage for food, steal cloth from Yoshiwara to stay warm, all the while the Tokito House rose in popularity and status. Of course, two little boys living by themselves practically out in the woods were destined for danger.

    It was a cold, damp night. They had no dry firewood to keep their shack warm and their blankets were ratty. Muichiro pulled out the worn light novel that Yuichiro kept from when their parents were taken from them to use as kindling, but his brother protested.

    “We can’t! What else will we have of them?” Yuichiro screamed at his brother and pulled his hair.

    “It’s the book or the blankets, Brother.” Muichiro whispered. “We will die of ume if we don’t keep warm.”

    Yuichiro threw him out of the shack in just his old yukata, grabbing back his book. “Then go find some firewood!”

    Muichiro resigned himself to doing just that. He wandered around the dark woods collecting the driest sticks he could find. He just wanted to make his brother happy. He hadn’t seen Yuichiro smile in forever. Maybe making a bigger fire, the best fire would make him happy again.

    He returned to find that the make-shift door to their shack had been toppled over. Muichiro went to the doorway and screamed. A man with red eyes stood over Yuichiro, holding the boy’s disembodied right arm between his teeth. As the demon moved to kill Muichiro next, something pushed past the boy and the demon was thrown through the wall of the shack.

    “Brother!” Muichiro threw down his sticks and slid to his brother’s side. Yuichiro hiccuped and coughed in pain as blood poured from his right shoulder. “Someone, help us!”

    The being that had thrown the demon out returned, Fuschia eyes glowing in the night. His voice was sultry and deep, almost like audible molasses. “Oh my, the other one is still alive. What fervor! You don’t need to worry about that creature hurting you anymore, my wives will slay it for you.”

    “What?”

    Three beautiful women with striking eyes appeared in the doorway, each with blood on their clothing. Their shared husband wore a loose fitting pink kimono and his silver hair over his large eyes that sported the words Upper Six instead of pupils. They all were very beautiful people, the type who would never dare to come near the lower end of Yoshiwara.

    Muichiro cradled his brother’s head in his hands and wailed. “Please, save him! I can’t-I can’t lose anyone else! Please, sir, please! I’ll do anything?”

    The women giggled as the man considered this. “Hmm… anything, you say? What to do, what to do… Oh! I know! I can make it so the two of you can live forever and ever! Here, just take some of my blood, it’ll keep you warm and make sure no one will ever hurt your dear brother again.”

    The demon held out a hand to Muichiro, who more than happily took it while his brother bled out in his arms.

~~~

    Yuichiro opened his eyes to find himself standing in a white expanse. Standing before him looking very human was Muichiro, who clutched a familiar light novel to his chest.

    “I remember!” The older twin blurted out, tears spilling down his beautiful cheeks as he realized that he too was human again. “I remember everything!”

    Muichiro only smiled, holding out the book to his brother. Instead of taking it, Yuichiro pulled his brother into a tight hug and refused to let go as he sobbed and apologized profusely for everything he had ever done.

    “You’re not useless, Muichiro! You never were! I was supposed to protect you, not the other way around!”

    “It’s alright, really…” Muichiro smiled and hugged his twin back.

    “No, it’s not! Your name doesn’t mean ‘nothingness’! The ‘Mu’ in Muichiro stands for ‘Mugen’ ! For ‘eternity’! Us together against the world forever!” Yuichiro wailed even louder as the white void got brighter.

    “Then it’s a good thing eternity is all we have.”

    As the sparrow recounted the events that had taken place in Yoshiwara, Muzan coughed and hacked up a large amount of blood onto himself. Rei did her best to try to clean him up, but he waved her away and held his head towards the sky.

    “You did it, Aniki ! Douma, Nezuko, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Tanjiro and my darling Kiriena, they did it!”

    Despite his bloody lips, he pulled his wife into a kiss and continued to cheer as the sparrow flew away.

    “I’m coming for you, Ubuyashiki Kagaya!” Muzan screamed into the night. “The Demon Slayer Corps is just one step closer to taking your head for good!”

    As Yuichiro’s ashes were blown away by the wind, his scent changed from a furious one to one of repentance. Nezuko smiled weakly at her own brother.

    “I hope they made up, wherever they are now…”

    Tanjiro nodded and carried her back to her friends. Zenitsu and Inosuke took the siblings into their arms and hugged them as the Kakushi could be seen in the distance. Tanjiro waved them over, feeling a tingling sensation in his chest. 

    He felt more whole now than he had ever in his existence as a demon. It didn’t matter where he and Nezuko’s journey took them next, he would hold his head high. The sun was set to rise in only a few hours on the horizon, so Tanjiro turned his red eyes East. He knew that nothing was waiting for them in this place. It was time to move on.

    So forward they ran together, towards the future.