walk steady on this cruel world's path
By: Aviantei
[Shibuya Operation – Story Storm]
Part Five:
"A Storm over High Seas"
The next night, Shimizu put on her fox mask. I'd seen it in the daylight, where it was a pale pink color accented with darker pink lines that detailed the design work, but, under the moon, it had an almost ethereal glow to it. I could hear Shimizu, too soft for me to make out the exact words, say something like a prayer, and I busied myself with cleaning up our campfire while she prepared herself.
And then, the hunt was on.
Like the first few nights, we ran into several other demons as we combed our way through the Fujikasane-yama's forests. The changes in the enemies were subtle, sure, but every now and then there would be one that was faster and stronger than the others, one that had succeeded in eating other Final Selection contestants, increasing its power. Whenever we encountered one of these, I would check with Shimizu if it were the one we were looking for, but she would shake her head as she cleaned off her sword.
Still, having two of us on the job meant that it wasn't a challenge at all to clear out whatever came to attack us. Shimizu was graceful and good at taking advantage of her strengths to fight. Meanwhile, I could feel my stiff Thunder Breathing forms becoming less rigid and more adapted to proper battles that weren't just against Kaigaku and Zenitsu.
After several hours, our search paid off.
It was fact that all demons were once human beings. The original demon, Kibutsuji Muzan, served as a progenitor by adding his own blood to the bloodstream of humans. If they could withstand it, they would change to a demon, with fangs and claws and such. The more humans they consumed, the more their appearance could deviate with traits like horns, unnatural skin tones, and all that fun stuff. For the most part, the demons you'd find within Final Selection were still humanoid, though they had enough distinguishing features to make their identity obvious.
But the demon before us—well.
It was a hulking mass of a creature, its skin a molten shade that I couldn't quite make out the color of in the dark. It was a couple meters tall, and it had multiple arms—some extended, some wrapped around its body in a literal meat shield. It had covered up its neck, its greatest weak point. Yeah, even if Shimizu hadn't told me this thing had eaten dozens of people, I would have believed it just by looking at it.
As intimidating as its appearance was, though, the aura it gave off was way worse.
I'm sure you've heard about this sort of thing before. Shōnen series like to talk about it all the time: someone's killing intent. But they never really talk about what that feels like, so I'd never been able to imagine it before—but in that moment, I understood.
That feeling is an instinctual one. It's your fight or flight response going haywire in your brain. Any nonessential feeling cuts out, while your other senses heighten, searching for options. But what cinches the feeling is that you know that your only option is to run if you want to survive, and even that isn't a guarantee, so you freeze for a moment, unable to process what to do next.
That's what a well refined "killing intent" feels like.
And this demon had plenty of it in spades.
Its glowing yellow eyes landed on me for the slightest moment, and I felt my body tremble. I was surprised that my legs didn't give out then and there. But then the demon's gaze moved on, where it landed on Shimizu in her wave-patterned haori and the fox mask she'd mustered up the courage to wear, though she knew what it would mean for her.
"Another of Urokodaki's brats, hm?" the demon said, its voice almost purring with excitement, "I'll kill you just like the—"
"Mizu no Kokyū—Ni no Kata: Mizu Guruma."
Shimizu moved before the demon could even finish speaking. She launched herself into the air before twisting forward in a summersault. The waves that followed her blade created a wheel, true to the technique's name, and she sliced a deep gash through one of the arms wrapped around the demon's neck. Unlike other demons I'd fought so far, it didn't so much as wince at the pain, and its wound began sealing back up right away, as if Shimizu's strike hadn't happened.
"You little—!"
"Kaminari no Kokyū—Ichi no Kata: Hekireki Issen!"
The demon had been aiming to strike at Shimizu with several of its many long arms. My Hekireki Issen was fast enough to intervene, though I cut off just one of the limbs and slash two more in the straightforward blow. Shimizu had managed to use her technique to dodge out of the way of what I couldn't stop, but the demon wasn't just about to sit still and let us assess the situation, and I scrambled to dodge out of the way of the fists that came after me.
"I don't need to hear your stupid speech!" Shimizu shouted, readying her blade again. "I know what you've done, and I'm here to make sure you can't do it again. Shi no Kata: Uchishio!"
With that declaration, Shimizu unleashed several blows. Since I'd said that I'd back her up, I joined the fray as well, attempting to distract as many of the demon's arms as possible so she'd have a clearer shot at fighting the thing. Despite the force I put behind my blows, though, I could only cut so deep into the demon's hide without a breath technique to back it up, and the monster's arms grew back at an unfair pace. Yeah, this was no doubt an opponent that you'd face with at least proper Nichirin blade instead of our impure substitutes.
But we're already fucking here, so—
I did the only thing I could do:
I breathed.
"Shi no Kata—"
"Wait your turn!"
One of the demon's arms caught me right in the stomach, and I crashed into a tree, the wind knocking straight out of me. My ears rang, though I thought I could hear Shimizu shout a panicked "Rairi-kun!" like the sound was traveling underwater. That moment of distraction was more than enough for the demon to grab her by the head, and Shimizu flailed her legs as the demon lifted her off the ground.
"I'll eat you later," the demon said, turning away from me to stare at its fresh catch. Given the strength its blow had had when it hit me, it wouldn't be hard for it to crush Shimizu's head like a grape. "After I'm done with Urokodaki's brat." Its mouth was covered by its arm shield, but its tone was filled with such a sadistic glee that it wasn't hard to guess it was grinning. "You thought you could defeat me? Listen up, little girl. I killed all the students that came before you, and I'll kill every single one who comes after you, no matter how many eras pass." Shimizu yelped, and I tried to blink the blood out of my eyes (where was I even bleeding from?), though it might have been better not to see what was going to happen next.
Except in that moment I had a thought.
Not of Shimizu dying, her blood spilt right before my eyes.
Not of my own death, which could soon follow.
I thought of Kaigaku and Zenitsu, their own bodies broken and bloody if they ever had to fight this demon, the two of them just gone through no fault of their own but the bad luck of encountering an enemy they weren't anywhere near equipped enough to handle.
"Go…no Kata," I said, my voice weak, but my breathing steady, "Netsu Kairai."
Unlike Hekireki Issen, which was a move that prioritized speed and covering distance before unleashing a blow, Netsu Kairai was all about the power of the end strike. Sure, I charged first, but the resulting thunder was enough to set off an echoing boom as I sliced through the arm holding Shimizu captive. The demon howled, more in rage than in pain, and Shimizu's body made a dull thud as it hit the dirt below us. I landed on one foot and pivoted as fast as I could, leaping into the air with every intention of slicing the damn monster's head off.
Like Shimizu, who had chosen to fight for all the students who had fallen before her, I would fight if it meant protecting the kōhai who were waiting for me to come home.
I screamed back at the demon and swung my sword, my blade aiming for its neck.
The blow made contact.
My sword snapped.
It was a clean break—a flash of silver metal catching the moonlight before it flew away into the darkness. As I gripped harder onto the hilt in my frustration, I realized that my grasp had been off, and the angle of my blade had caused it to break under the resulting pressure. The demon narrowed its eyes, and I didn't even have time to gasp before it locked onto me.
"Fine! If you're so eager to die, then—!"
"Jū no Kata: Seisei Ruten."
The roaring of the ocean filled my ears as Shimizu's sword continued to strike. Each move gained a greater and greater momentum, and she was agile enough to eliminate the arms lashing out at her, pushing closer. The severed limbs began to regenerate, just as fast as before. I had half a sword, but I stood my ground and exhaled, clinging to every last bit of adrenaline I had left in me to survive.
I was a student of Thunder Breathing, a student of Kuwajima Jigorō; I was Gallant Thunder. I would not go down without a fight, even if I had nothing more than half a sword to pull it off with.
"Ni no Kata: Inadama!"
As quick as lightning itself, my sword flashed through the air five times, cutting off the demon's arms at the regrowing stumps. The shortened length of my blade impacted the range somewhat, but the Thunder Breathing technique compensated for that fact well enough. Shimizu's Seisei Ruten continued, the moonlight turning the water that followed her blade into glitter, and her sword homed in on the demon's neck with zero remorse. Unlike my own earlier attack, which had been reckless and out of synch, Shimizu continued Total Concentration, enhancing her body with the strength it needed to decapitate the opponent. I watched the demon's head fly through the air with an almost detached recognition.
As the blood in my eyes suggested, I'd hit my head pretty hard when the demon flung me into the tree, and my brain decided that I needed to take a break. I knew so, because my body complied and I slumped to the ground, my hold on my broken sword now stabbing into the dirt the sole thing keeping me from straight up falling over. Shimizu stumbled a bit as she landed, but she was able to walk over to the now disintegrating body of the demon. With her back turned to me, I couldn't see what she was doing, but I closed my eyes and gave the demon's soul a prayer.
A rustling of fabric made me open my eyes again, and I could see Shimizu standing before me. The fox mask was covering her face, so I couldn't see her expression, but she was almost damn ethereal—as if she didn't look enough like a goddess already. If the next thing she said was a confession that she was some mystical being all along, I would have believed her.
But the next sound she made was a long sigh, and Shimizu collapsed to her knees, her arms catching around my shoulders as she broke into sobs I could recognize as relieved. Hey, when you have a kōhai like Zenitsu, you learned the different types of crying without even trying.
"We… We did it, Rai… Rairi-kun! We… We actually did it!"
"Yeah," I whispered as I tried to figure out if it was okay to hug her back (and, if it was okay, how to do so without cutting one of us on the sword sitting between our torsos). "We did."
In comparison to fighting that demon, the rest of Final Selection was a piece of cake.
The most difficult night was the remainder of the third one. After all, Shimizu and I were both exhausted, injured, and had one and a half swords between the two of us. Sure, we survived 'til dawn, but there were a couple of close calls in the process. At least we were able to patch ourselves up thanks to our basic medical knowledge and a couple of supplies Shimizu had with her, though I did volunteer my now torn up haori for the very important duty of bandages.
Once we got some sleep in us the next day and found a new sword for me to use (AKA, appropriated one from a Slayer hopeful that wasn't going to have much use for one anymore), things went a lot smoother.
The morning after the seventh night felt like the end of a very long and eventful dream. Shimizu and I had managed to work our way back to about where we'd entered Fujikasane-yama, and so had a few others I was too tired to recognize. We gathered at the same area where we'd been given our instructions, waiting for a bit longer while some members of the Kakushi, the Demon Slayer Corps' support unit, gathered up anyone who had lived but hadn't been able to find their way back in time.
Just a fraction of us were left, and the unbidden memories of the bodies I'd come across in the past week rose to the surface. I spat, as if that would erase the tang of blood and acid from my mouth. Of the six assembled people that had survived, we were all dirty and battered. Even if you were good at fighting against demons, roughing it for a week with limited supplies wasn't going to be kind to anyone's appearance.
The same kids that had inducted us into Final Selection were presiding over the congratulations ceremony, and Shimizu whispered to me that they were children of the Corps' leader. Their speech was simple and outlined the next steps for us who had all just succeeded in surviving, making us Mizunoto, the entry-level rank for Demon Slayers.
Once we were finished here, they'd take our measurements for our uniforms, and we'd need to select the Nichirin ore for our swords. We also all received our Kasugai Crows, and the birds would be responsible for informing us of and guiding us to our missions once we started the work as Demon Slayers proper.
I, being a smartass, decided to name mine Tadashi, because not even two years away from the future could stop me from being an otaku at heart. Shimizu named hers Tanaka, and I had to hold back a snicker at the coincidence. The birds cawed a bit and took up perches on our shoulders, where I ran my fingers along Tadashi's slick feathers while waiting for my turn at picking out my Nichirin ore. Though Shimizu had dark circles forming under her eyes, she still looked giddy at the prospect of selecting the core for her sword, and her giggles only cemented that assessment.
"Sorry," she said when she noticed me glancing at her. "I've just been excited about getting my Nichirin sword for a long time. I wanna see what color it is and everything. Ah, two weeks isn't that long, but…"
Aside from their capability to kill demons, Nichirin swords also had the unique property of changing color depending on the wielder. Sensei's katana, for example, was a blazing yellow with a wonderful metallic sheen that made it look like he was wielding the thunder itself. More often than not, sword color could be an indicator of your most suitable Breathing Style, though there were exceptions in every system.
"Just think of it as time to recover," I said, not feeling too impatient to start the trek back home. That would take up a good chunk of the time already. Though it wasn't like I didn't understand Shimizu's excitement; the two-week wait was kind of like when you ordered something online and you had to wait for it to show up in the mail. "Once we get our swords, we'll have to go on a mission. I won't mind resting up first."
"Hm, I suppose you're right… It'll give me time to catch up with Tanjirō-kun, anyways." I raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name. "Oh! I wouldn't call him my kōhai exactly, since we trained at different times, but he's another of Urokodaki-sensei's students. He's in the middle of trying to practice Total Concentration right now, so I'm curious about how he's progressed, even if it's only been a few weeks."
I smiled, thinking of my own kōhai. Kaigaku would want to spar to show off some new sword technique when I got back. Zenitsu would be as unsure as always, but I was certain he'd be progressing in his own way. I just had to finish up here, get some rest, and then start the walk back home.
Yeah, I guess it is home, huh?
The sound of one of the leader's children calling for the next person to come claim their ore broke me out of my thoughts, and I gestured for Shimizu to go ahead of me. "You sure?" she asked.
"You're looking forward to this. Go ahead and have a blast."
I thought that I just might have heard her start to squeal, but she swallowed the sound. It didn't take her too long to pick out her ore, so it was my turn next. Though everyone else had gone ahead of me, I still had plenty of pieces to choose from—but not, I noticed, anywhere near enough to equip the number of people we had started with. The fact that they were planning for a loss was practical, but also kind of frustrating to consider.
So I pushed the thought aside and focused on the lumps of ore before me.
If I hadn't known what they were, they would have looked like nothing more than lumps of regular old metal to me. I'd learnt a lot during the past two years about many different things, but metalworking wasn't one of them. But the chunk of ore I chose was going to become the sword that would be my partner, so letting it just be arbitrary was a strange prospect.
The wizard doesn't choose the wand, but the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter, I thought to myself, closing my eyes and reaching out. The rough surface of an ore pressed against my palm, and I could feel a faint warmth, though it had to be just the heat it had absorbed from the morning sun. I picked it up, palmed it a few times, and nodded. Or something like that.
"Is that your selection?" the white-haired child asked, and I passed it over. They accepted it, tying a string around the center and marking a few characters on a paper tag attached before passing it to their sibling. My ore joined the rest in a smaller bag, which would be passed on to the Corps' sword smiths for forging. "Very well. You all have finished this stage. You should—"
"Um, not to interrupt," I said, totally interrupting. The child paused, them and their sibling both turning their even gazes onto me. "I know that you two probably aren't in charge of maintaining the Final Selection testing grounds or anything, but I figured you should know. There was a demon in there that was way stronger than it should have been for testing new Demon Slayers. If you could maybe suggest that someone goes and checks what level of demons are running around in there so candidates don't needlessly die, that'd be great."
A beat of silence passed. My little speech had drawn a couple of the other fresh Mizunoto's gazes to me, and I could see Shimizu fretting. "Rairi-kun…!"
It seems my mouthing off habit was moving up in the world, if I was saying things like that to the Corps leader's kids. What was next? Get into a shouting match with a Hashira? Criticize the leader to their face? The possibilities were just endless.
"We will be sure to pass on your message," the black-haired child said, their smile never once wavering. "Did you have anything else you wanted to add?" Satisfied enough with the outcome, I shook my head. "Then we shall escort you all to a place to rest and get measured for your uniforms." And then, in tandem with their sibling: "Well done, new Demon Slayers."
Everything was in place for me to start being a Demon Slayer; I just had to wait for my sword to show up. Shimizu and I parted ways after we'd both rested up, and she promised to write to me later on. I may or may not have been far too excited at the prospect. Without cell phones or the internet, a promise to exchange letters was the closest thing I could have to getting her number. And while I didn't think it was a romantic gesture by any means, it would still be nice to have a friend to talk to.
The walk home from Fujikasane-yama sucked just as much as the walk there, except this time I had a Corps uniform (all black save the silver buttons, with semi-baggy pants and a black gakuran jacket with the cheerful reminder of Destroy embroidered on the back) to haul back with me. At least Tadashi was around to make sure I didn't get lost. Though I'd chosen the name at random, it seemed that my crow's personality fit his new name well enough, since he gave out instructions with a bit of a stutter. I'd have to check with Shimizu and see if Tanaka was just as bombastic as the character it happened to share a name with, even if I'd be the only one in on the joke.
And so, several days later, I could at last see home waiting for me at the end of the path. I took a moment to just let the view sink in. In less than two weeks, it might just be a very long time before I could see this view again. It would be nice to take things relatively easy for a bit, assuming that Kaigaku would not try to cram several months' worth of sparring into a few days. I was sure he'd want to hear about what Final Selection had been like, too, so I'd still be busy regardless.
Idle thoughts that floated across my mind like clouds rolling through the sky—and then a powerful gust of wind broke everything apart.
"Senpaiii!"
I wasn't at home yet, but Zenitsu's voice reached my ears anyways. Maybe he'd seen me approaching, or maybe he'd heard me. Either way, he'd chosen to come and meet me, and he was sprinting as fast as ever. At the sound of him calling out for me, I'd raised my hand in a wave, but any words failed to come out of my mouth.
Zenitsu's once black hair was now a bright yellow, one that complimented his eyes and haori.
"Senpai, you made it!" In response to his watery cheer, I just nodded. "I'm so glad that you're safe, I—oh," he said, when he realized I was staring. He pinched a piece of his somehow now blonde hair, the tone fading into a darker orange at the tips. "Yeah, it changed color. I climbed up in this tree, and Sensei was lecturing me, and then I got struck by lightning of all things. Lightning—can you believe it?! How many other unlucky things gotta happen to me, Senpai, it's not fair—"
I was stunned, but not by his explanation. Got hit by lightning and only walked out of it with a dye job? Sure! This was Fantasy Taishō Era Japan! Once I'd started learning magic swordplay and fought some demons, I'd thrown my logic out the damn window! I could handle hair color changing for no reason whatsoever! That wasn't the problem!
The problem was—I recognized him.
And not I recognized that he was still Zenitsu, one of my kōhai. I recognized him from before I'd ever met him, before I'd ever come to this time period.
"Kimetsu no fucking Yaiba," I hissed.
For the first time in a little over two years, I understood where I was.
[Author's Notes]
The shoe finally drops. Welcome to an anime/manga, Rairi. It doesn't get any easier from here.
Thanks to NarutoBaconGod, vacuous, ILikeFoxes828, The Urban Spaceman, fenrir65489, glb-guilherme, ephemeral-times, liziprincsama, Seyla-chan, Choryo, Bowenross, ThreePilots, PunkTrashNoiz, and RandolViper for the faves, follows, and reviews since last chapter! You guys have already put this fic in the top five of all my fics for faves notices, and I appreciate it loads. Here's to us enjoying the story together (and maybe it's continued community growth?)!
Lots goin' on. We've got some fightin', we've got some call-outs, and we've got a realization that might have been much more helpful a few years ago. A pretty good [SOSS] season ender, yeah?
If you haven't already, I always highly recommend checking out the [Shibuya Operation - Story Storm] challenge. There's some pretty cool works there by even cooler people, and a little support definitely goes a long way. Some people are super close to finishing their goals, so cheer them on, yeah? As for me, [SOSS] may be over, but this story is still kicking with bi-weekly updates. See you for the next one!
Next One: I Could Have Gone My Whole Life Without Knowing This, disciple fight: round one, and its time to get a magic sword, baby! Please look forward to it!
-Avi
[02.27.2021]