His fingers were slipping from the sweat, threatening to unclasp. Zenitsu grit his teeth together, staring at a point in the wall. He was pretty sure it wasn't the same point five sit-ups ago, but it served its purpose.
He squeezed his eyes and dug his fingers into the hair, forcing himself to do another sit-up. The seething breath was shaking from exhaustion.
Abruptly opening his eyes, Zenitsu sat up again, and his chin touched his knees.
He could slack off and cry about training in public, but privately, he still had to do it. It was the only way he wouldn't be swallowed by demons, and he had to be alive when Nezuko became human.
However, after three more sit-ups, his hands fell on their own. Head lying on the ground and arms outstretched, Zenitsu stared at the ceiling. His chest was shaking, even under the influence of Total Concentration.
The glass behind him slid open.
"Please proceed outside. Do not step out of the pathway."
Zenitsu reached out silently and grabbed his shirt from the mattress. Pulling it over his head on the go, he stumbled out of the cell and merged skillfully with the line of convicts.
At a designated time, all the cubicles on the floor would open, and the inmates were forced to walk around in a single-file line down the circular corridor. Each floor had its own time, diligent so that no more than one "walk" was going on.
The hallways echoed with the shuffling of clothes and the sound of dragging feet. A common stench of sweat, urine, and vomit filled the air. On cue, the prisoners started in a clockwise direction. The green lights shimmered dimly on the floor.
Threading his arm through the sleeve, Zenitsu glimpsed at the white tower in the center. It's been a week since he saw Tanjiro climbing down the ladder to the base of the tower. Of course, his friend didn't see him as he was on the completely opposite side.
The young man glanced at the side of the inmate walking in front of him. The only thing he could see was arms and legs, clad in the same uniform. The heads were blocked by the inmate's broad shoulders. Zenitsu sighed and jerked the sleeve on his wrist.
He had a growing suspicion that the Court held him or Inosuke for company; after all, if it wanted them, it would've called them up by this point. Zenitsu wasn't sure if that was a good or bad development. The decision could sway both directions.
There was a sudden commotion down the line. Loud voices rang in the air, all overshadowed by a breaking, high-pitched squeal. The line paused in hesitation, a wave of fear rippling over the people's heads. Zenitsu rose on his tiptoes, trying to see what was going on. His ears caught snippets of phrases thrown out. The voices were drenched in terror.
"—calm down, kid—"
"Fuck, not again—"
The squeal rose again, this time separating into distinct words. "OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY!"
"WATCH YOUR STEP!—"
The lights snapped red.
Instantly, dozens of tiles rotated within the walls, and the long barrels of the machine guns pointed on the people inside the room.
Zenitsu reacted almost simultaneously with the shots. Not sparing his face, he dropped down and pressed his face to the floor. At the same time, something heavy fell on his legs, a warm liquid streamed down his ankles from the penetrated temple. It was the prisoner who was behind him.
The air froze just as quickly as it was ripped open seconds ago. Nose smeared against the floor, Zenitsu's eyes slid to the lights. They were green.
His eyes rose higher. The muzzles gleamed in the dim light. With a short click, they rotated back into their compartments and disappeared within the smooth walls.
Zenitsu let out a heavy breath and lifted himself up by the arms. His knees were shaking. Without looking backwards, he freed his leg from the dead body. The prisoner's head dropped loudly against the floor.
Zenitsu halted in a half-crouched position, unable to stand upright. He was afraid of getting in that direct, deadly trajectory of the machine guns. His eyes wavered at the prisoner in front of him. He also was fast enough to drop on the floor when the guns turned and was now standing tall, seemingly unperturbed by the commotion.
He must've been here long enough.
Zenitsu dug his nails into his palms as he saw the prisoner moving forward. Were they... expected to keep going as if nothing had happened? Someone knocked him into the shoulder. The demon slayer flinched, nearly shouting out in terror, but the inmate who walked past him didn't pay attention.
"Let's go." Those were the only words he tossed over his shoulder. Zenitsu swallowed and forced his limbs to move out despite the paralysis.
The air reeked of blood, spread in slippery puddles across the floor. The dozens of prisoners that were left swayed forward, stepping over the corpses.
Zenitsu stared at the contorted and glassy eyes. Nausea rose up his throat and, almost like a desperate attempt, he looked at the prisoner walking in front of him. Even though he was slouched, his stride was passive as he walked through the puddles.
His socks were completely red.
The dirt squashed quietly under his boots. Obanai stopped near the footing of the staircase leading down to the platform where Giyuu and Mitsuri met the winged demon several days ago. The demon slayer who was guarding the barricaded entrance straightened out.
"Good evening, Hashira-sama."
Obanai didn't reply, eyes examining the staircase. A spherical, shining ball that hovered next to his left shoulder illuminated his emotionless face. The snake opened his eyes sleepily, before closing them again and burying his head underneath the flap of the coat.
"Is there anyone down the platform?" Obanai with his chin towards the entrance.
"Only the inspection crew, sir," the demon slayer reported. The mismatched eyes slid towards him. For a moment, Obanai regarded the younger slayer, then, losing all interest, looked away and stepped forward. He noiselessly took out his sword and cut through the caution tapes.
The demon slayer tensed as the tapes landed softly at his feet.
"I'll make sure you won't get penalized." Blade back in sheath, Obanai walked down the staircase.
"Do your duty and don't slack off."
"Yes, sir."
The air became more humid the farther he went. Obanai paused at the last step, examining the scene that was laid out before him.
A man-made platform rose a few inches above the concrete. To preserve traces, he guessed. The hashira glanced downwards and saw that he was correct: small drones crawled on the floor, collecting and scanning dust, rocks, and any evidence invisible to naked eye.
Obanai's gaze traveled to the side and raised his eyebrows from surprise. The sewers were completely drained, and lab workers and robots cluttered in groups along them.
"Iguro-san?"
A black, polished robot slid over to him.
"We didn't expect you here so soon."
Kyojuro must have let them know. Obanai felt a twinge of guilt and gratitude. "Are you Rengoku's crew?"
"Yes." The robot looked over its shoulder, noiselessly rotating its neck. "We're collecting any substantial material left on the scene."
"Any progress?"
"Some. We still have to analyze the samples."
Obanai's eyes slightly narrowed, but he didn't press on. Instead, he pointed to the drained sewage floor.
"What's that all about?"
The robot bent its fingers from the knuckles, mimicking a gesturing motion. "Follow me, Iguro-san. Watch your step, please, the platform has no railing."
It started forward. Walking behind, Obanai continued looking around. Beams with light were scattered around the space, illuminating the place. Floating next to the hashira, the small sphere dimmed to preserve its energy.
The first pair of crosses appeared. Slightly moving to the side to let a lab worker pass, Obanai observed the crooked construction. His eyes narrowed in cold hate.
Each cross was marked with yellow tape. Chemical residue gleamed on the rusty surfaces.
"Did you find any fingerprints yet?" His own fingers lay relaxed on the hilt.
"As I said, we have yet to analyze the samples." The robot hesitated. "Though… there do seem to be some markings left."
The lips behind the mask twitched, reminiscent of triumphant glee held back by reason and determination. I am getting too excited, Obanai harshly cut himself inside. Even though every evidence seemed like a leap, he knew far too well just how quickly they can stop or mislead.
A white tray on a support rod was attached to the edge of the platform. The robot stopped next to it and nudged the plastic bag sitting limply on the tray.
"The groups found thousands of these on the sewage floor. Hence the reason why we drained it."
Obanai looked down. He suppressed the involuntary shudder.
Circulatory vessels buoyed in the preservative liquid, stained red from the blood. Peering closer, the hashira noticed that the vessels were ripped apart or painfully smashed together.
"We found around three hundred thousand kilometers of blood vessels," the robot commented, watching Obanai's reaction. "From our preliminary calculations, they amount to about ten percent of what the actual blood vessel amount should be."
"You mean, these blood vessels were discarded?" Obanai clarified. The robot held his demanding stare.
"Possibly."
Obanai frowned, somewhat disturbed, but moved past the robot.
"Continue your job."
The robot's head rotated, following the hashira with the black eyes.
"Where are you heading to, Iguro-san?"
"Down beyond the platform."
"Good luck."
Obanai didn't respond, already far ahead. The sphere bobbled forward, shining brighter and brighter as the lights of the investigation team receded. Gradually, the sound of humming instruments and busy footsteps across the metal disappeared, replaced by the quiet rushing of the sewers in the pipes.
He had around four hours before Tengen's shift ended. He didn't tell his partner about this.
Not stopping, Obanai glanced down at his watch. A map flickered on the screen, pinpointing his location and those he'd covered. His jaw clenched as he lowered down the wrist.
Even if that flying chicken didn't know the blood demon directly, it seemed to be aware of the crucifixion. That devilish display could not have left absolutely no traces. Something else had to be in the sewage beyond what was on the platform: a storage spot, unused materials, anything.
The ground narrowed into a meager path, a considerable precipice at its edge. Obanai's glove noiselessly passed over the wall as he carefully stepped foot by foot. The bright sphere floated close to him, lighting his way. The snake blinked in drowsy displeasure, hiding even deeper under the lapel.
Tengen would mock him endlessly about forcing others to adhere so staunchly to the demon slayer code, yet breaking it so bluntly now. The path widened again, and Obanai took a freer step.
Truth be told, he didn't care about his hypocrisy.
A red light blinked at the bottom of the sphere. Obanai glowered at it and pushed it with his hand in the air.
"Can't you hold out for more time?"
The sphere didn't reply. It was floating far closer to the hashira, as if hoping that when the battery dies, it will be caught. Obanai was slightly irritated by the algorithm, but he couldn't deny the fact that he would catch the sphere: it was expensive.
He had about an hour left, not including the time he'll spend on traffic getting back to his region. Light frustration was eating his stomach.
He covered at least sixty kilometers the past three hours and found nothing tangible. Obanai could see why the sewages were a common assignment spot for the newly graduated demon slayers: the location was perfect for honing techniques. The slayers had to strain all their senses to navigate through the reek and darkness. Obanai personally wasn't taken by surprise by the one demon that seemingly came out of nowhere, but he could understand how the inexperienced slayers might falter.
The ceiling began to lower. Obanai eyed it. He was lucky that he was short and could walk some distance before having to crouch down.
His thoughts traveled back to the conversation in the restaurant. The lips behind the mask formed into a dry smirk. Kyojuro couldn't lie: Obanai saw the conflict and deep uncertainty in the flame hashira's eyes when he offered to share the data. Kyojuro - through gritted teeth- wanted to lean in to his request with a silent hope that he, not Obanai, will kill the demon.
The young man hunched slightly as the ceiling brushed the top of his head. He didn't mind Kyojuro. He would've done the same. Wait no. Knowing himself, he wouldn't relinquish the case in the first place. Kyojuro has a soft heart, after all.
The ceiling grew spacious again, and Obanai spread his shoulders. The room diverged into two tunnels. Sighing, the young man glanced down on his watch. The map shimmered on the screen, and he moved it with his finger, scanning the various routes.
He frowned and looked up. There was supposed to be a third tunnel.
Lowering his hand, Obanai walked up to the tunnel on the left and carefully examined the crease between the two walls. Of course, the tunnel could've been cemented….
Obanai quickly typed the address into his watch. He didn't fancy the idea of speaking with this region's crow because it might reveal him, but he didn't have time for that.
Someone abundantly coughed into his speaker. Obanai's lips curled. Was he what, in the middle of drinking, when he took the line?
"Kanzaburo here," The crow rasped.
"I need you to do a geological analysis," Obanai stated without preamble. Kanzaburo sniffed into the speaker, and the hashira heard the creaking of the swiveling chair.
"Copied, but what are you doing here?" There was the fast clicking of the keyboard. Obanai tilted his watch towards the wall next to the tunnel, and a holographic laser projected off the screen. It lingered on the wall, scanning the data in.
"It doesn't matter." The laser clicked off, and Obanai turned the watch towards the opposite wall.
"Mmm, maybe." As Kanzaburo typed, another laser broke off. "But given that it's my region, I think it does, doesn't it?"
Obanai didn't answer and lowered his arm. There was a hum on the other side as the data processed, and Kanzaburo cleared his throat.
"Okay, the stats are good to go, Iguro-san. Do you want everything or should I cherry-pick it?"
"For now just the ages."
"Ages?" Kanzaburo sounded surprised. Obanai swayed slightly on his foot, irritation gathering inside.
"Yes, like how long ago they were built."
Kanzaburo mumbled something under his breath, clearly displeased. Obanai ignored him and glanced at the sphere next to him. It began blinking.
"So the first sample with the two tunnels was…. I'll ignore the dates. Around thirty years ago."
"And the second? The wall next to the tunnels?"
Obanai waited tensely for the answer, lightly gripping the hilt of the sword. If the tunnel was cemented, the number should be smaller, and he was just being stupid. If not...
"Seventy years ago." There was a short silence as the crow considered the discrepancy. "You think there's something wrong?"
"I get that the sewage was built over a long period of time." Obanai stepped away and lowered the bag on the floor. Rummaging, he took out a small detonator, encapsulated in protective metal.
"But I can't imagine using cement dating forty years back relative to the wall."
He carefully placed the detonator next to the wall and pressed the button. The countdown ticked in a red button, and Obanai took several steps back. Screw that he'll be late to his shift.
"I knew you were hit in the head," the crow commented dryly. "Don't you know sewers work? Everything's built on top of each other."
"All the easier to hide something."
The timer beeped, numbers mechanically decreasing.
"That's plain paranoid—"
He shut his eyes at the last second. A familiar scalding pressed down on his eyelids, and tiny pieces of rock scraped against his cheekbones and forehead as they darted by. His speakers screeched, electric networks rattling from the disruption. There was rapid movement along his chest as the snake coiled around his neck in fear.
Without opening his eyes, Obanai steadied his breathing. He listened in darkness how the dust settled on the ground, chunks of the wall rolling down on the floor, and an echo chiming across the tunnels. He had to admit, there was some merit to Tengen's techniques, even if the detonator's low range power was enough to break only a portion of the wall.
Suddenly, Obanai abruptly opened his eyes and sank down into a defensive position, palm on top of the hilt. The nostrils widened, sucking in the unmistakable smell. The watch shrieked wildly on his wrist.
The sphere bobbed, unfazed and apathetic, towards the uneven hole in the wall. Obanai, locked in his position, watched it, eyes strained in construction.
The sphere floated inside and shone like a candle inside pitch darkness. Obanai slanted his gaze on the watch. The dots were motionless.
Whenever he moved, it's as if his heart would stop beating. At least, he never heard it. Obanai noiselessly crossed the distance and stepped inside the hole.
The scent became overwhelming. Obanai froze.
He was standing at the edge of a large, hexagonal pit. Filled to the brim with blood.
A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone!
This is the last chapter for this year because next Friday is New Year's Eve, so I won't be available to post.
Thank you, thank you so much for reading, following, and liking this story! I didn't expect so many views because... well, let's be honest, it's more of a plot than romance story, and the latter typically is more popular. My point is, the fact that people are reading this makes me really happy, and I'm grateful to all you guys. Seriously, you're amazing.
Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate Christmas, and Happy Holidays to all of you who celebrate other New Year's holidays, and let's hope 2022 will fare better than 2020 and 2021! See you next year!
