Niyaniya's fingers struck through and curled in his windpipe.

With a sickening jolt, Genya woke up. His face and back was soaked, and dried up saliva smeared over his lips. His throat felt parched.

Carefully, trying not to make a single noise, the young man shifted on his stomach. For some reason, he was afraid of being heard. If he was heard, something... someone may get him.

Eyes glued to the wall, Genya winced at his own stupidity. It was just a nightmare.

The fingers, not yet fully regenerated, looked like raw, skinless sausages.

Genya tsked.

Breaking his paralysis, he scooted towards the edge of the bed and swung his arm over. His nails scratched the floor, and after a few moments, he found what he was looking for: the e-cig had rolled into the slipper.

Flipping on his back, Genya brought the vape to his lips and instantly inhaled. The smoke filled his lungs, making his throat even drier, but he couldn't care less.

He broke Niyaniya's leg once. The man was walking with a crutch for half a year; none of them had the license or funds for the surgery. So why did…

There was a whistling sound when he blew out. Even smoking wasn't helping. Tired, Genya placed his forearm over his eyes. Nothing of this made fucking sense. Even he couldn't regenerate his limbs.

The front door banged open.

"Hey, kid," a gruff, but soft at the edges, voice called out from the porch. "I've got takeout."

Genya tossed the e-cig quickly into the slipper; demon slayers weren't allowed to smoke.

"I'll be right there!" he called hastily. Standing up, the young man picked up the wrinkled t-shirt hanging over the chair. Turning it inside out while simultaneously pulling it over his head, Genya staggered into the living room.

Sitting behind a low table, Sanemi was getting the styrofoam takeout boxes out of the bags. When the younger demon slayer appeared at the entrance, he glanced up.

"You look beat."

"I took a nap," Genya massaged his neck, eyeing the food on the table. He wasn't hungry, but he didn't want to disappoint his brother. So instead, he plopped on the floor, crossing his legs, and gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Those bastards are chasing me all over Kunigami District." He snapped the chopsticks and, flinging open one of the boxes, plucked the shrimp off the rice. The juice gushed out of the fried crust as he squashed it with his teeth. Any other time this would've been delicious.

"Demons, my ass? Hell, even cockroaches don't live there," he rambled through a full mouth. Eyes on his box, Sanemi smirked. Genya paused and swallowed the lump of food. It traveled clumsily down his throat.

It was always awkward talking with his brother. Sanemi paid attention to every word he said, both as an attempt to get him to know better and to make it up to him after the long separation. It made Genya flustered, self-conscious, and unspeakably guilty.

The food dropped from his trachea, freeing his airflow, and the young demon slayer gasped involuntarily.

"You like it?" Sanemi asked, looking a bit unsure. Genya blinked, before giving an equally wobbly, but genuine smile back.

"I mean, it's take out."

Sanemi seemed lost for a second, before laughing. "Fancy hearing that from someone who can't cook."

"Shut up," Genya flushed red and took another shrimp from the rice. Sanemi hummed in light merriment and returned back to his food.

The silence between them eased. However, Genya couldn't really focus. Left alone with his brother, he kept on thinking about Niyaniya's fingers. If there was something demonic involved, that mission would be perfect for proving himself.

Genya glanced quickly at his brother and felt hot in his t-shirt. He could ask Sanemi to come, and it'd be their first joint mission.

"Did you go to the hospital?" Sanemi asked suddenly, dipping the shrimp into the soy sauce. Genya jolted from surprise.

"Yeah. I had to drop several things off at the orphanage." Staring at his brother, he squeezed the chopsticks with unusual force. If he wanted to ask him to come, he had to do it now. A lump formed in his throat.

"Did you see any hashiras there?"

A little out of it, Genya wrinkled his eyebrows, trying to remember.

"Yeah. Kochou-san... and Tomioka-san, I think."

But how the hell was he supposed to explain it? That he shot off two fingers from a random guy and they grew back? A cold shiver traveled down Genya's spine. Sanemi didn't even know who Niyaniya was. Worst comes to worst, and the fact that he used to steal opiates from the hospital could float up. The thought instantly made his stomach squirm in fear.

Genya was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Sanemi staring expectantly at him. When he finally saw his brother's inquiring gaze, all these thoughts stopped in a blank stupor. What were they talking about again?

"And..." Sanemi gestured, prompting Genya to continue.

The demon slayer stared back. And… and…

"And nothing."

"Damn," Sanemi sighed, standing up. The motion broke Genya's paralysis, and he quickly scrambled to his feet.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I was technically still at work. I just happened to have several spare minutes." Sanemi was quiet for a moment. "It's my turn for Hanzai-sha no Sanpo."

Genya stiffened. Hanzai-sha no Sanpo was the unspoken dread of every demon slayer, although they never talked about it.

In complete silence, he watched how his brother pulled on his jacket and boots. When he finally straightened out, Genya gave the best smile he could and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Well, good luck." He squinted with one eye, and suddenly, an earnest, non-fabricated mischief came out of him all on its own. "You mind if I eat your portion?"

"Fine," Sanemi laughed. His hand jerked, but he smoothened out the motion almost immediately. His fist touched Genya softly below the collarbone. "Don't get into trouble."

The door closed quietly behind him. Gazing at it, Genya raised his hand blankly to his chest and touched where his brother's knuckles just were.

Hanzai-sha no Sanpo would last about an hour. It would take thirty minutes for his brother to get there, although currently it was closer to twenty-nine because he must have exited the apartment complex by now...

His fingers dug into the collarbone. He had to do this alone. Genya heard his heart thumping loudly in his ears. The open hand of opportunity was laid out in front of him, and he was jittery. The fact that time was ticking, making that slot smaller with each second, wasn't helping.

Genya lowered the hand abruptly and grabbed his jacket off the coat hooks. His eyes darted on the table. He should probably clean everything up—no, he shouldn't, he already wasted enough time.

Shoving the guns into his belt, the demon slayer grabbed the trombone case off the counter and ran out the door.

Several neighbors who were walking down the shared hallway jerked from surprise.

"S'cuse me," Genya apologized quickly, pushing them away by the shoulders. "Sorry," he repeated, bumping into a young woman carrying a plant. Racing down the staircase, the demon slayer sprinted out into the garages. His motorcycle was parked right next to the entrance, and, jumping on, the young man took off.

The wheels skidded against the platform as the neon lights blinked on sequentially on the disk brake. The electronic engine growled, and the motorcycle bounced against the indentations of the platform. It was still midday, and people were bustling all around. Genya gritted his teeth. No choice, he had to get rough.

"You little fucker!"

"Watch where y'going—"

There were several shouts as the pedestrians plastered to the railings when the motorcycle zoomed through. Someone angrily swung a metallic, cyborgian arm, and Genya ducked. The heavy lead barely missed the top of his head.

Niyaniya'll probably keep his mouth shut, Genya thought tightly. He swerved at a full angle. The electricity from the wires zapped at his eyelashes as his cheekbone brushed the platform. It'd be smarter to push on his lackeys.

The demon slayer wheeled around abruptly, cutting in front of a trolley. A gust of wind and honking blasted on him, but he already crossed the way. Maneuvering down the crowded alley, Genya glanced upwards at the rotating, holographic street sign. He was already in the Kaunan District. Perfect.

The empty cans squeaked in terror as the tires ran them over. The acrid stench of chemicals and rubber, discarded medical robots, and the dirty walls attacked his senses. It probably shouldn't matter which garage he'd pick, as long as Niyaniya wasn't there...

The familiar landscape stretched out in front of him. Without losing speed, Genya rammed into the garage he was across from the moment. He felt the impulse cascade down the vehicle, but only gripped the handles tighter.

"Shinazugawa?!" Three boys sat on ragged rugs further down inside the garage. At the sight of the demon slayer, they tried to scramble up, but Genya was faster. Riding up to the closest one, he braked at the last second and plunged his foot down on the ground. The motorcycle whirled upwards, and the front wheel stopped inches from the orphan's nose.

"Don't contact Niyaniya," Genya growled, effectively channeling aggressiveness. "Do that, and this'll end fast."

The young people stilled. The one on which the motorcycle was pointed at swallowed, but his glare was furious.

"Fine," he said evenly. Trying to suppress the distrust, Genya dug his gloved nails into the handles. He just had to do this quickly.

"Why does Niyaniya's hand regenerate?"

The orphan's eyes widened and, for a moment, he jerked, as if trying to look at the other guys for support. Genya tsked in irritation and roughly dropped the motorcycle down. The tire landed on the young man's knee, and he gasped. The orphan on the left staggered forward.

"The fuck are you—"

The muzzle of the gun stared into his face.

"I need answers, and I need 'em now." With a snapping motion, Genya unblocked the safety. Everything inside of him was shaking, but not because of fear; he knew how to use a gun, that's why he wasn't afraid of murder. More importantly, he felt that these kids knew the answer, and the anticipation was wringing him inside out. "That hand isn't his, right?" Genya turned to look at the other boy. The latter was squatting on the floor, and his fists were bunched on his knees.

"Did he lose it or something?" Genya raised his voice, not taking his gaze off the boy. The kid's eyes shot upwards.

"Yeah, he did," he made out through clenched teeth. Even though everything inside of him wanted to burst from those words, Genya only arched his eyebrow.

"Oh, really? Then where'd he get this new one?"

He turned back to the kid wringing under the motorcycle wheel. Leaning over the handles, he reached out with his free hand and grabbed the boy by the hair. Yanking it up, Genya stared into the kid's hateful face.

"Answer, brat." That hand stank of demons. Genya brought his face closer to the orphan's and scowled. Tears bunching at the corners of his eyes from the pain, the boy glowered at the demon slayer.

"The organization gave it to him," he spat venomously. Genya jerked the boy forward, and his chin knocked against the handles. The orphan hissed, scrunching his eyes, but the demon slayer only tightened the hold. His heart was ricocheting like crazy against his rib cage.

"What organization? How are they called?"

"Hell if I know." Taking a deep breath, the boy forced his eyes open. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, but his scowl was the same. "Niyaniya calls them organizers."

Genya let go of the boy's hair and rolled back the motorcycle. One of the orphans, glancing at the demon slayer, scooted up to him, but the boy only slapped his hand away.

"Where can I find them?"

The boy glanced up, and his mouth twisted in a repulsion.

"Their agent sticks at 99 Senbon-minatocho." It was the kid next to him. He was tense, wary of his friend's reaction, but still looked at the demon slayer. "They always switch the person up, so who's on guard is unknown."

"So they're human?" Genya specified, tucking the gun into his belt and starting the motorcycle. The boy he'd threatened smirked without lifting his gaze.

"Of course they're human," he muttered. Something twitched in his gut at these words, but Genya wordlessly pushed the pedals. Skidding across the floor, he did a large turn and drove out of the garage.

The wind flapped at the strand of hair he left unshaved as he speeded along the downwards spiraling road. 99 Senbon-minatocho... 99 Senbon-minatocho... that was in the belly of the Kaunan District. A car began slowing down in front of him, and Genya switched lanes.

The Lower Level below the Kaunan District was no different from any other Lower Level except that it was practically uninhabitable. The amount of toxic waste from the discarded prescriptions, as well as broken scrap, for early med staff, made it hard for humans- and the lack of humans corresponded to the lack of demons. It was the one place where he'd been only once — and he didn't want to remember it.

Genya slowed down, trying not to run over anything that might penetrate the tires, before stopping completely. Rancid smoke puffed out of the pipes, and it was hard to breathe. An uncomfortable sensation stirred in his chest.

A block away from the street, Genya walked the motorcycle into an abandoned pharmacy. He locked the vehicle inside one of the bathroom stalls and, after a moment of hesitation, placed his trombone case behind it. If the organizers were human, it's best not to advertise that he's a demon slayer. In any case, if anyone placed hands on the bike, it had an electric defense system and a siren installed. It should be safe in an abandoned place like this.

Coughing, Genya walked out of the building. He was beginning to sweat from the chemical moisture in the atmosphere, and it clogged inside his throat. Even so, he couldn't suppress the adrenaline. He didn't know what to expect, and though it was intimidating, it was also exhilarating. Genya turned around the corner.

A huge garbage dump of metal, robots, and everything else possible loomed over him. Genya slanted his eyes; no one else was there.

The demon slayer felt his shoulders loosening in disappointment. Seriously, did those kids lie to him? Glancing over his shoulder, the young man squinted at the brick wall behind him. A 99 and an S were smeared in crackling, white paint.

Clink.

Genya whirled around, wrenching the gun from out of his belt and pointing it in the direction of the sound.

A lone silhouette stood at the top of the trash dump. The person was wearing a spacious, aluminum hoodie from which it was impossible to tell the gender. The face was hidden behind the gas mask.

Genya inhaled and steadied his gun. He stared at the figure above him.

"Are you an organizer?"

The person moved the shoulders.

"Why?"

The voice was low, but female. Genya narrowed his eyes.

"Are you or are you not?" He bit back.

"Do you need me?"

Genya stilled, before clenching his jaw. No one gave anything here for free. If Niyaniya received his hand from these people, that meant that...

"I'm a customer." Genya didn't move his gaze from the woman. "I want to use your services."

... he had to bluff his way in.

The woman was quiet for several moments, before stepping forward. The garbage rolled under the soles of her boots, and she skidded down the dump. She stumbled slightly when her feet hit the ground, but regained balance immediately.

"Lower your gun. Follow me."

Without another word, she started down the alley. Genya hesitated, before tucking his gun away.

This was either increasingly useless or increasingly fatal.


Sword hoisted on his hip, Sanemi squinted at the preparations that happened below at the train station. The guards were fumbling around, ordering the onlookers to keep their distance. Sanemi suppressed in advance the irritation that flared up at the sight of them.

"Shinazugawa-san?" A demon slayer called him quietly. Sanemi didn't look at him.

"What?"

The metal tiles of the rooftop rang a little as the demon slayer walked forward and squatted next to the hashira. Sanemi slanted his eyes to acknowledge his subordinate. The demon slayer's gaze was fixed on the police drone hovering in the air.

"All positions are set. Hora and Matsunaga are monitoring the area from the opposite rooftops. Ohashi secured the billboard. Kurata spread his group among the ticket booths, on both sides."

As the demon slayer spoke, Sanemi's eyes darted to each of the locations. He couldn't see a single human in those spots. The lower divisions were getting better at this.

"Thanks. You can take your place."

The demon slayer nodded and receded quietly back. Sanemi quickly tuned his watch to the right frequency, and the static snapped in his speaker.

"Chief Inspector?" The hashira looked down at the man standing in the middle of the clearing and shouting orders to the police officers. The man jolted abruptly, as if hearing something separate from the commotion going outside, and Sanemi grinned. "My men have taken their positions. Sectors twenty-five and twenty-six, as we agreed on."

The police officer involuntarily swiveled his head side to side, and the hashira's grin widened. Pointless effort, he wouldn't find the demon slayers even if he wanted to. There was a short silence, and a gruff voice echoed in his ear.

"Alright. The train is arriving in five minutes. Be on guard."

"Likewise." Sanemi closed the line and jumped over to a different frequency. "Well, what've you got, crow?"

"That cop lied," Kanzaburo replied instantly. "The train will arrive in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Well, now it's thirty-six, and now it's thirty-five…"

If he trained himself to be more patient with the inhabitants of Tokyo, that kind of crap ended with his colleagues.

"Anything more substantial?" Sanemi snapped, eyeing the train station. "If you're here counting seconds, I assume there's no close demonic activity?"

"Eh, using those brains of yours?"

Sanemi cut the connection harshly and lowered his hand on his knee. He knew Kanzaburo would alert him if there was anything even vaguely suspicious, but it wouldn't kill him to check again.

Giving a heavy sigh, Sanemi leaned back on his heels and massaged his neck. He wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

Hanzai-sha no Sanpo — Criminal's Walk. Once a month, the Tokyo Public Safety Bureau would dispatch a batch of inmates for whom the Court declared a lifelong confinement to the Lower Level. A chip was installed into their heart that would cease the muscle's activities the moment the criminal stepped over the border; other than that, the individual was free to do whatever they pleased. It was a controversial sentence, but the Court seemed to like it; the cyborg was sadistic enough not to send any of the criminals originally from the Lower Levels, but those who were unaccustomed to the demonic presence and died within the first night. The static cracked as a warning in his ear.

"Sanemi," Kanzaburo announced. "The train will arrive in forty-five seconds. Still quiet."

"Got it," Sanemi replied and stood up. The large, frightened bunch of criminals and inadequately-equipped police officers were easy prey for the demons, which is why the demon slayers stepped in.

The train stopped with a loud, piercing whistle. The police officers went into a straight-line formation, making a corridor through which the prisoners would pass. Sanemi watched them carefully, and judging by the breathing inside his ear, the crow was too.

The senior officer called something, and the heavy doors of the train cabin slid to the side. The prisoners huddled at the edge, but no one dared to make a first step. The door standing closest to the cabin grabbed a prisoner by the arm and jerked him forward. The inmate tumbled to the ground. Sanemi grimaced.

"Part of me hopes they'd just prepare themselves and head straight on out," he complained quietly to the crow. "That way we get out of this sooner."

The old man smirked softly. "Desensitized?"

Sanemi followed the prisoners, filing reluctantly out of the cabin, with his eyes. The chance of survival for each was around ten percent. After a thousandth prisoner, he stopped worrying about that looming number.

"I guess." Sanemi was quiet for a moment, before scowling. Frustration and anger blazed without preamble. "That doesn't make it less heavy to watch."

Kanzaburo hummed. Sanemi wondered internally what the crow felt; he had to do it twice as much as the hashira, given that he also participated whenever Tomioka took watch.

"You know, Tanjiro could've been there," Kanzaburo said all of a sudden. Sanemi wrinkled his eyebrows. Yeah, judging by the choice of conversation - even the existence of conversation -, the crow was definitely desensitized.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you're not aware, Kamado-kun is geographically restricted to the Lower Level for six months," Kanzaburo reminded him dryly. "Nothing was stopping the Court from holding the boy until today and releasing him with everyone else."

"I've no idea what goes on in the Court's fucking pudding of a brain," Sanemi bristled immediately. "If it gave such a lackluster sentence given the fucking incompetence that brat displayed, I don't expect much from its other decisions."

Kanzaburo sighed. "I was just being theoretical, you know."

"You found the wrong time." The wind hashira folded his hands and returned his gaze to the procession. "Focus on work."

"Yes, ye—"

The watch beeped frantically. Sanemi whirled around on his foot.

"Where?!"

"Twenty south, sixty-five east," the crow instantly reported. "You're the closest."

"Ohashi, be prepared," Sanemi commanded bluntly, racing down the rooftop. "Everyone else, hold your positions. I'll take care of this one."

The hashira jumped up into the air and drew his sword - right at the demon's neck. Somersaulting around, Sanemi met the creature's bulging, vein-filled eye and grinned.

Gotcha.

Out of nowhere, the demon's head flipped spots with its leg. Blood fizzled into the air and the detached limb boomeranged into the air. Landing square on his feet, Sanemi stared at the demon sprinting away down the rooftop.

"... you missed." Kanzaburo actually chuckled.

"I know!" Sanemi growled, pouncing up and running down the metal tiles. "Ohashi, everyone, continue to guard. Geezer, that includes you."

The respectful "yes, sir" mixed with the sarcastic "copy that, Sanemi-kun," but the wind hashira didn't give a shit for the old man's benevolent mockery. Right now, he had a different priority.

Reaching the edge of the rooftop, he jumped down and released sequential, long-range slashes. Glancing over its shoulder, the demon skillfully avoided the strikes. Sanemi tsked, becoming increasingly annoyed. That thing was fast.

They veered into an alley. The demon nimbly bounced over the trash cans and pipes, occasionally interchanging his limbs and throwing empty glass bottles at his pursuer. Turning around, it gave the hashira a toothy grin. Sanemi tsked.

"Whatcha goggling at, motherfucker?" He muttered under his breath, volume gradually rising by the last words. The demon beamed and wiggled his eyebrows.

There was a dull snap.

In front of Sanemi's eyes, a dart hit the demon straight in the neck. The creature's features convulsed, before freezing a twisted stupor. At full speed, the demon tumbled onto the ground and grew limp.

The next second, a thin man with a metal chest on his back ran out from one of the abandoned stores and dropped next to the paralyzed demon. The man stuffed the creature into the chest and, straightening out, hesitated. His eyes met with the hashira's.

"... the fuck d'you just do?"

The man jerked in fright. Turning around, he dashed into the store.

"Wait!" Sanemi hollered, running after him. He had no idea what just happened, but he wasn't stopping here. "Wait, you bastard!"

The lights were shattered in the store. Sanemi tripped over the package of cereal lying on the floor, and his ankle twisted dangerously. Sanemi clicked his tongue and, without slowing down, grabbed the package and hurled it at the figure. The man stumbled when the box hit his shoulder.

They ran out of the back door. Even though the distance between them was gradually decreasing, the man zigzagged unpredictably, making him hard to catch. It was hard to think while running, but Sanemi was getting a suspicion that this was a human trafficker. The guy'd be a true piece of shit, but he had to at least warn the lad.

"Hey, bastard!" Sanemi shouted, trying not to lose speed. "You've got the wrong thing! You've got a demon, Jesus Christ! A demon!"

The man glanced briefly over his shoulder. At the same moment, the metal exploded, and two muscular arms protruded from the box. They snatched the man's head and twisted it. Without a sound, the man crumbled on the ground while the demon, scrambling out, blasted the chest into pieces. In the waterfall of metal scrap, he didn't notice the blade swinging right up to his neck.

"You really did him dirty."

The demon gasped, seeing the nichirin steel way too late, but in a split second crumbled into ash.

Sanemi sighed and lowered the sword. Crouching next to the corpse, he tossed aside the bandana that covered the man's nose and mouth. During the movement, his knuckles accidentally brushed the man's skin. It was still warm.

The man seemed no older than twenty-five. In a mechanical movement, Sanemi closed his eyelids.

"That's what you get for trading flesh," he said softly and without malice. Looking down, he unstrapped the small pistol the man had strung on his hip and pushed open the magazine. Several thin, metal darts waterfalled onto his palm. Tranquilizers? Sanemi wondered, rolling the darts with thumb. He picked one up and lifted it to his eyes. They must be pretty strong if they were able to temporarily knock out a demon…

A pungent, unmistakable smell hit his nose. Wisteria.

A crease ran across his forehead, just below his scar. Sanemi lowered the darts and looked at the corpse. The condescendence he regarded the guy with was completely replaced by bewilderment.

"Dude, were you nuts?"

Something rang inside the pocket of the man's jacket. Sanemi quickly unzipped the pocket and took out a small, simple transmitter. Static crumpled out of its speakers, and a red bulb blinked haphazardly.

Yuji, this is the base. Where are you? Did you catch a demon?

Sanemi froze, debating whether to answer. Of course, he could simply bark out that Yuji kicked the bucket and demand answers, but something told him that it would be a very short conversation. Careful not to press the reply button, Sanemi tapped his own speakers.

"Kanzaburo, are you there?"

"Yes, how may I help you?" Even though the crow responded immediately, Sanemi still heard the surprise in his voice. The old man must not have expected the hashira to contact him. Well, that's his problem.

"I'm holding a transmitter in my hand. Are you picking up its signal?"

"Of course. And?"

"Can you trace it back to its transmission source?"

"No problem." Kanzaburo began typing. "Care to fill me in?"

Yuji, take your damn headphones off and answer to the base. The typing stopped, and Sanemi couldn't hold back the dry smirk; the crow was obviously shocked. He allowed himself ten seconds to savor the moment before hurrying to comfort the old man.

"The demon I was chasing was shot with wisteria darts by a random guy," Sanemi explained. "He cramped the demon into a box and was running away from me when the thing broke through. They're both dead now."

Don't expect me to be nice when you come back. The transmission chinked off. There was a pointed silence.

"Who's crazy enough to try and catch a demon?" Kanzaburo sounded appalled.

"I'm asking myself the same thing." Sanemi tucked the magazine back into the pistol and latched it at his belt. The crow may want this for further examining. He eyed the transmitter in his hand and smirked. "Now that Yuji's dead, I should probably report instead of him. Did you get the coordinates?"

"You sick, reckless bastard..." A green navigation line popped up on Sanemi's watch. Standing up, he scrolled on the screen to look at the destination.

"The slums below the Kaunan District?" That was an unusual location. It was barely habitable. Following the coordinates, Sanemi began running down the alley. Without any obstacles, it would take only fifteen minutes.

"Seems like it. Listen, I'll go back and check up on the boys, but I'll stay on the line."

"Okay." Sanemi lingered next to one alley, debating whether or not to take the shortcut. After a brief debate, he decided to screw it and follow what the crow drew out to him. "Is everything going fine?"

"As I said, I'm going to check right now."

Sanemi withheld from rolling his eyes. Inside, he was certain that the crow had ten lines open, not just him and the demon slayers, but also several outlets to the cyber dimension and that strange guy he often chatted with.

"In the meantime, contact one of the free hashiras in the Kaunan District. You'll be entering their jurisdiction, and they may want to know about this."

He had a point. Sanemi held out his wrist and quickly typed in the shared address of his A-blooded colleagues.

"This is Shinazugawa," he spoke into the watch, recording the message. "I'm on a mission that's leading into your region. If you want details, contact me." He ended the recording and lowered his hand. Even if they're not interested, they'll be aware of his activities, and hence he could always rely on their backup. Sanemi jumped over the railing and traveled several meters down in the air. Not that he relied on backup, but...

"Shinazugawa-san?"

Sanemi landed swiftly on his feet, but lingered to stand up. All of a sudden, he regretted that he contacted the Kaunan District at all. However, he was able to compose himself.

"Yes, Kochou?" Sanemi asked, straightening out.

"Did something happen?" The young woman asked in curiosity.

"Yeah, kind of." The wind hashira looked around. The place was as dead as ever. "A guy tried catching a demon right in front of my eyes."

"Catching a demon?"

"Yeah, can you imagine?" Something got smashed under his boot. Sanemi glanced down and saw that he stepped on a robotic eye. "Shot at him with wisteria darts. Anyways." He lifted his head and took a deep breath. The chemicals tickled his lungs.

"It seems he's working with someone. I traced him back to the slums in your district. What do you think?"

Shinobu was quiet, and for a moment, Sanemi wished that she'd say she can't join him and that they'll keep in touch virtually. He knew it was a guilty thought, but he couldn't help it; she was the only hashira with whom he felt vulnerable.

"Can you send me the coordinates?"

"Sure," Sanemi replied instantly, despite the dryness that filled his mouth. He swiped the watch's screen. "How long will it take you to get here?"

"Three minutes at most. See you at the spot."

She turned off the transmission. Sanemi hesitated slightly, before proceeding down the path shown by the map. The destination was just around the corner.

Climbing over an overturned steel beam, the wind hashira walked out to a one-story, grey building, reminiscent of a barrack. Resting his hand on the hilt, Sanemi stepped right to its door and frowned. It didn't have a handle. Craning his neck, he glanced at the windows. They were taped up.

"It was originally a medical building."

Sanemi glimpsed to his right. Shinobu walked out from one of the garbage heaps. She didn't bother bringing her small suitcase of med equipment, and the sword hung comfortably at her side. Kanae's sister, Tomioka's ex-wife. Suppressing his awkwardness, Sanemi nodded towards her.

"You've been here before?"

"Never." Shinobu walked up to him and looked at the door. "What's next, Shinazugawa-san?"

Sanemi smirked, turning away from her. "Knock? Let's leave the break-in option if the first one fails..."

"You need something?"

The hashiras whirled around. A short, plump man in tinted glasses stood several meters away from them. He was wearing trousers and a white shirt, buttoned right up to the wide neck. The man gave them a wide grin behind the transparent gas mask.

"If there's any way I could help you, I'll be glad to do so."

Shinobu gave the wind hashira a short glance. Catching her gaze, Sanemi gave a barely perceptible nod and tossed the man the transmitter.

"Ooot!" The transmitter flew through the man's hands, and he had to kneel down to pick it up. Huffing, he straightened out and looked at it with wide eyes. "What's this?"

"Yuji's," Sanemi said emotionlessly. "He dropped it when the demon he caught snapped his neck."

The man's eyes darted on him. There was a short silence.

"I see."

The man brought the transmitter to his mouth and pressed the button.

"Toki-chan? We've got customers."

The door swung open behind the hashiras. Sanemi swirled around, taken by surprise; at the same moment, the man's heavy hand descended on his shoulder.

"Welcome in..." the lips lifted, revealing the white, wide teeth. "...hashira-dono."


A/N: Hi guys! Hope you're doing well!

Can you imagine my stupor when I went on the fandom page and saw that every single hashira has a crow? The last time I remember checking the fandom, I could only find five crows, but apparently even Sanemi has one - Sorai. And here I had Kanzaburo pretty much rule the ball…

Anyways, Kanzaburo will continue ruling the ball since adding even more characters will just break my head. Besides, I feel that having one crow per two-three hashiras works better with the organization the hashiras have in this fic.

Thank you for sticking around and see you next update! Comments are always appreciated :))