"Sixteenth Form: Moonbow Sickle!"
How was it the Waxing Moon could swing that sword so fast? Sanemi grit his teeth as he did his best to dodge the multiple blows raining down from above. Waxing One's sword had doubled in size – almost tripled – and had all of those blade-like branches. Yet he could swing the dumb thing around like it weighed nothing! How?! Had he somehow made his sword part of his blood art?! Literally, how?!
The two Hashira still managed to dodge, but it was a near thing. A very near thing.
"Tenth Form: Piercing Guillotine, Ivy Moon!" A wave of three tiered attacks rushed towards them. Sanemi went to jump, but realized Tokito had just been pushing off for a stride and was now mid-leap, but too low to the ground to avoid the attack, and too high to find another way to avoid it, unless he used a form… but the boy was breathing hard – tiring.
Sanemi shot above the wave as his tongue lashed out. Being careful to avoid any place that had human blood (he was already starting to get hungry again, seriously why?) he launched Tokito into the air as well. At first the boy looked disoriented, but then he saw the destruction below them and sent an appreciative (almost grateful) look at Sanemi.
"Fourteenth Form: Calamity, Tenjin's Crescent."
Even more crescent moon blades came rushing at them. This one wouldn't be easy, but he was ready. He drew his tongue back, bringing Tokito to him – behind him… huh, he had more control over his tongue than he thought – and retaliated with a move of his own.
"Seventh Form: Gale, Sudden Gusts," he said, letting his body move in the familiar patterns and pushing himself to start the form over once he finished because the crescent blades were still coming.
"Gotta get through," Tokito muttered from where he landed a moment before Sanemi did himself. The Mist Pillar rushed past the Wind Pillar, sword already out. "Look. Look. See the openings."
Sanemi figured he should give the kid the best chance he could.
"Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths," the demon said as even more horizontal and vertical strikes of multiple spinning crescent-shaped blades filled Sanemi's vision. Of course.
"First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter," he growled. He'd give Tokito a chance to get through… even if he didn't get through himself.
He felt the blades slice through him as he met them head-on, but he made sure they didn't hit his arms. The rest of him didn't matter. (Okay, maybe his neck did, but he needed his arms to keep the attack going.)
Find a way through, he thought. Push yourself… you can see it!
Wait… was it just him, or did the demon look transparent?
Oh… yeah… that was a thing, wasn't it.
He didn't make it to the demon, but Tokito did. Didn't even use a form as he shoved his blade through the Waxing Moon's chest.
Surprised, the Kizuki just looked down (which gave Sanemi a chance to regrow his limbs, so he wasn't complaining too much) and asked the kid outright, "Can you see it? The world I see?"
Sanemi grit his teeth. He wasn't regrowing his limbs fast enough. He needed to get there or Tokito would be done fo—
"Eighth Form: Piercing Flame Shot*," a sudden, powerful blast would have taken off the Kizuki's head (and probably most of his body below that) had he not dodged to the side at the last moment. The attack took off the Kizuki's arm instead.
The white-haired Hashira blinked and looked over to see Rengoku and Himejima running through a shoji door. They looked exhausted but determined and he couldn't say he wasn't grateful.
At least six-eyes seemed just as surprised as Sanemi felt.
Without missing a beat, Himejima followed up, not even saying a form name for focus as he threw his flail out, and his axe immediately afterwards, holding the chain in between them.
Good. That had actually given Sanemi enough time to finish regrowing his limbs and he stood to follow up himself. He jumped.
"Eight Form: Primary Gale Slash!" he shouted.
He only realized a moment too late that the demon had seen the attack and, with a triumphant (if barely visible) smirk, he turned so that Tokito would take the brunt of that attack.
xXx
Muichiro saw the attack coming. He'd been holding onto his sword and hoping that the Kizuki's sick desire to turn him into a demon would keep him alive. For a moment, he thought it worked, but then Shin-san attacked and the Mist Pillar glimpsed a vindictive smirk on Waxing One's face, before the Kizuki turned, dragging Muichiro right into the path of the attack.
He refused to let go of his sword though. He couldn't. If he let go, he'd be defenseless. That would be a death sentence…
And he refused to die here, at least not before he'd taken care of this baka.
He had to get out of the way of the attack…
All of that went through Muichiro's mind in moments. His instincts screamed at him to move, so he did. He could reach the ground, still, and managed to push off, straight up, turning his sword as he twisted around in the air. The demon grit his teeth at the pain, but Muichiro managed to get out of the way of the Wind Pillar's attack while still holding onto his sword. If it had been anyone else, that… wouldn't have worked, but this was Waxing One, and even all of Muichiro's weight without any breath style behind it couldn't cut through the demon's flesh.
He still felt several wind slices cut through him, but nothing major, and he could keep hold of the sword, so he counted it as a win, even as gravity returned and he fell again.
"Why you," Shin-san growled as he, too, landed, slitted eyes fixed on the older demon and veins bulging around his face.
The Kizuki opened his mouth to say something but before he could, he dodged to the side as another bout of heat rushed by him from behind. Then the large man's axe whizzed by on the other side, making Muichiro thankful he hadn't been just there anymore. Then Shin-san came in for another attack at Waxing One's head. The axe chain whipped around them, holding both Muichiro and Waxing One in place. The Mist Pillar grit his teeth – that certainly didn't feel good – but once again, he refused to let go of his blade.
True swordsmen get to know their blade as an extension of their body. Some say the spirit of the swordsman runs through their blade, to a point where losing the blade is like losing a limb. With demon slayers, moving energy through the sword becomes second nature. One's desperation and dedication could melt into the blade and begin to change it.**
With his eyes closed, Muichiro didn't notice his sword begin to glow red, starting at the base and moving upwards.
Just as the color touched the demon's skin, though, the other side of the large man's chain – the flail end – smashed down on Waxing One's head from behind. Both Shin-san and the yellow-haired newcomer flew from above, their blades smashing into the mace, and driving it downwards, taking the demon's head with it.
Muichiro stared at that. Had they won? Finally?
Something told him it was too good to be true.
For the barest moment, time slowed down, the demon slayers waiting with baited breath, still clutching their swords so hard their hands had begun to bleed.
And then the demon exploded.
Muichiro lost feeling below his waist and glanced down to see the bottom half of his body falling away from him, only staying somewhat in place by the chains that the demon hadn't managed to cut, but he had managed to maneuver so he could move again.
And his head had grown back but… monstrous. The six eyes remained, but everything else had mutated. He no longer had lips, but sharp teeth jutting directly from his jaws. Two enormous horns grew from either side of his forehead and other areas of his body, like his shoulders, and what Muichiro assumed was his demon slayer mark encircled the entire top-half of his body. Four disgusting appendages covered in what looked like thorns grew from his back and…
He looks on the outside how he's become on the inside, the Mist Pillar thought as the world began to go blurry.
Do not lose your grip on your blade, he told himself, suddenly. He could feel his limbs growing weaker, but he refused to give in.
"NO! Tokito!" Shin-san… no, Shinazugawa. Right. That was his name. He screamed out and a blast of air came towards the Kizuki. That jarred Muichiro loose from the chains and, unable to hold on, he fell.
The last thing he saw was Waxing One ripping a red blade from his skin and tossing it away.
Please let it be enough.
xXx
Kokushibo felt… powerful.
He'd done it! He'd regrown his head after it had been destroyed with Nichirin metal. Grinning, he tore the brat's red blade (it stung, but who cared? It couldn't hurt him!) out of his body and tossed it away. He did notice that he'd accidentally cut his offspring in half, but no matter. If the Wind Pillar had been saved by Kamado, then he could…
A powerful blast of wind shot at him followed by the white-haired pseudo demon himself, rushing forward, blade at the ready. Out of the corner of his eye, Kokushibo saw the other two speeding towards him as well and had to stifle a laugh.
How could they not see? They could not hurt him! He was untouchable! Unbeatable! He'd truly surpassed his brother, finally! And…
And then he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the Wind Hashira's sword.
The image almost stopped his heart.
Was that… him? Really? He looked… hideous.
This was his 'final form'? This monster? Was this… permanent?
And was this what he'd had to become to surpass his brother? His brother, who, even in his old age, had been able to stand against Kokushibo.
For a moment, he could almost hear Yoriichi's voice from when they were children.
"I want to be like you. I will become the second strongest Samurai in the land."
What he saw now… was that the face of a Samurai? And if he'd had to go this far to beat his brother – to become the strongest…
Was this really what he wanted?
Because now he may be the strongest, but… as a monster, not as a Samurai.
He'd been chasing his dream of becoming the strongest for so long now… but why did he want it?
Before he could come to any conclusions, the slight sting in his side, where Tokito Muichiro had stabbed him, suddenly flared in pain, and began to crumble away. A jolt of shock and fear overtook the demon, but in the next moment, all he could see was gray as the mace end of the Stone Pillar's weapon took his head off yet again.
And then he felt fire… and then wind… and…
And his body was crumbling…
He had to use a blood art! But his body wouldn't respond!
No! Not yet! He couldn't die yet!
But… was this what he'd lived all those centuries for? Was he so desperate to not lose that he pushed himself to the point of becoming that hideous monster he'd seen? No, he'd already become a monster, he realized. He'd been so desperate to gain strength that he'd broken his oaths – left his wife and children, chased after his brother, and ultimately betrayed him and everyone they'd ever worked with. He'd joined their enemy, consumed humans…
He'd become a wretched beast.
All in pursuit of his brother.
Because in the end…
Yoriichi… all I ever wanted to be was you.
He'd abandoned his home, his humanity, his family, cut down his descendants, abandoned being a samurai…
But it was never enough.
It could never be enough, he realized.
In the end, he couldn't leave a lasting mark on the world – not a positive one. Yoriichi's breathing style had remained, despite Kokushibo and Muzan hunting down anyone who should have known it. His mark remained with the Demon Slayer Corps… Yoriichi had always been someone despite being the younger brother.
But Kokushibo knew, from the bottom of his heart that of the two of them, Yoriichi should have had everything. He'd been the strong one. He'd always left his older brother in the dust.
The last thing he felt before the world – already dark without eyes to see – faded fully away was the two halves of the flute he'd carved all those years ago…
The flute he'd given Yoriichi
The present his brother had never been able to throw away.
And he hadn't either.
Why?
Why had Mitchikasu even been born?
xXx
The Kizuki crumbled away.
No one even knew why but… he just crumbled.
The demon looked desperate and confused, even in that monstrous state…
But it wasn't enough.
He wasn't suffering enough!
No demon ever suffered enough! Sanemi screamed as he dove towards the pile of ashes inside clothes. They'd cut and cut and cut and finally won, but it. Wasn't. Enough!
"Shinazugawa!" two voices broke through his rage as he stabbed his sword into the clothes, only barely missing the wooden… what was that? A flute? A dissected flute… and not even a good one at that. What even—
"Shinazugawa," Himejima suddenly stood before him cautiously. "It is over. We won."
Sanemi couldn't look away from what remained of Waxing One. Not even the smell of human blood right there could tempt him away from the sight. He almost expected the baka to grow back again, just to torment them. And as fun as that fight had been initially – as much as he loved pushing himself to new heights – he hadn't wanted to lose another comrade.
"Sanemi."
So few people called him that anymore. Not since… not since Kanae.
Slowly, he forced himself to look up, finding a pair of blank eyes staring back… or not staring, he supposed.
"Are you with us again?"
Sanemi slumped as he nodded, even knowing the other man couldn't see. "Yeah. Yeah I… I just…"
"Tokito-san! You were truly a wonderful Hashira! You will be missed!" Rengoku's voice drew both of the other Pillar's attention, and Sanemi looked past Himejima to see the yellow-haired Hashira cradling the top half of Tokito's body.
Just seeing it caused Sanemi to wince because…
Wait…
Wait!
Was he still bleeding?!
Before he knew what he was doing, Sanemi had rushed over, already biting his finger. The kid was still there… he could sense it!
"Shinazugawa!" the Stone Pillar said, shocked.
"What are you—?" Rengoku started, and then yelped as Shinazugawa plunged his hand into Muichiro's side.
"What are you doing?!" the Flame Hashira yelled.
"Trying to save his life!"
Because if Sanemi had come back from this exact thing, so could Tokito.
The Mist Pillar hadn't been breathing… Sanemi didn't have Kamado's pure demon blood… but this had to work!
It had to!
He kept pumping more blood into the kid…
But nothing happened.
Come on, he thought desperately, berating himself for not getting there sooner. He'd been able to survive for over a minute when cut in half. Of course other Pillars could too!
COME ON!
Nothing.
More blood! He needed more blood to—
A large hand closed around his wrist.
Sanemi bared his teeth and looked up at Himejima, half ready to attack him, but the tears stopped him. He'd seen the man with tears running down his cheeks as often as he hadn't, but… this time was different. He didn't know why.
(Maybe because he wanted to cry himself, but couldn't?)
"Let me—" he started to say, forcing the words out, but the older man's expression didn't change as he spoke.
"He's gone. You've done everything you could, but it's too late."
"No!" he denied.
"Sanemi-san," Rengoku said, his voice quiet for once and smile gone. "Sometimes there is no saving them. You know this. We all know this."
Sanemi wanted to rage and scream and yell and throw things around but… instead he slumped and withdrew his hand. Part of him still wanted to lick the blood, but the thought made his stomach turn, so instead, he curled his hands into fists, screamed out all of his frustration and anger at the fact that he hadn't been able to help the kid – his fellow Hashira. Sure, he and Tokito had never gotten along but…
That didn't mean it didn't hurt.
That didn't mean he didn't feel the weight of one more person he couldn't protect.
With everything he had, he slammed his fists into the ground, both feeling and hearing his bones break. To his mild satisfaction, the floor beneath his fists shattered. It had been a kind of tile or stone and he'd destroyed it.
He wanted it to help.
It didn't. Not enough.
(Never enough.)
After several seconds of harsh breathing, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to see Himejima kneeling there, Rengoku beside him, blood dripping from his nose onto his haori.
"Come. There is still more to do."
It felt like picking up pieces of himself and shoving them back together, but he nodded and forced himself to stand.
"Yeah. Let's go get the baka who started this all."
xXx
Tanjiro pushed himself harder and faster, going through walls now because if Yushiro had gotten to Nakime, he had nothing to worry about and he needed to get to Muzan now!
So he shot through doors, tore down walls, burst through ceilings and floors until he reached a shaft.
Muzan was right there, just above him.
Tanjiro grit his teeth and looked up. A blob of… something biological – and very much demon made (it smelled so good, but he paid that instinct no mind) pulsed.
"Found you," he growled to himself, bent down, and launched up towards the thing, fully intent on tearing it apart, claws at the ready.
Before he could, though, the ball of goop – or whatever it was – exploded. Tanjiro made sure his mouth was closed and shielded his eyes, but he sensed something coming right for him.
He swung his fist as he caught the fist speeding at him. The person opposite of him did the same. For a moment, they hung in mid air, red eyes staring into red – slitted pupils into words.
Then, the now white-haired demon grinned.
"It's good to finally meet you," Muzan said, "Kamado Tanjiro."
xXx
AN: * I needed a long-distance attack that didn't rely on someone rushing in, and since most styles have at least one of these (except water, ironically), I don't see why Flame couldn't. So I made it up. I imagine this to look like an arrow skimming the ground with a wake of fire shooting up behind it.
** The Wikia says that if the demon slayer grips their sword hard enough, it will turn the blade crimson with heat. I call bullcrap. If someone gripped their sword hard enough – theoretically because of breathing techniques and a mark and all of those power ups – so hard that it could change the temperature of the blade, the handle/grip would have shattered or burned (or both) already. So no. This is the best explanation I could come up with. Fight me.
Thank you to Found and Quathis for your help on this!
Discord: discord. gg/xDDz3gqWfy (no spaces)