Gyomei did not like what he could currently sense around him. He'd lost his eyesight at a very young age; so young he could only barely remember flashes of what he assumed was color and light. No, he'd had to learn to get by in a world that did not want to understand him or his blindness, and so he'd worked hard to rise to the challenge.

That challenge had become even more difficult when he'd discovered the existence of demons. When he'd lost his children. When the survivors had been so hurt and worried and scared they'd blamed him.

He'd been so confused when the demon he'd had to beat and hit for hours, despite his muscles and bones aching; despite the disgusting feel of flesh giving way below his knuckles and the hot, sticky blood splashing who knew where (memories he did not like to remember) had simply vanished with the sunlight.

And then the villagers – who refused to answer him except to tell him the children were dead thanks to him (they were right) and how dare he kill them so gruesomely (that had been where they went very, very wrong) and how no one would listen to him until Oyakata-sama showed up.

So began his training. Unlike most students, it had taken him far longer to get the forms down than the breathing pattern – that had come easily for him. He'd always had a strong body and it showed. But getting each movement down correctly had taken hours upon hours, correction upon frustrating correction because he couldn't see his limbs, he could only feel them and he couldn't learn the forms except to have them described to him and then have his sensei move his limbs where he needed them to be. It had been the longest two years of his life.

Long, but worth it.

He'd become a pillar in two months after the final selection. Once he had a system down – once he'd really learned to sense the world around him – finding and fighting demons had been simple. He could sense things others couldn't see, and that made finding demons surprisingly simple and usually straightforward. He'd breezed through the final selection and then had simply gone around to Japan's cities and towns, learning to pay attention to the very air currents and sensing vibrations through the ground. Smell and sound helped immensely and he honed those as well.

Perhaps because of his special circumstances, he hadn't even realized he hadn't killed his 50th demon until they'd called him back to the estate and promoted him.

But nothing had prepared him for this.

A vibration on the left, he turned and swung his mace as hard as he could, not even bothering with a form anymore. He needed speed here – speed with power. Unfortunately, he had to give up some of the latter to gain the former.

The floor below him fell away. He could barely jump to where he could sense a wall… that moved out at him, of course. He destroyed what he could before finding a good handhold that let him swing up and about, placing his feet against the wood and launching towards where he could sense the demon.

Another column sped down from above. He managed to swing his mace around the corner, where it lodged and swung him out of the way. It would drag him down, but it was better than the alternative. Searching with his senses, he found another wall nearby and punched his way through to another room below the demon. Then he began working his way up… again. This had happened no less than six times. It was… beyond frustrating, but he was determined to do what he had to do to get rid of the demon.

A plinth of wood, paper and tatami mats came rushing at him from the left, and he jumped onto it, letting it take him back out the hole (he had to punch through the wall to make it larger – undoubtedly the demon had hoped to hurt or incapacitate him, but the attack had done neither) and into the enormous room that seemed to fall forever. The room in which he'd been trying to climb to the correct point for countless seconds now. How many minutes had it been? Hours? Days? Well, no, he knew it couldn't be the latter, but it definitely felt like it.

And so their dance returned to square one as he tried to gain ground while she did her best to keep him at bay. Unfortunately, he was beginning to tire. They both knew that she likely had better stamina than him, simply for her being a demon, but she also couldn't seem to take him out of the equation as she had Iguro-san.

Gyomei could only spare a thought for the twenty-one-year-old. He wanted to go after the other Pillar to see if he was well and alive, but he doubted the demon would just let him, and the room had changed so drastically by the time he realized what had happened that he couldn't sense where the Pillar had gone. He desperately hoped his attack from above hadn't distracted the younger man. He didn't want another death on his conscience.

He'd just have to wait until he beat the demon, unfortunately.

Once again, the platform he'd come to dropped and he felt himself begin to fall. Before he could really do anything about it, though, he sensed other walls coming towards him… from all six directions – in front and behind him, to either side, and from above (below had stopped, apparently).

It seemed he would have to rely on his sheer strength to buy him the time he needed.

"Fifth form: Arcs of Justice." He made it in time, the axe on one end of his chain and the mace-like-flail on the other both swinging in wide arcs, destroying everything around him except the floor below, blowing them out and away from him. Then he used the platform and launched up to where he could sense the demon yet again.

She must have been surprised because it took her longer than before to bring walls (or platforms or plinths or whatever they were) to strike him down and he got closer than he'd been able to before.

Just as he got there, though, he realized he'd fallen into a trap.

"You'll make a fine demon too," she said, with almost no inflection.

Gyomei stiffened but didn't stop his breathing pattern. He did sense strands of… something (her hair? He supposed demons could do that) shooting towards him from many different directions, but knew he wouldn't have enough time to take out more than half of them.

"Breath of Flame, Third Form: Blazing Universe!" A streak of heat shot in front of him, slicing through all of the strange appendages coming towards him. Gyomei blinked, feeling tears coming to his eyes at the relief of not fighting this demon alone.

"You're fast," the demon said through obviously gritted teeth. "You arrived before I thought you would." Gyomei was pretty sure she'd been speaking to the newcomer, so he didn't answer.

"My Kasugai Crow led—" Rengoku Kyojuro's voice started, but was cut off by another platform rushing up at them from below.

"Off the side!" Gyomei yelled, rolling off and grabbing a handhold in the material below as the pillar of wood continued to speed upwards.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Kyojuro yelled through the rushing air and the Stone Pillar smiled.

"I am." Then his smile vanished. "Iguro Obanai is not. I believe she tried to turn him into a demon."

"What? Why?" the Flame Hashira asked, but Gyomei didn't have time to answer, instead launching himself off of the wood and tatami mats to where he could sense another platform as the column he'd been on crashed into the ceiling.

"To pad Kibutsuji's ranks, I would assume," he yelled as he soared through the air, then began to say some mantras under his breath, praying for the others if that was the case. They would need to get Iguro some help as soon as possible… or kill him. But Shinobu was developing a cure, wasn't she?

He'd have to think on that later.

"Indeed," the demon said, her quiet voice carrying across the room that only seemed to grow bigger the longer they fought. "And you look like our newest Waxing Moon. I wonder, are you related?"

Gyomei sensed Kyojuro's inhale about the same time he put it together too.

No… no they wouldn't…

Except they would.

And there went any semblance of holding back tears. He wished he could properly bring out his prayer beads and say prayers for the Rengoku family. And hadn't the Kamado children been studying under the older Rengoku as well? But all he could do was say a couple of words and thank Buddha for the minor break to catch his breath.

"You could join him," the demon said, voice almost thoughtful. She didn't seem like a demon of many words.

"Why would I do that?" Kyojuro asked, voice as tight as the strings on the demon's biwa.

"To maintain your memories."

Oh. Well, that made sense. People who chose to become demons remembered their pasts?

"Unless you do not wish to."

Gyomei thought about that. Being able to forget all of the pain in his past… the children he'd failed to protect…

But he couldn't truly consider it. Not seriously. Because it would mean subjecting himself to that man and having to eat other humans and he would refuse either one of those every time.

He wondered why the Flame Pillar had been given the choice though.

"You did not ask me," he said slowly. "Why?"

The woman scoffed. "I know your type: too stubborn for any good. You would not turn willingly."

"And that is not a bad thing!" Kyojuro yelled emphatically before Gyomei could say anything else. "Also, neither will I!"

"I see. So be it," the demon said. A twang sounded, causing the floors and walls to begin moving again.

Gyomei didn't sigh. He was in a better position now with another Pillar fighting beside him.

They could win this and they would.

They had to.

xXx

When Sanemi had first seen the demon that haunted his memories – Waxing One – he'd been thrilled. Despite how good the other smelled, despite how hungry he was, despite how much he hated this being, he wanted his rematch.

And then, he'd been excited beyond belief because he'd been able to keep up. Albeit barely, but it was still such an improvement over before and it was the first time he could really let loose and utilize what he'd come to think of as his 'passive' blood art.

Some demons seemed to have them, he'd noted, but some didn't. Kamado and the former Waxing Third didn't. He and the little brat did (at least he thought she did with all those hands). Passive skills weren't as powerful as an actual blood art, but they also didn't seem to require exposing blood to activate. Incredibly useful in a fight.

Waxing One seemed to be able to activate his own power without using any blood, though… So did the former Waxing Third. He couldn't figure out if that meant their passive abilities had simply gotten strong enough to match strength with their blood-activated abilities, or if they'd simply gotten so good at using their abilities that they didn't have to expose blood to activate them.

He hoped it wasn't the former. Even with Mr. Forgetful at his back, they were barely keeping up and if the other demon (real demon, HAH! Joke was on him as Sanemi had no problem with that classification) could level up… they'd be in trouble. Of course, Sanemi hadn't brought out his full blood art either (he hated using it sometimes – it reminded him how inhuman he was now) but still… and Tokito was fighting at full strength right now.

And the Waxing baka's commentary didn't help in the slightest. He kept completely dismissing Sanemi and focusing on Tokito. At least the kid seemed just as annoyed by it as the Wind Pillar felt.

"From your physical development," Waxing One paused and blocked several barrages from both Pillars, "you are fourteen? Hmm, yes. That seems correct."

Another pause as he jumped over Sanemi coming in for several strikes, meshing with Tokito as best he could. They couldn't seem to work seamlessly, but they could read each other and coordinate for the most part. It still wasn't doing much good. Or, at least not as much as they would like. And the human in their little group was beginning to tire.

(At least there was one thing Sanemi could be grateful for when it came to this awful demon body.)

After a couple more exchanges with the other's (insanely creepy) sword, they all backed off to regroup, make assessments and, in Tokito's case, catch their breath.

The Waxing First just had to take the opportunity to open that big, dumb mouth of his.

"As expected from one of my descendants," he said haughtily. Sanemi had to wonder how he was so sure Tokito was a descendant. The Pillar could be, he supposed, but the demon could also just be delusional. Sanemi figured it was a 50-50 chance either way. "My blood may have been watered down a great deal, but that is trivial, it seems. Even if my name has died out, my cells and talent have increased, remaining in you."

Sanemi couldn't help but scoff at his sheer audacity. Then he turned to Tokito. "Is this guy for real?"

The kid hadn't taken his eyes off of their opponent. "Sadly, I believe so. Because even if I was a descendant of his, I am positive not a single disgusting cell of his remains in my body."

He said it so decisively – aggressively even – that Sanemi couldn't help but be a little impressed. And right about then, he saw a dark spot on the kid's face move. He wasn't the only one from how Waxing One's eyes widened.

"You got that mark everyone was talking about," he informed the kid.

It didn't even faze him. "Good. Breath of Mist, Seventh Form: Obscuring Clouds."

Sanemi's eyebrows rose. He hadn't seen this technique before, and he'd read about the Breath of Mist as it was a derivative of wind. It only had six forms.

The kid went and created a seventh form, huh? He thought to himself, amused and a little annoyed. Amused because Tokito had more talent and skill than he'd given credit for, annoyed because he had no idea how to attack simultaneously with an unknown technique without getting in the way himself. Especially not with a style that focused on clustered attacks that overwhelmed the opponent, like a swarm. It didn't tend to work well with other styles and he had to concentrate to do so.

At least Waxing One didn't seem to know what to do with the new mist attack either… until he began to swing his blade and Sanemi saw where it was going.

"NO!" he yelped, putting his energy into jumping forward and in front of the attack. He got there just in time, but felt two blades slash into him, one from either side, and gritted his teeth. He'd stabbed the Waxing First, but was not in a position to follow up or keep the attack going. Of course.

"Shin… -san," the boy said, voice full of surprise.

"What?" he grunted in pain, but was already reforming his cells. "I wasn't 'bout to let you get your arm cut off. Besides, it's Shinazugawa! Remember that at least!"

"A meaningless sacrifi—" the loser in front of him began, but Sanemi was already spreading his blood over his lips, knowing the smile Kanae had called his 'manic grin' had spread across his face.

"Demon Blood Art: Typhoon Beam," he said, then took a deep breath and blew out. The force that came out of his mouth – his inhuman tongue – could have been a sword in and of itself, except in wind form. It cut anything it touched, utterly decimating it. The other demon had jumped back, painfully taking his sword with him, but Sanemi ignored that as best he could, continuing with his attack. He and Tokito flew back from the kickback of it. The wall on the other side of the room exploded where Sanemi's technique hit it.

He cut off the technique as soon as they were out of range. He could continue using it, but it had done what he needed it to do, and if he wasn't careful, Waxing One would be able to attack them – his blood art left openings. So instead, he turned, grabbed Tokito and pushed them both sideways, away from where he could sense the other demon moving to.

"Shin-san… why did you—?"

"You think I was gonna let him get you? Another Pillar? Another Slayer? We both need to be at top strength to get him. Besides," he let that manic grin onto his face again, "I can regrow limbs, remember?

"Also," his grin grew wider. "Isn't this fun? Let's keep it going, huh? Until we beat him, or someone else comes in. No other outcome."

The kid just blinked. "I don't find fighting fun."

That… didn't make sense to Sanemi. "Huh, really?"

Before either one of them could say more than that, they both took stances and prepared for the incoming attack that made their instincts scream at them.

"Fifth Form: Moon Spirit Calamitous Eddy."

"Third Form: Purifying Wind*," Sanemi yelled as he whipped his sword around him in the well-known arcs, defending them from everything he could. He purposefully didn't extend the swings as far behind him as he could. If anything got them from behind, he'd just have to trust the kid.

"Duck!" he heard Tokito say and abandoned his last slash to do just that. "Third form: Scattering Mist Splash!"

A force of air and what looked like mist (of course) blew by him, and he had to stick his sword in the ground to not be moved himself, but it disrupted the currents of the Waxing First's strikes and threw those nasty, unpredictable moon-blades off too.

"Impressive," Waxing One said calmly as the mist finally dissipated. The two slayers stood back to back while the demon faced Sanemi. "You kept up with my technique. You have, indeed, become better, worth acknowledging. It's almost… nostalgic."

"Like that means anything to me," Sanemi said back. He may be enjoying a difficult fight, but the only thing that would make it better would be winning it. He didn't care a thing for his opponent. "All that I care about is you dead."

The demon tipped his head to one side, considering. "I see. How… demonic of you."

It wasn't true. Sanemi had been like that before but… didn't that make the Kizuki's words worse? No, no he couldn't let his anger get the better of him right now… but he could use it to fuel his techniques.

And use it, he did. He launched himself forward, form after form ready in his mind. Fourth form… Third form… Sixth form… Leap up, Eighth Form… Demon Blood Art. One technique after another after another, he pushed forward, losing himself to the rhythm of battle, making himself move faster and farther than he ever had before. It was… exhilarating, even as the other demon countered with his own deadly forms. Soon, the room had become nothing but a whirl of wind and moon-shaped blades.

Then Sanemi felt himself get faster.

"Ah, you've manifested your mark," Waxing One said suddenly. "I didn't think that was possible once one had become a demon. You are more interesting than I thought. Too bad I have to kill you." He just kept speaking while they fought. It would have ticked Sanemi off even more if he hadn't noticed little things – the tightness of the demon's mouth, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the white knuckles on his hand around the grip of his sword…

It was a facade, he realized.

He needed to push this!

"Form Seven: Obscuring Mist," he heard from below and behind him, and grinned. Smart kid.

"Form Six: Black Wind Mountain Mist," he shouted and advanced on the being. They had him on the run!

The demon blocked, pushing so hard against the two of them that the sleeves of his gi burst.

Keep pushing, he thought to himself, silently urging Tokito to do the same. They could beat him like this.

(And then he could eat – No! Concentrate!)

"His neck!" he yelled to Tokito. "Go for his neck!"

They both began another attack and then…

Pain.

Sanemi's eyes widened as his own blood flew through the air in front of him because… what? What had that…? They'd had the Kizuki on the run and…

Then the smell hit and he froze.

This… this was not good. Tokito hadn't been hurt up until this point, but now…

The hunger rose like a beast in his stomach and he couldn't move, dropping to one knee as he struggled to keep from attacking that ever so tantalizing scent.

Drool dripped down the side of his mouth and he growled, hating himself. Hating the demon he'd become.

"Oh? What is this?"

He looked up to see Waxing One towering over them. He was looking down at them with that blank expression, but it had gone back to relaxed. Sanemi's growl grew louder. He could not keep the inhuman sound back as he dug his fingers into his scalp, trying desperately to keep a hold of himself.

Not now, he half yelled, half begged his demonic instincts. I'll feed later, but not. Now.

And then the other demon smiled. It wasn't large or obvious, but it was there. It also wasn't nice.

"I see," he said.

xXx

Yushiro didn't like many things. He never had. Life had been one long streak of pain for him since a very young age and that left scars. Scars he didn't really see a point in trying to hide. So he was brutally honest. Ironic considering his blood art.

The only person to ever fight for him had been Tamayo-sama. The fact that she also happened to be the strongest, most intelligent and most beautiful woman who had ever been born… well, she'd been a dream he hadn't deserved. No one could deserve her.

The problem with dreams, though, was that they ended. They faded.

He was determined to make it so that she never did but… he could sense it – her life force, draining away. He was keeping himself together through sheer will at this point. And he had to keep himself together because he'd joined up with a group of demon slayers who didn't know he was, in fact, a demon, while he distributed his paper talismans that would establish the communication system they would need to survive this.

Oh, and a Pillar had just stopped their group. He made sure to stay in the back, keeping his presence as human as possible. One of the women he'd joined with earlier, a bulkier woman with her black hair tied up messily, sobbed as she hugged the man who had accompanied the Pillar – the Love Pillar, if he wasn't mistaken. The man had seemed surprised and was now clutching the woman to him tightly, also crying. It was disgusting.

The pink-haired Hashira just squeed in the background.

Definitely the Love Pillar.

And Yushiro kind of hated all of them for it. They lived for love, were finding those they loved… and Yushiro was about to lose the only person he had ever loved.

It wasn't fair. He knew the two of them had been living on borrowed time. He'd known almost from the beginning that their circumstances couldn't last.

That didn't mean he couldn't absolutely despise it.

He would have lived with her forever.

He would have been happy to serve her forever, to even just be barely acknowledged was more than he could have hoped for, but she had accepted him so thoroughly. She told him that he'd made her life better. That meant everything to him, and more.

The fact that she'd said that at the end, though, almost made it hurt more.

He had to turn away from the crying couple.

Yushiro heard the Love Pillar say something about sensing another presence and she ran off. The only thing the demon could think was, 'Good riddance'. It wasn't fair, or nice, or conducive to a good working relationship with the demon slayers, but…

She returned not minutes later with a scared woman in her arms who practically broke down when she saw the group of other slayers welcome her and try to comfort her. A normal woman, caught up in all of this and lucky to have survived.

It would take her a long time to come to terms with it, he knew.

Yushiro sympathized, he did, but… he didn't have time for this.

"I'm going to keep scouting," he said to the others, then took off before they could respond. He needed to get in touch with the Ubuyashikis anyway, and this would be his best chance.

Getting away from them felt like lifting a weight from his shoulders. He preferred to be alone anyways.

(That wasn't true. He just could no longer be with the one person who could help that loneliness.)

Gritting his teeth, Yushiro ran on.

He would bring to pass Tamayo-sama's dream.

Even if it killed him.

xXx

AN: *The Wikia said the third form was 'Clean Storm Wind Tree', but let's be real, something was lost in translation there, and I already have to deal with that with the moon forms. I saw this as an alternate name and thought it fit far better. I mean, I think they're trying to get across the idea that all the dead leaves are blown from a tree when heavy wind hits it, but the tree still stands. Yeah, get that idea across in one small phrase. *ahem*

Thank you again to my lovely beta readers. I really appreciate it, guys.

Discord: discord. gg/xDDz3gqWfy (no spaces)