Giyu landed flat on the ground, calm and steady, while Kocho landed with a bit more flourish. The night sky was blue and dark, just like his hair, yet unlike him, much more vibrant.
He turned to his partner, eyeing the corpses scattered around the edge of the forest. She smiled, a permanent fixture on her face, as she also turned to face him.
"Were you acquainted with any of them?" Kocho asked, noticeably blinking at him, but he didn't respond.
Kocho twisted her body away and spoke again: "We were advised that several rookie Mizunoto had joined the battle, but they might be dead by now, don't you think?"
Giyuu softly chuffed and gripped his katana once more. "Let's split up," he suggested, yet he waited for no response or agreement as he hopped off.
Kocho sighed, a fake-sad expression on her face, as she was left alone. "Oh, how callous of him!" she muttered, and she looked up. "All right, then, I shall proceed from the west."
Kocho turned on her feet and dashed off, flying past the dark pine trees that thickly filled the forest.
She was The Insect Hashira.
So, as insects do, she hopped up, and soared above the treeline. Kocho let out small gasps for air through closed teeth, the activity being nothing stringent on her otherwise small and thin body.
The black to purple haired girl felt her permanent yet phony smile twitch with twisted and malicious glee as sooner or later her hopping slowed. Her feet light yet sword heavy in her hands.
Beneath her, as she stood in the sturdy foliage of the trees, hung thick, big and cream-colored silk balls, almost like lanterns.
Kocho grinned, her eyes judged the near invisible and minuscule movement in them like it was nothing at as too her.
And really, it wasn't.
Kocho spun her sword absent mindedly, and her gaze settled on the source of all of Japan's problems, a demon. The demonic being she was currently scoping out was pure white, like peace.
But, Kocho knew it wasn't the truth.
The demon beneath her was frantic, their feet heavy as they pathetically hopped away. Kocho hummed apathetically, quietly under her own breath. Her soft red lips, puckering out as she turned back to the silk balls.
The Insect Hashira hummed, her body skillfully hidden in the leaves of the trees, making zero noise as she crept closer.
Her shoes are tight on her feet as she perches like a bird on a thick branch. Kocho's light weight and small stature allow her to easily hop along the branches like a crow, giving her more leeway when it comes to hopping from tree to tree in general.
She sighs softly as she watches, narrowing her eyes as she observes with no small level of hatred and loathing.
The further the two hurry west, the louder the sounds of battle grow. She's too far along in her path to change it, so she concentrates on the demon at hand. They pass hordes of silk orbs as well, yet the demon pays them no mind.
Then they come to a point where a lower-rank slayer is caught in their path, uniform dirty and crinkled. Their hair is black and straight, almost like hers.
Kocho watches as the two interact, her ears having to strain to hear the conversation. When the slayer sees the demon, they jump and shakily raise their sword.
"Ah!" They start, and unfortunately, they don't get to finish as the demon stretches a hand out towards them. Threads of slick shot out like arrows, but unlike them, they didn't kill the slayer the moment they touched them.
Instead, Kocho curiously gazes in muted awe as the threads wrap around the demon slayer, almost like a snake. Their thin ropes thicken in the seconds that pass as the slayer struggles in their grasp.
"Eek!" They pathetically screeched loudly enough for even Kocho to hear from her position.
"What the-" They stammer as they try to cut the slippery ball forming around them, but to no avail.
The demon grits her teeth before warning them, "It's futile. You'll never cut through them." As the demon huffed, her hands relaxed and became less tense.
"You see, my ball of yarn may feel soft, but it's extremely hard." There's a soft sloshing sound that resonates in the air as Kocho twitches at the demon's words.
Truly, such astounding abilities were wasted on such cruel and revolting creatures. Kocho examines the scene; a scream forms within the orb. "First, the solvent will melt those clothes," the demon begins again. "And then it'll be your turn."
The demon licked their lips animalistically maybe even instinctively, and Kocho felt anger flare up in her yet sat quietly as they spoke again. "You'll be reduced to mush in no time, and then I'll feed on you."
The Insect Hashira quirks her grin up forcefully, eventually taking this as a cue to jump in. And she does so with the grace of an elegant butterfly. Her feet tap against the dirt as she lands, silent as a panther.
Her smile seems peaceful and calm, yet for her, it's a sign you've messed up.
She cocks her head behind the demon, unaware of her presence, and finally says, "Wow, how amazing!" loudly to announce her presence, causing the demon to jump and squeak as they turned quickly to face her.
"Do you release those threads from the palms of your hands?" Kocho asks with faux amazement at them, and huffs "happily."
"Oh! Isn't the moon just lovely tonight?" She politely inquired to the demon, trying to make small talk, but she knew that wouldn't happen.
Despite her politeness, the demon jumps back and quickly fires her silk threads at her, but her skill makes them a mere pebble to Kocho, as the human easily dodges them.
The battle is easily dominated by her, and before the demon can do anything about it, Kocho stands perched on their chest. "Ah, I see we won't be friends." She speaks, still smiling, and moves to pull the sword back and end the demon's life before they cry out.
"W-W-Wait! I beg of you!" They shake under her, begging. "I'm being forced to do this! If I defy him, I'll be slashed to shreds!" Kocho hums at their words, first thoughtfully, before moving away and off of them.
She smiles at them and calmly suggests, "That does sound tragic! I'll spare you! Let's be friends!" The demon gawks at them before gulping, the change happening like whiplash. They shakily stand up and hesitantly ask, "R-really?"
Of course not. Kocho mentally sneers at them, holding her expression.
She dances on the balls of her feet, "Yes! But in order for us to be friends, I must ask you a few questions." She warns them, and the demon swallows again and nods his head at her.
Then Kocho pressed up against them in a flash, eyes blank, "See, sweet young child, how many have you killed?" She inquires coldly. The demon trembles at her tone, yet she responds hurriedly, "F-five, but I was forced to!" they argue.
Kocho stares, quiet and amused. Between the two, on the inside of the silk ball, thumps of fists are heard. "Someone! Help!" The slayer cries.
Kocho cocks her head and says, "There's no need to lie." She smiles sharply and uncomfortably, and the other stiffens. "That spell you cast to turn one of our men into a cocoon was most impressive!" Kocho examines their blood demon art, an ability that is unique to demons.
Then she turns to face the demon again. "You must have devoured at least eighty, no?" she asks, though it sounds more like a statement. The demon swallows harder than usual, her smirk a foreshadowing of her impending doom.
"N-no, I haven't," the demon fights back, yet Kocho merely chuckles.
"Oh, my dear," she purred, almost amused at the demon's resistance and ignorance. "But I came here from the west, you know?"
The demon freezes, and oh, how satisfying it feels to the Hashira to see a demon come crashing down with the realisation that they cannot escape, that they are trapped, cornered like an injured animal.
Kocho raised her finger at them, wagging at them like a naughty child. "On the west side of that mountain, I saw hordes of cocoons hanging from the trees. The human captives inside had been liquefied. All massacred. In that spot alone, I counted at least fourteen cocoons."
Her smile is deadly.
"All fourteen, dead." She chuckles softly, like it was a joke of sorts. The demon's chest goes tight with fear as they jump back. They don't wait for her to reassure them with hollow promises.
Because in the end, as all cornered and injured animals do, they fight back, tooth and nail.
Maybe if Kocho had been a better person, she would have been kinder to them and spared them despite all they've done. But, after all, not everyone deserves forgiveness, and that kind of thinking is only for fools.
The demon howls, cursing her, "Die, you damn witch!"
They extend their hands to attack the Hashira, but they are obviously unable to do so. Kocho leaps to her feet, twisting skillfully to evade as the Spider Demon attempts to shoot her threads at Kocho. Her sword, though thin and weak, holds something much more powerful; at least, that's what Kocho knows.
Kocho soars upward after cutting all the demon threads with quick, light slashes. Kocho spins the sword around, and before they know it, she lands a small nick on them. It's insignificant to them, something they can easily heal, but her smile turns even sharper than before.
She slides out of the way.
It's as if the demon is being swarmed by a swarm of pale purple butterflies. Their movement stills to a stop, and they do not even move an inch. There is a small cut along the neck and abdomen of the demon.
Kocho whispers, "Insect Breathing, Butterfly Dance… Caprice."
"Ah..." The demon mumbled after her, and Kocho glanced back at them with barely contained sadistic glee. A small flare of hope dawns on their face, growing with each passing moment. The demon tries to hold their hand out again before a strong sensation envelopes them from the inside.
Blood gushes from the unregenerated wounds as pustules begin to form on the spider demon, and she falls to the ground on her back almost immediately. Kocho watches blankly as she moves closer to the demon, her gaze scrutinising as it begins to spasm in pain.
"You mustn't think you're safe just because you haven't been beheaded." The Hashira starts, and her eyes narrow at the scum beneath her. "Because there are swordswomen like me who use poison."
"I may be the only swordswoman among the Hashiras unable to decapitate demons, but" she pauses, tilting her weapon up, "I'm also rather awesome because I've created a poison lethal to demons."
Before cusping her mouth with fake shock, she speaks up again: "Oh, pardon me, you're already dead!"
The demon stills sooner or later, perhaps in a minute, and Kocho watches as it fades to dust. She huffs and turns to the silk ball, using only the tip of her sword's edge to slice it open despite the warnings of the now-dead demon.
She cuts it open with ease, the sound satisfying.
The slayer is just as naked as she suspected; they groan and slump onto the ground, and she's thankful that the sludge covers their unmentionables, so Kocho is able to look upon them without seeing anything unpleasant.
"Are you okay?" She asks, which is a mandatory question for anyone on a mission. They respond quickly, "Y-yes! Ah, where's the demon? Did you finish it off?" They stammered out.
Kocho regards them, calm and pleasant. "She's already dead; I killed her with poison!" She then leaned forward and examined his body, clapping her hands. "Your clothes did get dissolved, but your body is more or less unscathed!"
A smile, "I'm so glad!" she cheered.
The slayer yelps at the comment and swiftly moves to cover themselves. As they hurry to find something to cover themselves with from the plants around them, Kocho looks eastward.
She hums, tapping her chin. "Now then, as for the whereabouts of the demon that forced this girl to do his bidding..." Kocho blinks. "I wonder if Tomioka has already reached them."
Meanwhile, a red-haired boy clutched his sister tightly to the west of Mount Natagumo. Their bodies are on the ground, one littered with cuts and soaking in his own blood.
Tanjiro's brows twitched as he strained his arms, laying face down on the earthy and prickling dirt. As he was overcome with despair, his prone, sore, and exhausted body trembled and spasmed.
He heaved and panted. He bore through it all, avoiding being diced to pieces by a strand of his hair, witnessing a fellow slayer being cubed alive and turned into a pile on the floor, and having his sword snapped to a short, near unusable length...
Tanjiro even resorted to Hinokami Kagura.
And when he finally thought they were dead, they simply reattached their head when he collapsed to the ground. "Mama. Papa... ", Tanjiro mumbled, his eyes weeping, "This child of yours wasn't able to protect his own family; how can I ever look at you again?"
"I'm sorry..." he sobbed in Nezuko's hold. The demon above them twitched erratically. However, before he can attack again, a new set of feet land in front of the boy.
In front of him stood a boy with peach hair, a face covered by a kitsune mask, and a girl adorned in a flowery kimono. "Get out of my way, slayer, before I kill you too," he growls, but the slayers, or at least the girl, simply smile menacingly at him.
He flicked his hands forward, ready to send intricate webs forward to cut them up, but the girl sprinted forward and swung her katana, the colour blurring with its speed, cutting his hands off.
Rui recoils; the blood and pain are sudden. He hisses, and as he looks back up, the slayers are gone in a flash.
They spin on their feet like dancers, yet their choreography is anything but calm and elegant. The boy slashed forward, the blade of his weapon slicing his left arm off at the shoulder. The demon howls.
Fight! Fight back for your master!
The demon urges himself, yet without his hands, there is nothing he can do as they approach him. Rui's hands regenerate quickly, at least his right hand, with his left shoulder following suit.
"Y-you damn human!" Rui snarled, animalistic as he was backed into a corner metaphorically. He raised his now-healed hand, only for it to be chopped off again as well.
His legs follow too, this time amputated by the girl, as the demon attempts to stand up and flee. Their movements were swift and deadly, stronger than any other slayer that came before.
N-no, they're toying with me.
Rui muses scared and desperate as he watches them spin around him. So unified, in unison, like the halves of a whole.
Then after all that, the boy finally speaks: "I thought you'd be stronger than this." Rui doesn't get a chance to respond, as his gaze is turned upside down, his head hitting the dirt.
His hearing goes fuzzy, and his headless body stops regenerating.
He blinked, and felt cold, a little too cold.
He was scared, alone.
He wanted to hug someone, hold someone.
He wanted his mom, his dad.
As he lifted his head up, his lungs and chest sore from overwork, Tanjiro belatedly realised the battle was over, or rather, had just noticed it had even restarted.
There, as he shakes and pants, still trying to recollect himself, he glances at the demon, his eyes drooping at the sense of sadness and tears that drip down their face.
Then his eyes look up at the two slayers.
Their image, from top to bottom, makes his heart stutter; his fear, his guilt—everything is forgotten in the moment. After all, something was wrong here; a dead man shouldn't be able to walk yet...
Sabito and Makomo stood before him as slayers.
They were just as young as he remembered. His eyes squint weirdly, blood dripping down his face as he murmurs confusedly, "M-makomo-san?" and "Sabito-san?" The two looked at him with eyes that were unusually warm for strangers.
The boy, Sabito, walks to him and crouches down to run his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, it's us," he mutters back.
Then another set of feet thumped behind them, landing where the demon's ashes were.
His eyes are dull, and his hair is as dark as the night. Sabito sucked in a breath, recognising this minor detail immediately, and instead turned back to Tanjiro.
Giyuu, the Water Hashira, gazes at the remains before moving to walk over them, causing Tanjiro to gasp in shock.
He asked aloud, horrified. "How could you?" before Tanjiro shook his head and pushed himself up with shaky arms.
Giyuu looked at him with narrowed eyes as he walked closer, saying, "Do not waste your sympathy on such beings." Tanjiro blinked in disbelief at his lack of empathy as he stated this coldly.
"He looked like a child, but he was a hideous creature that lived for decades devouring humans."
However, Tanjiro shouted out hoarsely in response, "To avenge the people who were killed, to make sure there are no more victims..." he trailed off, "I'll bring my blade down on any demon's neck without mercy."
Then his eyes glowed with determination. "But as for those for whom being a demon meant despair, those who regretted their actions, I will never trample over them!"
Tanjiro's eyes watered with emotion. "Because even demons were once humans, like you and me!" he cried, his fists shaking with rage. "So please!"
"At least respect them in their passing!" Tanjiro shouts, and Giyuu stands in front of him before turning to Sabito.
The other stiffened, feeling the other's frown on his back as the man leaned closer to get a better glimpse of his face, resulting in Giyuu also freezing still, yet he quickly masked it and turned back to Tanjiro.
Sabito avoids making eye contact with the man's gaze, instead focusing on Tanjiro. The person in question sensing the sudden tension with a confused look.
To fill the tense and awkward silence, Makomo, the peacemaker, is the first to introduce herself. "Ah!" she exclaims jovially.
"We haven't introduced ourselves, have we?" She starts out kindly and turns to the man, saying, "Hello, my name is Mak-." "I already know your names." Giyuu aloofly cuts her off, being stern and strict.
Makomo feels her smile twitch, and Sabito resists the urge to snort.
"I got a message from Urokodaki-sensei." He explains, and his gaze trails down to Nezuko, stopping briefly. His eyes shone with reminiscence, and he mumbled, "Ah...You're…"
Before suddenly snapping his head upward, the group tenses after and draws their swords (minus Tanjiro and Nezuko).
It's a flutter of butterflies, which are purple because of their originator. Who, as the group shields themselves from the onslaught of the vibrant, congested swarm, lands on her feet with ease and elegance.
There's a discordant clink, loud in the rubble and dust of her impact, as Giyuu's sword clashes against his companion's. She smiles and is easily pushed back; her stature is small, but her eyes are vigil and churlish in an emotional way.
The red-haired boy barely gets to examine her feature and appearance more as Tanjiro's grip on Nezuko tightens while he is jostled and tossed over another's shoulder like a piece of fish.
As he hovers from his spot, his ears twitch as they listen to the newcomer's words.
"Ara?" She begins with a cheerful tone, but her scent is angry and enraged. Tanjiro makes a mental note: "Spicy."
"For whatever reason could you be getting in my way, Tomioka-san?" Her smile is sharp, and if you look closely, it minimises slightly.
Her sword twirls, the sound resonating in the air, akin to the way one would aimlessly toss a coin up.
Had it not been for the way she had earlier tried to maim Tanjiro's sister; he would have thought nothing of it.
"Were you not the one saying demons and humans could never collaborate?" She blinks, almost dumbly had it not been for her piercing eyes, and chirps, "And to think, you've dragged your counterpart into your scheme too!"
Her tone is enterprising with her next line, "This is exactly why nobody likes you, you know."
Sabito stiffens again; Tanjiro can feel him do so minutely, while Makomo covers her mouth with a fist. She coughs, her body shaking as her head tilts downward. Sabito makes a croaking sound yet turns his head away too.
The wind whistles as silence encompasses the group, and the woman, who's probably not that much older than him, turns to face them. "Hm? Am I wrong?" she inquired instigatingly.
Giyuu opens his mouth to retort, his tone emotionless, but there is a tinge of disbelief on his face (Tanjiro inquires if it is actually so). Either way, he remarks modest and seriously, "I'm not… I'm not disliked by people."
Besides him, Sabito grinds his teeth and looks at Makomo, whose skin has turned red to some extent. Tanjiro blinks in concern at her.
"Ah, Makomo-san, Are you-!" Tanjiro looks at her, mouth open, before Sabito shuffles obliquely on his feet and veers away from the Hashiras abruptly. Tanjiro yelps.
He can smell the scent of Makomo following after them as they run. He sighs in relief as his nose innately begins to peruse the scent of the wood in Nezuko's box afterwards.
His grip on Nezuko is stable, but his head bobs up and down aggressively, making an odd sound as he speaks up in the wind.
"S-sabi-ito-s-san!" He called out, vibrations audible from his chest to his throat.
The man (he wasn't sure if that was the right term) barely looked at him, and his stride didn't even stutter as he replied, "Yeah? What's wrong!"
"W-what's g-going on?" Tanjrio asked, and Sabito hissed under his breath. "There's not enough time to explain, but we need to hurry; they might behead you or your sister."
That made Tanjiro stiffen up. His gaze returned to Nezuko in his arms, and he felt the weight of the world fall suddenly on his shoulders.
Then another scent enters the air, and as Tanjiro lifts his head back up, he notices a girl behind them. Makomo flicks her eyes back briefly but focuses on Tanjiro.
The newcomer's eyes were a beautiful pink and her hair a muted yet glossy black.
Tanjiro's heart skipped a beat as he gazed at her, his tongue still and heavy as he admired her before snapping out of his reverie.
His sore body ached with pain, yet he gritted his teeth. He felt so bad for letting Sabito and Makomo take care of him like this, even after all they did to help him.
He squinted his eyes closed. He'd make it up to them for sure!
Meanhwhile as the group rushed away.
Giyuu tightened his grip on Kocho's midriff as the younger squirmed. He huffed; her sword, while thin and dangerous, held no threats for him as it lay on the dirty ground.
A problem the girl was quick to voice.
A vein pulsed on her forehead: "Ah, Tomioka-san, it's a bit rude to throw one's weapon to the ground so brazenly, y'know?"
Her strained smile twitched. "One's weapon is their heart and soul."
Giyuu regarded her lightly but said nothing back, aggravating her even more.
"Earth to Tomioka-san?" she asked, "I don't believe it would be construed as a violation of the rules because the purpose of my attack was to slay a demon, and thus justified."
Kocho's eyes took on a snide look, as did her tone as she followed up, "But we can't say the same about your actions, can we?"
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself? This is your final warning. Give me a reason at least."
Above them, a Kasugai crow lands softly on a branch of a nearby tree. Giyuu turns his head up to the bird, eyes beginning to take on that faraway look. "If I remember right, it was two years ago."
Kocho cuts him off, "Please spare me the long, rambling backstory. Are you doing this out of spite?"
Giyuu's eyes narrow even more, and just as he's about to comment, her leg cocks to the side on the ground.
The sound of the blade through the wind startles him, and he notes a small knife right above his forehead. Just as it's about to puncture him, a familiar caw echoes through the air.
It paralyses both of their movements.
"Caw! Message! Message!" They gaze up, or Kocho tries to from her position. "I bring a message from headquarters!"
"Tanjirou and Nezuko are to be taken back to headquarters alive! Caw!"
Both made a sound, one of dissatisfaction mingled with confusion and the other of barely veiled relief.
The fleeing party stutters to a halt as the message ricochets throughout the forest, bouncing off the barks and trunks of the trees that surround them. The girl behind them being forced to stop, registering the order as well.
Makomo is the one who quickly turns around to face the girl who was chasing them and skids to a standstill. Her smile is much more real compared to the other slayer's.
"You heard the crow!" Makomo said, twirling a strand of her hair in a leisurely manner.
The girl huffs, yet no emotions show on her face. As Sabito lets Tanjiro and Nezuko down, the demon girl is left to laggardly sway on her feet, her dumb, animal-like eyes clouded with confusion.
Tanjiro groans as he moves to stand up, his back rippling in pain. Before he knows it, he is succumbing to the effects of the mental and physical strain he endured this night.
He collapses into the ground, and Nezuko quickly aids him, though not exactly making an effect.
Sabito clicks his tongue and mutters, "You know what?" He starts, "I'll bring him back."
The Hashiras that were formerly bickering sheathed their swords, and though one was still irked, they held their tongues.
While in another part of the forest, where large house laid collapsed were two slayers.
As the crows' voices cried out loudly, Takemichi is helped down with a heavy body on his back, while another bird flies over the foliage of the forest.
"Tanjirou, dressed in a checkered haori, with a scar on his forehead! Nezuko, a female demon with a bamboo muzzle! Bring them back! Bring them back!" They bellow, and Takemichi looks up through his now-loosed bangs, which are now quite messy.
The crew of anonymous slayers gathered around him, efficiently cleaning up the rubble and damage. Takemichi shuffled the boy on his back and watched at them as they injected a dark purple liquid into a deformed human that was once a slayer like him.
"Ngh… Ahh… Ahh… Ngh… Ahh… Ahh…" They grumble and groan unintelligibly.
As the victim remains motionless, the Kakushi, as he assumes they are called, chuckles.
The syringe is pointed to the sky, and they remark to the other kakushi, "Haa... Man, Lady Kocho's antidote is really effective."
The other is quick to agree, "Yeah. And all it took was one look at the situation to finish preparing it." They clasp their hands together reverently, "She's truly amazing."
"That goes for him, too," they say after, looking at the two slayers as another member of the crew checked up on Agatsuma. "Which?" the other asks.
They hum, "Not sure, maybe both." Takemichi itched at his nose, as blood dripped from it.
"Maybe the one with the bloodied nose." They suggested but the other grunted, "Nah, most likely the one that's fainted, it would take a lot of work for a Mizunoto to kill such a powerful demon."
A silence falls over them as they perform their duties, and after a few minutes, they finally cry out, swiping their foreheads over the fabric of the burka. "Looking good. Chances are, they'll all pull through."
"Quickly, I'd like to wrap things up quickly and leave this place as soon as possible, wouldn't you?" they stated and turned to the other, who sniffed the air and rubbed their nose.
"Yeah, same here. I mean, this place really, really stinks!"
They wrapped the others up like mummies. Takemichi mentally comments, then turns his worried gaze back to Agatsuma, who is uncomfortably frothing at the mouth.
The kakushi clicks their tongue and, after a moment, pulls out a syringe with the same dark purple liquid after their medication check. Takemichi grimaced at the sight of the medical equipment but maintained a straight face.
He tried to ignore the sick feeling curling up in his gut.
"It's lucky that the poison has been slowed down so much, I can barely see its effects," the black-clad person says through their burka.
"Did you do this?" they inquired politely, and Takemichi nodded his head softly.
They smile, or at least he assumes so as they glow. "Now, don't be so shy; slayers are usually the ones ordering us around like slaves," they joke, and he can feel his cheeks light up red, causing the other to laugh.
"Ah, but really, how you managed to hold off its effects for so long with minimal damage is incredible," they praise him. If he could get any redder, he was sure he could, as he flushed even more.
"Oi!" exclaimed another, staring at the two, who jumped in surprise and rubbed their necks in embarrassment.
"Oh! Heh, sorry, gotta get back to work." They apologise and moved to scurry along before pausing.
They shuffled through their pockets with their free hand and pulled a small white handkerchief out, presenting it to Takemichi. He blinked. "Here, take this for your nose," they urged, shaking it slightly in their grip.
Takemichi took it slowly, being careful not to drop Zenitsu on the ground. He shuffled the boy on his back, rubbed his nose, and again blinked at the brown-red liquid smeared on his finger tip.
How had he not realised the scent and texture of blood? He was so used to it that he should have noticed it instantly.
Takemichi jutted out his bottom lip in thought but said nothing as the Kakushi dashed off to assist the other slayers and squad.
Then, the impact of a heavy weight against the dirt resonated in the air, jolted Takemichi straight like a rod.
As he turned his head, he was met with the sight of a calm and indifferent girl with blunt curly bangs and her straight black hair tied up in a ponytail.
She was pretty doubtful about it, just not in the warm way Hina was.
Internally, he scoffed: he shouldn't be comparing every girl he meets to a woman he might never see again.
His gaze hooked onto her hair pin, a butterfly of all things; he was smart enough to put two and two together. This girl was most likely connected to the other woman that came and checked up on Zenitsu.
Takemichi felt an itch in his brain; where did that woman even fly off to?
"Should we bring them to the Butterfly Mansion?" He heard one of the clean-up crew members ask the girl. She, who seemed to always smile, nodded.
"Yes, bring all the wounded to our place." She turned to another and said, "I'll be hunting down the demons in the area so you can work uninterrupted." Really, her voice could simply be described as taciturn and still.
Takemichi felt the shine of light hit him, and he turned around and gazed upwards. He aimlessly pondered, "Ah... the sun, it's rising."
What was left of the battle was left to the skills of the Kakushi, which were greater in ability and size than Takemichi assumed they were.
They even had a few free people capable of escorting him away. Which, if you ignored their rough treatment, was alright, he supposed.
Their whispers echoed in his ears.
"I heard he was a traitor's accomplice."
"Really? He looks so soft; I would have never guessed."
"Looks can be deceiving."
"How the mighty have fallen, no?"
It was, for lack of a better term, annoying.
Yet Takemichi held his tongue, as he knew no one would trust a mute and barely literate boy. He would look like a bumbling fool in their eyes, no doubt.
Takemichi's group of three soon shrank to two, being only him and the other Kakushi, whom he discovered remained anonymous at all times.
They looked at him and said, "Oyakata-sama requested that you meet him personally." They said, "I'm not sure why, but if I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to not disbelieve or disrespect him."
That was all the warning he got, and they came to a stop in front of a door. Takemichi didn't bother paying attention to the previously maze-like hallways of the building they were in.
The guide gave him one more warning look as they pushed the door open, emitting a loud creak. They ushered him in, and soon he was encompassed in silence as his vision turned straight to the ground.
His heart began to hammer in his chest.
The Kakushi that led him to the room closed the door gently, and Takemichi stood alone with the head of the entire demon slayer corps. He swallowed.
"Good morning, Takemitchy-kun." A warm vioce spoke, using his nickname in an overly familiar tone.
Takemichi rigidly lifted his head up barely just to peek at the man.
The master gazed at him back, and for the first time, Takemichi could see his face. The man had light skin that was too pale for any living person and a neat black bobcut, but what stood out more was his face.
On his face was rotting flesh, purple and potent; it seemed to spread even more as his eyes trailed over it before Takemichi startled himself back to reality when he realised he was staring at it.
"S-sorry-" He stammered embarrassingly, but the man merely smiled, like a Buddha. "Hm." He laughed close-lipped. "I know, it's not the prettiest thing in the world, is it?"
For a blind man, the headmaster's gaze was impenetrable. Takemichi stood, shaken. He could feel the sweat pooling up on his nape as he resisted the urge to cross his arms over himself and squeeze himself tight.
He swallowed and found his eyes darting anywhere but at the smiling, seemingly kind face of the man. The room smelled like wisteria—no surprise there.
The chamber was small, cramped in a way, with no windows. The shoji blinds were thin, letting in the sheen of the morning sun. Outside, he could hear the ramblings and prattles of other members of the corps.
In a way, he could tell the room was meant to alleviate tension and stress, but now Takemichi was overloaded with it. The man shuffled under the kotatsu, the thick cloth distorting as he did so.
"Now, child, please calm down." The man's voice echoed, and for a moment, he tensed. "I brought you here to ask some questions," he told the younger.
"Take a seat, won't you?" The master asked, "It would be rude of me to make a guest stand."
Takemichi moved and sat hesitantly in front of the kotatsu, fidgeting as he bowed his head.
"You must be wondering why I asked for you to be brought here." Takemichi nodded as the man spoke rhetorically.
"Well…." The Master trailed off; his gaze drawn to the floor.
Then the man finally looked at him directly with his white eyes. "There is something I would like to ask you." His tone was firm, though kind and calm.
Takemichi swallowed again, the apple bobbing up and down. The tension returned, constricting his chest like a snake. The man leaned on the table, arm propping him up as he leaned closer to the blonde.
"You…" He started, soft and curious.
Takemichi held his tongue, clenching his pants so tight in his grip that he could feel it stretch.
Are you a traitor?
A demon?
A spy for the demon king!?
Takemichi's mind filled in the blanks as he closed his eyes tightly.
"Are you capable of manipulating time?" he asked.
Takemichi stiffened and stilled, his face briefly losing colour, before backpedalling and attempting to derail the man's train of thought.
It was too soon for him to be caught!
His mind laughed self-loathing, how had a man they only had a few sentences with deduced them so quickly. His hands flailed.
"N-no Oyakata-sama- I" "I have such an ability as well, child," he cut the youngster off calmly, not scolding in any way.
The man chuckled as Takemichi stilled and reddened before moving his mouth without thinking. "R-really," he stammered before slapping his hand across his face.
"There's nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of; it's just us time-beings in here." The man reassured him, yet Takemichi felt his throat tighten up. The blonde finally looked up at the master, who was still smiling as he susurrously questioned the man.
"H-how?"
"Foresight." He replied flatly, looking at Takemichi with unrestrained amusement and childish skepticism.
"You see, my foresight is incredibly heightened, to the point where I can guess things correctly with little to no energy," he leaned back as he explained, Takemichi found himself enraptured embarrassingly quickly.
"Which brings me to my main point and reason for requesting you." He trailed off ominously, and Takemichi felt the hairs on his body stand upright.
The silence that ensued was maddening for someone like him.
Oyakata-sama's gaze made him shiver, and finally he spoke: "I would like to take you under my wing." Takemichi's spiralling thoughts halted.
"As the saying goes, birds of a feather flock together; it would be for the best if you trained these abilities to their peak."
Oyakata-sama's words held truth yet. "I-I can't," Takemichi defied again, and Oyakata-sama cocked his head. "Hm, why not?" he acknowledged.
"T-this power, it-it isn't mine," Takemichi clenched and unclenched his fists. "It was loaned to me; I don't know where he is now," he timorously explained.
Oyakata-sama nodded before asking, "And what makes this ability his and not yours?" The man's finger ran along his chin. "Were you not born with it?"
Takemichi resisted the urge to tense up and shut down, his brain going fuzzy as he tried to push unwanted memories back. He found himself suppressing a whimper in his throat.
"I-I guess? I only found it, w-when I- nearly-"
Takemichi muffled a pathetic sound as Oyakata-sama looked at him with sad eyes and said, "Oh dear, you poor thing, to have to learn you have such an amazing ability only in the face of death."
"No! You're not-" you're not understanding.
Takemichi abruptly cried out hoarsely, yet loud enough for the man to recoil slightly. He turned hastily to the shoji to ensure no one heard his outburst through the thin walls.
Takemichi turned back to Oyakata-sama and said, "I'm so s-sorry, Oyakata-sama."
"You are forgiven." The man sighed, Takemichi began to tremble again, and the man looked at him. "Oyakata-sama, I'm truly sorry. "No, I might not be able to understand the weight and burden you slayers carry, but I should have given you space." Oyakata-sama chided himself.
"I apologise as well; I had gotten so excited at the prospect of meeting another seer that I got overexcited." He cleared his throat as Takemichi opened his mouth again to dissuade him.
"Let me explain, please."
"You see this curse?" The man gently pressed his rotting skin, "This here, is something tthat runs through all of my blood line." Takemichi silently took it in.
"Most people who get this curse don't live past thirty." Oyakata-sama swallowed. "Even in the early stages, it can make it so that one can never lift a katana."
The man gazed at Takemichi and said solemnly, "I know this personally."
"The reason for this is that the Demon King placed this on us, as we used to be closely related." He explicated.
Takemichi hummed, or whined, in comprehension, like the dog he was.
"I-I'm sorry." he pathetically stumbled out again, thick tears welling up in his eyes.
Oyakata-sama hummed back, and his eyes sparkled. "Which is why I try to get revenge for everything my ancestors went through, what their children went through, what my children and I went -are going through, and what the future generation of Japan might go through."
"I want to find peace for everyone." Oyakata-sama stated, and Takemichi, who had only now come to realise that the world wasn't a game, flinched.
It wasn't like he didn't agree, but if the last four to five years he spent in the early 2000s had anything to say about him trying to get peace for everyone around him, well, he didn't have such luck in such areas.
The corners of Oyakata-sama's eyes crinkled as he smiled, though they twitched in pain as he tried to stretch them more. "So, don't you want to find peace?"
"I-I can't-"
"No, I don't think you understand what I mean," the man interrupted him once more. Takemichi looked back up at him as he said, "You see, I am doing what I can."
"No matter how small, I do-am doing, what I do best" He specified.
Oyakata-sama pointed a finger at him and said, "You, on the other hand, take on a load you know you can't carry, even if it destroys you."
It was a direct stab through his heart as he flushed again. His hand moved to rub his face.
The older man waves his hand in the air and says, "What I am trying to ask is, don't you want to be able to get back at those who wronged you,"
That seemed harsh for such a pure being to say, but he went on, "and free yourself from the burden you carry, rather than being a slave for others?"
He paused, "To put yourself at ease."
Those words were spoken softly, like a whisper, a secret.
"I see you too are as scarred and scared as the others here." He remarks, "Despite this organisation being dedicated to slaying demons, a lot of my children here have been wronged by our own kin, including you."
Takemichi recoiled, but his mind whirled as his body stilled like he had been struck by lightning. In a way, he was; he was simply struck by an epiphany.
He was well aware that the man had a valid point—and an unarguable one at that. He was easy to manipulate and mould into what others wanted.
Takemichi was always a stepping stone for others and put himself last rather than first.
But, all along, he refused to acknowledge it as a flaw, a saviour complex.
He just wants to be helpful.
At first, he wanted to save Hina, then Draken, then Baji, then Emma, then Kisaki, and then Mikey. It was so soul-crushing, and he was always one step behind when tragedy struck.
Takemichi was always stuck in a loop.
He wondered if he deserved to be treated like the garbage tossed onto the street every day. Takemichi rubbed and kneed the pants in his hands, a sigh escaping his lips.
Then it got to the point where he questioned whether or not he was the problem.
But no one had ever told him to put himself first.
So, now, the mere idea was so mind-boggling to him.
"B-but they're-" Takemich's fingernails brushed against his teeth out of habit as they chattered. "They're his powers, you say?" Oyakata-sama interjected with ease, like a stream of water over stone.
"Tell me, are they in his hands now?"
Takemichi felt ice run down his spine again. His mouth twitched, and his watering eyes finally began to trickle down. There was too much pressure on him; he hated it.
And really, he didn't know why, as he was so used to it.
"N-no," he stammered out. "T-they aren't, I-" Oyakata-sama's smile lessened
"Perhaps I am pushing it." He mused aloud, and Takemichi found himself lowering his head even more as the man sighed.
"Please don't be burdened; instead, allow me to make a deal," he proposed.
Takemichi peered up at him with shiny eyes, tinted with inquisitiveness as Oyakata-sama spoke, "Allow me to prove to you that this ability is, well, yours."
"It may take months, and I myself might not have all the time in the world." He chuckled darkly, "But well, allow me to use what time I have to show you what I see."
The man stuck his hand out, shaking it with intent. "What do you say?"
Takemichi stared at it, eyes wider than before, his face wet with tears and snot dripping down his nose. "I—" he stuttered again before swallowing down any complaints and grasping the man's hand in return.
Oyakata-sama smiled open-mouthed and glowed with happiness as he enthusiastically shook as hard as he could, which wasn't much.
Oyakata-sama laughed, "Great!" before clapping his hands, taking a sterner tone, and returning his gaze to the other
"Well, now I do have another meeting to get to… but before I do…" Despite being bright white, his eyes were swirling.
"Tell me, Takemitchy-kun, what do you think of Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado?"
The man suddenly asked. Takemichi gulped, scratching his chin. "H-he's kind, and sweet, never betrayed a-anyone?" Oyakata-sama hummed, "I suppose so."
"Now, let me ask you another question; ah, I know I am asking you a lot, but I promise this is the last." He stated, as he looked at the wooden table, Takemichi exhaled softly, smelling the pine.
"Do you think Nezuko would ever eat a human?"
Takemichi blinked before just as strongly answering back. "No."
Sue him; his answer was mainly influenced by how Tanjiro treated him. He was kind and talked to him softly, but not softly enough, as if he were fragile; his jaw was set tight.
Memories of the past flooded back into him. As others cruelly but seemingly jokingly commented on his weaknesses and many faults.
But he was a boy, and boys shouldn't cry.
He gnawed on his lip habitually.
Oyakata-sama blinked back. "I see..." he murmured and rubbed his chin.
"You didn't use foresight, did you?" He joked, and Takemichi nodded negatively.
"Hm, well, I guess we'll see if you're wrong or right," he said ambiguously, and he moved to stand before…
Takemichi watched in horror as the man stood up, only to come crashing down.
Had it not been for him stopping time on instinct, he might have never caught him, and he only managed to grip him by the corner of his sleeve.
The man felt Takemichi's much sturdier yet smaller chest against his back as he tried to get back on his feet, unbalanced and rigid. "Gh—," he grunted, trembling in Takemichi's grasp.
"Oyakata-sama!" He shrieked, his voice croaky and dry. Then Takemichi felt it.
The man in his grip coughed, and Takemichi could feel his chest cave in unnaturally.
Blood.
It splattered on his hand as he tried to stabilise the man, who quickly descended into a coughing fit. It didn't take long for the door to slam open, revealing a woman dressed in a purple-to-white kimono wrapped in an obi.
She was as frantic as he was, with a look of desperation, and she had white hair and purple eyes that now churned with worry, fear, and so much more.
As the Headmaster whispered to what Takemichi assumed was his wife, he let her hands quickly replace Takemichi's.
The woman took the lead as she nodded her head at him, beckoning him to leave.
Takemichi slid out of the room, hurrying down the corridor of the winding, twisting mansion again. where he was soon greeted by another Kakushi.
They paused their work and turned their gaze to him; here they came to a halt, and Takemichi found himself stuttering again at their tried-yet-judgmental gaze. "You..." the man mumbled and looked back at the hallway.
"You shouldn't be here," they said, almost boredly. Takemichi cocked his head, and they elaborated, "You are to go to the courtyard."
Though their words weren't exactly helpful in explaining why.
As he followed the servant directions, he squinted his eyes as the strong glare of the sun shone through the cracks and crevices of the mansion walls.
Quiet.
That's what it is.
Tanjiro's body is sore, aching like a bruise. His eyes flutter, but only momentarily. His ears were fuzzy, like rice grains were being thrown into his ear canals.
He scrunches up his face. His eyes hurt and are most likely crusted over with grime. He can feel the slick yet dry feeling of blood on his face as his head pounds.
Then, belatedly, he notices scents all around him. Wisteria, water from a stream, and other superficial things only he would be able to experience
Then there's the lingering anger, tension, and worry.
As he blearily cracked his eyes open, he became acutely aware of the dirt and pebbles digging into his face. Above him, a shadow looms.
He could feel the aggressive taps of a hand against his face as he groaned. "Wake up." A firm yet desperate voice calls to him.
Tanjiro can tell the desperation isn't meant for him as the taps increase in strength. "Oi!" Their voice raised in volume.
"I told you to wake up!"
Tanjiro finds himself scrunching his face up even more as they shout. His ears and eyes felt as if they were underwater, his vision was covered in the texture of a fuzzy blanket, and the colours of the world had changed to gray, white, and red.
"Wake..."
"Oi, oi! Hey- wake up!" They click their tongue.
"C'mon dude!" Tanjiro can smell their irritation as they move to shake him by the shoulder. Then, as he fidgets slowly, he realises that his hands are bound.
His memory trickles back into him like a small stream in the forest. The mountain, the spiders, the demon, and the slayers he was forced to kill and put out of their misery.
Then it hits him, like slowly walking beneath a raging waterfall and feeling the pressure crush you whole. His breathing hitches, yet his eyes are still closed.
The Uppermoon. The man who saved him and his sister that day, as well as the order that echoed through the forest, the one that sealed his fate.
"Are you gonna nap all day?!" They hiss "Rise and shine already, will ya?!" They gruffly call out again, and Tanjiro's eyes snap open with haste.
The person above him is clothed top to bottom in black. They wear a burka over their face as they glare at him.
"You're in the presence of the Hashira!"