Chapter Three – Yarichu

POV: Max

"Bloody fookin' hell…that's even worse," Thomas Shelby said to me as we spoke on the phone, I talking as little as possible to avoid suspicion. "Child trafficking…we're putting a stop to that fookin' shit tonight."

I was silent. "Max, light up all of Small Heath. Put everyone in your network on notice, from the lowest street rat to the best thief. I want eyes on Kocho and the girl at all times…wherever they are going, I want them stopped at the city limits. When we have them where we want them, we'll take the children into our custody, and deal with the adults."

"That…that might not be easy," I replied, voice just above a whisper. "The boy showed me he was ten, and he had two blades across his back. I think he might be armed."

"I can handle it, Max…I'll put the boys on notice. I plan to corner them in the Garrison. If we show the child we don't mean to harm him, he won't pose any sort of threat. But it's up to you to close these bastards in," Tommy said. "I'm counting on you, and so are those children."

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"One other thing – as long as this mission goes on, I need full communication with you at all times. No more working without talking – I know you are a woman and I don't care," Tommy said. "You have to put the little ones first."

"Yes, sir."

POV: 3rd person

Arthur and John Shelby were the first ones to answer their brother's call at the Garrison pub – and both of them knew it couldn't be good. "He never calls like this, Arthur," John said. "This must be a big fookin' mess."

"Roight. Might be that bloody ship in the 'arbor, Max has the Rats on notice." Arthur replied, wiping his face clean before slapping his bladed cap on.

"Who's Max?" John asked. "Never 'eard of 'im."

"It's Lizbeth, she just didn't wan' ta be called that," Arthur said. "She's taken up pretending to be a man."

John was about to hiss in disgust, but thought better of it. "Whell, her Papa was always threatenin' her with the whorehouses, I don' blame 'er. She was allus short an' squat. If she were a man, she'd make a fine boxer."

"Campbell's bin tryin' ta use 'er as a spy, but she's in Tommy's pocket," Arthur said as the stragglers came in. "Musta found somethin' big."

At that moment, Tommy came into the barroom, a fresh cigarette in his mouth. "My boys, yer all 'ere," he said, opening the meeting. "As you are all aware, a Japanese ship, the Kisatsutai, docked in Birmingham Harbor this afternoon. The Queen of the Underground – and I hope, future Peaky Blinder – Max Shelby, investigated the ship, only to discover two adults trafficking two children around the age of ten in Small Heath. It is unknown where these people plan to take the children…but I plan to stop them before they ever leave. We're going to herd them into the Garrison, and separate the children from the adults."

Arthur spoke up. "That smells shaky, Tommy. Shouldn't we call Campbell in?"

Tommy shook his head. "Campbell has the subtlety of a brass band – and he has strings attached. Worse, one of the children is armed. The child probably isn't very skilled, but he wields two blades, meaning he's strong if he's provoked. That means no drinking or smoking in the Garrison until this mission is done."

"No snow either, right?" Isaiah Shelby asked, puffing on a cigarette of his own. The sole Peaky Blinder of color was tall with dark hair, and for him, no night was complete without a line of coke.

"Correct. Remember, these are scared children," Tommy replied. "They need to know we can be trusted. They've put a bit in the girl's mouth, and the boy was communicating with hand signs, which they chided him for. We can't make mistakes – not tonight."

…

POV: Henma

Now I was beginning to understand what Zaraki was talking about when he told me not to talk to the strangers of Small Heath, Birmingham – one conversation with a short, squat strange …man?...in a cap and coat similar to the one I was wearing set off nothing but trouble for us. Everywhere we went, every street corner, every shop…even the phone booths…people were staring at us.

And they were asking too many questions.

"Is that Tommy Shelby's boy?" a man asked, pointing at me. "He's got the eyes!"

"What're ya doin' with that bit in yer mouth, lil' girl?" another asked, trying to pull on the bit in Yarichu's mouth. I unsheathed my blade, shaking my head to show I would use it. I only sheathed it again when I knew the idiot would not touch her.

We finally made it to the edge of town about an hour before sunset – we were not making any good time and we knew it. Due to my inability to talk, my hearing had sharpened significantly…and I could hear the neo-demons whispering, listening.

Ready to eat the people of Birmingham.

"Oooh…filthy whore on my menu tonight!" one whispered on a backstreet.

"Oi, all-you-can-eat baby buffet at the hospital after 11, who's with me?"

And then…a lone, whispering voice as we passed the church, Zaraki and Asuka deciding on a place called "The Garrison." I could hear the scratching of the demon's voice, although she clothed herself as a Catholic nun.

A familiar Catholic nun.

"At last…the babe I sought to drown all those years ago is back," she giggled. "Once I devour her flesh and blood…I will finally have the power to challenge Lower Star Six, and become the demon I was always meant to be!"

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder – little Yarichu. The girl, a creature who couldn't decide if she was human or demon, stared at me, her black eyes knowing I was about to unleash hell on the neo-demons.

She knew me – she sometimes knew me better than anyone, even my parents. Apparently, she was a daughter of Muzan Kibetsuji, the Demon King, born about three hundred years ago. According to Lady Tamayo and a bunch of spies, Muzan had been stunned by his ability to pass down his demonic nature by procreation…and even more shocked that his child could survive the sunlight. Of course, he tried to absorb her, but Yachiru made a run for it, choosing to make a life by hiding across Japan, eating child traffickers, criminals, and dying humans.

Until she met me when I was four. I remember that autumn day – November 11th, 1914. I was up way too late in the morning, playing with my toy swords, practicing sword swings…when Yarichu appeared, then a full-grown woman dressed in a stolen blue kimono, blood on the front. Her eyes were thin black slits, with veins all over her face. Twin horns were on both sides of her forehead, and she looked ready to kill.

By all accounts, I should have been done for…but even then, face-to-face with a demon that should have ended me…I wasn't going to get eaten without a fight.

Yarichu roared, jumping at me…and I took advantage, driving both blades into her mouth. There was only a tiny amount of nichirin in the blades, but they were designed so a child could learn the blade, not actually kill a demon.

And as I couldn't call for help…I was a dead person walking. Her claws dug into my shoulders with surprising force, drawing blood…but I was surprisingly unafraid, driving the swords in deeper. I wasn't going to kill her, but she'd get one hell of a mouthache in eating me.

Suddenly…the sky turned grey, and the air became awfully cold. Yarichu's body began glowing blue, and I began to panic. Was she going to use her Blood Demon Art on me…a weak, pathetic four-year-old?

The sky got darker, and Yarichu turned completely blue. "You are safe now, love," a man's voice spoke in Japanese, with an extremely thick brogue. "She won't hurt you anymore."

Then, he sang a song I had never heard before:

"In the bleak midwinter

Frosty wind made known

Earth stood hard as iron

Water like a stone."

The creature that was Yarichu shrank in front of me, and my bloody wounds turned cold as ice. Was this…a Demon Slayer from ancient times? A guardian spirit sent from the gods to protect me?

Maybe…my real dad? And if so…did that mean he was…?

"HENMA!" Lady Tamayo screamed, running to me. "Oh, no – Yushiro, go get help!"

Tamayo pulled my shirt up. "By the gods…how are you still alive?"

…

In the end, the demon that was Yarichu had been reduced to a three-year-old human girl, and the spirit that saved me was attributed to be a war veteran that had died in a faraway war – a war that would destroy millions of lives.

In honor of his sacrifice, a special place was made in the Demon Slayer graveyard for this "Lost Slayer – Ice Breather," with a British Union Jack placed by its side – his accent was identified as one belonging to England by Tamayo and I. Every year after that, I would go visit the Ice Breather, making offerings to the gods in thanksgiving for his lost life.

The world may have forgotten him in its awful trenches, but I never would.

As for Yarichu, she and I went from one-time enemies to best friends. She could only make noises, but she never complained about my lack of voice, zeal to become the world's greatest Demon Slayer…or the anger of other Slayers about breaking the rules and traditions of our way of life. I returned the favor by not getting upset when Yarichu became a demon a second time six months ago – on the condition that she only eat criminals.

With this in mind, I looked at Yarichu, smiling as if to say, "We'll be okay, Yarichu. Those demons will never stand a chance against me!"