Warning: violence
The dim, blue light trembled on Mitsuri's face. The young woman shivered and huddled deeper into the sleeping bag. Giyuu carefully took the generator and placed it farther from her face, before straightening out and looking around.
It was their second day in the sewers. There were two more missed shots the previous day, but the past fourteen hours have been quiet.
Giyuu sat down on his backpack, cautious not to wake up his partner, and reclined on his sword. His eyes blankly scanned the sewage.
He was tired, and random thoughts occasionally broke out into his mind, such as the various bills he paid a while ago and some traffic incidents from the past week. Giyuu didn't like when this happened - he felt that he was losing his guard, which he probably was. The hashira slightly shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but they immediately bounced in another direction. He suddenly remembered that it's Friday, and he'll miss their bar get-together.
But then again - he recalled that the second after - Sanemi was also on a mission. Giyuu wondered if Tengen and Kyojuro would bother. They'll probably try to convince Obanai to join though.
Giyuu unnoticeably sighed. The rims of his eyes were burning, and his muscles were becoming tense. Waiting out an attack was significantly worse than chasing a clear enemy.
A yellow light flickered on his watch. Giyuu slanted his gaze and, after a brief moment, straightened out and tapped the screen. Even if they were small demons, they still had to be exterminated.
The screen blinked, displaying the blood types and the positions of the demons. Giyuu blankly stared at it, before frowning. Something was off.
"Kanroji," he quietly called, turning to the sleeping woman. Mitsuri's eyebrows twitched, but she wasn't awake yet.
"Kanroji-san."
Her eyelids fluttered, and the hashira gazed in loss at her hands. Her eyes regained focus, and Mitsuri slowly sat up, the sleeping bag falling at her shoulders.
"Huh? Did something happen, Tomioka-san?"
"Look at your watch."
Mitsuri lifted her wrist and, still not fully awake, clicked the screen. The blood types, mostly Giyuu's, flashed on the screen. Mitsuri blinked several times. The blood types steadily wavered in one position, arranged in two lines opposite from each other. Mitsuri didn't bother hiding her first thought.
"That's so weird."
Their demon culprit was not among them either. Mitsuri chewed on her lip: the positioning of the blood types seemed almost like a formation, meant to spring inwards once the targets were in the middle.
Oh well, it's not like it was the first time.
"I say we check it out." Mitsuri glanced at her partner, still looking at the watch. "After all, our demon friend at the moment vanished into thin air." Hopefully, that wasn't its ability. "And we'll dispatch these ones in no time." I sound just like Sanemi, Mitsuri suddenly realized, and her cheeks burnt red. Out of all the people, she had to pick up his mentality. No more wrestling, only with Tomioka-san.
"I agree," Giyuu curtly replied and stood up. Mitsuri jolted, drawn out of her thoughts, and, slightly frustrated for getting derailed so easily, quickly scrambled out of her sleeping bag. They immediately packed up.
"They're located deeper down," Giyuu noted, starting forward and checking his watch.
"Hmmm?" Slipping the backpack strap on her shoulder, Mitsuri hurried after him. Giyuu quickly glanced at her as she caught up.
"The demons. They're deeper down in the sewage system."
"Why am I not surprised?" Mitsuri softly laughed, folding her hands behind her back. Their walking was brisk, but relaxed, loosened from the fifteen minute reprieve. Giyuu awkwardly smiled as well, lowering his watch. The demons weren't moving, and any outside threats seemed to be lying low right now. In a way, by not rushing forward, they were amassing their strength.
Their conversation lapsed into silence, and through mutual understanding, Giyuu led the way. The water ran next to them, gently splashing along the concrete edges. Mitsuri noticed that they were continuously descending, the walls stretching longer and longer above their heads.
The stench became stronger, now carrying a distinct flavor of rotting flesh, human and demonic. Looking around, Mitsuri noticed dark smears on the floor and railings. This is probably where most battles occurred, she thought to herself. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. Giyuu, untroubled, continued stepping down.
The air grew more humid. Mitsuri anxiously felt how sweat rolled in large droplets along her arms, dampening the jacket. She quickened her pace and peered at her partner. He was sweating too, the collar crumpled and ponytail limply sticking to the suit. It was harder to take controlled breaths.
The staircase ended with the platform entrenched into the ground, the river running to both of its sides. To Mitsuri's surprise, this flight was brightly lit. The lamps stretched all along the ceiling, casting long shadows on the water.
"Finally," Mitsuri sighed, taking off her glasses. She held up her braids, letting some air cool her wet back. "Not gonna lie, your seweges are super strange, Tomioka-san. The only place that's lit is the very bottom of the system." Feeling refreshed, Mitsuri enthusiastically slapped the temples of the glasses together and twirled to her partner.
"Well, it's not like I'm complaining..." She trailed off, noticing Giyuu crouching near the last step of the staircase. Confused, the young woman lowered on her heels.
"Tomioka... san?" Mitsuri voiced, uncertain. Eyebrows knitted together, Giyuu stared at the electric box tucked away at the edge of the staircase. Just like usual, all the wires were cut, outlets overgrown with mold and small sparks flying off from the excessive moisture. But then why...
"Is something not right?" It was better not to tell her, especially since he couldn't explain it in any way. Giyuu pressed down on his knee and stood up.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and turning to the young woman. "I was just checking something."
Mitsuri looked unconvinced, but she slipped the backpack off her shoulders and lowered it next to the staircase.
"Let's leave them here so that they won't get in the way. We're the only ones for whom the content's of use anyway."
Giyuu nodded and followed her suit. While placing the backpack next to hers, his eyes involuntarily fell on her hands. Her fingers were methodically clenching and unclenching, making themselves more malleable. Giyuu averted his gaze, feeling his own composed nervousness vibrating in his muscles.
The lamps were loudly buzzing over their heads, highlights rippling on the murky, viscous water. Walking alongside Mitsuri, Giyuu heard how her breathing carefully adjusted, more shallow in the heavy air. Listening to his own breath, he noticed that he automatically began inhaling less. Giyuu raised his wrist, and the blood types appeared on the screen. They were motionless, at the same positions as they were before.
"Do you think they'll activate as soon as we appear?" Mitsuri quietly asked, also looking at her watch.
"Even if they do, we have no choice but to accept that." Giyuu lifted his gaze, slightly squinting and measuring the distance with his eyes. "There's no corner that we can hide behind. We'll just walk straight in."
Even a simple plan sounded great from him. If she had to admit it, Mitsuri loved going on missions with Giyuu: he was more on the strategic side, and she always felt smarter working with him. Because she enjoyed it, she was one of the better ones who operated with him, and that fact secretly made her proud.
A sudden, putrid odor hit her nostrils, and Mitsuri covered her nose. Coughing, she looked at Giyuu and saw that his face momentarily twisted as well.
"Demons," she managed to say, before coughing again. Giyuu nodded, eyes narrowing; his metal thumb lightly pressed on the hilt, the blade peeking from the sheath.
Mitsuri's eyes dropped on the watch - the blood types didn't budge.
"On three." Giyuu's voice lowered to a whisper. Mitsuri, lowering her head, looked at him, and he read the confirmation in her eyes. Giyuu tensed, slightly bending his knees to prepare for a sprint. With his normal hand, he lifted up one finger.
Her eyes were locked on his hand. Her hands hung loosely next to her sides, the blood types floating on the watch. Soles pressing against the ground, Giyuu tentatively lifted the second finger.
The plastic bags, black from dirt, scratched against the rims of the platform, before being pulled away by the current.
The hashiras leaped from their spots, the blades automatically gliding out of the sheaths. Braking in the middle of the platform, they went into formation nearly organically, back-to-back, and swords raised.
The light shimmered, illuminated the place.
Mitsuri quietly gasped, and Giyuu's eyes slightly widened.
The water washed softly against the metal rods, entrenched deep in the sewage floor. Mitsuri's gaze slowly traveled upwards on one of them, and, reaching the top, began to tremble.
"Is this..." she swallowed, throat dry from shock. "Crucifixion?"
Twenty, or thirty demons on each side of the river were hanging limply on metal crosses rising out of the water. They were different sizes, some stronger than others, but all of their mouths were parted, as if begging for air. For many, the eyes were rolled into the sockets.
Were they dead? Mitsuri quickly - too quickly - glanced at her watch, but the blood types steadily appeared on the screen. She flinched when Giyuu moved and worriedly turned around to him. Gripping her sword, Mitsuri fearfully watched how he cautiously walked up to the cross closest to the platform's edge. She acutely heard her heart drumming in her ears.
"Tomioka... san..." Her voice faded away, not able to muster anything coherent. Mitsuri saw how his shoulders tensed, hearing her last-minute warning, but he didn't say anything. Giyuu made one more step, and the toes of his shoes tipped over the edge.
Gazing at the demon, Giyuu felt a sour nausea collecting in his mouth. The demon's long tongue was splayed across his chin, bruised from asphyxiation. The whites of his eyes were tinted yellow, and the skin was thin and dry. Looking closer, Giyuu noticed tiny, surgical cuts all along his arms and neck. Giyuu kneeled down and carefully lifted the ragged pants. The legs were also scarred.
"Kanroji-san," he quietly called, never tearing his eyes from the demon. It wasn't reacting.
"Check another demon. Is it scarred?"
"Huh?" Even though she didn't understand, Giyuu heard how Mitsuri ran up to one of the crosses. Judging by the footsteps, she stopped a good distance away and, honestly, he couldn't blame her. After a short silence of her peering at the demon from the far, there was a befuddled, uncertain answer.
"Y-yes. The skin on the elbows looks like it was penetrated with something." There was a metallic noise, and Giyuu understood that she was lifting the demon with her sword.
"It's the same for the knee joints."
Gears turning in his head, yet not reaching any conclusion, Giyuu slowly stood up. Glancing at the demon's face, he carefully placed his sword right to its neck, in case that one reacted. Then, he cautiously reached for the creature's wrist. Edging forward, his fingers scraped against the cold flesh, before encircling the thin wrist. There was no pulse.
"It's dead," Giyuu dumbly said. His fingers roughly pressed against the demon's skin, trying to find the heartbeat. However, the fact lay awkwardly in his head, unable to process.
Giyuu absently stepped back, letting go of the demon's wrist and taking away the sword. Inside, everything was thrown into confusion. Giyuu stared in loss at the dead face, its head completely intact with the body. Sword lowered and nearly touching the ground, Mitsuri gazed at the crosses.
There was a quiet, rushing sound, like a spring river down a mountain. Something softly bumped against Giyuu's shoulders; Mitsuri quickly ran up to him, sword raised. Giyuu lifted his own sword, eyes darting across the walls, ceiling, and especially the demons. He wouldn't be surprised if they started moving.
For a moment, nothing happened, only the rushing sound and Mitsuri's breathing. The lamps continued radiating light, and Giyuu felt the sword's hilt becoming damp in his fingers.
"There," Mitsuri suddenly said, voice unnoticeably shaking. Giyuu was about to glance over his shoulder, but in the next instant, he saw it himself: thin, red rivulets crawling up the walls. They were coiling and spinning, some flowing into one another, others streaming apart, all leisurely making their way to the ceiling. Giyuu quickly looked down at his watch and observed in some horrid understanding how the blood types flow upwards above two little green dots - them.
"Kanroji-san." Giyuu's voice was locked in one intonation, unable to generate any other emotion. "If that flood falls down, I'll use my techniques to create a momentary shield."
"Copy that." Mitsuri's answer was overshadowed by the frantic beeping of the watch. Giyuu stared at it, for a second blanking out. The watch was flickering red, another blood type appearing on the screen.
AB-4527.
Giyuu silently moved forward, nudging Mitsuri with his shoulder. The young woman obediently stepped behind, slightly lowering her sword.
"I'm ready whenever you are." Those were her only quiet words. Giyuu unnoticeably nodded, slightly shifting the left leg back. His shirt was damp and stiff underneath the suit, but he didn't pay attention to it. Eyes locked at the entrance of the platform, he watched a figure wordlessly approach them.
The claws carefully chipped into the concrete, the tuft at the ankles moist from the heat. Hands in pockets, the demon noiselessly walked into the light, unemotionally examining Giyuu and Mitsuri out of the slanted eyes.
His hair was grey, leaning into blue, and tattooed feathers wrapped over his glistening shoulders. He was wearing a simple sleeveless shirt and army pants, the half-belts dangling from the pockets. He stopped a couple of meters away from the hashiras, nothing appearing on the young, but serious face.
"I apologize for disappearing on you several times."
Giyuu's expression remained still. Mitsuri refused to look anywhere but her partner's back, tensely catching the miniscule changes in muscle position - and her indicator for the attack. She couldn't see the demon, and all she could hear was a low, threatening voice.
"Is this your doing?" Giyuu apathetically inquired, fingers hovering next to the hilt of the sword. The demon's eyes glimpsed around, quickly passing the red walls and rows of crosses. His lips curled into a gentle, but mocking smile. Canine teeth peeked out.
"No."
"Whose then?"
"Naturally I won't say."
Eyes locked on Giyuu's shoulders, Mitsuri dug her heels into the ground, and a thin, controlled exhale seeped through her teeth.
At lightning speed, Giyuu bent down his knees, dropping nearly to the ground, swinging the blade in a counterclockwise motion.
"Water Breathing: Altered Second Form," he whispered, almost automatically. "Water Wheel Across the Plains."
Mitsuri stepped into the air at the same time water rushed from under the blade, and splashes erupted under her boots. Running across the water, Mitsuri lightly hit her sword against her feet, and the blade unraveled into a long, flexible whip. The cold water splattered around her legs, foam falling onto her braids. The demon's eyes narrowed, and he slightly lifted his right hand out of his pocket; however, his expression melted into surprise when he saw the second hashira appear behind his back.
"Water Breathing, First Form." Giyuu's voice was almost inaudible in the rushing of the water. "Water Surface Splash."
The demon skipped to the side, dodging the attack, right into the wheel's way. The formation exploded, water bursting into freezing, cutting droplets, and the female hashira leaped down, blade raised above her head. Her face was twisted.
"Love Breathing, First Form." The words slipped out noiselessly from her mouth. "Shivers of First Love."
The pulse coursed through her muscles right into her fingertips, and the whip swiveled in the air. In a flash, the demon's eyes widened, black pupils spilling over the irises.
The concrete split under his claws as he drove in the leg. In a blink, he leaped upwards, Giyuu's sword barely missing him. Mitsuri's eyes coldly narrowed, and the air whistled, whip coiling around him with deafening speed.
The flesh on his back ripped open. Two long, pale yellow bones, dragging veins and tissues after it, protruded from the bleeding muscles. Shreds of skin weakly shivered from the sudden exposure, feathers wet and slicked down from mucilage. The bones smoothly rotated in the joints, wings turning horizontally in their axis. For a second, the demon's expression blazed with hatred.
Before Mitsuri could react, the wing sliced across the air, sending a sharp current into her direction. Her whip ricocheted off the metal feathers, and Mitsuri hastily jerked it forward, sensing a rough vibration race through the hilt. Somersaulting backward, she felt the feathers lightly grazing her leg; slanting her vision, she saw a faint rivulet of blood trickling out of the scratch. Mitsuri tore her eyes off and softly landed on the ground.
Giyuu slightly shifted his pose, fingers tightening on the grip. The demon was heavily breathing without opening his mouth, chest rising and falling. His pupils slid between the two hashiras. Then, his shoulders relaxed. The wings slowly unraveled, bones quietly creaking.
Giyuu barely blocked the attack from above, the talons clasping around his blade. The demon snarled and reached with its head, trying to rip out the hashira's throat chords with his teeth. Giyuu quickly angled the sword, and the demon slipped on the water, immediately finding footing after. The young man cleaved with his sword, but the demon easily evaded, the claws passing in front of Giyuu's eyes.
Mitsuri rushed forward, cursing the demon: he felt that she shared blood types with him. She noticed how the demon's eyes were watching her from the corner of his vision, and anger boiled in her mind. Her sword swiftly unentangled, and the demon grinned.
The right wing swung inwards, before roughly cutting outwards, releasing a shower of feathers. Mitsuri dodged, jumping over them, ducking and slicing several of them, but the demon suddenly whirled, arm reaching out to her. Mitsuri's whip glided in between his index and middle fingers, but his wrist pivoted, the bloodied talons grasping the blade and yanking her forward. Mitsuri wrought out, but almost immediately had to block again. Simultaneously, the left wing split into bones, spinning at Giyuu.
He dragged them into fighting him at the same time. The thought was cold, detached from Giyuu's quick parries. He could slightly see Mitsuri, trying to advance at the demon's side. The demon was very fast, first attacking him, then swinging to the young woman as he deflected. It was almost like an illusion.
And yet - blood slashed from Giyuu's forehead, and he had to abruptly arch backwards to avoid the hit - the demon was clearly striking. The fluidity of the movements and the precision seemed to be grasped from several martial arts techniques. Something they would teach in the military. The wing boomeranged through the air, and Giyuu ducked, ears ringing from the pressure.
Dodging another talon, Mitsuri rolled over the ground, the bones and feathers menacingly ricocheting around her. The demon was enjoying this as she could tell by his bloodlust, but he still didn't lose control.
Mitsuri couldn't care less, though. What actually mattered, and what ticked her off, is that the demon deliberately kept her and Giyuu apart, preventing them from combining their techniques. If he were a human, she would eagerly applaud and admire him, but since he wasn't, a frustrated slap in his face would accurately sum up her feelings.
Mitsuri skid, forced backwards by the air current, and angrily glared at the demon. Then, she lightly tossed the hilt, flipping it blade away from her, and firmly caught it.
The interval of the bones and feathers' regeneration was half a millisecond, but that was all Mitsuri needed.
Sprinting forward, she leaped into the air. The demon's gaze glimpsed upwards.
"Water Breathing, Second From: Striking Tide," Giyuu automatically whispered, launching at the creature. The demon's gaze slid back at him, forearms blocking the quick strikes of the blade. In the same instant, Mitsuri twisted upside down, and lashed her whip.
"Love Breathing, Fifth Form." The words were lost in the inrush of air skewing over her face. "Cat Legged Winds of Love."
A leg roughly striked Giyuu's chest, and his rib cage flared. He kept his stance, but he missed a second.
The only reaction Mitsuri was capable of was jerking the hilt upwards, blade zooming right in front of her neck and face, before sensing the talons sinking into her hips and abdomen. Her breath was knocked out of her chest, and she was violently shoved backwards. Her back harshly collided against the ceiling, blood splashing all over her face, and the two pupils drilled into her eyes.
Odor infected her nostrils, and Mitsuri coughed from the demonic blood. The demon's lips were distorted, fangs slipping out. Without a word, he pressed her further into the ceiling. His talons dug into her flesh, and Mitsuri saw in terror black dots jump in front of her vision.
Her own teeth abruptly clung together. Grimacing, Mitsuri pushed her blade into his palm, trying to get his sharp nails away from her neck. Blood poured, skin ripping like paper in the creases between individual fingers, but almost like retaliation, his talons, each from the opposite side, softly touched inside of her.
Mitsuri didn't feel how his claw glided out, nor the refreshing coldness, the water dragon crumbling at her form. In a painfully slow motion, just like in old, colored films, she sensed that her back detached from the ceiling. After that, everything went dark.
Nezuko skillfully hopped from one pipe to the next, easily extending her legs as she did so. Her old box, stuffed with neatly folded clothes, small kitchenware, semi-functional robots, and dried up wisteria plants, softly rattled on her back.
There weren't many volunteers for delivery in the Lower Level, neither among humans nor robots: the demons enjoyed eating the first and, interestingly enough, dismantling the second. Admittedly, Nezuko experienced both urges, but had enough self-control to suppress them.
The young girl gracefully somersaulted, lightly landing on the curved, metal tiles of the rooftops. She liked this - a chance to warm up her inhumanly strong muscles.
Her sneakers softly brushed against the frame of the billboard. Balancing, Nezuko peered down, trying to tell out the faded advertisement.
She couldn't tell a thing.
Sighing, Nezuko crouched, made a visor out of her hand and gazed at the avenue stretching under her. The bridges connecting buildings across were empty. Cola cans shivered against the rails. A cat was snoozing on one of the apartment balconies.
Nezuko carefully moved her gaze along the alleys, curiously looking around. Reaching another bridge, her heart suddenly bounced, and the corners of her lips rose upwards in excitement, tugging at the straps of the muzzle. She quickly stood up, and slightly rocking back to get a swing, leaped.
Her bun flew in the air, arms outstretched and one leg bent. With full speed, Nezuko landed on the railing with a loud bang. Rubikku, reading an ad he picked up from the ground, jolted in surprise.
Nezuko amiably tilted her head and waved, eyes cheerfully glimmering. Rubikku glimpsed over his shoulder, and an illusion of a smile appeared in his eyes.
"Yo."
Smirking, Nezuko saluted. Without saying anything, the robot lowered his rack of fish bowls on the ground and, very carefully, took one off the shelf. The young girl, slipping off the railing, silently stepped in front of him. Rubikku gently passed her the bowl. Nezuko took it and raised it up to her gaze in curiosity. A little, mirror-eyed fish ogled at her, flapping its eyelids. Nezuko giggled and slightly rubbed her nose against the glass. The fish dashed away in fright, and there was a grin in Rubikku's voice.
"Alright, you can return it now."
Nezuko straightened out and compliantly handed him the bowl. He took it, nodding in thanks, and slid it back inside the rack. She whirled around and lightly stepped up on the railing, doing a carefree T-pose with her arms while Rubikku strapped the rack back on his shoulders. Once the robot was ready, the young girl confidently started forward.
It was the midst of day, but it was perpetually overcast in the Low Levels. Hands folded behind her back, Nezuko bounced and hopped around Rubikku, like a cat in front of a yarn ball. His eyes followed her around like red pin-pointers, and it endlessly entertained Nezuko. She couldn't speak to him - she couldn't speak to anyone - but his benevolent nonchalance made it easier for her to communicate.
The railing ended, and Rubikku slightly shifted to the side. Holding on to the straps of the box, Nezuko jumped down. For a while, they walked in pleasant silence. Nezuko listened in interest to the quiet sound of his breathing inside the metal carcass. In reality, that breath was probably clouding on the plastic walls of an air mask.
Nezuko stopped approximately five steps above the platform. She squatted, preparing for the leap, and swung her arms. Rubikku stopped behind her.
"You know, you look exceptionally demonic when you do this."
Of course he had to say that, and instead of elegantly jumping like she planned, Nezuko, caught off guard by his comment, stumbled and tripped through the last couple of stairs. She clumsily tipped on the platform, whirling her arms like crazy to find the balance. Rubikku lightly skipped through the steps and stopped next to her.
"Something wrong?"
Nezuko shot him an unpleasant look: metal bastard. His eyes winked, and he straightened out.
"I'm heading left. You?"
As if. Nezuko crossed her arms and demonstratively turned her face away from him, nose slightly upturned. But almost immediately, a straw hat swatted her on the head.
"Well then, see ya, demon delivery girl."
Face red and frustrated, Nezuko wheeled on her heels towards the robot, but Rubikku was, like always, strolling away. His straw hat carefreely bobbled on his head.
Oh whatever.
Sighing, Nezuko let go of her pout and, reaching on tiptoes, waved. Either by sensing waves through the atmosphere, or the crinkling of her tennis shoes, Rubikku turned around. The two red dots blinked in the distance, and the metal, gaunt hand reached upwards. Nezuko smiled through her muzzle, and, after a final wave, turned around and ran in the other direction.
Tanjiro shielded his eyes, blinded by the light reflecting off the building's glass surface. Still, that didn't stop him from being amazed.
It was his first time being so high up in the Upper Level. Craning back his neck, Tanjiro stared in awe at the top of the building, able to tell apart the solar panels and lightning arresters on the sharp-edged roof. People rushed past him, giving him irritated and somewhat puzzled glances, wondering what a twenty-year old kid was standing in the middle of the bridge crossing.
"Yaaaa-hooooo!" Inosuke excitedly leaned over the railing, peering down at the skyscrapers zooming into the void. "I could squash 'em with my hand."
Inside, Tanjiro had to agree. All the cruisers down below were nothing but colorful dots wrapping around the buildings. The screeching of the traffic was reduced to a thin hum, and the neighboring skyscrapers glimmered in the sun.
Next to Inosuke, Zenitsu also seemed relaxed, arms resting on the railing. The warm breeze slightly ruffled the hair on head.
"I wish we didn't have to do the mission," he sighed. His expression was serious, longing shimmering in his eyes. "I'd gladly enjoy the view instead."
Straightening out, Inosuke swatted in annoyance the bangs out of his vision.
"Won't you get bored of it?"
Zenitsu made a half-baked wry face.
"Shut up. I'm tired of fighting demons."
There was something underneath the usual complaint. Inosuke glanced at him, but didn't say anything. Sensing the growing tension, Tanjiro quickly stepped behind them and forcefully planted his hands on their shoulders.
"Well, it's time to get moving," he said in a cheerful, energetic voice. The vague shadow that was on Zenitsu's face vanished, and he groaned, dropping his head on his arms.
"You and your bloody enthusiasm…" came out the muffled words. Inosuke, concern immediately leaving his mind, cackled and shrugged off Tanjiro's hand.
"I've been saying that since forever." He walked forward first, glancing over his shoulder and sending an evil grin in their direction. "Oi, scaredy-cat, get moving! Or do you want me to drag you in?"
"I want to throw your ass off the bridge," Zenitsu mumbled, but he was already straightening out. A small smile lingered on the corners of his lips. Feeling that the storm had passed, Tanjiro relaxed and fixed the trombone case on his shoulder. The last thing they needed was de-motivation at the start of a mission. However, secretly, he couldn't shake off the uneasiness that stirred in him at the sound of Zenitsu's words.
The front entrance was several meters high. As they approached it, Tanjiro noticed a row of turnstiles: the metal rods smoothly rotated around the people's hips and legs as they brought their watches to the scanner.
"Chuntaro-san," Tanjiro quietly said, barely opening his lips. "The QR code."
The response was almost immediately.
"Yes, yes."
Tanjiro slanted his eyes and saw the screen on his watch flash white.
"You guys are the extraordinarily gifted students from the Okinawa conservatory who have come to the Yoshitsuki Electric Power Company to broaden your worldview beyond music and notes. My pleasure."
"What was with that sarcasm," Zenitsu muttered under his breath, quickly typing something on his watch. Inosuke ignored the small exchange and marched up to the turnstile.
"Hashibira Inosuke," he barked at the monitor, bringing up his watch. The light blinked green from fright, and the demon slayer confidently strided in.
Tanjiro silently brought up his watch as well. The light flashed, and the young man pushed the rod down.
Immediately, Tanjiro had the urge to shield his eyes again, this time from the painful whiteness. The front lobby they appeared in stretched in every direction, the ceiling disappearing above their heads. Their figures reflected in the absolutely white floor. Silver-trimmed robots and monitors glided next to them, blue-eyes twinkling and buzzing noises coming from within. People in black suits dispersed among them, each walking their own route.
"Holy shit," Tanjiro heard Inosuke quietly say next to him. He himself was wordless.
"Um... guys..."
Tanjiro glanced to his side.
"What is it, Zenitsu?"
The yellow-haired man, mouth slightly opened from wonder, pointed at the ceiling. "Are those windows? Cause if they are, I don't understand a thing."
Tanjiro craned his head back. His eyes widened.
The entire ceiling was made of glass, sunlight spilling all over it. Transparent clouds leisurely traveled over the sky.
"Chuntaro," Tanjiro commanded, not tearing his eyes away from the sky. Partially because he has never seen it this close up. "At what time was the demon sighted?"
"At the fourteenth hour." The voice in the speaker smirked. "During lunch break. There was no indication where exactly the demon appeared; only the alarm went off."
"Well then it's most likely some nasty roach that crawled into the device," Inosuke retorted, eyes traveling across the room. "Cause no way a demon would appear here."
"That's your job to find out. Anyway, a robot is coming your way, so heads up."
Tanjiro lowered his head and looked at the elegant, feminine-looking robot that unhurriedly rolled up to them. She had thin slits for eyes and a mouth, a dynamic peeking through the latter.
"Welcome, students of Okinawa conservatory." Tanjiro nodded, wondering if the robot knew their actual purpose of being. "My name is Lil-l. I will be your tour guide for today."
"Alright." Inosuke gave a short, dissatisfied sigh, but that was the only response from the group.
Lil-l smoothly turned around and rolled forward. Her wiry fingers curled inwards, beckoning for them to follow her.
"YSEPC generates a quarter of its electric energy from sunlight. This is the main lobby of the building, but you can see that it is strategically incorporated into the harvesting process."
And demon prevention, Tanjiro silently finished in his head. He stared at the floor, watching his hazy reflection ripple as he walked. If the demon did appear during the day, it had to be in a four-walled room. As for the device malfunction theory, he didn't believe it: there were too many "false alarms" with the demons right under the nose, and no counterexamples to challenge them.
Tanjiro subtly glanced at his watch. It was clear, with no indication of blood type.
"We will head to the conference room," Lil-l calmly announced, rolling towards the elevator. The doors opened without a single sound, and the robot let them enter first.
The doors swished shut, and the elevator effortlessly traveled upward.
Throughout the entire trip, the demon slayers avoided eye contact with one another. There was nothing to discuss.
Or they were afraid of unnerving one another.
The elevator quietly and clearly ringed, a yellow button lighting up on the bar. It was the last floor. Lil-l nonchalantly rolled out, customarily leading the way.
"The current CEO of the company is Iikubo Akifumi. The Vice President is Yoshida Genichiro. Iikubo-shacho has been leading the company for seven years now."
Lil-l stopped in front of large, metal doors and lightly touched the pad on the wall. A light blinked on the pad. Robot fingerprinting, Tanjiro realized. The doors automatically opened, but Lil-l shifted to the side and bowed.
"We welcome you in, demon slayers."
Tanjiro stiffened, but quickly suppressed that reaction and politely nodded.
"Thank you."
Without another word, he stepped inside.
The room was long, with windows stretching on the entire fourth wall. Light-brown, wooden tables were placed along the room's centerline. A large black screen occupied half of the opposite wall.
There were eight people in the room. Most of them were sitting in the swiveling chairs around the tables, traversing the holographic monitors emitted from the transmitters in front of them. One was standing next to the window, gazing outside. The other two were also standing, next to the black screen, and quietly discussing something. Tanjiro bent into a deep, respectful blow.
"Kamado Tanjiro, Agatsuma Zenitsu, and Hashibira Inosuke, Rank Kanoe of the Demon Slayer Corps."
Or in other words, the low end of the salary spectrum. Tanjiro stared at the floor. It was a dark, purple rug. Zenitsu and Inosuke, also bowing, were silent, letting him do the introductions.
"We apologize for the absence of the regional hashiras. Both are currently on a mission."
It's been a day since Shinazugawa-san left, three for Tomioka-san. Details weren't revealed for either.
"But we hope that we'll provide efficient aid in their place."
It was the only thing that he could truthfully promise - hope and aid. Staring at the floor, Tanjiro slightly clenched his fist. There were demons that got away. At first, he tried tracking them, pinning down maps and scribbling down blood types, but he wasn't able to find even one of them.
There was a short silence.
"I understand," a male voice quietly, but firmly replied. "Better something than nothing."
Tanjiro rose from the bow. One of the men standing next to the monitor was intently examining him, before briskly walking up to him.
"Iikubo, President of the Company. "
He was in his forties, but his face was wrinkled and dry. Several strands of grey ran from his temples. His eyes were grey and cold.
"My Vice President, Yoshida." The other man next to the monitor nodded. "And Miyamura from the Operations Department." It was the man next to the window. Briefly glancing at him, Iikubo transferred his gaze at the young man, then on the trombone case on his back.
"You may display your swords."
Without a single word, Inosuke dropped his case on the floor. Zenitsu visibly winced as the case clankered down. The other people, most likely highly trusted staff workers, watched in curiosity as the demon slayers took out their swords. Tanjiro carefully hung his own katana, trying not to look too self-conscious about it. More than anything, they had to remain calm.
"If you don't mind, Iikubo-shacho," he began, looking straight at the director. His voice was clear and even. "What exactly were the circumstances surrounding the demon sighting?"
He heard Iikubo deeply inhale, before gesturing to the Vice President. That one nodded and turned on the monitor.
"The demon was sighted in Sector C-16." Unlike the President, Yoshida was young, thirty, thirty-five. The monitor displayed a map, demonstrating the location. "It was in the Operations Department which is why," Yoshida politely bowed his head. "Miyamura-san is present here. The sighting was barely a second long."
"Do you have a camera recording or something?" Inosuke intervened, picking in his ear. Looking at him, Yoshida nodded.
"It's very brief."
The screens switched on the monitor.
It took Tanjiro a good several seconds before he figured out that the video was continuously repeating itself, it was that short. He gave Inosuke and Zenitsu a sideways glance: the first one was squinting his eyes, obviously not understanding it yet. The second one looked absolutely defeated.
"A... shadow?" Zenitsu finally stated. Or something close to a shadow. How in the world were they supposed to catch something like that?
"That's all we've got," Yoshida was also watching the screen. "Everyone just heard the alarm. No one was actually around when it appeared."
"Assuming it appeared," Miyamura added.
Tanjiro shook his head and was about to take a step forward, when the entire room collapsed into red. The monitor flickered, a huge warning sign wildly flashing on the screen.
"Attention, attention," the detached voice announced. "A demon has been detected in Sector F-8. Please evacuate as safely and efficiently as possible. Attention, attention. A demon has been detected…"
"Chuntaro, map!" Zenitsu shouted, running up to the door. He yanked the handle, but the door didn't budge.
"What the hell?"
Some of the staff workers swiveled in terror from the monitors: the pages, panels, and data seemed to be thrown into chaos, shuffling around and mixing with the warning signs.
"Everyone, get to the windows," Iikubo loudly ordered. Wrinkles ran across his face, and his jaw was tightly clenched, but the gaze remained composed. The employees panickedly scurried to the windows. Their palms banged against the surface, as if they believed that touching it would keep them safe.
"Finally!" Meanwhile, Inosuke leaped on the table, swinging out the two katanas next to his hips. "Let's rip that demon in pieces!"
"Rip in pieces?!" Zenitsu whirled around to him, face distorted. "And how do you suppose we do that while locked up on the top floor?"
"Shut up! Oi, Gonpachiro, what are you meddling there?"
"One second!" Tanjiro shook his watch, quickly tapping on the screen. "Chuntaro, is something wrong with my watch?" Several blood types were swirling around right underneath them, but the warning remained located at Section F-8.
"No, it's perfectly fine."
"Zenitsu, Inosuke!"
"I know, I know, I know!" Zenitsu shouted, sprinting away from the door and skidding to a stop where one cluster of dots was. "Dammit, why did they have to go from the bottom? They don't have to be that sneaky to defeat us!"
"The smart the demon, the more fun it is." Still on the table, Inosuke eyed his watch. "Oi, Tanjiro! Zenitsu will take the ones coming from the far side of the room, and I'll take the center. Don't screw up on the right, will ya?"
"Got it!" Propping himself by the edge of the desk, Tanjiro leaped over the chair and braked at the far right edge of the room. Deepening his breath and holding the sword in front of him, he glanced at the windows: all the employees, as well as Iikubo and Yoshida, were next to them. Back blocking the sunlight, shadows irregularly fell on their faces, tinted red from the internal lighting. Iikubo's eyes were trained right on the demon slayer.
Tanjiro looked away, expression unreadable from concentration. Even with the wide-open windows, they couldn't take the risk, especially since the doors locked without explanation. The young man slanted his eyes on the watch. The blood types were coming closer, but he still couldn't smell them. Tanjiro gritted his teeth, slightly bending his knees, and mentally began the count off.
Three, two, one.
And then his nostrils were inundated with the demonic odor. An employee screamed, tearing away from the window.
"W-what the hell is that?" He stuttered in shock, finger trembling as he pointed at the glass. Several more employees, glancing around, abruptly darted away. A chair loudly crashed on the ground as one of them accidentally knocked it over.
Tanjiro took a step forward, trying to see. His throat went dry and uncomfortably clasped from the inside.
Thin strings of blood crawled up the glass. They were steaming, mercilessly burnt by the sun, but the current kept going. The strings overlapped and broke away from each other, stumbling over the red stains left from the evaporated droplets. Iikubo's face was motionless, eyes unable to look away from the rivulet running right next to him. Yoshida slowly backed away in horror. The operations director stared right in front of him, face twisting.
"There's... more?"
Tanjiro swirled around. Blood creeped up the walls and the door, hissing from the sun. The demon slayer quickly glanced at his watch: AB positive, B negative, O negative, A positive, A positive, A negative, O positive….
"It-it's just demon blood, right?" Zenitsu said weakly. He also was unable to look away from the rivers. "Nothing more, right? Right?"
"So what are ya suggesting?" Inosuke whipped his head towards Zenitsu, but his voice was unnoticeably shaking. "We wipe it off the walls?"
Tanjiro opened his mouth, but suddenly the lights burst, showering Inosuke with small glass shards.
"Awww, hell!" Inosuke roughly shook his head and, still holding the blades, messed his hair, trying to get the shards out. Sunlight filled the room, the hissing quietly increasing. The rush of blood steadily hummed.
"Inosuke," Zenitsu said in a dead voice. Inosuke tilted his head to the side, glaring at the demon slayer.
"What?"
Zenitsu wordlessly nodded.
"Huh?" Hands still in the hair, Inosuke turned around.
An absolutely black figure stood right next to him. You couldn't see its face, its features, the creases of the clothes, or the joints in between limbs. There was no steam, as if the shadow was unaffected by the sun. It seemed to stare at Inosuke, waiting for its response. Tanjiro froze, heart loudly beating in his chest, afraid to provoke the demon. Nose swollen from all the blood types, he couldn't smell this demon at all.
Inosuke blinked, then his face flared in anger. "You piece of shit!"
The blades slid across the demon's neck as if through air. Inosuke stared in confusion, the swords at the right side of the demon's unharmed neck.
"What the..."
"Inosukeee!" Zenitsu shrieked, running up to the edge of the table. Inosuke dropped his gaze down on his stomach: the demon's hand was there. Inosuke blinked again, not sensing it.
And then, for a split second, he felt the cold flesh, the nails slightly scratching his shirt. The second later, it was as if he was hit by an oncoming beam of wood: he flew right across the table, crashing straight into Zenitsu, and toppled on the floor.
Without moving, the demon's head rotated, right at Tanjiro. Sword damp in his hand, Tanjiro stared at the demon. A hologram, the thought quickly passed in his mind. No, not quite. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been able to strike Inosuke...
The demon slowly outstretched his right arm, palm upwards. Even though his features were invisible, it seemed that he was still looking at Tanjiro.
Suddenly, a thin black string shot off its wrist and right into one of the employee's chest. The people dodged away from him, and the man froze in terror. Tanjiro automatically leaped forward and swung his sword across the string, but it remained intact.
Suddenly, the man screamed.
"Suzuki-kun!" Another employee rushed forward.
"Stand back!" Iikubo boomed. The man dropped on his knees, uncontrollably shaking, and Tanjiro crouched next to him.
"Suzuki-san? Suzuki-san?" He tried to look into his eyes, but the man only gripped him by the elbows. Large, veined bulges swelled on his skin, mouth wide open, as if suffocating, and saliva poured out.
"Suzuki-san!" With horror and belated understanding, Tanjiro felt the nails digging into his elbows sink with an unusual sharpness. This shouldn't be happening.
The pained panting became hoarse, almost growling. Blood-shot, bruised from the strain, eyes darted upwards at Tanjiro.
"A demon!" Someone shrieked. Still holding him by the shoulders, Tanjiro stared at the creature in the suit.
"Suzuki... san..."
"You idiot!" Inosuke scrambled off the ground, but almost immediately hunched over, entire body aching from the hit. "He's gonna eat you!"
The demon roared, fangs flashing, and Tanjiro flexed his arms, prepared to block the blow. His mind was blank.
Abruptly, the roar broke off into a wail. The grip weakened on the demon slayer's elbows. The demon contorted from pain, sipping and coughing on his own saliva, and frantically squirmed. His skin grayed, and Tanjiro felt how the shoulders crumbled under his fingers.
The sunlight.
An inhuman howl echoed in the room, mixing with the flowing blood and the steam. Features distorted, arms still in a bent, slightly outstretched position, Tanjiro stared right in front of him, where Suzuki's face was. The skyscrapers glimmered outside the window. A pile of ash lay at his knees, bits still floating in the air.
"You asshole!" Inosuke bellowed and, ignoring the broken rib, leaped on the table. Immediately, several strings swiveled out of the outstretched wrist and pierced Iikubo.
"Iikubo-shachou!" Yoshida, eyes wide from horror, stepped towards him. A string dashed out and posed in front of the man's eyes, instantly stopping him in his tracks.
"Close the windows."
The voice was deep, words fully enunciated. Yoshida, sweat heading on his forehead, stared as if hypnotized on the sharp tip of the string floating before him.
"And then you'll turn me into a demon?" Iikubo's own voice was clear and calm. In spite of the string waving in his chest, he was looking directly at the demon. "So that I'll hunt down my own employees?"
The people cautiously wedged away from the director, trembling and trying to catch the moment of the transformation. The demon was silent for a moment. Then, everyone felt an unnatural shiver, as if the demon passed its eyes over them.
"If you leave the windows open, this man will die. Humans... do you want him to die?"
The employees exchanged uncertain glances, unable to move from their spots. Inosuke, muttering a curse under his breath, raced headfirst at the demon, but simply ran right through, like through thin air. Unable to stop, he crashed off the table, painfully hitting against the ground. The demon didn't seem to notice.
"I'm waiting."
"Don't let yourself be convinced by it," Iikubo loudly said. Several pairs of eyes nervously glanced at him. "If you close the windows, you all will be endangered. Stay where you are and don't panic."
The black figure silently examined the director.
"Very well."
The strings suddenly became taut and violently jerked the director into the air.
"Shachou!"
Instantly broken from the paralysis, the people dashed towards him.
"Get awa—" the infuriated voice broke off into a cough. The people froze.
Plastered in the middle of the window, the director's body badly convulsed. His hands twitched, before clawing up to the swelling neck. Blood diluted with saliva streamed down his chin as he suffocated. Slowly, his teeth sharpened into fangs.
There was a sizzling sound. The president's face horridly coiled, and an unnatural, thin shrill slipped off his lips.
Suddenly, the fangs reverted back into teeth. The matted eyes dully blinked, but then the brain registered the crumbling arm
The director screamed.
It was long and mangled, strangling over the blood. One of the employees abruptly turned around, pressing his ears with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. Another one slowly drooped on the floor, unable to hold the shaking in his knees.
The teeth sharpened once more, the rasping becoming more demonic. That bastard, Zenitsu frantically thought, fingers helplessly flexing against the hilt, not knowing what to do. He's switching the director between demon and human, half-baking him in the process. His eyes hastily darted around the room, trying to find something.
On the opposite side, Inosuke banged at his watch, trying to get a connection. The screen was black. Shit. The demon slayer looked over the table, glaring in hatred at the dark figure. How do you kill a demon who doesn't hit the bucket when touched by sunlight or chop-headed? His fingers clenched into a fist. He detested this uselessness.
On his knees, Tanjiro stared at the pile of ash. His ears were bleeding from the screams, but he forced himself to think. His eyes absently traveled to the edge of the window, the red rivulets streaming upwards from the creaks.
If he broke the window and allowed the director to fall, the string, whatever it was, would most likely continue - Tanjiro was certain of that. The amount of sunlight outside was the same as it was right now. So, that option was cut.
His gaze flickered upwards, at the distorted body on the window. The screams transitioned into wails, dragged out and convulsed. The president was now half demon, half-human.
The people were quivering, eyes locked on their director. Inside, Tanjiro winced. The demon was manipulating their empathy and blinding fear. Watching anyone slowly tortured - no normal creature would hold long.
"Let's close the windows," someone quietly muttered. The whisper wavered, the lips moving automatically from horror.
"Close the windows, everyone."
It was dead silent in the room. Someone on wooden legs stiffly walked across the room towards the remote.
Tanjiro glanced over his shoulder. Even though he couldn't see its features, he sensed that the demon was tensely watching the employee, anticipating its actions. The demon slayer's throat clenched, nausea rising to his mouth, simultaneous with the panic ringing in his head. What in the world did it want?
The sweaty, numb thumb pressed the button on the remote.
Think, Tanjiro. Beyond the obvious, what will happen if the president turns into a demon?
With a short hum, the shades slowly rolled down. Tanjiro's eyes became large from realization.
The strings relaxed, and the president fell down on the ground like a doll.
"Shachou!" Broken from the daze, Yoshida ran up to the man.
"No!" Zenitsu yelled, but he was too late. The president, face absolutely demonic, pounced from his place, claws outstretched towards Yoshida.
Tanjiro jumped on top of him, pinning the man's arms behind his back and pressing his head into the rug with his foot.
"You want me to decapitate him, right?" His voice loudly resonated across the room, overshadowing the seething blood and the alarm's sirens. Tanjiro's face was terrifying, warped with anger. "That's what you want, right?!"
The demon lowered his arm. The strings slowly creeped back into his wrist.
"Are you telling me that you plan to hold him back forever? Don't make me laugh."
A long silence hung over the room. The employees gazed in horror at the demon, features melting between those of Iikubo and a monster.
"I'll hold him down no matter how long," Tanjiro sharply retorted, pressing the hands deeper into the back next to the shoulder blades. The demon snarled, yellow eye rotating to glare in fury at the demon slayer.
"Until other units arrive? They'll kill him or send him to the Final Selection. Both fates are the same. Or do you plan to wait until I leave? I won't until you do what you must. Moreover," The strings penetrated several employees' necks. One of them backed away in terror, tripping over the chair and falling to the ground. Another screamed, scratching at his neck, trying to get him off.
"There will be victims if you wait."
Tanjiro gritted his teeth, sweat falling on his eyes and rage taking over his limbs. The demon cornered them. No one dared open the windows, afraid of defying the demon, while Iikubo-san was becoming stronger - no doubt the demon's work - under him. The swollen arms twisted in Tanjiro's grasp, and the young demon slayer bit his tongue to make himself think clearly.
He didn't want to do this. He didn't.
Tanjiro's eyes traveled upwards at the black strings trembling across the room, connected to people's throats. The demon growled underneath him, neck twisting in the well-ironed collar.
In a trance, Tanjiro stepped off the demon and released his arms. It instantly swiveled around, roaring and leaping at the demon slayer. The blade noiselessly laced through the air. Burning regret and frustration crashing inside of him, Tanjiro blankly watched how Iikubo-san's head slowly detaches from the neck and softly drops on the rug. It instantly spilled into ash, the body gradually fading with it.
The alarm went off, the room falling into darkness, bright light shimmering from the slits in the window shades. Tanjiro slowly straightened up and looked at the empty table, the monitors dully blinking next to the empty papers.
"Attention, attention. Threat status: clear. Attention, attention. Threat status: clear."
The streams of blood were slowly receding, rusty steins remaining on the walls. The people were motionless, too numb to react. Ash swirled next to Tanjiro.
stiffly walked up to the employee with the remote and wordlessly took the device. With a quiet hum, the shades rolled up. Light silently slid across the room.
Outside, there was a hurried sound of footsteps. Squinting from the light, Tanjiro slowly lifted his head. He was gripping his sword.
"Iikubo-shachou? Yoshida-fuku shachou?" The door handle, locked minutes ago, easily gave in and a security guard along with a robot tumbled in. The guard's eyes anxiously scanned the room. After a short hesitation of collecting his strength, Miyamura stepped forward.
"There was an accident. We'll explain ourselves later. Please get the medical division here, along with the police." He looked at the demon slayers. It was visible that he had to force the words to come through.
"I apologize, but we will have to detain you," the managing director fumbled, finding the words, "for testimony. As you know, formalities."
Inosuke silently tilted his head, forehead wrinkling. Zenitsu frowned. Tanjiro's shoulders slightly tensed, but he nodded.
"I understand." His fingers gripped the hilt. It was what the demon had wanted.
A/N: The official beginning of all the arcs in the story! ;)
Thank you to everyone who's been reading and following this story. Your support truly means a lot. Feel free to leave feedback, and see you next update!