Legs stretched out, Tanjiro sat on the floor of his new, unitary cell. His eyes bore into the thick glass a meter away, separating him from the outside.
The breathing sipped through his nostrils. Forcing his lungs to keep an even pace, Tanjiro silently counted the minutes until he was summoned. He had no idea where Inosuke and Zenitsu were, he was tired and nervous and at the brink of snapping, but he had to press on for Nezuko. Eyes fixed on the glass doors, the demon slayer dug his upper molars into the lower ones.
Even though he didn't say that to Muichiro, he didn't want to humiliate the Corps.
A bulb in the corner of his room lit up. Tanjiro glanced up. Concentration and attention melted between each other on his face, ruggedly illuminated by the neon green of the light.
"Kamado-san," a disembodied voice echoed. "You are to proceed to the Room."
The glass doors slid open noisessly. Tanjiro eyed the unlocked entrance. A sliver of fear curled inside his stomach.
Despite almost hypnotizing himself to control his terror, it still managed to seep in. Tanjiro clenched his fists. Get. Yourself. Together.
Carefully, the demon slayer stood up and made his way towards the entrance. Peeking out, he saw green lights shimmering on the floor and forming a runway stretching across the hallway.
"Follow the indicator lights." There was a pause. "Do not step out of the path borders. You will be executed on the spot."
A shiver ran down Tanjiro's spine. Relax, he mentally ordered himself. Just don't do anything stupid. Slowly, Tanjiro crossed the entrance, and the white socks squished against the floor, neither too cold nor too warm.
Thousands and thousands of prison cells spiraled around the tower in the center of the circular building. Walking forward on numb legs, Tanjiro gazed at it in awe. He could feel its curious look on him, following him with invisible eyes. Defiance and disturbance rose inside his throat.
The lights trailed to one of the staircases traversing the entirety of the building. It was nailed somewhere at the ceiling and stretched across all the floor levels. Carefully, Tanjiro grasped it and hoisted himself off the platform and onto the steps. His back turned to the tower. Getting a good grip on the stairs, Tanjiro glanced up.
He nearly fell off.
A monstrous face was plastered to the glass. The mouth was wide open, lips squashed. Stains from dried up saliva were scattered in abrupt spots across the surface. The eyes bulged, bags from exhaustion and lack of sleep hanging under the lids.
Tanjiro froze, unable to look away from the inmate. That latter breathed, and the glass muddied. The diluted irises looked somewhere past the demon slayer.
Watching the man's reaction, Tanjiro slowly took one step down. The inmate didn't budge. Tanjiro swallowed, grip easily rotating on the bars from the sweat, and, without looking, found the step below with the flat of his foot. The inmate remained motionless as the demon slayer disappeared from his view.
Many convicts were similar. It seemed that they had seen so many prisoners pass down the staircase in front of their cells that they didn't care anymore. They sulked inside, not even noticing the young demon slayer reflecting in the glass. Others were also calm, but eyed the young man, like quiet, rabid dogs watching rare pedestrians in the alleys. The last were violent. When sighting the descending convict, they banged and kicked the glass, shouting something Tanjiro couldn't hear.
He felt nauseous and pitiful at the same time. His face was cold, though.
His socks landed softly on the platform. Releasing the bars, Tanjiro turned around.
Several meters away, the tower loomed above him. The green lights blinked steadily in its dark shadow.
His quiet inhale was matted by the heavy air. Tanjiro walked firmly down the path. He already saw the faint outlines of some sort of doorway on the smooth base of the tower. When he was about half a meter away, the doors slid open, revealing an elevator cabin.
Tanjiro paused. Be on guard. The doors automatically closed when he walked in, but he didn't feel the elevator move at all. The unnatural sense of fear slowly increased.
The doors swooshed open without any warning, and the demon slayer instinctively brought his hands up to his eyes.
It was absolutely white. If his sense of smell didn't tell him otherwise, Tanjiro would've thought that it was pure, white space, infinitely stretching in all directions.
"Come inside, Kamado-san."
Eying the strange place, Tanjiro warily lowered his foot. A firm floor was palpable under his soles.
Tanjiro took another step, and the doors slid shut. The demon slayer glanced over his shoulder. With growing suspicion and horror, he realized that he couldn't see the outline of the elevator. It was just white.
"Over here, Kamado-san."
Tanjiro turned around and stilled.
It was made of platinum steel, metal plates smoothly wrapping around the limbs. One eye was human. The other was cibernetic. It constantly flickered, monitoring the thousands of cells in the building. A blend of emotion and nothingness lingered in them, the head slightly tilted while examining Tanjiro.
"Welcome to your first appearance." The voice was neutral. Tanjiro narrowed his eyes. Unlike other cyborgs, this one didn't seem to have a clear personality, as if even its brain was artificial. But because one of the gazes was so clearly human - it disturbed him. There was a dissonance.
The demon slayer wordlessly bowed. His eyes bore into the floor, and a white well stretched below. His head got dizzy, and Tanjiro cautiously straightened out. A smile
formed on unnatural lips.
"I am your Court."
Tanjiro's eyebrows stitched together as he deciphered the words. His brain answered with emptiness, but he had to say something.
"Is this recorded?" Tanjiro regretted it the moment his mouth closed. If this was recorded, he plunged his already negative image even deeper. The Court shrugged its shoulders.
"Yes. However, it won't aid you in retaining information."
Shit. Tanjiro felt a heat wave pass up and down through him, but he sharply inhaled, getting himself under control. Even if millions of people were listening to him, he should simply focus on answering the questions. He wasn't skilled enough to sway public opinion anyway.
"I didn't plan on retaining information," he firmly replied. Several lenses within the cybernetic eye readjusted, focusing on the human in front of it.
"I shall determine that throughout the course of the trial. Not this one, however," the Court paused. Its eyes lowered on the young man's wrists, free of any form of restraints. Tanjiro stiffened. He wasn't sure if the move was part of the procedure or a psychological trick to see if he'll attack.
Even if he did attack, his chances were close to none next to this unpredictable creature.
The Court's gaze rose back up. Without a preamble, it spread its arms. Not a single shadow fell on the white floor.
"Kamado Tanjiro, you are in my Room. You have simultaneously all rights and none at all. I will listen to everything, but I will speak only to you." The cyborg paused for a moment, and a thousand emotions flickered on the metallic face: consideration, curiosity, weariness, empathy, indifference, resignation, understanding and sadism. "Understood?"
"Yes." Tanjiro's throat was dry.
"Very well. This is your first appearance. I will announce the charges held against you and decide whether or not to accept bail. Consider this just an… introduction. To each other."
Tanjiro stilled, concentration gathering on his face. The Court stared without blinking at the young man. A feeling of competition suddenly shot through the air again, as it was a test of mutual endurance.
"You were charged of first-degree murder of Iikubo Akifumi." It didn't attach any titles to the deceased. "Do you deny that you decapitated the individual?"
"No." Tanjiro forced himself not to think about the millions of people listening and watching his response.
The cyborg lowered its arms and was quiet for a moment, regarding the demon slayer's face.
"No bail, then," It suddenly said. The elevator doors slid open with a gentle ring.
"Dismissed."
Tanjiro silently bowed and turned around. He was unsure what to make of the Court's quick reaction. All the way he was walking, he felt the cyborg's measured gaze on his back. The elevator engulfed him like a pit, out of place in the blinding whiteness.
As the doors closed, Tanjiro saw the cyborg's unemotional eyes. At the moment the doors closed, the young man remembered the one detail he knew about Court from the bits and pieces of information he accumulated over the six years in the metropolis:
The Court always remembers your face.
Lifting the string beads at the entrance, Kyojuro walked into his restaurant. Hand tucked into the pocket, his coat swung over his elbow.
The interior was modern, but calm. The water rumbled quietly in the fountains, bamboo reaching from the ornate vases. An engraved dragon circled around its tail on the wall.
Several workers were relaxing next to the bar, talking easily amongst each other. Crossing the hallway, Kyojuro glimpsed at the TV. It was airing soccer.
So Mitsuri, even from the hospital, did order Pao to change the channels to avoid Tanjiro's preliminary hearing.
Kyojuro quickly ran down the stairs and pushed the doors to the kitchen. A wide smile automatically formed on his lips.
"Good afternoon, everyone!"
A young woman glanced over her shoulder and smiled back. She placed the ladle with which she was swirling the broth in a boiling pot on the spoon and turned around, folding the hands in root of her.
"Welcome back, Rengoku-daren."
"Good afternoon, Huifang." Still smiling, Kyojuro leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Where's everyone else?"
"Meixing is receiving the food. BeeRo-2 was here a second ago, he went to the storage for apricots."
"Seems that everything is churning smoothly," Kyojuro softly said to her. The natural wrinkles at the tips of her eyes increased as her smile deepened, and she only nodded. Kyojuro observed her for a moment, then stepped away from the counter and started down the kitchen.
"Tell Meixing and BeeRo-2 my regards."
Huifang bowed.
"Yes, Rengoku-daren."
Opening the door to the office, right at the end of the kitchen, Kyojuro glanced over his shoulder.
"And don't overwork, okay?"
He swore he could see a smirk race across her lips, but the woman quickly hid it.
Feeling uplifted, the hashira closed the door.
The office was dark. His smile immediately fell. Sighing, Kyojuro tossed his coat on the chair and switched on the lights. His eyes involuntarily fell on the desk next to his.
The stuffed bunny sat happily next to a neat stack of papers. A small makeup bag was tucked between the folders on the shelf rack. Kyojuro's gaze traveled to the floral calendar on the wall. The days were diligently marked off - up to five days ago.
Kyojuro wordlessly walked up to desk. Taking out a pen from his breast pocket, he carefully positioned his hand over the calendar. At the last moment, he noticed that the colors for the days alternated: pink, green, yellow.
Slipping the pen back in, Kyojuro opened the desk. The pink, green, and yellow markers were the first items there. The young man took them and neatly crossed out the blank days.
The stuffed bunny watched him with the plastic, button eyes.
Tucking the drawer back in, Kyojuro regarded the calendar before heavily sitting down in his chair. The screen on his computer switched on, piled with files that his crow sent him. The hashira turned around in his chair and, mentally preparing himself, sank into the information.
The cooks clankered outside. Various scents drifted into the office. They calmed him down. Kyojuro absently sorted through the datasets. For some reason, he couldn't focus. Thoughts about Mitsuri, the blood demon, and groceries distracted him.
"Get yourself together, Kyojuro," he said out loud, simultaneously pulling up the profile that the crows generated from Tomioka's recording. It wasn't much, only what the video gave them, but it was better than an empty slate.
An image of a cold face flashed on the screen. Kyojuro arched his eyebrow, examining the demon in curiosity. He was young, but that didn't mean anything.
The hashira glimpsed at the stats.
Height, 184 cm. Approximated weight 84 kg. Special features: wings. Bones seem unfixed as they can rotate on full axis and break away from the joint sockets. Metallic feathers. Utilized as projectiles.
Kyojuro eyed the information, before looking over at the video. He didn't feel awkward when he saw the demon betting both Mitsuri and Giyuu. Those feelings were amateur at the level they were at.
Moreover, he was glad that they scrambled out. The demon was unusually strong.
There was a quiet knock on the door. Kyojuro switched off the screen and turned around in his chair.
"Come on in."
Huifang opened the door. "Rengoku-daren, Iguro-daren came to see you."
"Iguro?" Kyojuro raised his eyebrows. He was surprised, but a gut feeling told him to keep his guard. He stood up, and Huifang shuffled to the side.
"I'll be right over."
Walking down the kitchen, he briefly waved to the robot and the other woman tinkering at the sink.
"Hello, Meixing, BeeRo-2."
"Hello, Rengoku-daren," Meixing bowed, placing down the dish she was washing. Juggling six frying pans in the spider-like arms, the robot pivoted its head around to look at the manager.
"Hello, Rengoku-san."
Kyojuro quickly ran up the stairs. He didn't even have to look to know where Obanai was. The hashira swiftly walked down two steps leading into the spacious, dark dining room. The tables were empty.
Obanai was sitting at the very last one. He was absently rotating a glass of water in his fingers, watching how the liquid swirls along the glass walls.
"You look terrible," Kyojuro noticed, moving out the chair and sitting down across the other hashira. He folded his hands in front of him on the table.
"Could've ordered some food to start with."
"I won't take long," Obanai shortly replied. His voice was tense. Kyojuro regarded him for a moment, then slightly leaned forward. His face became serious.
"I'm listening."
Obanai glanced at him, then leaned forward as well. His eyes stared straight into Kyojuro's.
"Let me take your case."
A slight crease formed on the flame hashira's forehead. Kyojuro shook his head. For some reason, he expected this to happen.
"I know what you feel right now, but rules are rules."
"I know the rules," Obanai retorted roughly. He placed the glass aside and folded his hands.
"And I mean no disrespect to Master. However, I must take this demon."
Kyojuro's fingers tightened on the knuckles.
"Mitsuri won't appreciate you dead."
"I'm not trying to get myself dead." A slight red formed on Obanai's cheekbones, but Kyojuro wasn't sure it was from embarrassment. More like growing anger.
"What are you proposing for me, then?" Kyojuro raised his voice. "That I sit back and do nothing?"
The other hashira's eyes drilled into him.
"Essentially."
That was blunt. Kyojuro frowned and reclined back on his chair. He crossed his arms.
"I can't agree to that."
"Why not?" Irritation lingered in Obanai's voice, but there was also desperation. Kyojuro smirked and looked at the large space of the dining room. The water in the fountains trickled down the stones.
"It's a rotten thing, Obanai."
Obanai lowered his eyes on his hands. They were gloved in leather, but the wrinkles revealed how hard he was clenching his fingers.
"I know, Kyojuro. That's why I'm asking as a friend. I would never do so as a colleague."
Kyojuro took his eyes off of the restaurant and looked back at the person sitting across. Obanai answered with a long gaze.
Kyojuro hesitated. He felt that he was being greedy, not wanting to give the case - even though he had a valid justification. He knew what feelings fueled Obanai. He wasn't sure if they would hinder or propel him.
"I won't give you the case completely," Kyojuro slowly said. Obanai's face didn't change, waiting for the other hashira to finish. "All I can do is link the data that the crows send me to your channel."
Obanai was silent for a moment, examining Kyojuro's face. Finally, the features underneath the mask relaxed somewhat.
"I guess that's as far as I can get." He began standing up. "Thank you."
Standing up with him, Kyojuro quickly gestured at the table. "You won't grab some food?"
"I have to go."
Kyojuro watched the hashira walk out from the restaurant, then slowly sat down. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. With one hand, he carefully massaged the eyelids.
He had an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth. He was sure Obanai, due to his resolve, would move forward quicker than him. It was a matter of getting to the demon beforehand. Kyojuro hated the prospect of letting Obanai chase the demon only to cut the corner and kill it before the snake hashira. Even the delayed thought that Obanai probably figured that was what the flame hashira thought didn't make it less ugly.
Kyojuro slowly opened his eyes. His vision took several seconds to refocus.
More than anything, the hashiras wanted to survive after Kubutsuji's defeat, even though realistically, more than two-thirds of them would probably not make it. That's why they were so rational.
Kyojuro was cautious of relationships. He had his family and was content with that. He did not know how to consider the two pairs within the corps.
Sighing, Kyojuro stood up. Maybe it was correct, though, forming a relationship with someone who has equal chances of getting killed instead of giving false hope to someone unaffiliated with the slayers. If he had someone close like that, he'd probably be no different. Besides, unlike the demons, they only lived once.
The beads tinkled when the hashira walked out.
Balancing on a pipe, Nezuko carefully handed over the box to the girl behind the window. As soon as the box appeared in the girl's hands, her cheeks funnily bounced upwards, lifted by the bright smile.
"Mama, mama, look at the present!"
The woman behind the girl smiled tiredly, but happily and placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders.
"What should you say to the delivery girl?"
The girl looked up and widely smiled, eyes completely covered by the rosy cheeks.
"Thank you so much!"
Holding to the straps of her box, Nezuko winked. The girl slipped behind her mother's skirt and ran deep into the apartment.
"Uncle, uncle, look what I got!"
Nezuko grinned through the muzzle, watching how the girl jumped on a young man lying on the couch and reading a book. The man laughed and, stretching his lanky arms, lifted the girl with her present into the air.
The woman silently took out several tokens and dropped it into the demon girl's outstretched palm.
"Thank you," she whispered briefly. Nezuko nodded and, straightening out, hid the tokens into her pocket. The woman closed the window, lowering the metal covering on the glass.
Turning around, Nezuko held tight to the straps and nimbly skipped down the pipes. Swiping through the panels of the magazine, Rubikku was leaning on the railing. When Nezuko landed next to him, he switched the hologram off and looked over at her.
"Done? Where to next?"
Nezuko showed him her watch, and he quickly read the address.
"Okay." Straightening out, he hoisted the baskets on his shoulders. As soon as he was ready, Nezuko ran forward.
The morning in the Lower Level was fresh and overcast. The steam puffed from the platform slits, and Nezuko eagerly jumped over it. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rubikku's dark figure in the steam. It wisped over his metallic shoulders.
Nezuko paused, watching him. He looked scary, just a little bit.
Rubikku stopped next to her and tilted his head.
"Something wrong?" He asked in confusion. Nezuko shook her head and, to reassure him, stepped on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The red eyes blinked.
"Nezuko?" His voice was genuinely embarrassed. He looked hilarious when caught off guard. Nezuko giggled and nuzzled into his shoulder. Simultaneously, she turned her wrist so that the watch's screen faced him.
You looked like a terrifying robot-executioner in the steam.
The red eyes widened, and Rubikku gave Nezuko a condescending look.
"Seriously?
Nezuko lifted her head and stitched her eyebrows together.
What? It's not my fault you were designed like that.
"Oh fine."
The metallic fingers carefully curled around her forearm and pulled the girl away.
"Stop getting distracted. We have one more location to get to."
Nezuko rolled her eyes and, swirling away, started forward. The robot shuffled next to her, obviously still recuperating from her attack. Eyeing him, Nezuko softly smirked and folded her hands behind her back. The watch flickered on her wrist.
You're too weird.
"Look who's talking," Rubikku snorted, walking behind her. The heavy cruisers slowly floated next to them, just an arm away. "You act crazy all the time."
I can't hear you, Nezuko merrily tossed. Skidding out to the flight, she ran up to the railing. Lowering her box on the ground, the demon girl craned her head backwards.
The traffic was moderate, scooters and flyers looping around the packed bridges and platforms. Several robots were bobbing at the corner of a large screen, tinkering with the electronics. It didn't stop the broadcast, though the image constantly flickered. It didn't have a sound.
Nezuko wordlessly turned her back to the billboard and rested her elbows on the edge. Rubikku lowered the basket next to her feet. His metal palm delicately relaxed on the railing.
Do you know when they'll release him? Rubikku glanced at the watch, reading the quick lines of text. Nezuko stared at the space in front of her.
"It could take weeks for the official trial."
Nezuko winced.
They're airing it everywhere. I don't like it.
"People enjoy demon slayers humiliating themselves." Rubikku sighed and bent his elbows, leaning forward. His hat slightly tipped on his head. He turned to look at Nezuko. "They're like secret agents in the shadows with never-ending exceptions and authorizations." He softly smirked. "Plus the hashiras with their abilities. Go figure why everyone is pissed."
Nezuko looked away, trying to get rid of the sour taste in her mouth. That's unfair to them.
Rubikku regarded her for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was funny but tinted with a quiet sadness.
"I can't get used to you taking the slayers' side."
Nezuko looked at him and softly smiled, the straps pulling at the tips of her lips. She lightly pinched the rim of his hat with her fingers.
Be careful, it's going to fall off.
The metal fingers overlapped with hers, taking the straw edge. Satisfied, Nezuko took away her fingers and leaned over the railing, her hair flying in the wind.
A cruiser slowly traveled by the flight, casting a shadow over both of them. The red blinks glimmered from the darkness.
The little robots finally ripped out the wires they were scouring for. The image flashed and disappeared, replaced by a white screen.
Rubikku sighed and straightened out. He hung Nezuko's box over his shoulder and took the basket in his hand.
"We should get going."
Nezuko nodded and started forward. Passing her fingers over the railing, she watched in curiosity how the culprit robots erratically peep at each other and scurry away before they could get caught. She found it funny, while Rubikku eyed them in clear displeasure.
"These pricks keep messing up the electric circuits. I can't wait for the cops to send them to trash compactors."
Nezuko giggled.
Rubbiku, that's mean. Besides, shouldn't you be all for your fellow robots?
Rubikku sighed.
"Probably."
A/N: Hiyaah y'all! ;)
Ok, so the jail that Tanjiro is stuck in is, as the chapter is called, a panopticon. A panopticon was a jail concept created by Jeremy Bentham where a guard watches all the prisoners from a watch tower in the center of the building, yet the prisoners don't know if they're being watched at X particular moment. So they cannot technically escape because they don't know if they're from the super unlucky type of being watched while escaping.
Anyway, no one uses the panopticon because the cells have to be very small for the construction to work, and as a result, the guard can't see the prisoners (or something like that).
BUT! Our guard here is a omnipotent, no-chill cyborg so the cyberpunk authorities were like: panopticon, then.
I really suggest searching it up. I think Tanjiro's navigation becomes much clearer; but to summarize, he's sitting on some n floor of the panopticon and had to descend down to the lowest floor and enter the tower.
Also, court hearings also have multiple trials before you actually get to the meat of everything. I'll probably only have this one and the official trial because I don't want to meddle too much in red tape, but as of now, Tanjiro is still stuck in jail waiting for his turn to be measured by the Court.
... I spent three paragraphs ranting about the panopticon when it was only a third of the chapter. Anyway, moving on to the quick preview! (because this chaps are wayy too long and plot-stacked for there not to be a preview.)
Quick preview: Shinobu, Sanemi, and Giyuu
(And of course, thank you so much for reading!)