Back To Home
Nezuko Kamado was busy collecting charcoal near the edge of the forest, the gentle hum of the mountain wind accompanying her as she worked. The mountain, their home, was a serene, peaceful place, filled with the sounds of nature and the warmth of family. Tall, ancient trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and earth. This was home, nestled on the slopes of a mountain, where the Kamado family lived a quiet, simple life.
Back at the house, Kie Kamado was sitting by the window, sewing a blanket with careful, deliberate stitches. The fabric was soft and warm, a patchwork of old clothes and scraps, lovingly pieced together to create something new. The soft light of the afternoon sun streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow on her face as she hummed a gentle tune to herself.
Inside, Shigeru and Rokuta were playing together, their laughter echoing through the small, cozy house. Shigeru, the older of the two, was showing Rokuta how to fold a piece of paper into a crane, his small hands moving with surprising dexterity. Rokuta, his eyes wide with concentration, tried to mimic his brother's movements, his tongue sticking out in determination.
Outside, Takeo was resting under the shade of a tree, his eyes half-closed as he soaked in the tranquility of the afternoon. His mind drifted lazily, thinking about nothing in particular. Hanako was nearby, diligently doing the laundry, her hands moving rhythmically as she scrubbed the clothes against a wooden washboard. The sound of water splashing and the soft rustle of fabric filled the air as she worked.
Everything seemed perfectly ordinary—a typical day in the life of the Kamado family. But then, something changed. Nezuko, as she worked, heard voices approaching from the forest path. They were distant at first, just faint murmurs carried on the wind, but they grew louder as the speakers drew nearer.
"You better give me some quality food, Zanjiro!" a rough, demanding voice said, the tone full of impatience.
Another voice quickly followed, calmer but tinged with annoyance. "Have some respect, Inosuke. He is the Hokage!"
Nezuko froze in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. Those voices… they were familiar, but could it really be…? She turned her head toward the sound, her eyes widening as she spotted figures emerging from the forest.
"It's fine," another voice spoke, this one warm, reassuring, and unmistakably familiar.
Wait… Tanjiro?! Her heart leapt as she recognized the figure walking at the front. It was her big brother, Tanjiro, his usual calm expression on his face, but there was something different about him—an air of strength and wisdom that hadn't been there before as he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made him seem older, more mature. Beside him walked two boys, both of them looking somewhat out of place in the peaceful mountain setting.
The first boy, who had spoken so rudely, had wild, untamed hair that jutted out in every direction, like a beast's mane. His blue eyes were fierce, his gaze intense, and his body was covered in muscle, a testament to his physical strength. He wore a boar's head on top of his own, the sharp tusks giving him an even more feral appearance. This was Inosuke Hashibira, one of Tanjiro's comrades.
The other boy was a stark contrast to Inosuke. He had short, bright yellow hair that almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his eyes were a warm amber. His expression was nervous, his brow furrowed with worry as he looked around, clearly uncomfortable in this unfamiliar environment. This was Zenitsu Agatsuma, another of Tanjiro's comrades, known for his cowardice but also for his incredible speed and strength when pushed to the limit.
"Big Brother!" Nezuko cried out, dropping the bundle of charcoal she had been carrying. Her voice rang out with joy, cutting through the quiet of the mountain. Without a second thought, she sprinted toward Tanjiro, her heart pounding in her chest.
At the sound of her voice, Shigeru and Rokuta, who had been playing nearby, looked up. Their faces lit up with excitement, and they immediately followed Nezuko's lead, running as fast as their small legs could carry them.
"Big Brother! Big Brother!" they shouted in unison, their voices full of pure, unbridled happiness.
Tanjiro barely had time to react before Nezuko and the two boys crashed into him, wrapping their arms around him in a tight, joyful embrace. The force of their combined weight almost knocked him off his feet, but he quickly regained his balance, laughing as he hugged them back just as tightly.
"I've missed you all so much," Tanjiro said, his voice thick with emotion. He buried his face in Nezuko's hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of home. It had been so long—six months, to be exact—since he had last seen his family, and the relief of being back with them was almost overwhelming.
Kie, hearing the commotion outside, looked up from her sewing. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the voice. "Tanjiro…?" she whispered, hardly daring to believe it. She quickly set aside her sewing and rushed to the door, her heart pounding in her chest.
Hanako, who had been hanging up the laundry, also heard the shouts and hurried toward the house, her hands still wet and soapy. Takeo, hearing the excitement, snapped out of his relaxed state and quickly followed, his eyes wide with disbelief.
When Kie stepped outside and saw Tanjiro standing there, surrounded by his younger siblings, tears welled up in her eyes. "Tanjiro!" she called out, her voice filled with a mixture of joy and relief.
Tanjiro looked up at the sound of his mother's voice and saw Kie, Hanako, and Takeo hurrying toward him. His heart swelled with love as he opened his arms wide, welcoming them all into a big, warm group hug.
"It's been too long," Kie said, her voice trembling with emotion as she held Tanjiro close. "We were so worried about you."
"I'm sorry, Mom," Tanjiro said, his voice soft with regret. "I didn't mean to be away for so long. But I'm here now."
Hanako sniffled, trying to hold back her tears. "We're just glad you're home, big brother."
Takeo, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor, couldn't help but smile, his eyes betraying his own relief. "About time you came back. Things haven't been the same without you."
Tanjiro chuckled, ruffling Takeo's hair. "I missed you too, Takeo."
As the family reunion continued, Inosuke, who had been impatiently standing to the side, finally lost his patience. "Oi, Gonjiro! I'm hungry!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the heartwarming scene like a blade.
Everyone turned to look at him, stunned by his rudeness. Zenitsu, already on edge from being in such an unfamiliar environment, immediately panicked. "Shut up, Inosuke! We just arrived!" he snapped, his voice high-pitched with anxiety.
Kie, Hanako, and Takeo all turned to Tanjiro, their expressions confused and curious. Who were these boys? And why was one of them wearing a boar's head?
"Tanjiro, who are they?" Kie asked, her motherly instincts kicking in as she looked at Inosuke and Zenitsu with a mix of concern and curiosity.
Before Tanjiro could answer, Zenitsu, his nerves getting the better of him, blurted out, "He is our master!"
A collective gasp went up from the Kamado family. Kie's eyes widened in shock, and she took a step back, her hand covering her mouth. "Tanjiro! You own slaves?!"
Tanjiro's eyes went wide with horror as he quickly waved his hands in front of him, shaking his head frantically. "No, no, no! It's not like that at all!"
Inosuke, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, grinned wickedly from under his boar's head. "Yeah, Zanjiro's our boss! We do whatever he says, or else!" he declared, flexing his muscles in an exaggerated manner.
Zenitsu, realizing what he had just said, turned pale and started to stammer. "N-no, wait! That's not what I meant! Tanjiro doesn't own us! We're just—"
"We're his servants!" Inosuke interrupted, clearly enjoying the chaos he was causing.
"No! We're not!" Zenitsu wailed, his voice cracking as he waved his arms in a panic.
Kie looked like she was about to faint, her mind racing as she tried to process what she was hearing. Hanako and Takeo stared at Tanjiro, their expressions a mix of disbelief and confusion.
Tanjiro, seeing the situation spiraling out of control, finally managed to get a word in. "They're not my slaves or servants!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. "They're my comrades—my friends! We work together in the capital!"
The Kamado family stared at him in stunned.
"A-alright, everyone," Kei said, regaining her composure. "You had a long journey, come inside and—"
"I want food, old lady!"
"—you must behave if you want to eat some delicious food." Kei finished.
Û~Û
The sun had just dipped behind the mountains, casting a warm, golden glow over the Kamado family's home. The air was filled with the scent of fresh pine and the distant sound of rustling leaves. Inside the cozy wooden house, the Kamado family gathered around the low wooden table, the crackling fire casting flickering shadows on the walls.
Tanjiro sat cross-legged at the head of the table, a gentle smile on his face as his family surrounded him. Nezuko and Hanako sat on either side of him, their eyes sparkling with excitement. Shigeru and Rokuta, the youngest of the Kamado siblings, clung to his arms, their small faces beaming with joy. Kie, their mother, stood nearby with a look of warm contentment, while Takeo leaned against the wall, trying to act indifferent but unable to hide his curiosity.
With a broad grin, Tanjiro reached into his travel bag and began to pull out the gifts he had brought from the capital. First, he retrieved a small bundle wrapped in delicate cloth. As he unfolded it, the room filled with the scent of fresh paper and ink. "I brought some new books for you all," Tanjiro announced, handing the neatly bound volumes to Nezuko and Hanako. "I thought you might like to read some new stories while I'm away."
Nezuko's eyes widened as she took the books in her hands, the smooth, cool covers feeling foreign but exciting. "Thank you, Onii-chan!" she said, hugging the books close to her chest. Hanako, less restrained, squealed with delight and immediately began flipping through the pages, her mind already lost in the world of stories.
Next, Tanjiro pulled out several carefully folded kimonos and yukatas, their colors vibrant and patterns intricate. He passed them to his mother, who gasped softly at the sight of the finely made garments. "I thought you might like these," he said with a shy smile. "They're for special occasions, or whenever you feel like wearing something nice."
Kie's eyes softened as she ran her fingers over the delicate fabric, admiring the craftsmanship. "These are beautiful, Tanjiro. Thank you, my son." She leaned down and kissed his forehead, her heart swelling with pride.
He then pulled out a small, polished wooden flute and handed it to Takeo, who had been watching with poorly concealed excitement. The boy's eyes lit up as he took the flute, turning it over in his hands. "For me?" Takeo asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and joy.
"Yep, just for you," Tanjiro replied, ruffling Takeo's hair. "I thought you might want to learn how to play it. You've always liked music."
Takeo grinned, immediately placing the flute to his lips and blowing a tentative note. It came out shrill and unsteady, but the sound was enough to make him burst into laughter. "Thanks, Onii-san! I'll learn to play it well, I promise!"
Tanjiro chuckled and turned his attention to Rokuta, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly unable to contain his anticipation any longer. Tanjiro reached back into his bag and pulled out a small collection of wooden toys—tiny animals carved with exquisite detail. Rokuta gasped, his hands flying to his mouth. "For me?"
"For you, little man," Tanjiro said, handing him the toys. Rokuta's eyes sparkled as he carefully took each piece, holding them as if they were the most precious treasures in the world.
Rokuta giggled with delight, immediately arranging the animals in a line on the table. "Look, Shigeru! They're so cute!"
Shigeru, trying to maintain his cool older-brother image, nodded appreciatively but couldn't help leaning in closer to get a better look. "They're really nice," he agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Tanjiro wasn't done yet. He reached into the bag one last time and pulled out a small sack of sweets, dry foods, and a carefully wrapped bundle of money. He handed the money to Kie with a quiet, "For the family, Mother. To make things a bit easier."
Kie's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took the money. "You've grown so much, Tanjiro," she said softly. "You're so thoughtful. We're so proud of you."
Tanjiro gave a modest smile, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "I just want to help. You've all done so much for me."
He then passed the sack of sweets around, making sure each of his siblings got a fair share. Shigeru and Rokuta immediately tore into the treats, their faces lighting up with every bite. Nezuko and Hanako ate more slowly, savoring the rare treat.
As they all enjoyed the moment, Inosuke, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly piped up, "Hey, I want more food!" His loud voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere, and all eyes turned to him. He was already shoving sweets into his mouth with both hands, crumbs falling everywhere.
Zenitsu, who had been stealing glances at Nezuko and Hanako the entire time, gave Inosuke a glare. "Will you calm down, Inosuke? We're guests here!"
Tanjiro couldn't help but notice Zenitsu's wandering eyes and sighed deeply. He leaned in close to Zenitsu, his expression turning serious. "Listen, Zenitsu," he whispered in a tone that was both gentle and firm, "you better treat Nezuko and Hanako like your sisters, alright? No funny business."
Zenitsu immediately turned pale, his eyes wide with panic. "Y-yes, Tanjiro! I-I mean, Onii-san! Of course, Onii-san!" He straightened up, trying to act more respectable, though his nervousness was evident.
Nezuko, unaware of the exchange, noticed Zenitsu's sudden change in demeanor and tilted her head curiously. "Zenitsu, do you need more rice?"
Zenitsu, trying to regain his composure, nodded quickly. "Y-yes, Nezuko-cha—ow! I mean, Onee-sama!" His voice cracked as he corrected himself, glancing nervously at Tanjiro, who merely gave him a warning look.
Nezuko frowned slightly but went ahead and gave him more rice, though she couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was going on.
"Oi, more on my plate!" Inosuke shouted, already halfway through his portion.
Kie turned to Tanjiro, concern in her eyes. "How is your new job going, Tanjiro?" she asked, her voice gentle but probing. She had noticed how much her son had grown in these past few months, and she couldn't help but worry about him.
Tanjiro froze, choking slightly on his food. He hadn't told his family the full truth about his work as a demon slayer. They believed he was just in the military, serving his country. He wasn't sure how they would react to the truth.
"Uh… great, dattebayo," Tanjiro nodded furiously, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm now a…uh… Hokage."
"Hokage?" Kie raised an eyebrow, her tone slightly skeptical. "I thought that was only in the Shinobi world."
Before Tanjiro could answer, Zenitsu spoke up, ever eager to impress. "He is basically our General, ma'am," he explained, his voice filled with admiration. "Any big mission or something, he's the one we look to."
Takeo's eyes went wide with admiration. "Onii-san is so cool!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with pride. Shigeru nodded sagely, trying to act like he wasn't completely starstruck by his older brother.
Tanjiro smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, it's just a job," he said modestly, though the warmth in his heart was undeniable. Being home, surrounded by his family, made all the hardships he faced out in the world worth it. This was what he fought for, what he would always protect.
The night wore on, filled with laughter and stories, and as the moon rose high above the Kamado household, the family felt closer than ever. They didn't need to know all the details of Tanjiro's life as a demon slayer. What mattered was that he was home, safe, and with them. And that was enough.
Û~Û
The eerie stillness of the Infinity Castle was disturbed only by the occasional creak of shifting walls, the sound echoing off the stone like the whisper of a ghost. It was a place where light fought a losing battle against shadow, where the air itself seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, thick and oppressive. It was a labyrinth, ever-changing, ever-twisting, designed to confuse and disorient, to trap anyone who dared to enter within its cold, unyielding embrace.
In one of the castle's countless rooms, a group of demons—members of the Twelve Kizuki—had gathered, their voices echoing in the cavernous space. They were the Lower Moons, the weakest of Muzan Kibutsuji's chosen, and their presence in this cursed place was anything but voluntary. They sat in a loose circle, their expressions ranging from nervous to arrogant, as they hurled insults and jibes at one another, trying to mask their fear with bravado.
"Lower Moon Four, you really think you're better than the rest of us?" sneered Lower Moon Six, his sharp, needle-like teeth glinting in the dim light. "You're just as worthless as Five was. And look where that got him—dead and forgotten."
Lower Moon Four snarled in response, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You'd better watch your mouth, Six. We're all in the same sinking boat. It's only a matter of time before Master decides we're not worth the trouble."
The others muttered in agreement, their earlier mockery fading as the reality of their situation sank in. The death of Lower Moon Five had shaken them all. It wasn't just the loss of one of their own; it was a reminder that they were expendable, that their lives were worth nothing in the eyes of their master. Each of them had felt the icy grip of fear tighten around their hearts when they'd heard the news. And now, summoned to the Infinity Castle, they knew that something even worse was coming.
Suddenly, the oppressive silence of the castle was broken by a faint, almost imperceptible sound—the soft rustle of fabric, like the whisper of a ghost. The demons fell silent, their mocking grins fading as they turned their attention to the source of the sound. There, standing on a platform above them, was a figure draped in elegant, aristocratic robes, her delicate hands folded gracefully in front of her. She was a vision of beauty, her features flawless, her long, dark hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink.
For a moment, the demons simply stared, their minds struggling to comprehend what they were seeing. The woman stood perfectly still, her eyes fixed on them with a cold, unreadable expression. But there was something off, something that made their skin crawl, something that told them this was no ordinary woman.
"Who are you, beauty?" one of the Lower Moons finally asked, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to mask his fear with a cocky grin.
The woman's lips curled into a smile—a smile that didn't reach her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was not the soft, melodic tone they expected, but a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down their spines. It was the voice of their nightmares, the voice of their master.
"You insects have never been useful to me," she said, her words dripping with disdain.
The demons froze, their blood running cold as the truth hit them like a sledgehammer. This was no woman. This was Muzan Kibutsuji, the King of Demons, the being who held their lives in the palm of his hand. They had been summoned to the Infinity Castle not for praise or reward, but for judgment.
"Milord?!" they gasped in unison, their voices breaking as they scrambled to their knees, their bodies trembling uncontrollably. The bravado that had filled the room moments before had evaporated, leaving only raw, primal fear.
Muzan's expression was one of cold, detached disgust as he looked down at them, his eyes glowing with a malevolent light. He regarded them as one might regard a particularly loathsome insect—something to be crushed without a second thought. His fingers, long and slender, began to stretch and elongate, twisting into something grotesque, something unnatural. The sight was horrifying, like watching a nightmare come to life.
Without warning, Muzan's hand shot out, his fingers extending with impossible speed to wrap around the throat of Lower Moon Four. The demon barely had time to scream before Muzan's grip tightened, the sickening crunch of bones breaking echoing through the chamber. Lower Moon Four's body convulsed violently, his eyes bulging as he clawed desperately at Muzan's hand, but it was no use. Muzan's expression didn't change; he showed no more emotion than if he were swatting a fly.
"Your existence is a stain on my name," Muzan hissed, his voice low and venomous. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the demon's neck, the lifeless body falling to the floor with a dull thud.
The other Lower Moons recoiled in horror, their eyes wide with terror as they realized they were next. Lower Moon Six, who had been so quick to mock her comrade, let out a strangled cry and tried to scramble away, but Muzan was faster. His fingers shot out again, piercing through her chest with terrifying ease. She screamed, her body writhing in agony as Muzan's hand closed around her heart, squeezing until it burst in a shower of blood.
The other demons could only watch in paralyzed horror as Muzan moved from one to the next, each death more brutal than the last. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, but there was a terrifying precision to them, a cold efficiency that spoke of countless years of practice. There was no hesitation, no mercy—only the relentless destruction of those who had failed him.
One of the Lower Moons, driven by sheer, mindless panic, turned and fled, his feet pounding against the stone floor as he desperately sought an escape. He darted down a corridor, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he glanced frantically over his shoulder, but the walls of the Infinity Castle were alive, shifting and twisting around him. The path ahead turned and coiled like a snake, leading him in circles, until finally, breathless and exhausted, he found himself back where he had started—right in front of Muzan.
"No… no… please…," the demon whimpered, his voice choked with despair as he fell to his knees, his body shaking uncontrollably.
Muzan looked down at him with cold, pitiless amusement. "You cannot escape me," he said softly, his voice a deadly whisper that sent a shiver of terror through the demon's soul. "You never could."
With a flick of his wrist, Muzan's hand shot out, his fingers piercing through the demon's skull with a sickening squelch. The demon's eyes rolled back into his head as his body convulsed violently, his life snuffed out in an instant. Muzan let the corpse drop to the ground with a dull thud, his eyes already searching for his next victim.
But there were no more. The room, once filled with the mocking laughter of the Lower Moons, was now silent, save for the soft dripping of blood pooling on the cold stone floor. Only one demon remained, Lower Moon One—the weakest of the Twelve Kizuki, and now the last of the Lower Moons.
Lower Moon One trembled uncontrollably as Muzan's gaze fell upon him, his red eyes glowing with a cold, malevolent light. The demon tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, his body paralyzed with fear. Muzan moved toward him with deliberate slowness, each step echoing ominously in the vast, empty chamber.
Muzan's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the demon's throat and lifting him off the ground as though he weighed nothing. The demon gasped, his hands clawing desperately at Muzan's arm, but it was like trying to bend steel. He was utterly powerless.
"Please… Milord…," the demon choked out, his voice a pitiful whimper. "Please, spare me… I… I can be of use to you… I swear…"
Muzan's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing and cold. "And why should I waste my time on a worthless insect like you?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Because… because you are the greatest… the most powerful being in existence…," the demon babbled, his words coming out in a frantic rush. "You are perfection itself, Milord… unmatched in wisdom, strength, and beauty… Your power is infinite… your will, absolute…"
The flattery was thick, almost nauseating in its desperation, but the demon didn't care. He was fighting for his life, and he would say anything to save himself.
Muzan's eyes flickered with a hint of something—amusement, perhaps?—as he listened to the demon's pathetic attempts at praise. "You think your words can save you?" he asked softly, his grip tightening around the demon's throat.
The demon's eyes widened with terror, but he forced himself to keep talking. "I… I can prove myself, Milord… Just give me a chance… one chance… I can do it…"
Then, slowly, Muzan loosened his grip, allowing the demon to gasp for air, though the hand that held him aloft never fully released its iron hold. The demon, now hanging limply in Muzan's grasp, dared to hope. His breath came in ragged, desperate gulps, his chest heaving as he clung to the faint thread of life Muzan had granted him.
Muzan's eyes narrowed to slits, cold and calculating. His voice, when it came, was low and filled with a menace that sent chills down the demon's spine. "You think you can prove yourself worthy of my blood?" he asked, his tone both mocking and lethal.
The demon, still trembling, nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Milord… I swear it… I'll do anything… anything to serve you…"
For a moment, Muzan was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, his free hand shot forward, his index finger extending into a long, blackened claw that pierced the demon's chest with sickening ease. The demon's eyes bulged in shock, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as he felt the claw burrow deep into his flesh, sending waves of searing pain through his body.
Muzan's gaze never wavered, his eyes fixed on the demon's face as he pushed his claw deeper, until it reached the demon's heart. The demon's body convulsed, his mind reeling in agony, but he didn't dare scream. The only sound that escaped his lips was a pitiful whimper, a desperate plea for mercy that he knew would never come.
"Let this be your final test," Muzan whispered, his voice cold as death. With a sharp twist of his hand, he released a torrent of his own blood into the demon's body, the dark crimson liquid flooding his veins like molten fire. The demon's body seized, his muscles locking up as the power coursed through him, filling him with an intensity that was both exhilarating and unbearable.
The pain was unlike anything the demon had ever experienced—every nerve in his body felt as if it were being burned alive, every cell exploding with raw, uncontrollable energy. His vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the sudden influx of power. It was a feeling of being torn apart and remade at the same time, a transformation so intense that it left him teetering on the brink of madness.
Muzan's grip on the demon's throat tightened once more, holding him steady as the transformation took hold. The demon's eyes rolled back into his head, his body convulsing violently as Muzan's blood rewrote his very being, reshaping him into something stronger, something more powerful—but also something more twisted and corrupt.
After what felt like an eternity, the pain began to subside, leaving the demon gasping for breath, his body slick with sweat. He could feel the change within him, the new strength that thrummed through his veins, the dark, terrible power that had been granted to him by his master. But with that power came an overwhelming sense of dread, a knowledge that he was now bound to Muzan in a way he could never escape.
Muzan slowly lowered the demon to the ground, releasing his grip on his throat. The demon fell to his knees, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the transformation, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. He looked up at Muzan, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear, awe, and something that bordered on worship.
"Kill one Hashira," Muzan commanded, his voice as cold and unyielding as the stone walls of the Infinity Castle. "Prove to me that you are worthy of the power I have given you. Then, and only then, will you be granted the rank of Upper Moon."
The demon's breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat as he realized the gravity of the task before him. A Hashira—one of the Demon Slayer Corps' most elite warriors. It was a mission that bordered on suicide, a challenge that would push him to the very limits of his newfound power.
But there was no room for hesitation, no time for doubt. This was his one chance, his only path to survival and glory.
He lowered his head, bowing deeply before Muzan, his voice trembling with both fear and determination. "Y-yes… Milord," he stammered, the words barely more than a whisper. He could feel the weight of Muzan's gaze on him, a pressure that threatened to crush him if he failed.
With a final, trembling breath, the demon forced himself to rise to his feet, his body still weak and shaky from the transformation. He knew that his journey was just beginning, that the true test of his strength and loyalty lay ahead. But for now, he had been spared—given a chance to prove himself, to ascend to a rank that he had never dared to dream of before.
TBC
Author Note: Hope you loved it. Consider dropping your thoughts in the review section. See you in the next chapter
