Just beyond the wavering reach of torch and blaze, between the cliffs that shaped the path, the Hashira met. They stood side-by-side, eyes having adapted to the gloom. In the distance, they could make out the rough shape of the gate and the fortress walls that protected it.
"How far could you throw a powder barrel?" Iguro Obanai questioned. His arms hung at his side, seemingly lost in the wide sleeves of his striped haori.
"Do you want it at the gate or through it?" The response came from Mitsuri Kanroji, a smile teasing her tone and lips. Her white haori, like Obanai's, was still stained with dirt and ichor. Her hand lifted only to drop and rest against Obanai's bicep. A gesture that brought Obanai a rush of comfort he dared not show.
"Ssstrong," Kaburamaru admired from his perch atop Obanai's shoulders. The albino viper adored the Love Hashira, almost seeming to blush when her emerald eyes and pink cheeks focused on him.
Beneath the bandage mask covering Obanai's jaw, he allowed a faint smile. No one would have detected it, even if his features weren't hidden in shadow. Kaburamaru wasn't the only one who was moved by Mitsuri's indomitable spirit.
—-——
The Demon Slayer Corps encampment continued to fill with fouled air. The cold night breeze was tainted with smoke that rolled in thick clouds from burning tents. Ashes and sparks danced over the dirt, a flaming shred of cloth occasionally tearing away to float up and be lost among the stars. Worst was the constant reminder of death, the reek of blood from slain demons and fellow swordsmen.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki had lost three children when the camp had been ambushed.
Takashi Fujimoto had been stabbed by a rusted spear. Instead of retreating down the Sanzu River meant for the dead, Takashi remained in mortal hell. He gripped the spear that killed him so his friend, their bond formed when they joined the Demon Slayer Corps together, could destroy the demon free of danger.
Masaru Nagai was taken by surprise. Blood still pooled at her knees as she used a torch to cry out wordlessly to her compatriots about the danger they were all suddenly in. The demon she caught alight tried to desecrate her body but was denied.
Yasuko Watanbe rushed to the pass the demons poured from to slow their approach. One body fell after another at her feet. Any Slayer could be killed by a single bullet; Yasuko suffered three. Mitsuri saved six others from crueler fates during Yasuko's stand. The seven would struggle to shake the guilt.
The three lost had all been moved by friends and comrades to a corner of the camp and laid respectfully under sheets salvaged from around the bivouac. Obanai had personally helped move the fallen.
When Mitsuri offered to help, Obanai requested that she compose messages and send them out by Kasugai Crow. Her Kasugai Crow, Urara, would carry a message to the Butterfly Mansion with a request for assistance from the Kakushi (the aids and medics of the Demon Slayer Corps.) Obanai then volunteered several other Corps members' Kasugai Crows to send messages to the smaller lookout posts around the fort. The small teams were told to prepare for an assault with whatever they could cobble together to get over the walls.
Now, the Slayers gathered near the path's opening that led directly to the demon-manned fort. The conversations were sparse and conducted in whispers. Genya, who stood at least a head taller than the others, chose quiet contemplation. A few others followed his lead. The Corps members Sho and Yumi stood on either side of Genya. The two held three tanegashima apiece and stacked against some of the (mostly) intact boxes were a few more arquebus and barrels of gunpowder. The group adopted pure silence as the Hashira emerged back into the light.
Mixed eyes of turquoise and yellow worked over one face after the other, Obanai taking in the graven expressions hardened and half-concealed by sharp shadows. His poor vision took longer to adapt to the light than Mitsuri's. After a moment, he questioned the gathered, "Ready?"
Slayers nodded heads, and a few uttered, "Yeah."
It was time to strike back.
—-———————————
Obanai and seven other Corps members began a slow approach to the fortress. Initially, six other swordsmen were chosen to join, but the number became seven when Emiko demanded the right to accompany the Serpent Hashira. Emiko, saved by Obanai at the start of the attack, had a face streaked with blood and dirt. Emiko had swayed the argument by declaring that as the seventh lower rank, they'd be the luckiest, and going with only six swordsmen to command would tempt the balance of fate. Obanai put little value behind the superstitions, but enough of the collected did that entertaining it was worth the morale boost. It helped Emiko's case that Mitsuri seemed concerned about the ramifications of fate and luck.
So it was; with seven additional blades, Obanai crawled over the rocky cliff face. The plan was to stick close to the denser shadows and move along the jagged rock edifices. For Obanai, this was easy enough. An adept climber, he effortlessly worked along the cliffside as if simply sidling a wall. The other slayers struggled. They were slower, often prompting Obanai to stay still when Kaburamaru told him the others were too far behind. The swordsmen struggled to control their breathing as they suppressed instinctive gasps and sharp exhales. No one was high enough up to risk injury if they fell, but the sound of a heavy rock knocked loose or a body striking the ground could expose the whole plot, and that would have a body count.
Every meter forward felt insignificant. The distant fort etched in foreboding shadows seemed no closer. Time dragged on, every change in wind or the soft slip of a foot feeling like a threat to the fragile covert operation. Each subtle noise felt like a bucket of ice pushed into Obanai's solar plexus, the center of his being. It naturally would prompt him to glower at the source. What little color the lower ranks faces had at the start was long gone.
Obanai wasn't sure when the mood shifted, but it certainly did. The fort was no longer a gossamer painting; it was real. Even in the dark, it was clearly a thing of stone and wood. It was a construction of men and no more sinister than a house. Yet somehow, as a real thing, it took on a more monstrous personality. It wasn't a mythical place but a creature waiting to devour. The lower ranks were keeping a better pace, not that they could hope to keep up with Obanai; however, he had to stop for them less.
Vaguely moving shapes and the murmur of shifting arms and armor revealed the demons still manning the ramparts. There was a breath-robbing tension among the Corps members, all perfectly aware it would only take one stray eye to spot them out and doom them. Yet as the fort drew nearer, the Slayers remained undiscovered.
By hand and foot, Obanai and the seven moved closer to the fortress.
Yards away from the gate, Obanai lowered himself back to the path, his body still flush with the cliff. Then, there was silence. The Hashira realized he could make out voices in the distance above the gate. He strained to hear over the beat of his heart and the swell of breath through his nose.
"It's probably an owl or some carrion bird," the first voice dismissed. The second voice guffawed.
They spotted the Kasugai Crow. Obanai's breath caught, the speed of his heart accelerating. It needed to escape. It needed to get back to the camp; they were in position, and Mitsuri needed to know.
"It better not be trying to take any of the Daimyo's food. Think I should shoot it?"
"You want to explain that to the Gokenin?"
There was a grumbling response.
Hazy gaze cast upward, making out the vague shifting shadow of a bird circling overhead. "Leaving," Kaburamaru clarified as the shadow seemed to shift in the direction of the camp.
"It's going back to the encampment," The annoyed voice complained.
"Then you'll get to kill it whenever the Daimyo is ready to go clean up whatever is left."
The promise elicited a cruel chuckle. "I can't imagine there's much left; the camp is still burning."
For the first time, Obanai looked back down the path. The path narrowed toward the uneven horizon line of the mountain ridge. On the edge, an orange-white orb continued to flicker, trails of smoke concealing the lower-hanging stars.
Prolonged even breaths marked the crawl of time. The Kasugai Crow had made it away, so now all Obanai and the seven Corps members had to do was wait. In the growing tension, Obanai's mind wandered. He didn't consciously wonder what may be happening back at the camp; it was more of an impulse. A sudden grief for an unspecified doom that may have befallen Mitsuri and the other slayers left behind. An intrusive vision of claw and blade against human flesh. The images were pushed away with some struggle. Obanai needed to stay focused. If something had gone wrong, he'd find out soon enough and would adapt. There were still demons to destroy.
A rhythmic hum swelled to life. The noise rose so naturally that it took a moment to notice. It came from a dark object hurtling through the open path at such a velocity it'd be easy to miss. There was audible confusion rather than alarm as the wood of the gate cracked, splintered, and bowed. A barrel was suddenly embedded in the guarded entrance. The mixed yells were lost to the crack of a rifle, and after a catch of the breath, the fortress and path laid before it became bathed in light. Glowing clouds of smoke and fire burst into the world with a boom that was easier to feel in the chest than hear in the ear. Burning wood and chunks of stone, ripped from the gate frame, cascaded through the world. Dark gray clouds rolled over the ground even as the explosion subsided.
Obanai was the first to spring into action. He plunged into the choking veil of smoke still hovering around the gate frame. The unique kris-katana was drawn with a fluid, simple motion and snickering hiss. His eyes were useless, and the smoke was too thick. Kaburamaru was clear about his displeasure at the taste of the air, the ignited gunpowder lying thick over the usual scents of the world. "Ahead, right," the snake hastily relayed.
Obanai spotted it with some difficulty. The outline of an armed figure getting back onto their feet and drawing a blade from their hip. They wouldn't get a chance to use it.
slinn
From the far edge of the clouds fell a demon's head. Tendrils of smoke curled around and helplessly grasped at the fading helm and skull. In its wake, the clouds burst outward, Obanai forcing his way through. The sundered gate opened into a large courtyard, a mustering ground. It was designed for the clash of armies. It was boxed in, giving the defenders an advantage on all sides. Straight ahead from the gate was a wall that rose to a balcony. On either side of the wall below the balcony were gates, likely entrances to stairwells to get deeper into the fortress.
"Five wide left, seven close right," Kaburamaru analyzed into Obanai's ear. What the Hashira's warped vision could parse was a confused and disproportionately spread-out crowd. The distances were challenging to make out. Obanai's already flawed vision was made worse by the smoke still stinging his eyes, even if he was out of the worst. He didn't have time to adapt, though; as always, Kaburamaru was there to keep him oriented.
In motion, already veering to the left, Obanai uttered to himself as if he was reciting a poem, "Serpent Breathing, Fourth Form, Twin-Headed Reptile." The ghostly metaphorical form of a two-headed snake reared up behind Obanai as he approached targets still struggling to follow the sequence that shattered the quiet of their night. As zori struck the ground Obanai swung his blade from his left shoulder out wide to the right. The inward curve at the tip of his slithering sword lobbed off a demon's head. The demon was found in the jaws of the left snake head. The sword then swung with a steeply changing arch. The demon near Obanai's left shoulder tumbled back, helm and head lost within the jaws of the right-hand head as it lashed out over its twin appendage.
The Hashira's torso twisted, foot swiveling on the ground so he could start arching back to the center. A pace forward and to the left moved Obanai deeper into the courtyard. The blade wound through the air from one side to the other in a single slash. Two more demons fell as the giant serpent chasing Obanai's motions lunged forward with heads unwinding so they could tear through demon necks with jagged fangs.
It was two steps to the next demon. Obanai sprung from foot to foot on a twisted path that had him moving further away from his initial direction. A serpent head opened its mouth, Nichirin Blade between its fangs. The lavender blade was marred with stretches of crimson. Wielded in one hand, a flick of the wrist and raise of the shoulder was all it took to have blade and maw turning demon to ash.
Footwork had Obanai passing around demons still lying on the ground, struggling to recover from the explosion that echoed in their ears. A demon, prone on its side, gathered up its spear and tried to swing out for Obanai's ankles, but the attack was halted by a sky-blue katana. Other Slayers were running out of the smoke hovering around the gate. Some coughed, and others rubbed at their eyes, but all had their blades drawn. The same katana that stopped the spear would then be run over the ground till it severed the prone demon's spine just over the shoulders.
Obanai bore down on a trio of demons. The twin-headed serpent chasing his blade snapped after the three quick flicks to cleave through meat and bone as each head was effortlessly severed. Obanai leaned into a curve that took him toward the next two demons. A duck low to the left had him quickly move around the spear and sword that meant him harm. Strikes curved around the narrow space left by the attacks. Both demons were slain in a single swipe, ghostly heads crashing upon their victims in unison.
The two left in the original crowd rushed at Obanai. They were midway through their second step when a blur slipped between them. The roiling scaled body slithered after the blur. A broad swipe behind himself let Obanai slay the last two demons, the twin-headed serpent carving the foes apart with their maws before fading.
The breeze, still warm from the explosion, pulled at Obanai's haori. Oversized sleeves hid his hands, lavender Nichiren blade emerging from the fabric like a limb. Fire from the low-burning remains of the gate kept the arena bathed in an orange light that sharpened every motion and exaggerated every shape.
The slayers he had brought with him were clashing with other demons who had charged into the fray. The space between the fray and the balcony was packed with demons forming military-style lines. A demon charged Obanai from the left with katana raised, Kaburamaru revealing its presence in a whisper.
Obanai's blade plunging forward stopped the attack, steel sliding against metal in a hissing screech. A simple twist of the Nichirin weapon was all it took to have the curved blade slide against the demon's neck, causing it to stumble. Weakened and surprised, a flick of the wrist sent the demon spiraling to the ground as ash intent on rejoining the dirt.
Somewhere in the conflict, a Slayer cried out, side cut open by a demon's rusty blade. The slayer was able to pull away and deflect the next attack, but their stance was wavering. The demon jumped forward to push its advantage, and then, in a blur, it wasn't there. The ash of its remains whirled through the air around Obanai, who suddenly stood before the stunned slayer.
The Demon Slayer Corps had firmly secured the entrance. The immediate guards were disposed of, and the dozen or so demons who had rushed to try to push back were failing one after the other against Nichiren katanas. The Corps members shifted to gather around Obanai as he cut down a retreating demon at the edge of the ash and smoke-laden field. Before them, from one wall to the other, were companies of organized demons standing at the ready.
Blade at his side, the Hashira stepped forward. His sandal-clad foot had met the ground when a single wall of noise caused him to stop. It wasn't any singular instance of a gun's hammer being pulled back but the cacophony of dozens, maybe a hundred or more, being done at once. One echo after the other came from high and all around. Obanai had expected ranged units. "Surprised it took them this long," he whispered to Kaburamaru, who gestured in agreement. The slayers were shaken. They held their swords out, slowly moving so they could gather behind Obanai with their backs toward each other. The injured Corps member leaned against a friend who was bent over, using a ripped black and gold Haori to try and staunch the wound.
Then came a booming laugh.
"Up," the word came from Kaburamaru as his tongue brushed against Obanai's ear.
Vision, warped by smoke and flickering light, worked up to the balcony with its defensive half-walls. Behind them stood a demon easily nine feet tall. Slowly, with narrowed eyes, Obanai made out more details of the laughing entity. It was clad in O-yoroi, clearly cared for by its pristine appearance. A helm carried by some obscured entity. Obanai could make out hair pulled into a change and features warped to monstrosity.
"I hadn't expected survivors," the figure eventually commented with a voice so clear and commanding it resounded throughout the fort. Words rattled from the creature's tongue in sharp syllables that sounded like they had been run the wrong way on a whetstone. "Who among you killed Inoue?"
Kaburamaru and Obanai exchanged glances. "Inoue?" The snake questioned. All that was returned was a shrug.
Gazes returned to the monstrous form. Obanai took an experimental but sure step forward. As expected, he was met with the clatter of those around shifting their aim, armor chiming and muttering over wood creaking.
"A Hashira?" The figure questioned, clearly having already answered the question. He laughed once more. The cold, cruel sound weakened the lower-ranking slayer's knees.
"Once I've consumed your body and brought the demon lord your head, he'll have to make me a Kizuki!"
He thinks we're all that's left. The realization had been brewing in the dark-haired swordsman's mind since he first heard the horrid voice. There was a chance. He could buy time for the other slayers.
The demon raised a hand. "Know this, you die to the glorious Blood Demon Art of Shinraku! If you wish to open your stomachs before me, I may consider adding you to my army."
No one moved. Obanai heard the subtle friction of grips tightening. Frustration swelled in his chest as he tried to formulate a plan. Perhaps he would give the order to retreat and charge in himself, even if it just gave them a few seconds. Those seconds could be enough for Mitsuri and the remaining Corps members to arrive. His body tensed, breaths slowing.
"Very well—" Shinraku's thought was quickly abandoned, though Obanai couldn't tell. Kaburamaru noticed the demon's gaze shift skyward.
"Behind."
Obanai's head turned to watch as the moon framed a form that defined elegance. Black and pink shimmered around the form.
A snapping noise that momentarily rendered everyone deaf rang out as the figure fell toward the fort. A ribbon of black and pink wrapped around one of the makeshift towers flanking the broken gate. The demons inside the tower were scrambling, their firearms audibly dropping.
Mitsuri, the figure, landed on the wall over the still smoking gate where demons had been gathered with firearms aimed at the back of the Serpent Pillar and swung her sword arm out. The ribbon blade attached to the hilt she gripped tightened around the tower before wood splintered and snapped to have the tower falling toward the wall. The ribbon danced around the twirling Mitsuri, cutting down several demons near her. Some of the slain fell into the smoke still hanging around the ruptured doors. She sprung forward while spiraling around. She lashed out with her blade at the second tower, twisting midair to have it crashing upon the wall like its sibling structure.
The glorious Love Hashira landed beside Obanai with a confident grin. "Sorry, that took so long. I'm glad you're still okay, Iguro-san," she gushed. There was a comfort in Mitsuri's word Obanai dare not name.
The demon towering over the field growled, his face warping with rage. Shinraku forced a grin to conceal the irritation he had already shown. "Ha! A second Hashira?" He went to give the order to fire, but Mitsuri beat him to issue a command.
"Now!" Her melodic voice drowned out the demon's foul tone.
Then came a unified battle cry and the disarrayed yelp of demons. The walls were a sudden swirl of chaos. Slayers clambered over the fortifications to bear down on the firearm-wielding minions.
More Slayers poured from the smoke behind the two Hashira and the seven already present Corps members.
"Take the left," Obanai barked, his low, grave voice recognized and obeyed by the slayers on the ground.
The demon-general was bellowing something lost under the crack of a riffle. The shot broke through the sode (the shoulder armor piece) into the top of the demon's bicep as it braced for the shot. Genya stood, smoke still billowing away from him. As Genya exchanged the empty firearm for a loaded one with Sho, Shinraku escaped. He retreated through the balcony doors, taking his helm from the dark figure nearby.
"Lead this dance?" Mitsuri asked eagerly.
"Nothing would bring me more joy." Obanai nodded before crouching low, bringing his sword hand to the opposite shoulder in preparation. The assembled crowd of demons before them and to the right charged in two loosely organized blocks.
Serpent Breathing. Third Form. Coil Choke.
A writhing-scaled body thrashed around Obanai as he bolted through the soldiers. The Hashira rushed through the gap of the two formations, focusing on the central block. Blood sprayed out in bursts from each twisting slash. Yet the assault's body count was low; the actual damage was the ethereal serpentine body, empowered by Obanai, roiling and smashing against demons. The soldiers would stumble into each other, deforming the flank and pushing the demons closer together.
The Serpent Hashira stopped on a single firm step at the far side of the formation; momentum was spent spinning back toward the group he had just passed. The ghostly serpent at his back arched its neck in clear threat of a strike. Unhinged jaws parted, each pointed tooth catching the light with dentin and vital ichor. The emitted hiss was sharp enough to set teeth on edge.
The snake then struck back out.
This time, Obanai used his breathing technique along the opposite side of the center formation. It pushed everyone in the center even closer together and cleaned up the few demons trying to break off and engage with the melee between the minions and slayers on the left side of the battlefield.
To the ordinary eye, Obanai appeared a few yards away from where he had left Mitsuri, back toward the crowd he had just pushed into a fumbling crush.
Mitsuri sprung forward, radiant as the moon itself.
"Love Breathing. Third Form. Catlove Shower."
As the confident Hashira seemed to hover in the air, her blade snapped straight behind her in sparks of pink and white. She then plunged forward like a bird upon a nest-thief. She floated untouched through the center mass of ghouls, crescent pink and white arcs spreading around her. Her ribbon Nichirin sword was a jittery blur. Cries were choked to silence as demons became masses of black flecks upon the wind and smeared in the dirt.
Mitsuri's compatriot Hashira chased after her, slithering blade cutting down the few left in her wake. She emerged from the chaos none the dirtier, ribbon blade swaying in the stream of her recent motion. Nearby, Obanai jammed his knee against a demon's back, forcing it to kneel over and expose its neck so the lavender Nichirin sword he wielded could claim another head. Foot stomped on the ground through the body turning to ash.
The lower-rank slayers held ground in a loose front against the left-side mass of soldiers. Obanai's attack had kept them from being flanked, at least for a moment. Genya, Sho, and Yumi stood off to the flank, dissuading individual attempts with a steady rhythm of gunfire. Genya's features were hardened, and his eyes darkened. He looked as if every muscle in his body was tensed.
On the walls, the Corps Members who had joined from the scattered outposts were scrambling around each other to keep the tanegashima armed demons busy. Their breathing was heavy, and not one of them didn't sweat. They struggled to keep their breathing techniques in order, but for at least the current minute, they did a good job keeping the pressure up so the few shots the enemies managed strayed harmlessly from their targets.
"Genya," Obanai shouted, trying to get attention over the overwhelming consonance of battle. Somehow, he heard. Genya's head snapped to match Obanai's gaze, even though to Obanai he was nothing more than vague shapes left wavering in the fire's light. "Help thin the firelines," Obanai managed. Genya nodded before shouldering the rifle in his hands and diverting his aim toward the wall. Obanai turned to see a demon nearly upon him. Muscles were preparing a response, but the demon was gone in a blink; Mitsuri's ribbon sword fluttered through the air where it once was.
"Thanks," he muttered through overwhelming appreciation. The moment had to pass; the remaining group was upon the Hashira.
Obanai twisted in sharp, sudden motions, his steps staccato and carefully planned. His blade curved around attacks and other bodies to slay demons trying to pile around the two Hashira.
Mitsuri was light upon her feet, springing into cartwheels and spins that had her sword weaving through the air like a stream down a hill. Each demon fell with the blade was unexpecting, the ribbon blade seeming to swing from the void.
The initial charge was pushed back, the demons reforming a line.
Mitsuri wasn't going to let them reorganize. She jumped forward, blade lashing out before her in a series of controlled spirals and arcs. The handful that survived by ducking low or leaning behind another soldier were easily overtaken by Obanai. The Serpent Breathing user rushed into the opening made by Mitsuri, sword arm a blur as his sinuous strikes disregarded defenses and attempted attacks.
Mitsuri's voice, always a priority to Obanai, caught his ear with lilting tones. "Love Breathing, Second Form. Love Pangs." The end of her statement sounded almost remorseful, and the cheeriness melted for only a few sounds.
The Love Hashira then skipped through the demon's formation, her blade seeming to simply flow behind her like the tail of a dress. Her braids swayed with each subtle and controlled motion. The wall of demons opened before her. As her feet touched the ground, the air behind her burst into a series of bright pink slashes, each one sparking after the other like fire down a fuse. The demons left in her wake burst apart, bested without a chance to swing their weapons.
The demons, panicked by how easily the Hashira reduced their numbers, idly spread out in the space created.
Obanai added his voice, raspy and sharp. "Serpent Breathing, Fifth Form. Slithering Serpent." Obanai, with his smaller and lighter build, drifted through the crowd in a run that eerily swayed and swerved from what his posture would suggest. Haori snapped around him like a flag in a gale, hair swung slowly behind every motion. His blade swiped through the air at a deceptively slow speed in a single ever-changing slash. A scaled, pale body marked the blade's path, the head of the body around the Nichiren hilt as if the blade was its tongue. The head and limb of many a demon were parted from body, segmented by blade and serpentine body. The remains fluttered to the earth in charred chunks.
"Hold!" The echoing command came from Genya. The Hashira took note of the situation. Genya and a handful of Corps members were bracing a chunk of wood, likely from one of the towers, against a crowd of demons. Other slayers were engaging the demons trying to flank around the makeshift shield. A few other wounded pulled away from the melee. None of them appeared too grievously injured, the worst still the one with shreds of black and gold haori wound around their midsection.
Obanai swung an attack around Mitsuri to slay a charging combatant. Mitsuri spun her blade above Obanai to neutralize an approaching threat. "We need to kill the big demon," Obanai remarked as the two Hashira spun around with backs to each other to better handle approaching threats.
Mitsuri's ribbon lashed out at polearm-wielding yokai, removing their range advantage. "We won't let any of these demons get away," Mitsuri responded in bright agreement.
Obanai utilized defensive techniques to effortlessly deflect and slay charging ghouls. "What I mean is we need to push for him. I think these aren't true demons?"
"True demons?" Mitsuri rolled over Obanai's back as he bent over and ducked under Mitsuri. Mitsuri leveled an approaching group. Obanai effortlessly dispatched a group around each incoming attack.
"I think they're some form of lesser demon linked to his Blood Demon Art." Obanai almost chuckled at the next weak attack, which his blade effortlessly swept away, then swiveled into a deadly strike.
"Oh! I understand. If we kill him, this battle ends." Mitsuri linked her free arm with Obanai's to guide him to keep against her back as she spun to one of their sides. Her ribbon blade snapped out to knock away a nearing attack. The demon stumbled to the ground, where it practically fell onto her sword. "Let's prepare the other swords, then."
From the center of the dwindling pit they had created, Mitsuri and Obanai simply vanished. The demon close to Obanai coughed up thick ichor before losing its corporeal form.
Near the swordsmen facing the now largest group, a demon rushed through the formation, seeing an easy kill. It swung from over its head in single-minded determination to claim the heavily injured Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen. Emiko, the one who had argued for a chance to join Obanai, intercepted the attack. Emiko blocked the sword swing with their own. They had stepped in with too little time, though; the demon's blade sunk deep into their shoulder. Through labored breaths, Emiko remained standing and kept their blade against the demon's. With a painfully controlled inhale, they pushed the demon's sword away and caused the creature to stumble back. Emiko exhaled, flames temporarily flashing over their blade before it swept away the demon's head and banished the monstrosity.
There was a sudden stillness to the battle. The demons pressing against the barrier that Genya and others braced were gone, replaced by glowing pink trails. The demons starting to overwhelm the flank all fell to the ground in more pieces than they had been in, the body of a floating snake marking each divide. Mitsuri, with braided hair and ribbon blade flowing behind her, posed at the end of her rush, marking the path she had just carved through the demon front line. Obanai, with haori in the breeze of motion and hair tilting to the side, posed near the other Corps members, crouched low with the blade held at his side.
Genya took the opportunity to, seemingly single-handedly, send the barricade flying forward, further disrupting the group of demons. Sho, who had been on his right, was quick to drop to a knee and pull a rifle from the ground to then jam it into Genya's hands. On the other side, Yumi dropped down and picked up a riffle halfway through reloading.
"Clean them up and get to the walls," Obanai directed.
The healthy swordsmen rushed into the disarrayed group, claiming the advantage. Mitsuri, a pink, black, green, and white blur, was already among the demons.
Sho & Yumi jumped when Obanai approached and pointed a curled finger at Genya. "They have a powder store somewhere; once you're done, find it and set it to blow. Give yourself time to escape. Don't worry about Kanroji-sama or me."
Genya nodded his acknowledgment.
Now that he was close, Obanai was sure something was different about Genya's face. His eyes were darker, but that could have been a trick of the shadows. His clenched teeth seemed almost too large for his mouth. His features were sharper. His hair even looked darker. It wasn't something that really shouldn't have mattered but the Hashira couldn't resist noticing.
All attention was grabbed by the groaning rumble of the large doors nearby opening. Then came the rolling beat of a marching crowd. Through the shadows behind the open doors glowed approaching yellow eyes.
The Corps did not disappoint. The lower-ranking swordsmen started to disperse, grouping up near the gates to intercept the new combatants.
"Watch your heads," Genya yelled, pulling a bag of powder and bullets from Yumi. The other slayers, though clearly confused, bent lower toward the ground. Genya then hurled the bag to the nearest gate, and while it was midair, he pulled the pistol from his belt. With natural aim, he fired upon the midair bag. One explosion rang out after the other, the bark of the gunshot lost under the roar of the makeshift bomb. The demons from the hallway cried out and yelled, smoke consuming the shadows and billowing out into the courtyard.
Genya dropped the riffle and reloaded his pistol. He then drew his katana and charged into the smoke. Sho and Yumi were on his heels, and behind them followed the group near the gate.
"Come on," Mitsuri yelled to Obanai as she ran across the courtyard.
"Right."
Kaburamaru clarified directions for the disoriented Obanai. With clear guidance, the Serpent Hashira was quick to follow after Mitsuri. He jumped as she jumped, easily clearing the barricade onto the balcony.
All that met them on the balcony was a large wooden double door that looked like it would be about as thick as it was broad. In a motion that looked like a magic trick, Mitsuri sheathed her sword and approached the door. She placed her palms on either side of the seam where the two doors met. She leaned forward. Her breathing slowed with a purposefully elongated exhale. What was visible of her body tensed, her highly toned muscles flexing. The doors groaned as they resisted bulging inward. The door's complaints were ignored. Nostrils flared and lips parted with a short, heavy exhale; the doors swung open over the deafening crack of a breaking drawbar.
Next time: Shinraku