Their two bodies were sent flying through the front door, much like a firework — pieces of wood scattered across the room. Mazikeen's mind paused. Unable to comprehend what just happened. The man who had tried to kill her for the past several evenings had just saved her life. Not that it needed saving, but Sanemi didn't know this. Just moments before, he wanted to cause her harm, but when it mattered, the man took action and protected her from a final death.
No more than a second later, she was brought back to reality when Sanemi's muscled arm forcefully shoved her body away. A groan of disgust followed. On his feet, the Wind Hashira gazed back over his shoulder. Saying nothing. He didn't have to. Mazikeen had an idea that inside his mind, there was a bit of a war happening. Yes, he saved her. But he's also wondering if that was the right choice. "Thank you."
He didn't utter a single word as feet moved him towards another door. Closing it roughly, as his pounding steps could be heard wandering further off.
The entryway was a complete disaster, but at least Mazikeen remained shielded from the sun's harmful rays. It wasn't that she was trying to keep secrets from the Hashira, but what good would it do to reveal she was a sun walker? She'd share the truth when the time was right. Until then, she'd keep pretending to be like any other demon—fearful she'd burst into flame and ash if sunlight touched her skin.
Whispering voices outside started to sound. The training was about to begin. And what's worse, she'd be unable to sleep through it. Mazikeen was certain of that, considering she knew Sanemi well enough.
"What happened here?"
"The demon girl is watching us."
"Why doesn't she have horns like all the others?"
Mazikeen took a deep breath. Calming the mind once again. That was the interesting part about this whole thing. What the Hashira knew… and what they didn't know. They believed it all began with Muzan. That every demon was born of his hand. They're wrong. And soon, the Hashira would understand that all their training, their beliefs. Everything. It's all just one small part of a much bigger picture. Not that it had ever been a secret.
The Demon Slayers just hadn't been looking hard enough.
They didn't question her appearance. Aside from her fangs and glimmering red eyes, Mazikeen could pass as a normal human. Skin luminous as if kissed by the moon itself. Hair black as raven's feathers, cascading in waves down her back like ink shimmering under the starlight. She overheard Shinobu once describing her beauty as something born of darkness.
Curse or not, these were the cards she was dealt. And if Mazikeen wanted to end this mess, she'd need to find a way to be where to start… that was the problem.
The grounds just outside the manor were quiet. Not with peace but anticipation. Like the world itself was holding its breath. Mazikeen sat in silence, watching as the scene continued to play out before her. Not that she had anywhere else to be. Dust hung in the air. The crack of wooden swords against bone and flesh rang out. Again, and again. Harsh and relentless.
Sanemi was not holding back against his comrades. Not even in training. "Again!" he barked. His voice cut through the yard like a blade.
A younger man stumbled to his knees. Even from across the yard, Mazikeen could see the boy's chest heaving. He was exhausted. They all were. Out of breath. Parched. There had been no breaks since the sun rose, and now it was centered in the sky. Sanemi didn't offer any comfort. The Wind Hashira stepped forward, crouched, and said low enough for only him and Mazikeen to hear. "You think Muzan's gonna wait for you to catch your breath?"
The boy shook his head.
"Then get up."
The man's voice roared through the air. The sound of wood being split continued to crackle. Mazikeen soon found that her attention was locked on him. On no one other than the Wind Hashira himself. She was unsure when her eyes started to trace his every movement. At first, she watched out of curiosity. As her ears picked up on his tone. His words, her eyes then locked in out of resentment. But now… she wasn't so sure.
The wind tugged at his white hair — sweeping it across his forehead in sharp, messy strands. With every movement he made. With every strike and every breath, Sanemi's muscles rippled beneath the thin fabric of his uniform. Mazikeen leaned forward just slightly. Eyes narrowing as she tracked the fluid shift of weight from one foot to the other. She found it fascinating. Anger lived in every fiber of him.
Training continued. Mid-swing, he looked at her. Sanemi's rage-filled eyes locked onto hers. For a second, something shifted. He still looked feral—but there was something beneath it. Something Mazikeen couldn't quite name. Not yet. Whatever it was, it had distracted him. And that fraction of a second was all it took.
Crack.
A wooden sword collided with Sanemi's side, knocking him just slightly off balance. The Hashira stumbled but quickly caught himself. Mazikeen saw it though. That poor, poor young man. The damage was done. The trainee froze, unsure if he should feel proud or start praying.
Sanemi's expression darkened instantly. His gaze shifted from the demon to his comrade. The air thickened. Everyone else was silent. Mazikeen could practically hear the man's bones trembling in fear at this point. She'd try and step in if she could. To protect the young man, but she had already gone over in her head why she couldn't step in the sun. Sanemi's jaw clenched so hard.
He was on the kid before anyone had time to blink. Hands striking fast and sharp. The boy barely had time to block the second hit before the third came slamming into his ribs. "That hesitation—dead. The breath you wasted after landing a lucky hit? Dead. Muzan won't give you time to blink, much less celebrate." A fourth hit. And a fifth. Mazikeen watched as a few welts began to form on the boy's body, but she understood the lesson right away. Harsh as it may be. Muzan is powerful, and if they're to fight him off, they'd have to be able to handle hits far worse than anything Sanemi throws at them. It looks bad, but in truth, he's trying to save their lives.
"Calm down!" Tanjiro's voice rang out as he stepped forward. "He was only following your instructions!"
"Then maybe you should take his place," Sanemi snapped back. Quickly turning his fury toward Tanjiro now. "Let's see how much you've learned." Tanjiro didn't back down, but Mazikeen saw the flicker in his eyes. The kid was ready but wary.
Tanjiro was the first to make a move. Taking one step forward. Sanemi didn't hesitate though. This was the lesson he was trying to drill into their heads during training. Even a second can cost someone their life. Act first and ask questions later. He moved fast. Like a flash of white-hot rage. His sword cracked against Tanjiro's with a sound like thunder. The boy staggered, but he'd not give up so easily. This she knew.
For several moments, the crowd around them stared in awe as their swords clashed in a violent rhythm. Sanemi's strikes were aggressive and unrelenting. No one would expect less from the second-strongest Hashira, but Tanjiro's moves were precise and measured. One moment he'd take a hit, but in the next he'd block. The boy was adapting. Learning. Mazikeen couldn't help but feel semi-responsible for this. She and the kid had spent a few sessions training together. Tanjiro's skills weren't terrible when their sessions started, but by their most recent, he'd sharpened them quite nicely.
A perfect student, and yet still, he was outmatched.
One more burst of Sanemi's power sent the boy flying back a few yards. Out of breath, but still at the ready. The tight grip he had on that training sword was causing Tanjiro's knuckles to turn white. Sanemi stalked forward. His lips curled in a snarl. "You fight like you're afraid to hurt me."
"I fight like I'm trying to survive," Tanjiro replied, rising again. Sanemi surged forward. That wooden blade raised high for another punishing strike. Mazikeen watched in anticipation, but the blow never landed. A sharp crack echoed through the courtyard as another entered the fray.
"Enough." That voice cut through the tension like a knife through butter. Standing between the two was Giyu Tomioka. He appeared calm and composed as he usually does. Stance held firm. "The Master would like to speak with you. Immediately." Addressing the Wind Hashira.
A long silence stretched between them. Tanjiro still stood at the ready behind Giyu, unsure whether the fight was truly over or not.
Sanemi finally lowered his weapon. His eyes were still wild with fury, but his body seemed to relax. Which in turn caused Tanjiro and the other comrades to do the same. "Fine," he snarled. And just like that, he walked off towards the manor. Wonder left in all their minds, but especially Mazikeen's. Why would the Master want to speak with Sanemi?
Sanemi's feet struck the dirt walkway with force. The afternoon sun was still beating down from high above. The doors to the Master's manor opened with a soft creak. He dropped to one knee. Bowing low as Ubuyashiki turned toward him with that ever-gentle and sweet smile.
"Sanemi. Thank you for coming." The Master's voice was soft. As usual. Sanemi then figured this had nothing to do with his training drills being too much. No complaints had come in. Somewhat of a relief. Ubuyashiki's pale eyes turned skyward. "Do you remember when I chose to let Nezuko stay among us?"
Sanemi clenched his fists. "I remember."
"You were furious then, too." Sanemi remained silent. Allowing whatever the Master had to say to come through the open air. "She has proven herself, wouldn't you say? She's not harmed a single human. She fights beside us. And from what I've heard, whispers are going around about demons. One's not ruled by Muzan. I lean towards believing that Mazikeen is one of them. She has yet to raise a hand against any of us."
Sanemi lifted his head, but his eyes were dark with contempt. "Not yet."
"Some of your comrades and fellow Hashira… they seem to trust her."
"They're fools." The words snapped out like venom. "She's dangerous. I don't give a damn what the others see. She's a demon. Letting her live here… It's asking for betrayal. It's just a matter of time." And he believed this deep down to his very core.
"And yet, you saved her."
Sanemi froze. Wondering how he knew, and yet, this was the Master. He had to know everything. "I should've let her burn."
Ubuyashiki's silence spoke of patience. "We are at war," the Master finally said. "We must be willing to question what we know, or we will fall into what we fear. I trust you, Sanemi. But I need to know, do you believe we can ever trust her?"
Sanemi stood then, slowly. His voice was low and certain. "No."
The Master's expression didn't shift. His voice remained that same gentle murmur he'd been using the whole time. It would not matter if the man were angry, full of fear, or saddened by something tragic. His tone remained soft and kind. "I see. Then tell me, Sanemi…why does she still draw breath?"
Sanemi's mouth opened. Then closed. The silence between them stretched long enough for the birds outside to fill it with a song. He felt as though they were mocking him. "Because…" he started, the word bitter on his tongue. "Because something stopped me. In that moment." Ubuyashiki turned his head slightly, listening. He didn't want to press Sanemi on the topic too much, but let it flow freely like a river. "I don't know what it was." Every syllable in Sanemi's tone soaked in self-loathing. "Pity? Instinct? Madness? I should have let her burn. I would have." His voice dropped lower. "But I acted on instinct. I won't make that mistake again."
"She's not the same as the others, is she?" Ubuyashiki asked softly. "There's something different about her." Despite being unable to see for himself, he's been given a far detailed description of what the newest demonic addition looked like. And by that, despite some slight facial features, she could pass as a human. The Master believed that's why Sanemi reacted. He can try to deny it, but Mazikeen is different. In more ways than just her appearance.
"She's still a demon."
The Master's voice remained collected and calm. "And yet, when you look at her, there's something in you that strikes doubt. You detest her with every fiber of your being, but something inside you hesitates."
"No, I loathe her," Sanemi snapped.
Ubuyashiki raised a gentle hand. "There's one more reason I summoned you." He paused for a moment to allow Sanemi to breathe. He knew this next bit would drive the Hashira near the edge. "I would like it if you took Mazikeen on your next mission." Silence from Sanemi, so the Master continued. His tone was still calm. He could feel tension rising through the air. "A reconnaissance team uncovered signs of demon activity near the mountains east of here. I believe it's time we see what our new friend is truly capable of. Whether or not she can follow orders, and if she is truly willing to stand against her own kind."
Sanemi didn't move. Didn't blink. It was as if the words hadn't registered. And then, like a volcano, his voice erupted. "You want me to what?!" He had several questions, all of which had his mouth seething with rage. "You're sending her with me? Is this a punishment?"
"It's a test," Ubuyashiki replied, unfazed. "For both of you."
"I've had enough tests." Sanemi stepped back. His fists clenched so tightly the veins bulged. "You can't be serious. I'm not babysitting some monster just to prove a point."
"This isn't about proving a point," the Master said quietly. "It's about trust. We must know her intentions. If Mazikeen passes, she will be a most powerful ally. If she cannot—then I trust you'll know what to do."
Sanemi's eyes burned. "You expect me to put my life in her hands?"
"I expect you to watch her. Challenge her. And judge her with the same fairness you've judged others." Ubuyashiki dared not say it at this time, considering how worked up Sanemi had become, but the Master genuinely believed this was the right decision. To help teach Sanemi that he need not be afraid of this possibility. That Mazikeen could be something beyond what he's been taught to hate.
Shadows cast along the grounds as evening settled. The yard was painted in hues of gold and orange. Crickets had begun their evening song.
Mazikeen hadn't moved. She remained seated in the same spot she had landed earlier. The reason for this — simple. She did not want to hear Sanemi screeching at her about wandering his manor. And if Mazikeen was to continue having them believe the sun would turn her to ash, she'd have to remain hidden. At least for the most part. But in truth, sitting here was far more boring than being in the shed.
And then she felt it. A presence much like a violent storm, although she knew this wasn't any force of nature. It was him.
Sanemi walked through the courtyard. His uniform clung to him, still stained with sweat and grit from the day's training drills. But it wasn't fatigue that radiated off him like rays from the sun. No. It was barely-contained wrath.
Stomping his feet straight up to her, he stopped. Their eyes locked. "You," he spat. Tone filled with such venom. "Are coming with me tomorrow."
Mazikeen blinked up at him slowly. Her mind took a moment to process the words that came from his mouth. The corner of her lips curled upward. Not into a smile. Just to show a hint of amusement. She tilted her head, as if genuinely considering it. "A mission, huh? Just you and me? How cozy."
His glare deepened. Sanemi's hand was just itching to reach for his sword. Damning all orders to hell. Sanemi took a step closer. The anger in his eyes now flared with something more volatile. "You think this is a game?"
"No," she replied softly, that almost-smile remained on her lips. "But you're playing anyway."
He stared at her. Seething. Though without another word, Sanemi turned on his heel and stalked off into the manor. Her eyes watched as he left. The heat of his anger still lingered. Pulling her knees to her chin, Mazikeen relaxed.
Tomorrow would be interesting.