Kiss of Death

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/39652974.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: M/M
Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game), 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer:
Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime)
Relationship: Kaedehara Kazuha/Scaramouche, Scaramouche/Kaedehara Kazuha
Character: Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), Kaedehara
Kazuha's Friend, Xiao | Alatus (Genshin Impact), Kaedehara Kazuha's
Friend's Cat, Zhongli (Genshin Impact), Yoimiya (Genshin Impact),
Puppet Raiden Shogun | Baal, Kamisato Ayaka, Kamisato Ayato, Kuki
Shinobu, Arataki Itto, Shikanoin Heizou, Kujou Sara, Kong | Aether
(Genshin Impact), Ying | Lumine (Genshin Impact), Paimon (Genshin
Impact), Razor (Genshin Impact), Albedo (Genshin Impact), Sucrose
(Genshin Impact)
Additional Tags: Demon Slayer AU, you don’t have to watch the anime or read the
manga to read this, Demon Slayer! Kazuha, Demon! Scaramouche,
(this was a remake of an old fic of mine), Unhealthy Relationships,
Enemies and Lovers, demon slayer x genshin impact, Not Beta Read,
Cannibalism
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-06-15 Completed: 2022-07-06 Chapters: 8/8 Words:
82840

Kiss of Death
by scarakazuuu

Summary

Exterminate all evil demons, no matter the cost. Even if it takes your life, even if you must
die, die ridding the world of sin.

That is the motto of the demon slayer corps, and the motto Kaedehara Kazuha lives by. It
doesn’t change as he grows older, not even when he meets a powerful demon with an
unhealthy obsession towards him.

Together, Kazuha and Scaramouche lock into a fatal dance of life and death. One saves, the
other kills. How can their romance end in anything but tragedy?
 Origins
Chapter Notes

Hi everyone! So, if you’re familiar with my works, you’ll have seen another fanfic
under the same title and premise. I decided to unfortunately discontinue that story,
BUT I’ve rewritten it entirely, and have started a new (and hopefully better) one! I
wasn’t satisfied with the last fic, but I am thoroughly pleased with this one, so
hopefully you will be, too.

If you haven’t seen the Demon Slayer anime or read the manga, DON’T worry! You
don’t need to! You can read this fic with no knowledge about the series whatsoever, I
promise. (Although to those who HAVE read/watched KNY, you might spot some
upcoming parallels/similarities.)

I’m super excited for this story and I hope you all are, too! It should update around
every Tuesday, maybe a bit sooner if I get impatient or busy. Please read the tags
(they will update with each chapter!) and enjoy! :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.

I am a hashira of the demon slayer corps—more specifically, the wind hashira.

When I was eight years old, my parents were killed in front of me. A demon murdered them.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Go, Kazuha! Go, you foolish boy!”

“Mother—”

“Kazuha!” His mother spun around, gripping tightly onto his shoulders. They were scrawny and
bony, barely anything at all. His parents had always complained about his lack of muscles. He
insisted, time and time again, that he was simply still growing. Now he wished he’d have grown
faster, like they wanted. Maybe then, he’d be able to fight.

Maybe then, he’d have been able to protect his family, just like his father bravely had.

He could feel himself trembling, the tremors overtaking his frail body. Like any child would be, he
was scared. Not only that, he was traumatized. Blood stained the front of his favorite kimono, the
maple leaf pattern ruined by splashes of deep crimson. None of it belonged to him. All of it
stemmed from his father, who had sacrificed himself to save him. Kazuha could remember it
perfectly.

The thing—monster—had broken into their home in the middle of the night, whilst they were
sleeping. It had gone towards Kazuha first, likely due to his youth. He’d have been slaughtered, but
his father rescued him. Mr. Kaedehara was a samurai, his reflexes honed and his senses sharp, yet
any sword he used against the beast proved useless. They either broke or did little to no damage
whatsoever.
His father had snatched him up by his collar, as if he were just a toddler once more. He’d thrown
Kazuha out of the room, into his mother’s outstretched arms. Not long afterwards, the monster
ripped him apart. His throat had been torn clean out, the flesh peeling like pieces of paper. Blood
had splashed everywhere, spraying against the ceiling, the floor, the walls — and Kazuha.

As much as she tried, his mother couldn’t stop him from witnessing such brutality. All she could do
was run, holding her stricken son within her arms. The monster chased them, of course. It
murdered Kazuha’s father without a second thought, and didn’t even bother to consume his corpse.
Was it killing for sport, then? Just for the thrill of a hunt?

It was thanks to the Kaedehara’s loyal servants that both he and his mother got to safety. They
threw themselves in front of the monster, and were soon sliced into ribbons. Their pained screams
still rung within Kazuha’s ears on a steady loop. Even the nanny who had helped raise him was
dead.

He had seen her severed arm collide against the wall, smearing thick blood across the surface. He
knew it was hers, because he recognized the bracelet attached. It was one he’d made for her. She
had always worn it.

Now, both he and his mother were locked inside of a room. Their storage closet, presumably. The
monster had lost their trail for the time-being, but it wouldn’t be long before it found them. Kazuha
could smell it. It reeked of chaos, blood, death, and carrion. That stench was unmissable, and it
filled his nostrils, drowning out almost anything else.

Second by second, it drew closer to their location. It would soon find their hiding spot, and then
what would they do? Kazuha couldn’t fight, and neither could his mother. At the moment, they
were mere sitting ducks, and no one was left alive to save them.

A tear trailed from his eye, dripping down his cheek. He fought hard against the urge to cry. His
mother had warned him not to, instructing him to be as silent as possible. He hated to disobey, but
still, he couldn’t help it.

Everyone was dead, and they were going to die, too. In a horribly gruesome, painful way.

“I don’t want to die,” Kazuha choked out. “I don’t want you to die either, mother.” The tears
swelled more rapidly within his eyes, now obscuring his vision. His surroundings became
distorted, blurring into nothing more than a warped blob. In a way, he was grateful. Maybe then, he
wouldn’t have to see the carnage that would no doubt unfurl soon.

His mother’s expression softened, just briefly. She had always been a stern woman. There were
times she was harder on him than his father ever was. But she did it out of concern. She loved her
son; he was her only child, and as such, her pride and joy. While she didn’t express her love
normally, like most other people, she still made sure her boy knew he was cared for. He was her
world, her everything, and so he had to live.

“You aren’t going to die, Kazuha.” Smiling, his mother brushed her hand against his cheek, wiping
his tears away. “What did I tell you? Just listen to me, and you’ll be alright. A mother’s love for
her son is powerful. It will protect you. I will protect you. Understand?”

Kazuha’s lower lip quivered. He wanted to sob, so very badly, but he bit down, silencing himself.
The fear was steadily mounting inside of him, sweltering into something that choked him, stealing
his very breath away. It was so intense, he could barely move. He could merely stand there, frozen,
as his mother stroked his hair, her gaze fond.
“Be a good boy and go,” she whispered, pushing him backwards. He didn’t protest, allowing her to
shove him into a cupboard. It was filled with perfumes, and the smell reminded him of his mother.
But, over the flowery scent, he could detect the monster. It was almost directly on top of them,
now.

“Mother, you need to hide!” He blurted out, unable to control himself. “It’s here! Hurry—” he
moved to squeeze over, desperate to allow more room within the cupboard. His mother could fit, as
well, if only she would move. She needed to be quick, but they could both hide together, together!

“I love you, 私の小さな太陽.”

My little sun.

Loud bangs began to sound at the door. His mother flinched, leaning forward quickly. She aimed to
close the cupboard door, but was unable to fully complete the task. It was left open by just a tiny
sliver, giving Kazuha a small view of what was happening outside.

His mother spun around just as the monster burst into the room. It roared, and the sound hurt
Kazuha’s sensitive ears, piercing them shrilly. He wanted to cover them, he wanted to curl up into
a ball and hide, but he couldn’t. He was stuck, entirely rigid, watching the scene play out before
him. How could he not? He was terrified, not for himself, but—

For my mother!

Compared to the creature, she seemed so tiny. She was a short woman, abnormally so, and she had
never wanted to admit it, but she was the one who passed such genetics down onto her son. Kazuha
earned his small stature from her, and she’d been ashamed. Although now, she was relieved. She
was thankful, because such traits allowed her son to fit into the cupboard. It gave him a chance.

Kazuha’s breath hitched, and he fought an internal battle. A part of him wanted to leap out, to rush
to his mother’s aid, but that part was foolish. It was overconfident and eager to die. The rational
side of his mind urged him to stay put, to listen to what his mother told him. If he wanted to
survive, then he needed to be as unnoticeable as he possibly could.

It made him feel like a coward.

A Kaedehara like him? They were supposed to fight. They never gave up, and they especially
didn’t abandon one of their own. In the face of danger, Kazuha couldn’t do a single thing to help
his loved ones. He still wasn’t a samurai yet—he had only started his training two years ago, after
all—but it was still within his blood to fight. To protect. And if he couldn’t protect the ones he
loved most, what kind of samurai could he possibly be?

What kind of person am I?

What kind of son am I?

“Go to hell, you loathsome beast!” His mother screamed. She tried to strike the creature, and things
seemed to play in slow motion, then. Kazuha had heard stories from his father, back when he was a
little younger, about various battles. He’d always wanted to hear the feats of a great Kaedehara
samurai; surely the fights must have all been glorious!

Each time, his father had told him that when you experience a life-changing moment, the world
will come to a halt. It could be for a variety of reasons. You won your first fight, you witnessed the
birth of your child, you fell in love, you came close to dying, or you—
Lost a loved one.

Blood sprayed throughout the air in a glorious arc. Some landed on the door of the cupboard,
causing Kazuha to flinch. He couldn’t control the pace of his breathing any longer, which was
something he was sure the monster would soon notice. His heart was seemingly flying, hammering
erratically against his ribs to the point of where it hurt.

Lifting his shaking hands, Kazuha covered his face in horror, suppressing a whimper.

On the floor, lying directly in front of the cupboard’s barely open door, was his mother’s severed
head. Her red eyes—the same as his, she’d always say—stared at him. Only now, they were
unblinking. She was looking not at him, but through him, towards something he couldn’t see nor
comprehend.

I want to scream.

Kazuha choked on air, though he forced himself to quiet, biting down on his fingers. He was
careful not to draw blood, lest it alert the monster to his location. Every action now was focused on
surviving, just like his mother had asked of him, and yet — he couldn’t force his eyes away from
hers, from the vision of her head lying so terribly close.

Footsteps suddenly approached, drawing frighteningly closer. Kazuha was positive that the
cupboard would be ripped open, and he’d be slaughtered just like his entire family.

Instead, a clawed hand reached out, picking up his mother’s head. This time, Kazuha had to shove
both his trembling hands against his mouth to keep from screaming. He could feel it building,
bubbling within his throat, but he choked it down, burying it down deep inside.

The monster took his mother’s head, and as it did, something fell to the floor, landing with a gentle
clatter. It was the hairpin his mother always wore, styled into the shape of a maple leaf. He had
always been entranced by it, and on a few special occasions, she’d let him wear it. Never in public,
however. He’d have been ridiculed, because apparently, tough boys like him shouldn’t wear
jewelry.

But when it was just them, him and his mother, she’d dress him up. In a flowing kimono he liked,
and that familiar hairpin. She’d sit him in her lap and tell him tales of her time as a young girl, all
the fun she had and the adventures she experienced. Back then, Kazuha had been happy—truly
happy.

He didn’t realize he was crying until the tears dripped onto his hands, rolling sluggishly across his
skin. They fell like droplets of rain onto the floor, but even that was too loud. Kazuha knew the
monster’s senses were enhanced, perhaps even better than his own. A single noise could get him
slaughtered.

But, to his relief, the beast didn’t seem to notice him yet. It was preoccupied, because for the first
time, it seemed to be eating.

Kazuha was forced to listen as the monster consumed his mother, feasting upon her body. The
body he had hugged and held, the body that was so warm and filled with life only mere moments
ago. This time, he couldn’t suppress his sobbing. It slipped past his lips, spilling out into the
stagnant air.

The primal sounds of chewing, of bones snapping and tendons breaking, stopped.

With a newfound terror, Kazuha inched backwards, deeper into the cupboard. No, no! He thought,
clawing at his arms. Please no! His fear drowned out every other thought and sense, hollowing
him into nothing but a quivering shell. A single word repeated in his mind: no. He didn’t want to
die. He didn’t want to be next. He didn’t want to be eaten.

I don’t want to join everyone else!

Just when he was certain he would die, a noise sounded. It reminded him of his father; when he
would unsheathe one of his swords whilst they were training. The gentle clink of a blade brought
him comfort. Perhaps his father really was alive. Perhaps he hadn’t died back there, and it had all
been an illusion. A trick that Kazuha’s frazzled mind had played.

“Wind breathing, Seventh Form: Gale, Sudden Gusts.”

That voice — it definitely wasn’t his father’s. It was deep and husky, presumably hoarse with age,
though it was a man speaking. But that man wasn’t his father, and it drained Kazuha of what little
hope he had left.

He cowered further, drawing in on himself as much as he could. His knees brushed against his
chin, and the metallic stench of blood flooded his nostrils, reminding him that he was filthy.
Covered in the carnage of his own family, those that he had loved and cared for.

Truthfully, he had no idea who this newcomer was. A distraction, really. Because surely, he would
die just like everyone else. Swords didn’t work against that monster. Kazuha’s father had tried, and
he had failed. If the best samurai in all of Inazuma couldn’t beat that thing, then how could this
man?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kazuha sniffled. He was tired — both physically, and mentally. Even if
this person was a stranger, he didn’t want to see anyone else perish to the whims of that creature.
Was it too much to ask for peace? For this nightmare to finally end?

An ear-splitting shriek suddenly pierced the air, causing Kazuha to flinch. The noise sounded
pained, drawn-out and deep. His eyes flew open, damp lashes fluttering against his tear-stained
cheeks. With shock, Kazuha watched as another severed head rolled to the ground. Only this time,
it wasn’t his mother’s, not even a human’s, but the—

The monster! He actually killed it!

Stunned into silence, Kazuha could do nothing but stare like a dumbfounded idiot. The creature’s
head was slowly beginning to disintegrate, fading into nothing but fragments of dust and ash. He
presumed that its body had disappeared, too, since he could no longer sense its presence within the
room.

Now it was only him and this odd, powerful stranger. A stranger who had been strong enough to
kill the monster, when previously, no one else could even come close. That left Kazuha feeling
both impressed and confused. What made this person different from everyone else? Was he just
exceptionally tough? Or was something else the reason?

A sword came into view, then. It was long and sleek, a dark teal in color. Black blood dripped off
of the tip, which the man soon flicked away. It landed with a splash onto the floor, but it wasn’t
long before the blood disintegrated, just like the monster’s body and head had. Kazuha was struck
with awe.

“Tsk . . . What a shame. It seems I was too late. Not even a single survivor . . . Damn it.”

The man’s voice sounded upset. He seemed frustrated, and almost saddened, even. So that meant .
. . Had he been coming to rescue them? This person had intended to save him, to save everyone, but
he hadn’t made it.

Kazuha tried to feel angry, but he couldn’t. He was simply stunned that someone was courageous
enough to come to their aid at all. Facing that monster required a lot of skill and bravery, especially
to do so for people you didn’t even know. Besides, he couldn’t blame the man who had
unknowingly saved his life. He had made it, at least to save Kazuha. The boy was sure, deep down,
that his parents and the servants would be happy.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to speak. He wanted to make his presence known. More than
anything, he wanted to express that he was alive. By some miracle, things had worked out in his
favor. It was all thanks to the sacrifices made by his family, and by his mother. Everyone
—everyone—had died for him. What they’d done hadn’t been in vain.

Yet . . . When he went to talk, words escaped him. Usually, they were his speciality. Despite being
so young, he still loved and appreciated literature. His father had never really approved; he much
preferred for his son to take an interest in sports. However, his mother always encouraged him
secretly. She would slip him journals, pencils and his favorite books along with a lantern during
the night. All because she had loved him.

This whole time, he’d taken that love for granted. He hadn’t appreciated what he had, not until he
lost it. Sometimes, he even thought that his parents were too hard on him. Too strict, too stern and
unyielding. Sometimes they could even be cold and distant, but—he knew now that was wrong. He
knew now that they’d both cherished him, more than anything; even themselves.

Since communication failed him, Kazuha tried to move. He could leave the cupboard, but then he
would have to see . . . Everything.

His mother’s body, the remnants of what used to be her. He didn’t think he could take it.

And so he was trapped, entirely motionless, just like before. He couldn’t do a single thing.

But, in the end, he didn’t have to.

Boots appeared within his vision, and moments later, someone was crouching down. A gloved
hand reached out, towards his mother’s hairpin. Kazuha wanted to shout, to stop them from
grabbing what belonged to his mother, but he couldn’t. He was stricken, overcome by sudden
terror.

There was another demon! It had wide, frightening eyes and horns—and worst of all, it was
looking towards him! It had seen him!

This time, Kazuha couldn’t suppress his frightened whimper. He scrambled back, his body
colliding with the cupboard’s wall. Where had that man gone? When was he coming back? He
needed to hurry, or else Kazuha was going to die, just like his mother, just like his father, and all of
the servants—!

“Wait!” A familiar voice called out to him. Those gloved hands moved upwards, and the beast’s
face was lifted. No; it wasn’t a face. It was a mask. The man had been wearing it. But why?
Kazuha couldn’t fathom the reason. Why would anyone want to look like a monster? It didn’t
make any sense to him.

“I’m sorry. I . . . I didn’t mean to frighten you.” The man seemed uncertain, now, as if he wasn’t
used to such a situation. Perhaps he didn’t interact with other people, let alone children, that often.
Living the life of a monster slayer must be pretty lonely, Kazuha assumed, so he might not
socialize much.

“My name is Xiao.” The man—Xiao—extended a gloved hand. Every move he made was slow
and careful; cautious. As if he were approaching a frightened animal, backed into a corner. His
behavior was similar to Kazuha’s, one summer evening, when he had been trying to help an injured
baby rabbit. So was that him?

Was he now the terrified, traumatized animal? The realization left him reeling.

A few seconds passed. Eventually, Kazuha managed to lean forward. He slipped his hand into
Xiao’s quite hesitantly. Once again, he noticed just how tiny he was. Xiao’s hand was massive
compared to his, and he didn’t even seem like that tall of a man, either. Kazuha reminded himself
that he was just a kid. He would grow, and hopefully become taller and stronger. Just like Xiao
was, now.

I’ll get bigger, so that I can be a monster slayer, too. So that I won’t let anyone else feel the way I
do now. So that . . . No other families have to die.

Xiao helped him out of the cupboard, quickly pulling Kazuha against his chest. He cradled the boy
close, blocking any view of the room with his body. While he didn’t know exactly what had
happened, he was observant. The woman he had found torn apart on the floor bore a striking
resemblance to the child he held now. She was undoubtedly his mother.

The last thing Xiao wanted was for Kazuha to see what had happened. Or at least, any more than
he already had. Judging by the kid’s hooded eyes and dull expression, he’d witnessed a disturbing
amount of horrors.

“You’re safe, now,” Xiao murmured. He rested a hand against Kazuha’s head, holding him
tenderly. Naturally, he wasn’t the best with kids. He didn’t like talking with others; socializing was
a chore, one he dreaded partaking in. Adults were a nuisance, and children tended to be even
worse. They were loud, noisy and rude, but this one was different. Perhaps it was due to the
trauma.

So, ultimately, Xiao did the best he could to be reassuring. He used what little social skills he had
to comfort Kazuha, stroking his hair lightly. To be honest, he was shocked that Kazuha wasn’t
screaming or crying hysterically. Both from the things he’d seen, and the appearance of Xiao. Even
grown-ups grew frightened of him. His sword was sheathed at his side, and he’d taken off his
mask, but he knew he must still seem scary.

“What’s your name?” Xiao asked quietly.

Kazuha felt as if he were being strangled. His throat was choked, blocked by something. Was it his
own emotion? For so long, he had fought to not make a single sound. Now, the prospect of talking
scared him. What if that monster somehow came back and tore them all apart? He had seen it
disintegrate, and yet the irrational fear nagged at him all the same.

Eventually, he managed to speak, his voice a mere whisper. If Xiao hadn’t been so close, he
would’ve never been able to hear him.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.”

Xiao nodded slowly, pulling him closer. He wrapped the teal haori he wore around Kazuha’s
shoulders; it was as if a blanket had been thrown over him. Warmth enveloped him almost
immediately, weaving around him like a protective cocoon. The haori was far too big for him, and
it trailed against the bloodstained floor, but Xiao didn’t seem to mind. Rather, he offered Kazuha a
tiny smile.

“That’s a nice name. It means ten thousand leaves, correct?” Xiao hummed, and Kazuha paused,
blinking owlishly. Outside of his family, not many people seemed to understand his name’s
meaning. But Xiao—he had understood, the very first time upon hearing it. It made Kazuha feel
nice, but the pleasant emotions couldn’t stop the overwhelming sadness from eating him alive.

“Yes,” Kazuha whispered. “It does.”

“Well, Kazuha, let’s get out of here, alright?” Xiao cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Can you
walk?” He asked. When Kazuha simply stared towards him, unblinking, he sighed.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll carry you.” Xiao took a deep breath. “When I carry you out, can you
promise me something? A pinky promise, too, which means that it can’t ever be broken.” He lifted
a pinky as an example, fixing Kazuha with a serious expression.

The boy’s heart dropped, sinking into his stomach. Another promise? Was Xiao going to die just
like his mother? No. Please no. I don’t want anyone else to die! Not you too!

Despite the way he shook, Kazuha raised his pinky, hooking it with Xiao’s. A wordless promise.
Whatever Xiao asked, he’d do.

“Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you to,” Xiao murmured. “Understand?”

“What did I tell you? Just listen to me, and you’ll be alright. A mother’s love for her son is
powerful. It will protect you. I will protect you. Understand?”

His mother’s words echoed within his ears, drifting slowly throughout his worn mind.

“I understand,” he choked out.

Xiao lifted him up without another word, pressing Kazuha’s head against his chest. Just when he
went to leave, Kazuha paused, tugging his shirt rapidly. “Wait,” he cried. “Please wait. I—” he
struggled to convey what he wanted, tripping over the things he wished to say. Eventually, he
pointed towards the ground, where his mother’s hairpin laid.

Moments later, Xiao had picked up the hairpin, placing it within Kazuha’s outstretched hand. It
rested snugly within his palm, gleaming with faint drops of his mother’s blood. He pressed it
against his chest, anyway, cradling it close to his body.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kazuha kept them closed as Xiao walked through his home.

The halls that were once filled with so many joyous memories now only contained pain and bitter
suffering. His estate, that he’d cherished so dearly, had been packed with the people he loved only
hours ago. And now, it was empty, save for himself and Xiao. When they left, there would be
nothing but torn corpses and bloodstains remaining.

Even though his eyes were closed, it didn’t help much. Kazuha’s other senses remained intact, and
he could smell everything. The blood, it clung to every little surface. It was everywhere. And the
sounds . . . He could hear whenever Xiao’s foot accidentally collided with a body, the dull thud
that it made.

Relief was only granted when they made it outside, back into the fresh and clear air.
“You can open your eyes, now,” Xiao told him quietly. He continued to hold Kazuha, almost as if
he were a baby. The boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he immediately looked towards the sky. The
sun was beginning to rise, shedding its morning light onto the world. It was the dawn of a fresh day
—the first day of Kazuha’s new life as an orphan.

“Do you have any other family?” Xiao questioned, watching the sunrise with him. “Anyone at all
who I can take you to?”

Kazuha blinked, lowering his head to stare at the hairpin within his palm. “No,” he mumbled after
a moment. “They’re all dead.”

Xiao remained silent for a long while. “Should I take you to an orphanage, then?”

Kazuha reacted instantly, jerking harshly against Xiao’s chest. “No!” He blurted out immediately.
He couldn’t bear that thought. How would he be able to sit, among countless other kids just like
him? How would he be able to move on, if he were to be adopted? He would live in constant fear
that another monster would come, and devour any possible new family. Besides, he didn’t want a
new family. He wanted his own back!

“I won’t go!” Kazuha trembled, gripping the hairpin tighter. “You can’t make me! I’ll run away
each and every time! I swear I will!”

“What? What’s so wrong with an orphanage?” Xiao frowned, seeming baffled.

“I don’t want to go,” Kazuha whispered, his voice quieting suddenly. “It will be lonely, and I’m
scared. If that monster returns, or others like it, what will I do? I want to stay with you. You can
protect me, and I want you to train me. I was supposed to become a samurai, like my father, but I . .
. I can’t anymore. If I wish to restore my honor, then I want to slay those monsters, just like you!”

Xiao seemed stricken, those yellow eyes wide with shock. He watched Kazuha for a long while,
slowly shaking his head. “A demon slayer,” he said. “You want to be a demon slayer.” The words
hung heavy in the air.

“Yes,” Kazuha retorted. “A demon slayer.”

“You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t know the risks of being a
slayer. You don’t even know half of it. Besides, not everyone is cut out for this; some people just
aren’t strong enough. And even if they’re strong enough, a lot of us still die anyway. Is that what
you want? To die?”

Xiao stared solemnly towards him after speaking, and Kazuha stared right back. His words didn’t
change anything. Those were the same risks that samurais took every single day! But he couldn’t
be a samurai any longer. His family was dead; no one was left to train him, and he’d lost his honor
once he allowed his loved ones to all die for him.

“Let me be a demon slayer!” He insisted. “I can do it! I swear I’ll become just like you!”

“Like me?” Xiao’s expression clouded, seeming to fog over. “Why would you ever want to be like
me?” He muttered darkly.

“Because you protect people!” Kazuha exclaimed. “You saved my life, when that monster . . .
Demon was about to kill me. I want to do that, too! I want to be like you, so that I can rescue
anyone who needs me. So that no one loses their family like I did.”

Xiao’s face lightened, and he blinked, as if shocked. His features softened, and he sighed, resting a
hand atop Kazuha’s head. “You’re just a kid,” he muttered. “Like I said, your entire life is ahead of
you. What if you change your mind? What if you see what’s in store for you and decide to leave
the corps?”

“I won’t!” Kazuha vowed. “That would be dishonorable!”

Xiao clicked his tongue, exhaling heavily. “I’ll take you to the master,” he said. “And confide in
him. I’m sure he’ll know what to do. He always does. If he believes in you, then fine. I’ll train you.
But if he doesn’t, then you’ll be sent off to an orphanage with no protests, and no running off. Got
it?”

Kazuha brightened, though only slightly. “Okay!” He murmured. Hope glimmered within him.
Maybe his life wasn’t over after all. Maybe he could still find some meaning.

Xiao set off, leaving Kazuha’s estate behind. Where were they going? Kazuha had no idea. All he
knew was that the master had to approve of him. He couldn’t go to an orphanage. No, he wouldn’t
be able to handle it. All those other children, with empty hopes and dreams, their hearts shattered
just like his. He was certain that it would break him.

I’ll make the master approve of me. I’ll make my family proud. I’ll show him that I’m a true
Kaedehara. Glancing down at his mother’s hairpin, Kazuha lifted it closer tenderly.

“By the way, kid. That was a good idea of yours,” Xiao said suddenly. When Kazuha peered
towards him, clearly confused, Xiao elaborated. “You know, hiding in the cupboard. I almost
didn’t notice you, and the perfume was a clever trick. It disguised your scent, and that kept you
alive.”

Kazuha couldn’t bring himself to respond, let alone to correct Xiao. It hadn’t been his idea to hide
there. It had been his mother’s.

His vision blurred, and soon enough, tears began to spill silently down his cheeks, splashing onto
his hands and the beloved hairpin he held within them. If Xiao noticed him beginning to cry, he
didn’t comment on it, which Kazuha was beyond grateful for.

The reality of what had happened, of what he’d lost, set in for good, then. And it hurt.

He was truly on his own.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

People stared at him.

Most of them looked towards him with pity. He could smell it on them. Their sympathy, and even
their empathy. Naturally, he didn’t recognize any of them, and they were all quite intimidating.
They were taller, older than he was, and they seemed to know Xiao.

“Who’s the runt you’ve got with you, Xiao?” One of them called out. He was a massive and burly
man, with spiky and eccentric hair. “I didn’t think you’d ever take in a stray!”

Kazuha clung desperately onto Xiao’s gloved hand, squeezing it tightly. Xiao squeezed back, only
once and quite briefly, but it was enough to comfort him. When the demon slayer turned towards
his comrades, his gaze was scathing. “Be quiet, Bosacius,” he muttered warningly. “This is a kid I
rescued from my most recent mission. I’m taking him to see the master. His name is Kaedehara.”

“Kazuha,” Kazuha whispered.

“What?” Xiao peered down at him, blinking.

“Call me Kazuha,” he mumbled, and Xiao nodded slowly. “Okay, Kazuha,” he murmured. “Let’s
go.” He guided Kazuha away from the others, and he gladly followed after Xiao, eager to be away
from prying eyes.

“This is the main headquarters of the demon slayer corps,” Xiao told him as they walked. “You
should feel very honored to be here.”

Kazuha huddled against Xiao’s side, blinking owlishly at his surroundings. The ground underneath
him was made of rocks and gravel. Each step was echoed by a gentle crunch. His feet were tired
and aching, but he didn’t dare complain. Xiao had carried him for long enough, and he wanted to
walk by himself. So that he could impress the master.

Everything was counting on that: on earning his approval, whoever he was. Kazuha pictured him as
someone scary, someone powerful and intimidating like everyone else. Maybe even more
frightening than Xiao.

But, then again, deep down Xiao wasn’t mean or frightening at all. He was gentle, and very kind,
and he was a savior as well. Kazuha assumed his comrades were the same. Tough on the outside,
but warm inside.

They passed large cherry blossom trees, gardens filled with rich life and flowers. It was all so
beautiful. It reminded Kazuha of his garden back home in Inazuma. Xiao had told him they were
now in a foreign nation called Liyue. Kazuha had only heard of such a place from stories his
parents conveyed to him; he had always viewed it as a far-off place, something he’d never get to
ever see.

But here he was. After a day or two of traveling, with Xiao either carrying him or letting him rest,
he was here. In a foreign land, far away from everything he’d known. Far away from his family,
and his parents.

Xiao passed by a small pond, filled with all kinds of pretty looking koi. Kazuha paused, tugging
lightly on the slayer’s hand. He wanted to stop and watch the fish; he used to do so for hours back
at home. It left a feeling of nostalgia brewing within his chest. Maybe he could even find some
food somewhere, so that he could sprinkle it in the water for the koi. Just like he did back at his
own estate.

“Come on, Kazuha. We don’t have time to waste,” Xiao reminded him, prompting Kazuha to turn
away, his heart plummeting.

He continued to trail behind Xiao, and after that, he didn’t stop to marvel at his surroundings any
longer. Not until Xiao himself halted, pausing in front of a large sliding door. Before he entered, he
turned towards Kazuha, taking a deep breath. “Be on your best behavior,” he warned. “Use proper
manners, and treat the master with respect—”

“Now, now. There’s no need for all of that, Xiao.” The sliding door suddenly slid open, revealing a
tall man before them. He had long, dark hair tied into an elegant ponytail. When he looked at them,
Kazuha remarked that his eyes were a stunning amber color.

This must be the master.

“Master!” Xiao exclaimed, quickly dropping onto his knees. Kazuha scrambled to follow, nearly
falling onto his face in his haste. “Master!” He echoed in greeting, though his voice was much
more squeaky than Xiao’s.

The master chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand. “Please, rise,” he insisted. “There’s no need
for any of these formalities.” He beckoned them forward, prompting Xiao to stand. He pulled
Kazuha up with him, practically crushing the boy against his side. Though he felt smothered,
Kazuha didn’t protest. He simply stared towards the master, eyes wide with wonder.

The master led them into his chambers, the sliding door drifting shut behind them all.

“Please, sit.”

Xiao led Kazuha towards a plush mat upon the ground, guiding him down before he too sat,
expectantly facing his leader, who was watching them both with a warm expression.

“Master—” Xiao began, but he was cut off.

“I beg of you, Xiao. In private, I told you to simply call me Morax,” the master—no, Morax—
insisted. Xiao paused, clearly hesitant, before continuing. “Morax,” he said. “I seek your assistance,
if you’d offer it.”

“Of course.” Morax smiled, sitting down in front of them. “You’re one of my most fearsome and
loyal hashira, Xiao. Why would I ever refuse to offer you my aid?” He folded his hands neatly
within his lap. “What is it that you require? I’m assuming it has something to do with this one right
here.”

Those amber eyes landed on Kazuha, who flinched. He wasn’t used to being the center of
attention; all of this was painfully overwhelming. His first instinct was to hide behind Xiao, but he
forced himself to remain still, although he did cling onto the ends of Xiao’s shirt for support. If he
wanted to impress the master, he needed to seem brave.

Even if he wasn’t.

“His name is Kaedehara Kazuha,” Xiao said.

“Allow him to speak for himself,” Morax insisted. “Kaedehara, tell me. What is it that you need
from me?” The master inquired.

Kazuha tightened his grip on Xiao’s shirt. In his free hand, he clung onto his mother’s hairpin,
tracing his fingers over the familiar surface. Xiao had helped him clean it a while ago, rinsing the
blood from the shiny metal.

“I want to become a demon slayer,” he began. He hated the way he sounded — so young and high-
pitched, immature compared to both Morax and Xiao. “And I want to train underneath Xiao, i-if
you would allow it, sir.”

“Why do you wish to become a demon slayer?” Morax questioned, prodding him gently. “Xiao
must have informed you of the risks. You do realize this is a dangerous job, don’t you? Many
slayers die while they are still young, and they are not easy deaths.”

“I don’t care!” Kazuha blurted out. He was unable to control himself, but he was tired of people
acting as if he didn’t understand. Of course he still had much left to learn, about demons and the
world and everything, but he knew what path he was choosing. It was dangerous and filled with
bloodshed, but that didn’t matter. The moment that demon slaughtered those he loved, his fate was
sealed. He would always choose this life.
Morax paused, waiting for him to continue.

“I know that I might die,” Kazuha went on, clutching his mother’s hairpin. It dug into his hand,
leaving crescent-shaped idents upon his skin. “But that doesn’t matter. I want to help people like
me. I want to save families like mine. I don’t want anybody else to feel the way that I do.” His
throat began to close, and he realized he was choking up.

“And how do you feel?” Morax murmured.

How do you feel?

Kazuha froze, and a million different emotions crashed into him, all at once.

I’m sad. I’m sad because I watched everyone I have ever loved die right in front of me, and I
couldn’t do a single thing to save them. I’m ashamed and guilty because of that, as well. I’m
scared, because I know that even worse monsters exist in this world, creatures more evil than the
one that slaughtered my family. But more than that, I feel . . . I think that I feel angry. No . . .

I AM angry.

“I’m angry,” he whispered. “I’m furious that something so evil can exist in this world. I’m angry
because that demon killed my family, but not just mine. I know it must have killed others, too.
Demons are everywhere, stripping people of their loved ones and their freedom, and it makes me
mad! I want to stop them. I have to stop them. This is one thing I can’t let go, not when it’s still
happening.”

Morax nodded solemnly. “You are very well-spoken, my boy. How old are you?”

“I’m eight,” Kazuha breathed. “Just recently.”

Once more, Morax nodded. “I see. May I ask you to step outside for a moment? I’d like to speak
with Xiao alone. It won’t take long.”

Kazuha stumbled to his feet. It was as if he were in a trance. His movements felt foreign to his own
body as he staggered out of the room. When fresh air collided with his face, he managed to blink,
though his mind reeled.

Did I impress him?

Xiao stared towards Morax, exhaling quietly. “Well?” He inquired. “What do you think?”

“You wish to gain my approval? To see whether or not he should become a slayer?” Morax
hummed, tilting his head slowly. “I will tell you what I think, Xiao. But just know that in the end,
my opinion doesn’t matter. If that boy is being honest, then he shall become a slayer no matter
what happens, no matter either of our opinions.”

Xiao held his breath, remaining silent.

“I can sense he has a pure heart,” Morax murmured. “Like most of my slayers, he has suffered a
great deal. He’s a young boy, Alatus, and he was around your age when you lost everything, as
well. You see yourself in him too, don’t you?” At the use of his real name, Xiao stiffened, his
mouth parting.

Morax continued, not giving him a chance to respond. They both already knew the answer.
“If Kazuha is telling the truth, and we send him away, he will simply return to us once he’s older.
If his heart is already decided on this path, there will be no diverting him. Or, if he’s somehow
lying or changes his mind in the future, he is free to leave the corps. We do not hold anyone
hostage here, as you know. He may come and go as he pleases.”

Morax gazed towards the ceiling, shaking his head slowly. “I know you’re simply worried for
him,” he sighed. “You don’t wish to lose him, or see him suffer any longer, but this is not your
decision to make. We can’t dictate the road he wishes to walk. And if I am being honest? I think
his heart is in the right place, and I believe he holds the necessary passion.”

“But look at him!” Xiao exclaimed, digging his nails into his palms. “He’s so tiny. The higher level
demons are going to eat him alive! What if he can’t even wield a sword?”

“He is a child, Alatus.” Morax fixed his stare sternly onto Xiao. “He will grow. Besides, look at
you. You know size doesn’t mean everything. He can still become a slayer. However, I do agree
that at this moment, Kazuha isn’t fit to endure our training. He’s too small, too young, and too
traumatized.”

“Give him two years, to become older and to heal,” Morax advised. “When he turns ten, you may
begin training him as you see fit. Until then, I give you my full approval to house Kazuha at either
your estate, or mine.”

“And, as you know, once you deem him ready you may send him to the final selection.” Morax
smiled towards him, and Xiao tensed. “I am sure that under your guidance, he will become one of
our finest demon slayers.”

“But how can you trust me so easily?” Xiao demanded. “How can you . . .” He shook his head.
“I’m not a good mentor. I don’t think I’ll be any good for him. If he wants to be a slayer, fine. But
shouldn’t someone else train him?” Xiao glanced towards his gloved hands, trying to shove down
the sudden self-hatred threatening to swallow him up.

“Nonsense.” Morax spoke firmly. “My decision is final. No one is going to train him except you,
Alatus. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are my Conqueror of Demons, and I believe in
you. Kazuha believes in you. You’re all he has now, whether you want it to be that way or not. Did
you not see the way he clung onto you?”

Xiao’s expression softened, and he sighed. He did see it. From the start, he had noticed how
Kazuha latched onto him. As his savior, it was only natural. Still, Xiao couldn’t help but feel as if
Kazuha deserved better than him. Someone kinder, or more experienced.

Morax rose to his feet, resting his hand against Xiao’s shoulder. “Do not doubt yourself,” he
insisted. “If you ever need guidance, I’m here. Your fellow hashira, as well. I’m sure they’d be
glad to lend a hand.”

Glancing up, Xiao nodded slowly. “I understand,” he murmured. “Thank you, ma—Morax.” He
cleared his throat, standing. “Should I go and tell Kazuha the news?”

Morax smiled, chuckling lightly. “Yes, you should,” he agreed. “And once you do, bring him into
the estate. He’ll need a bath, a change of clothes, and a warm meal, too.”

“Got it.” Xiao turned away, leaving the room without barely a trace. Morax watched him go,
sighing fondly. He had known Xiao since he was small, and now, he was watching him take on a
leadership role for someone else.
He knew they would both do great things, both for the world and for the corps.

“Congratulations, kid.” Xiao stared down towards Kazuha, who peered anxiously at him. “You
gained the master’s approval,” he announced. When Kazuha brightened, clearly going to celebrate,
Xiao lifted a hand quickly.

“But,” he warned. “There’s a catch. No training, not until you turn ten. That gives you two years to
grow stronger and to recover from what happened to you. You’re still young, you know. Until then,
you can stay with me at my estate. Unless of course, you’d like to live elsewhere, which is fine—”

Kazuha moved forward, crashing into Xiao. He wrapped his arms around the hashira’s waist,
hugging him as close as possible.

Xiao startled, clearly not used to the contact. He visibly faltered, almost moving to pull away,
before he relented. The hug wasn’t even all that bad; and so he embraced Kazuha, pulling him
closer tenderly.

He figured they both needed the hug.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Xiao! Guess what day it is!”

Xiao sighed, glancing towards Kazuha, who raced towards him excitedly. Like Morax said, the
boy had grown. He wasn’t as tall as Xiao just yet, but he would be once he turned a bit older.
Perhaps he’d become even taller.

“Your tenth birthday?” Xiao hummed, and Kazuha bounced up and down, brimming with
excitement. “Yep!” He chirped happily, his eyes shining with delight. It was different from his last
birthday; the first one he had spent without his family. Back then, he had spent the entire time
curled against Xiao’s side, clutching that maple leaf hairpin of his.

“How would you like to celebrate?” Xiao asked. He had specifically taken time off for today. It
was rare—no, in fact he had never once had a vacation until Kazuha came into his life. Xiao had
dedicated his entire life to eradicating demons. He couldn’t let a single day go to waste, but Kazuha
changed things.

Instead of slaughtering demons, here he was, making birthday plans with his . . . What were they?
Apprentice and mentor? Brothers? Friends? He didn’t quite know.

“I want to train!” Kazuha insisted, and Xiao internally groaned. As he predicted, Kazuha was
immediately begging to be trained. It was what he’d been promised, after all.

“If that’s what you wish? Then fine.”

They moved outside to train.

Kazuha was dressed in a loose white kimono, one that Xiao had worn when he was that age. It was
like looking into a mirror, and that was . . . Uncanny. Almost a little eerie.

Those red eyes shine bright with enthusiasm. He was still energetic. There was light within him,
one that hadn’t been snuffed out even despite all the atrocities he’d gone through.

For some reason that Xiao couldn’t explain, he wanted to protect that light. If Kazuha became a
demon slayer, he wouldn’t be able to do so anymore. Becoming a slayer meant risking your life
every single day. When fresh reports of casualties came in, Xiao knew he would scan the lists with
worry, desperately searching to see if Kazuha’s name was there.

He didn’t want it to ever be there.

“When can I get my own sword?” Kazuha inquired. “Can I customize it like yours?”

“You still have a while until then,” Xiao warned. “You’re nowhere near the level of using a real
sword, yet. For now, you’ll use that wooden one, just like I’m doing. Got it?”

“Okay!” Kazuha beamed, smiling brightly, and it made Xiao’s chest briefly ache.

“I’ll pretend to be the demon,” Xiao began. “And you’re the slayer. You need to try your best to
defend yourself from me. If I strike you even once, then that means you lose.”

Kazuha nodded, a determined expression overcoming his features. He gripped his sword tightly
within small, child-like hands. Although his dedication was admirable, he wasn’t going to have any
chance of winning.

Just like Xiao had predicted, Kazuha lost almost immediately. He was lightly smacked on the back
of his neck within seconds, and though Xiao had used barely any of his strength, the blow still sent
Kazuha crashing onto the ground in an undignified heap. He lost his grip on his sword, too; it
clattered to the floor a few feet away from him, leaving him both confused and utterly helpless.

“I-I can try again!” Kazuha stammered, scrambling to pick up his sword. “Please let me try again!”
He struggled to stand up, but Xiao stopped him, holding him back with a single hand. “There’s no
need, Kazuha,” he said. At the boy’s stricken expression, he went on, “I defeated you so quickly to
prove a point. How can you ever hope to fight a demon when you know nothing about them?”

Kazuha blinked, opening his mouth to respond, though no words came out. Eventually, his
shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “You’re right,” he mumbled. “But you’re going to teach me,
aren’t you?” He looked towards Xiao hopefully, his eyes shimmering. Xiao managed a small
smile, reaching out to ruffle Kazuha’s fluffy hair.

“I promised to, didn’t I? Of course I will.”

Xiao helped Kazuha back to his feet, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. They discarded
both of their swords for the time being. Instead, Xiao guided Kazuha back inside of the estate,
where he sat down with him amongst a sea of various books. The implementation of a library
hadn’t been Xiao’s idea; Kazuha took the credit for that.

He was glad he’d gotten one installed. It kept Kazuha entertained while he was away on missions,
and not only that, it proved to be a great place to teach at. His mind felt clearer amongst the
literature around him, and whenever he didn’t know what to say, the books helped fill words within
his mouth.

“I’m ready to learn!” Kazuha exclaimed. He sat with his legs crossed, a notebook and pencil
resting snugly within his open lap. “And I’m prepared to take notes, too!” He added proudly,
smiling just a bit smugly.

Xiao shook his head, leaning back against the chair he sat upon. “Well, let’s begin, then.” He knew
he sounded a bit awkward, but he’d never had an apprentice before. Explaining the world of
demons to someone—especially someone so young—was going to be a challenge. But it was one
he had to overcome, as Kazuha’s mentor. He needed to do a good job at this.
“Do you remember when that demon attacked you and your family?” Xiao asked.

“Of course. How could I forget?” Kazuha frowned, his enthusiasm ebbing slightly.

“It was during the night, wasn’t it?”

Kazuha nodded, and Xiao gestured towards his notebook. “Write this down if you need to,” he
said. “But get this through your head: demons attack only during the night. Why? Because the sun
is their greatest weakness. If they’re exposed to sunlight, they begin to burn, and if they’re exposed
to too much sunlight, they will be killed. That’s why they hide away during the day, and emerge at
night, although some demons may be brave enough to venture out during cloudy days.”

Xiao paused, watching as Kazuha frantically scribbled down everything he had just said. It was
almost comical, how he scrambled to memorize everything. Over time, all of the information
wouldn’t seem so daunting.

Once Kazuha had finished writing down everything, Xiao went on. “Demons have two more
known weaknesses other than sunlight: nichirin blades, and wisteria flowers.”

“Nichirin blades? Is that what your sword has?” Kazuha inquired, glancing upwards.

“Yes,” Xiao retorted. “All demon slayers have that type of blade. Otherwise, they’d never be able
to secure a kill. That’s why normal swords won’t work. It has to be nichirin.”

“That’s why my father was killed.” Kazuha gripped tightly onto his pencil, blinking slowly.
“Because he didn’t have that special blade. If he had, maybe he would have lived.”

“Kazuha.” Xiao leaned closer, resting his hand against his apprentice’s shoulder. “Listen to me.
Not just anyone can wield a nichirin blade. They aren’t common knowledge to the public, and for
good reason. Did you even know what a demon was before one slaughtered your family?”

“No. . .”

“That’s because the government refuses to acknowledge they exist,” Xiao told him solemnly.
“Demons are everywhere, in more places than you realize. Some blend in with the general public,
and cement themselves inside of the masses. They build reputations, earn livings, all to further their
own agenda. To consume more people and get stronger.”

“This is why the demon slayer corps isn’t officially known worldwide,” Xiao continued. “Only
those we help, or those raised around our corps, know of our existence. We try to keep a low-
profile, in case a demon we are hunting grows alert to our presence and flees. Being a demon
slayer isn’t about being famous or becoming a renown hero. If that’s what you seek to gain, you’ll
be let down.”

“I don’t care about fame.” Kazuha frowned. “I just want to help people, that’s all. It doesn’t matter
if I become popular or not. As long as I can save lives, that’s what’s important.”

Xiao smiled, his expression softening. “That’s what I figured,” he mumbled.

“As I was saying — even if your father had a nichirin blade, he wouldn’t have been able to fight
with it. To kill a demon, you need immense strength. You saw how they moved, didn’t you?
Remarkably quick, and unnaturally strong. Any average human would never be able to compete
with that.”

“That’s why you need a breathing style if you wish to match a demon.” Xiao lifted a finger,
tapping Kazuha’s notebook pointedly. “You know mine, don’t you? I use wind breathing.”

“Wind breathing,” Kazuha echoed. “Yes, I remember you used it to kill the demon. I want to be a
wind breather, too!” He beamed, and Xiao’s lips twitched with amusement.

“Not so fast,” he chided. “There are multiple forms of breathing, you know. Not just wind
breathing.” He shook his head with exasperation, going to continue, when Kazuha interrupted him,
his red eyes wide.

“I don’t care,” he insisted. “I want to use wind breathing just like you. Please, can I?”

Xiao huffed, waving a hand, though internally he could feel his heart warm. “Let me finish, why
don’t you?” He snapped, and Kazuha fell silent, shrinking down quietly.

“Anyways . . . There is a wide variety of breathing forms. The first form ever created was sun
breathing, but that can’t be used by any slayer. It’s far too powerful, and takes too much of a toll on
the body. So instead, we use forms derived from sun breathing: flame breathing, wind breathing,
water breathing, stone breathing, and thunder breathing.”

“In addition, there are new forms being created every single day. Picture it like this.” Xiao grabbed
Kazuha’s notebook and pencil, turning towards a fresh page. He began to draw a tree, marking
down the styles he had just listed, and attaching branches to them.

“Think of it this way,” he explained. “Sun breathing is at the top of the tree. The five main
branches come directly from it. Then, these smaller branches are other breathing forms that come
from the core five. For example: flower breathing comes from water, love breathing comes from
flame, and so on and so forth. Slayers are constantly creating new forms to match their bodies and
fighting styles. You might even create your own.”

“I don’t want to.” Kazuha frowned, resting his chin within his hands. “I already said that I want to
use wind breathing, like you do.”

Xiao sighed. There was no changing Kazuha’s mind once he’d made it up.

“Alright,” he agreed. “You’ll use wind breathing.” He passed Kazuha his notebook and pencil
back, leaning away again. “But that’s only if you can get the basics down.”

“. . . The basics?” Kazuha repeated.

“What, you didn’t think you’d just magically be able to master breathing techniques, did you?”
Xiao snorted. “That’s not how it works. First, you need to learn total concentration breathing.
That’s elementary level, but something that is absolutely required to know. Secondly, I’ll have to
teach you recovery breathing as well, and total concentration: constant. It’s all important.”

“I’m glad I brought a notebook,” Kazuha mumbled, furiously writing everything down.

“Put this in your book. Total concentration breathing is an advanced and esoteric breathing
technique where a user inhales the maximum amount of oxygen within a specific breath pattern to
raise their physical and mental prowess to their utmost limits.”

Kazuha stared towards Xiao, dumbfounded, and blinked. “That’s a lot of words, even for me,” he
breathed. “But okay, I’ll write it.”

“At a more advanced level, total concentration is also capable of clotting wounds from severe
injuries and slowing down the circulation of poison in the bloodstream.” Xiao tapped his chin. “It’s
incredibly useful, and can save your life one day. That’s why you absolutely must learn how to use
total concentration: constant.”

“Which is?” Kazuha pressed.

“Exactly what the name entails,” Xiao shot back. “It allows you to maintain total concentration
breathing constantly, at all times. Whether it be day, night, morning or afternoon, even when
you’re sleeping, you’ll keep up that form of breathing. All hashira have this skill. If you wish to be
my successor, then you’ll need to gain it, too.”

Kazuha brightened, nodding rapidly. “Got it!” He muttered. “I’ll master it, I promise!”

“And don’t forget about recovery breathing,” Xiao added. “It allows you to recover from whiplash,
stiff muscles, and fatigue. As long as you can master it, and take a moment to inhale and assess all
of your surroundings.”

“This is a lot,” Kazuha murmured.

“Is it too much?” Xiao asked, holding his breath. What if Kazuha started to back out? What if he
started to have second thoughts?

“Of course not.” Kazuha smiled, glancing towards him. “I’m just eager to begin training as soon as
possible.” He beamed, kicking his feet briefly. “I can’t wait!”

Xiao sighed, rubbing his temple. He should have known nothing would sway Kazuha.

“Well . . . Now that you know how we fight demons, let me tell you how we kill them. You
remember what I said, don’t you? Sunlight kills them, and nichirin blades. The blades will wound
them, but it won’t kill them unless you can cut the demon’s head off. Is that something you’re
prepared to do?”

Staring towards Kazuha, Xiao waited patiently for a response, earning an eager nod in reply. He
huffed, shaking his head.

“It requires plenty of power within your arms, and a fast thrusting speed,” Xiao warned him.
“You’ll need to practice daily, and for many long hours, to get things right. If your slash isn’t
powerful enough, you won’t sever the head properly, understand?”

“I understand!”

“Good.”

“But aniki, didn’t you say something else kills demons, too? Wisteria flowers, right?”

“That’s right. What about them?”

“Well, how do they kill demons? I just can’t picture flowers managing to hurt a monster.”

Xiao chuckled, tilting his head. “We don’t quite understand it either, but wisteria serves as a poison
for demons. When administered in a high quantity, it’s deadly. Some slayers use this poison to fight
and kill demons; it’s an effective tactic for those who aren’t strong enough to cut off heads.
However . . . Even wisteria poison has limitations. There’s a good chance it won’t work on higher
level demons, but we haven’t tested it out yet.”

“Higher level demons . . . ?”

“Yes.” Xiao’s expression darkened, and his lips pursed into a thin line. “Listen to me closely,
Kazuha. Should we ever encounter one of these demons, I want you to run. Leave the fighting to
me, do you understand? No matter what happens, you just escape.”

“What?” Kazuha’s face contorted, and his smile fell, the pencil slipping from his fingers. “Aniki,
what are you talking about?” His breath hitched, and the world seemed to tilt, beginning to distort
all around him—just like it had back on that night at his estate.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Xiao reassured him. “The chances of anything actually happening
are slim, but nonetheless, it’s important I warn you. But if you want me to tell you, then you need
to promise me, Kazuha. Promise me that you would escape.”

Kazuha remained silent for a long while. Xiao was asking him something impossible. For him to
run away like a coward, for a second time, while someone he cared for was killed? He could never
do such a thing! He was becoming a demon slayer to prevent that from ever happening again.
Although he hated lying, he forced himself to do so anyway. It was a lie that he’d keep to himself.

“I promise,” he lied.

Xiao nodded, seeming almost relieved.

“These higher level demons are called the Twelve Kizuki,” Xiao told him solemnly. “They’re
divided into upper ranks and lower ranks. Their order, from strongest to weakest, is this. Upper
rank: one, two, three, four, five, six. Lower rank: one, two, three, four, five, six. The strongest is
Upper One, and the weakest is Lower Six. You can tell them apart by their eyes. The lower ranks
only have a number engraved in one eye.”

“The higher ranks, however . . .” Xiao pointed towards his face. “They have numbers engraved
into both eyes. That’s how you’ll tell who you’re going up against.”

“What makes them stronger than everyone else?” Kazuha asked, frowning slightly.

“They are the twelve most powerful demons in existence, trailing only behind their creator. The
originator of demons is called the Tsaritsa, and we have been fighting against her for centuries.
While the corps’ goal is to kill evil demons, our main purpose is to get rid of the Tsaritsa. If she
dies, then her lackeys will follow. She is the key, but the Twelve Kizuki protect her with their
lives.”

“Not to mention, the Tsaritsa is . . . An unheard of monster. She is the strongest being on this
planet. That’s also why the corps must be so secretive. If she or the Kizuki were to ever find our
headquarters, we would be wiped out. Not even us hashira can properly tangle with her.” Xiao
stared at his hands, sighing heavily. “Our battle may seem futile, but I am certain that one day
soon, the Tsaritsa will be exterminated.”

“Me, too.” Kazuha offered Xiao a small smile. “Even if we don’t live to see it, I’m positive that
someday, a world will exist without demons, as long as the corps never gives up.”

Xiao paused, returning Kazuha’s smile. “I like your enthusiasm,” he murmured. “It’s refreshing. A
bit naïve, but I don’t mind.”

He leaned back, waving a hand with a sigh. “Anyways, let me continue. Only the Tsaritsa and her
top three Kizuki can transform humans into demons. They do this by injecting their blood into a
person. If that said person’s body can’t handle it, they will die. If it can take the administration,
they will turn. That’s how demons continue to populate this world, since they can’t reproduce by
natural means like humans.”

“So technically . . . You or I could turn into one of them?” Kazuha asked, his face pale.

“Yes.” Xiao frowned. “But it’s highly unlikely any demon would want to turn a slayer.”

“If I do become a demon, I swear I won’t ever harm a human,” Kazuha vowed. “And if I might,
then I want you to kill me, aniki.”

Xiao snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oh, be quiet. That’ll never happen, but fine. Likewise.”

“Now listen closely, Kazuha.” Xiao rested his hands on his knees, frowning. “The more of the
Tsaritsa’s blood a demon receives, the stronger they become. The more humans a demon eats, the
more powerful they grow. If a demon is strong enough, they can develop supernatural abilities. We
call that a blood demon art, and they all range in capabilities.”

“For example, a demon’s blood art will never be the same as another’s. Each demon has their own,
though some may be shared. That’s why, during each and every fight, you must be prepared for
anything. The key to becoming a successful slayer is the skill to adapt to any fighting style or
condition. If you can’t do that, then you will be killed.”

“I can do it!” Kazuha insisted. “I know I can.”

Xiao huffed, nudging him lightly. “Don’t get arrogant, now,” he warned. “You can never become
too overconfident. Don’t once underestimate an opponent. Even an unassuming demon can contain
much power. You should always be on guard, and your reflexes must be honed to their
perfection.”

“Like this!” Xiao dove forward, snatching up Kazuha’s notebook and smacking him over the head
with it. Kazuha yelped, rubbing the spot with a pout. “Ow!” He whined. “What was that for?” He
glared accusingly towards his mentor, though he wasn’t truly upset.

“I was just giving you an example,” Xiao explained. “If I were a demon, you’d be dead.”

“Well that’s not fair!” Kazuha complained. “You’re a hashira, and I’m a . . . Uh, I’m a . . .”

“Mizunoto,” Xiao informed him. “But not even that, not yet. You haven’t passed the final
selection, so you’re not a demon slayer.”

Kazuha frowned, heaving a sigh. “Remind me what that all means, again?” He mumbled.

“I’m a hashira — there are nine of us in total. The name means nine pillars, after all. We are the
highest ranking members within the corps. After us, the order goes as follows: kinoe, kinoto,
hinoe, hinoto, tsuchi-noe, tsuchi-noto, kanoe, kanoto, mizunoe, and mizunoto. If you pass the final
selection, you would become a tsuguko. A hashira’s apprentice. It would be the highest honor.”

“The final selection . . .” Kazuha murmured.

He remembered hearing about that. It was a test, to see who was fit to truly become a demon
slayer. People would be sent up a mountain—Mount Fujikasane. Wisteria bloomed there year
round, surrounding every slope. It prevented the demons that lurked within the trees from escaping
captivity.

If Kazuha could survive an entire week on that mountain, battling demons to prove his worth, then
he could become a slayer. He would make Xiao proud, and his parents, too.
 No matter what, he had to pass.

“Okay, enough. This is a lot of information to register. Any more thinking and your little brain
might explode.” Xiao rose to his feet, patting Kazuha’s head lightly. “Why don’t we get some
almond tofu? And grilled fish? It is your birthday, after all. Let’s go celebrate.”

Kazuha peered towards his mentor, blinking. The words slowly sunk in, and he smiled, nodding
brightly. Grilled fish; his favorite.

“Let’s go,” he agreed. He slipped Xiao’s hand within his own, allowing the hashira to tug him
towards their front door. Before they left, however, he paused. “Wait,” he insisted, glancing over
his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

Kazuha slipped away, into his room. Laying upon his bed was a familiar hairpin. He scooped it up
within pale hands, and smiled.

I miss you, mother. Father. But I promise . . . I’ll become a demon slayer and make you both
proud. I won’t let any other families suffer like us.

He tangled his hands through strands of thick white hair, pinning it back with his mother’s pin.
After examining himself in his mirror, he realized he looked like a splitting image of his mother
when she was younger.

It brought him comfort.

When he rejoined Xiao, the hashira peered towards his new accessory, humming faintly. “I like it,”
he said. “It looks rather nice.”

“Thank you.” Kazuha smiled, ignoring the way his chest tugged painfully. Even though it had been
two years, sometimes grief still struck him. It would never really go away.

During moments like that, he knew more than ever that he wanted to be a slayer. He knew more
than ever that no one else should feel as miserable and heartbroken as he did.

Chapter End Notes

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know any thoughts you have down
below! ❤️ I love reading your guys’ comments. See you all next Tuesday!!
 Loss
Chapter Notes

hiiiiii so I know I said I’d update every Tuesday but I argued w myself a lot on this
and decided to post for Father’s Day!! :D

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.

I am a hashira of the demon slayer corps—more specifically, the wind hashira.

When I was sixteen years old, I lost everything for the second time in my life.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Kazuha trained day and night.

He worked religiously, for hours upon hours, to achieve perfection. There were times he would
throw up, hurling the contents of his stomach out all across the ground. On other occasions, he
would bleed, his palms cracking and splitting open from holding a sword for so long. He only took
a break when Xiao ordered him to, and by that point, he would be swaying on his feet, lingering on
the verge of unconsciousness. It was . . . Bad.

Despite that, Kazuha didn’t let it phase him. The rough conditions and the exhausted state of his
body was nothing. If he wanted to fight demons, and if he ever wanted to become a hashira, he’d
need to endure worse.

This was only practice; preparing him for what was to come. He considered it child’s play
compared to the stories Xiao told him.

Before bed, he would lie awake, draped across his blankets with a lantern and his notebook. He
would scan the pages over and over, analyzing as much information as he could. Memorizing it
within his head, so that he could never forget a single detail. While physical prowess was
important, he couldn’t let his mental state slip. He had to stay sharp.

He trained whenever, wherever, and however he could. Even the smallest or simplest tasks could
be turned into a training regiment. While the nonstop behavior would tire most people, for Kazuha,
it was simply normal. He’d done the same things when preparing to become a samurai; it was
familiar to him, and so it made things far easier to adjust to.

As the months flew by, he simply improved further and further. He mastered total concentration
breathing, recovery breathing, and total concentration: constant in almost a remarkable timeframe.
It was partially due to his vigorous training, and the fact that he continuously pushed himself past
his limits. However, he made progress, so in the end, the pain and suffering proved to be worth it.

When the time at last came for his final selection, Kazuha succeeded flawlessly.

He used an old sword of Xiao’s, one that had belonged to him when he was much younger. On top
of that, he wore one of his mentor’s old haoris, draping it over his shoulders like a shield. It made
him feel closer to Xiao that way, as if the hashira were still with him to protect him. And it worked,
considering he escaped the ordeal alive and mostly unscathed. He fared better than most others.

There had been countless casualties. A lot of the people who Kazuha had entered the final
selection with didn’t re-emerge. They were lost to the demons lurking within the mountain range,
and it pained him to know he hadn’t been there to help. He’d saved a small handful of slayers
while on that mountain, and all had been thankful to him. He didn’t need their gratitude, however.
He was just happy that they lived another day.

In the end, Xiao praised him.

Kazuha had picked out the ore his sword would be made with, and he was appointed his own crow.
They were called Kasugai crows, to be specific. What made them so special was their intelligence.
They could speak, quite fluently in fact, and they were responsible for relaying information and
assigning jobs to the various demon slayers.

After receiving his crow, Kazuha had headed down the mountain, intending to walk back home.
He’d been shocked to see Xiao already waiting for him at the bottom of the slope.

The hashira hugged him then. It was rare to receive affection from Xiao, especially physical.
Kazuha had returned the embrace enthusiastically, his crow overlooking the scene with fondness. It
felt good to know that deep down, his mentor cared for him. Xiao had been worried, and though he
didn’t specifically say it, his actions spoke louder than words. He was glad Kazuha made it.

That evening, they had sat side by side at their favorite restaurant, sharing a plate of grilled fish
with almond tofu as dessert. It had been delicious, considering Kazuha hadn’t eaten a proper meal
in a week. He knew it was Xiao’s way of celebrating, a reward for his hard work and his victory.

The triumph was short-lived, however. Since Kazuha had officially become a slayer, he was
assigned a mission almost immediately after he received his sword. Since it was custom made to
suit him and his desires, it was everything he could have ever wanted. The blade itself was a deep
red color, while the hilt was styled into the shape of a maple leaf.

He’d been given a day or two to rest, before he was hurled back into a world of chaos and danger.
This time, though, he was ready.

At least, during his first mission, he would apparently be accompanied by someone else. Another
young slayer, around his same age.

“Be careful,” Xiao warned him, regarding him warily. “Remember everything I’ve taught you.” He
crossed his arms over his chest, and though his gaze remained guarded, Kazuha could sense his
worry. He noticed it in the way Xiao’s foot tapped, colliding rapidly against the ground in a
frenzied pattern. It was almost endearing.

“I’ll be fine.” Kazuha grinned, waving towards Xiao cheerfully. “I have another slayer to help me,
after all. If things go well, then I’ll hopefully be home in a few days.”

“Tch.” Xiao shook his head, looking away. “Good luck,” he muttered, waving sullenly.

Kazuha was already thirteen years old now; he was growing up quite fast. He was somehow a
teenager. It seemed like just yesterday Xiao had rescued him from that demon. If he closed his
eyes, he could still see that tiny and trembling boy, his expression dull, gaze sullen with grief. But
when he opened them, there Kazuha was, smiling towards him with bright enthusiasm.

Occasionally, he wished he could freeze time. The older Kazuha got, the more dangerous things
became for him. As the days passed, he crept closer and closer to his inevitable doom, as was the
case for every demon slayer.

But he couldn’t stop time, nor destiny.

He just prayed Kazuha would never suffer.

Meanwhile, Kazuha set off towards his desired location, whistling quietly as he went. His crow
flew above him, circling above his head and crying out directions every now and then. A turn here,
a backtrack there. He was on the way to meet up with his fellow slayer, and couldn’t be more
excited.

Following a stone path, Kazuha hummed to himself, allowing his crow to come and rest upon his
shoulder. He stroked the bird’s soft black feathers, trailing his fingers across the inky surface. His
display of affection earned him a gentle peck, to which he smiled at. He never pictured himself
having an animal companion, until now at least, and he found that he quite enjoyed his crow’s
company.

Along the way, he fed his crow bits of grilled fish that Xiao had forced him to bring along. He
knew his mentor intended the food to be for him, and not his bird, but he couldn’t help it. Crows
got hungry too, after all.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, Kazuha spotted a tea house in the distance. He perked
up, his eyes brightening slightly. “Is that it?” He wondered aloud. “Is this the place I’m supposed
to meet them at?” Secretly, he hoped so. His feet were aching.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” His crow squawked.

“Perfect!” Kazuha grinned, patting his crow’s head lightly. It flew away, resting on the branch of a
nearby tree. Birds weren’t allowed in tea houses, after all. It would be too unsanitary. Kazuha
hated to depart from his new friend, but he knew by now that the bird was fiercely loyal. It would
wait for him.

“I’ll be back soon,” Kazuha called out. To any passerby, he likely looked insane, but he didn’t
mind. People could think whatever they wanted. He’d like to see the look on their face when his
crow talked back to him.

Pushing open the door to the tea house, Kazuha stepped inside hesitantly. Warm air embraced him
at once, and he sighed softly, relaxing by a fragment. The whole place felt quite homely and cozy.
It reminded him, strangely enough, of the library back at home. They both had the same reassuring
and quaint aura. The delicious scent of brewing tea helped to ease Kazuha’s nerves, too, lulling
him into a sense of peace.

He was allowed to sit wherever he pleased, though he was more focused on looking for his
comrade. Were they early, or running late? He wouldn’t judge them for being behind. It had taken
him a while to get here, after all. Walking everywhere was tiresome.

“Hey! You! Pssst! The cute guy with red eyes! Hellloooo! Turn around, why don’t you?!”

Cute guy . . . With red eyes?

Wait, does he mean ME?

Eyes widening with shock, Kazuha spun around, a faint blush painting his face. No one had ever
called him ‘cute’ before — except for his mother and nanny, of course.
A tall boy with unruly blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail waved towards him, grinning
enthusiastically. The grin was crooked, skewed at the edges, and made him seem quite . . . Well,
quite dorky. Nonetheless, Kazuha found himself smiling back in return.

With a newfound spring in his step, Kazuha headed towards the mysterious stranger, halting in
front of the booth he sat at.

“Are you—” Kazuha began, but he was interrupted by the boy, who exclaimed, “The name’s
Tomo! Nice to meet ‘cha! You must be that Kaedehara Kazuha kid, right?! The wind hashira
apprentice! Are you going to become the next wind hashira after Xiao? I can’t think of anyone
replacing the Conqueror of Demons! I mean, just judging by his name, he’s a total badass! No one
can match him!”

Kazuha stared, dumbfounded, as Tomo rambled on, talking just a bit too loudly.

“Then again, I’m shocked he even took on a tsuguko to begin with! But after seeing you, I guess it
makes sense! You seem pretty capable! Knowing that someone like you is with me makes me feel
more reassured. If things start heading south, I know you’ll have my back. We’ll kick some demon
ass!”

Tomo’s loud mouth and bizarre words were earning them quite a few confused stares. Kazuha was
prompted to wave his hands, a bashful expression overcoming his features.

“Please, slow down,” he insisted. “And try to be a bit quieter. The corps isn’t public knowledge,
remember? We need to be careful about what we say and where.” Sighing, Kazuha sat down across
from Tomo, relieved to give his sore feet a proper rest.

“GAH! And you’re super serious and cautious, just like your mentor! It’s like I’m looking at a mini
version of him! A clone!” Tomo practically shrieked, causing them to receive a handful of glares.
Kazuha wished he could sink into the ground and simply vanish. When becoming a slayer, he
didn’t think he’d have to deal with awkward social situations.

“Don’t worry, I’ll whisper now.” By the grace of the heavens, Tomo finally lowered his voice,
leaning closer to murmur. “Anyways, did I already mention that it’s nice to meet you? I’m super
excited! It’s our first ever mission! When I saw you at the final selection, I thought it’d be fun to
work with you. I just never imagined it actually happening. But well, here we are, now!”

“You . . . Saw me at the final selection?” Kazuha mumbled, his face darkening. He hadn’t noticed
Tomo at all, but then again, he had been more preoccupied with himself. Besides, there were plenty
of people around. It would be hard to pinpoint someone unless you were specifically looking out
for them.

“Yeah.” Tomo rubbed the back of his neck, flashing that crooked grin again. “I had heard the
rumors about you, so I was curious. You’re pretty famous around the corps, since you’re the
Demon Conqueror’s tsuguko.”

“Oh. I see.” This was all news to Kazuha. He was famous? That definitely wasn’t what he wanted.
Well, in the end he supposed it didn’t matter. No one treated him like a celebrity, save for Tomo,
who was still eyeing him with blatant curiosity. It made Kazuha feel as if he were some kind of
wild animal, hung up at a zoo’s most popular exhibit.

“Well, should we get going, then?” Kazuha inquired. “If we keep walking throughout the night and
morning, we should make it to our destination during the afternoon.” Kazuha’s aching muscles
screamed with protest, but he ignored them. He was determined to keep going; to do good on his
first ever mission.

“Are you kidding?” Tomo snorted. “I’m not walking during the night. We need a place to stay, like
a hotel or something. If we want to fight demons, then we need to be properly rested, you know?
We can’t show up to the battle worn out from traveling so much.”

“But—” Kazuha balked, his jaw dropped.

“But what?” Tomo retorted. “I know what you’re going to say. People like you are predictable.
You want to rush in and help others without thinking for yourself. I get it. But you know what I
think? I think that I want to be in top condition, so that I can perform my absolute best when it
counts. If we’re too exhausted to fight properly, it could get us killed, and then we’re just more
victims whose lives the demon claimed.”

Kazuha closed his mouth, falling silent with a frown. He was torn. On one hand, Tomo made a
valid point. On the other hand, the longer they took, the more people were killed. Right now, as
they spoke, someone could be getting slaughtered. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t
want to have someone waiting, waiting for him, and be too late to rescue them. He had to be there.

“I understand,” he murmured. “And I see what you mean. That’s why I won’t mind it if you find a
hotel and sleep during the night. I’ll continue onwards to our location during the meanwhile. You
should arrive in time to help me. It will take a moment to actually locate the demon’s positioning,
after all.”

“Huh?!” Now it was Tomo’s turn to look at him with shock, as if he’d grown two heads. “Do you
hear yourself?! No, that’s insane!”

“Well, what other option is there?” Kazuha frowned, folding his hands within his lap. “I think my
solution was entirely reasonable.”

“And I think it was suicidal,” Tomo shot back. “The master paired us up together for a reason.
Obviously, this is a two-person job. You can’t rush in without me, and I can’t arrive too late for
you. If you really want to leave now, then I suppose I wouldn’t mind.”

Kazuha hesitated, oddly touched by Tomo’s compassion. “Why don’t we compromise?” He

offered. “We can sleep at a hotel for a few hours, and then begin walking. That way, we’ll have at
least rested for a little while.”

“Sounds good to me!” Tomo beamed, leaping to his feet. “What are you waiting for, then?”

Kazuha followed after him, and together they fled the tea house, leaving quite a few confused
people in their wake. None of the employees had the heart to stop the two young boys. Some
questions were just best left unasked, and some words left unsaid.

As soon as Kazuha stepped outside, his crow appeared, landing upon his shoulder. He glanced
towards Tomo, noticing that his bird was nowhere to be seen. It confused him, since even Xiao had
a crow of his own. “Where’s your crow, Tomo?” Kazuha inquired. “Did something . . . happen to
it?”

Tomo glanced towards him, before he smiled, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. It just doesn’t like
being by me for any longer than necessary. Probably because of Tama.”

“Tama?” Kazuha’s brow furrowed, and he went to speak further, when all words died upon his
tongue. The front of Tomo’s uniform was left unbuttoned, revealing the slope of his chest. And
there, nestled snugly within his shirt, was a pure white cat. It fixed wide blue eyes onto Kazuha,
and meowed.

“A cat!” Kazuha breathed, reaching out instinctively. The cat—Tama—leaned her head forward,
purring as he stroked his fingers across her ears. His crow didn’t seem too pleased by this new
development, watching the situation with its beady black eyes filled with disdain; still, it didn’t
need to worry. Kazuha wouldn’t let anything happen.

“She’s beautiful, and very sweet,” Kazuha mumbled. “But what will we do with her once we’re
fighting? What if she gets hurt?”

“Don’t worry.” Tomo gently tapped Tama’s nose, smiling cheerfully. “She’s a smart cat. If she
senses danger, she’ll alert me to it. She’ll run, while I’ll fight. I wouldn’t let a demon kill her, and
besides, they typically aren’t interested in small animals. They don’t provide sustenance. I’d be
more worried about us. We’re the ones they’ll be after.”

“I’m not worried,” Kazuha announced. “We’re demon slayers, not demon prey.”

Tomo met his gaze, managing a small grin. “Yeah. I like your enthusiasm. I didn’t expect you to be
so bright when your mentor is so, how do I put it, dark.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking
his head. “Anyways, let’s get going. There should be a hotel that way.” He pointed towards the
distance, and Kazuha followed his gaze towards a small dirt path.

Without further ado, he set off, Tomo trailing at his heels. For a while, they journeyed in silence,
until Tomo commented on something, moving to walk at Kazuha’s side.

“Hey, I like your hairpin. Where’d you get it?” Tomo peered towards him curiously. It was an
innocent question, and a mere compliment. Still, Kazuha couldn’t help the way he tensed, his chest
tightening slightly.

Tomo seemed to notice the subtle shift, for he lifted his hands, appearing apologetic. “I’m sorry,”
he said. “If it’s a sensitive subject, then we don’t need to talk about it.”

“It’s okay,” Kazuha smiled towards him. “You didn’t know.” He paused, reaching up to drift his
fingers across his pin. “This belonged to my mother,” he explained. “It’s all that I have left of her.”
He stared towards the ground, trying not to picture his mother’s smiling face within his mind, and
quickly failing.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Tomo reached out, patting Kazuha’s shoulder lightly. “I’m sure she’s
watching over you, and I bet she’s happy you’re wearing her pin, too.” He grinned, and Kazuha
paused, meeting his gaze with a hint of surprise. “You think so?”

“Of course!” Tomo beamed. “You see this haori I wear? It was a gift from my father, before he was
killed by a demon. I wear it all the time, and it makes me feel closer to him. As if he’s still with
me. So I know where you’re coming from, even if you think I don’t.” Tomo tugged on the ends of
his haori as he spoke, his gaze softening by a touch.

Kazuha eyed the red haori he wore, sighing quietly. He couldn’t ignore the prickles of anger he
felt, brewing deep beneath his skin.

He wasn’t angry at Tomo. No, of course not. He was mad because . . . Because another person he
knew had lost everything to a demon. It filled him with rage to know that these evil creatures
continued to take and take, without any regard for what they did.

Demons needed humans to survive, but that didn’t matter. What they were doing was cannibalism.
Every demon had been a human once, even the Tsaritsa. To commit such atrocities against their
own kind—it was sick. Did they never feel shame? Or guilt?

“Hey.” Tomo nudged him. “Don’t look like that. It’s alright, I’ve moved on from that. I’m a demon
slayer now, so I’m going to change this shitty world in any way that I can! One demon at a time,
right? If we can kill even one demon, that will save dozens of people. Think about it that way. If
we succeed on this mission, we’ll be saving countless lives.”

“You’re right.” Kazuha took a deep breath, nodding firmly. “I won’t allow us to fail.”

“That’s the spirit!” Tomo cheered, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. He paused, waving
towards something. “Look! There’s the hotel! Come on!” He gripped onto Kazuha’s wrist, tugging
the other boy off. Kazuha ran with him, feeling a strange sense of warmth. Of . . . Companionship.

During his childhood, Kazuha never had any friends. He spent most of his time training, or reading
within his room. His only socialization stemmed from his family’s servants. After his parents were
killed, he became even more reclusive. He interacted with Xiao for the most part, and occasionally
some of the other hashiras; although that was only thanks to Xiao. They never came to see him,
only the wind hashira, and it, well it was . . .

It was lonely, he realized.

Had he really never had a friend before?

He couldn’t even consider Xiao his friend. Xiao was his savior, his mentor and someone he viewed
as an older brother. But Tomo . . .

Maybe we can be friends?

They ended up sharing a hotel room, though they slept on separate beds, of course. Xiao had given
Kazuha enough mora for anything he needed. Food, water, medical supplies, or housing were all
covered by his mentor.

Ultimately, they wound up resting for four hours. It was more of Tomo sleeping (and snoring quite
loudly) with Tama dozing upon his chest, until Kazuha woke him back up.

Then they were off again, back into the night. Kazuha led the way, allowing his senses to guide
him. They arrived at their destination after a long, long time of traveling. It was a quaint looking
town, where the vast majority seemed to be asleep.

“Well, where should we start looking?” Tomo asked, resting his hands upon his hips.

“East! East!” Kazuha’s crow shrieked.

“Come on, then.” Kazuha took the lead once more, ignoring the way his heart raced. Adrenaline
was coursing through his body already, and he could barely contain it. This was his first real
mission, and while he had faced demons before back at the final selection, those were nothing.
They were starved and weak creatures. A demon out in the wild, however? That was a whole other
story.

His crow flew high above his head, calling out directions every now and then of where the demon
was last sighted. Kazuha relied on his nose, as well. He remembered the way demons smelled.
How could he forget? They reeked of blood, of chaos, death and carrion.

Sure enough, Kazuha stiffened, catching the faint whiff of something metallic. “There!” He
announced, turning abruptly on his heel.
“Huh? Where are you going? The crow said the other way!” Tomo exclaimed, but Kazuha was
already racing off. He groaned internally, but followed after the other slayer, catching up relatively
quickly. Kazuha was quite shorter than him, and he had longer legs, so it only took a few strides to
match his pace.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Tomo asked. They sped down dimly lit back alleyways, the
only sounds being the steps of their own feet. When Kazuha nodded once, Tomo fell silent. He
trusted the other boy enough not to question him any further.

Sure enough, Kazuha turned out to be right.

Tama began to hiss, the fur upon her spine sticking straight up as she bristled. She leapt from the
safety of Tomo’s shirt, scurrying to hide behind a cluster of garbage cans. Only her eyes peered
out, examining them closely.

“It’s near,” Tomo murmured warningly.

Kazuha’s hand drifted, coming to rest upon the hilt of his sword. He trailed forward, Tomo at his
side. He kept his senses peeled, scanning the area for any signs of the demon. It was everywhere,
now. The nauseating aroma of blood, and the thick presence of death. It sent chills rippling up
Kazuha’s spine, the hair on his arms starting to raise.

They appeared to be alone within this alleyway, but Kazuha knew that wasn’t true. The demon was
aware of their existence, and it was hiding. They just needed to find—

Something wet dripped onto his hand. Tensing, Kazuha glanced down. It was a drop of something
red. His heart sank. Blood.

“Above us!” He shouted, glancing upwards instinctively. There, nestled at the very top of the alley
wall, was a spider-like demon. Its long limbs cracked unnaturally as it stretched, revealing a corpse
clutched within one of its many arms. That had been the source of the blood. Kazuha could taste
bile within his mouth, but also regret. Guilt.

I didn’t make it in time.

The demon dropped its victim. The body fell to the floor with a dull thud, blood forming in a dark
pool upon the ground where it landed. It appeared to be a young woman. Chunks of her flesh were
missing, and one of her eyes had been gouged out completely. Her mouth was parted, presumably
in a scream of terror.

Kazuha’s fingers twitched.

“Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!”

Within the span of seconds, Tomo was moving. He was so fast, if Kazuha hadn’t been looking
closely, he would have missed his comrade entirely. A brilliant flash of yellow light encompassed
the entire alley, and the rumble of thunder reverberated throughout Kazuha’s chest. Frozen with
awe, Kazuha watched as Tomo lunged at the demon, slicing three of its eight legs clean off in a
single blow. It was remarkable.

Can I match that strength?

It doesn’t matter. I have to!

“Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!”

Kazuha unsheathed his blade with a flourish, leaping upwards with a firm push of his feet. While
Xiao’s version of wind breathing was filled with particles of dark teal energy, Kazuha’s was
different. Maple leaves swirled alongside his blade, giving the appearance of an autumn night as he
struck his target.

He felt his sword connect with solid flesh, and he pushed, cutting through both meat and bone. His
muscles strained, his arms aching with protest, but he managed to sever two of the demons’ many
legs. They disintegrated almost instantly, and the beast screamed with pain, collapsing to the floor.

Both he and Tomo landed side by side, exchanging a brief glance. While this was their first time
working together, Kazuha could still feel the chemistry. They synchronized well, and he felt that
they’d make a good team. No, they were a good team. He hoped they’d be put on more missions
together. Two was better than one.

In front of them, the demon was recovering. Some of its legs had already regenerated, and it
chittered, assessing them with many eyes.

Be prepared for anything, Kazuha reminded himself. And don’t underestimate your enemy.

The demon suddenly sprang, opening its mouth to launch a volley of poison towards both Kazuha
and Tomo. They managed to dodge just in time, and Kazuha watched as the black acid carved a
whole within the ground. His stomach lurched, and he realized even one drop of that liquid could
be fatal.

With an inhuman screech, the demon lifted one of its legs, slashing towards Kazuha’s abdomen.
His quick reflexes saved his life, allowing him to bend backwards and away just in time. If he
hadn’t been quick enough, he would have been sliced clean in half.

Sweat glistened upon his forehead, but Tomo didn’t seem phased in the slightest. He simply
repositioned his feet with a grin.

“Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash, Sixfold!”

Tomo moved faster this time, launching six consecutive strikes towards the demon. Kazuha hurried
to join him, lifting his blade and twisting his body to match Tomo’s pace.

“Wind Breathing, Second Form: Claws-Purifying Wind!”

Under the force of their combined attacks, the demon balked, struggling to protect itself. It
attempted to shield its neck with its legs, folding in on itself, but Tomo’s slashes severed through
its defenses, allowing Kazuha clear passage. He carved his blade upwards, black blood splashing
across the ground as he dug through meat and flesh.

The demon spasmed, its shrill cries piercing Kazuha’s ears, but he didn’t relent. Tomo even flung
his own blade down, helping Kazuha slice off their opponent’s head. It came loose with a
sickening snap, tendons and bits of skin hanging in its wake. The monstrous head rolled to the
ground a few feet away, quickly beginning to disintegrate.

As the demon’s cries faded and its body vanished, Kazuha paused, allowing the reality to sink in.
He had faced a real threat, and won, with the help of Tomo. For a moment, he was proud.
Triumphant, even. But all that disappeared when his gaze rested upon the victim he’d been too late
to save.

Sheathing his sword, Kazuha walked forward, dropping onto his knees. He cupped his hands
together, sending a prayer towards the heavens for the soul he’d failed to protect. The guilt
weighed heavily within his heart, dragging down his every thought. If only they hadn’t stopped to
rest, or if they’d been a little faster, could she have been saved? Would this girl still be alive right
now if they had done things differently? Would—

“Hey.” Tomo appeared at his side, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said.
“It isn’t your fault. The only one to blame is that demon, and we killed it. We avenged her, and
that’s what matters.”

“We should find her family.” Kazuha swallowed past the lump within his throat.

“They would blame us,” Tomo retorted. “And you know we can’t do that. They would have too
many questions that we can’t answer.”

“Don’t they deserve to know?” Kazuha snapped, digging his fingers into his palms. “They deserve
to know how their loved one died. Massacred by a monster.” That familiar anger surged within
him, brewing steadily.

“You and I both know that they wouldn’t understand,” Tomo reminded him gently. “They would
call us crazy. People don’t believe what they can’t see. The demon’s body is gone. We have no
proof that it even existed. We would be blamed for her death.”

Kazuha rose to his feet abruptly, taking a deep breath. Tomo fell silent, watching him.

“Next time, we won’t stop to rest,” Kazuha announced, his voice quiet.

“Next time?” Tomo blinked, beginning to grin. “You mean you want to keep working together? As
a team?”

Kazuha met his gaze, nodding slightly. “Yes,” he mumbled. “If . . . You would want to.”

“Of course I would!” Tomo laughed. “Did you see us back there?! We absolutely slaughtered that
sorry son of a bitch! Demons won’t be any match against us!”

Kazuha managed a small smile, shaking his head. “Rule number one: never get too arrogant,” he
chided, recalling what his mentor had told him. “It’ll get you killed.”

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Three years had passed since Kazuha’s first mission. As he turned older, he grew more mature. He
became stronger, both physically and mentally. To Xiao’s disappointment, he even surpassed his
mentor’s height. Xiao had been happy to have someone smaller than him, but that happiness was
short-lived.

Over the years, Kazuha trained with and fought alongside Tomo. As he expected, they became
close friends — they were nearly inseparable. They’d earned the nickname of ‘dynamic duo’ and
many of the hashira believed them to have stunning potential. Xiao was always proud to show off
his apprentice, at the person who he’d become.

But while Kazuha had drastically improved, he still didn’t know everything. He wasn’t near the
territory of a hashira yet, which was something Xiao frequently reminded him of.

It agonized him. Demons continued to mount in strength and number. He needed to match their
evolution; he too needed to become something new, something better. If he wanted to protect
people, if he wanted to become Xiao’s successor, he’d have to do more. He’d have to be more. And
so he continued to push himself, training whenever he had a moment of free time.
His days were spent training. Improving his breathing techniques, upgrading his style of fighting.
His nights, meanwhile, were spent hunting demons. Anything and everything he did revolved
around his duty as a slayer.

In a way, he was copying Xiao. His mentor had done the same exact thing for years, without a
single break. But now that someone else was in his place, Xiao grew concerned for them. Kazuha
was still so young, and he had his limits. He was continuously shoving himself past them, falling
onto the brink of death from how exhausted he became. It made Xiao worried.

No matter how many times he tried to talk with Kazuha, to wake him up to reality, it never
worked. Kazuha was set steadfast down his path of self-destruction. For Xiao, it was once again
like looking into a mirror. He saw himself in Kazuha more than he’d like to admit; was it his own
fault they were so alike?

Regardless, he did his best to protect his tsuguko, but the life of a slayer wasn’t easy. It was exactly
as Xiao had foretold. Kazuha faced death and destruction every single day. He endured gruesome
battles, and was injured countless times. There were occasions he’d spend weeks in the infirmary.

Once, he’d been hurt so bad, the medics were worried he wouldn’t make it. Xiao had spent every
second at his side, anxiously watching and waiting. He had faith in his apprentice, and sure
enough, Kazuha pulled through. The boy made a full recovery, and once he was healed, he
returned to work just like normal, without even batting a single eye.

It was both admirable and concerning.

Not to mention, during the night, Xiao would hear Kazuha scream. The first time it’d happened,
he’d nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get to his tsuguko’s side. He’d assumed they were
under attack somehow, but had been startled to realize Kazuha was merely having a nightmare.

Kazuha used to have them frequently when he was younger. They always consisted of his family,
and while he wasn’t descriptive with what he saw, Xiao knew it was never good. He would wake
up in a cold sweat, his eyes wide and haunted, sometimes with tears streaming down his sullen
cheeks. That was happening again, now, only ten times worse.

He would kick and thrash in his sleep, and sometimes even sob into his pillow. Xiao knew it had
everything to do with the things he’d seen as a slayer, and the people he couldn’t save. He’d dealt
with the same issues himself. While he couldn’t offer proper solace, he did his best to help. But for
people like them, there’d be no healing their trauma.

It would last, until the source of their pain was extinguished. As long as evil demons continued to
wander the earth, nothing would change. The cycle would continue.

But maybe soon, something would give.

It had to.

“Kazuha.”

Xiao stood in front of his apprentice, who wiped sweat from his brow, glancing upwards
expectantly. He had been training vigorously, as per usual, though his routine was intercepted by
the voice of his mentor.

“What is it?” Kazuha inquired, perking up. He no doubt expected to be sent onto a mission, but that
wasn’t what Xiao was here for. No; he needed to simply deliver news.
“I’m leaving,” Xiao said. “On a mission of my own. Four of the other hashiras will join me.”

“. . . What?” Kazuha dropped the sword he’d been holding, coming to stand at Xiao’s side. Sweat
dripped down his forehead, but for an entirely different reason, now. A cold chill was spreading
across his body, rendering his nerves numb. His limbs felt like lead. To send out so many hashira
could mean only one thing; they would be facing off against an Upper Moon, or the originator
herself.

“Let me come with you,” Kazuha blurted out without a second thought. Wherever Xiao went, he
wanted to follow. Especially for a battle so dangerous. He couldn’t stand the thought of his mentor
fighting without him.

“No.” Xiao’s voice held firm. “It’s too risky, and you’re far too inexperienced. You would prove to
be no help. You’d simply get in the way. Do you think I’d be able to fight properly, constantly
worrying for your safety?” At Xiao’s accusing tone, Kazuha fell silent, his words sinking into the
boy’s heart.

“You’re not on the level of a hashira yet, Kazuha.” Xiao shook his head, pursing his lips into a thin
line. “We’re following after rumors of the alleged Upper Moon One. It could be nothing, but the
master wants us to be prepared. You know it takes three to five hashira to stand a chance against an
Upper Moon of such caliber. You would be killed.”

“I don’t care!” Kazuha snapped. “You may use me as a sacrifice if you must, but I want to go. I
want to help, I want to be useful—”

“And I want to keep you safe!” Xiao retorted sharply. It was the most worked up Kazuha had ever
seen him. The hashira’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his yellow eyes narrowed with an
unusual fire. “You are my only successor,” he hissed. “I must protect you. You’ll understand my
reasoning one day, Kazuha. When you too have apprentices of your own, you’ll know exactly how
I feel.”

“Please, aniki.” Kazuha reached out, gripping tightly onto Xiao’s hand. “Come back alive.”

Xiao glanced down at their entwined hands, brushing his gloved fingers lightly across Kazuha’s
palm. “For you, I will do my best,” he mumbled. His best had to be enough.

Kazuha’s throat tightened, emotion overcoming him suddenly. He moved forward, aiming to hug
his mentor, when Xiao pulled away. “Don’t treat this like a goodbye,” the hashira muttered curtly.
“I’ll return home. Be good while I’m gone.”

With that, Xiao walked off, leaving Kazuha behind. The boy stood, his training discarded, and
tried not to cry. He stared at Xiao’s retreating form until it disappeared, and even still, he didn’t
move from his spot.

When his vision blurred, Kazuha finally wiped at his eyes, releasing a shaky exhale.

Surely he didn’t need to worry.

Days passed, and Xiao’s mission proceeded. Kazuha spent his time with Tomo, training alongside
his friend and fighting his hardest to improve. Xiao was right. He wasn’t ready to become a hashira
yet, but he would be.

“Don’t you think you’re too hard on yourself, Kazuha?” Tomo inquired, wiping sweat from his
brow. “I mean, you never stop to rest.”
“Resting amounts to nothing,” Kazuha retorted, regarding his friend plainly. “If you ever want to
become the thunder hashira, you’ll need to start trying harder, you know.”

Tomo frowned, shrugging lightly. “Of course I want to become a hashira,” he said. “But it isn’t
everything. I just want to continue helping people, and saving lives. Isn’t that enough for you?”
What he said caused Kazuha to pause, considering the words for a moment. Ultimately, he was
right. Protecting people from demons was all he wanted to do, but—being a hashira was a goal he
could never give up. He had to make Xiao proud.

Before he could respond, his crow appeared, fluttering its wings frantically. Kazuha craned his
head back to regard his feathered friend, his brow furrowing with confusion.

“CAW! FOUR CASUALTIES! FOUR HASHIRA DEAD! DEAD! CAW!”

Kazuha’s sword clattered to the floor, while Tomo froze, his eyes widening with horror.

“XIAO IS THE ONLY SURVIVOR! CAW! HE IS IN FATAL CONDITION! AT THE MAIN

HEADQUARTERS!”

Tomo covered his mouth, appalled, but Kazuha was already running.

“Kazuha! Wait!” Tomo called after him desperately. If Kazuha went now, then there was no telling
just what he would see.

The boy ignored him, racing as fast as he could towards where he knew the main base to be. He
had memorized the path long ago, and luckily, Xiao had built his estate close by. He’d wanted to be
near the master, just in case of any danger. Kazuha was grateful for his decision. It made traveling
a lot easier, although now, he swayed and nearly collapsed with each step. He was panicking.

He struggled to use recovery breathing; he had mastered it so effortlessly before, but now, it was a
grand feat to even exhale. The world was shaking around him, and even the ground underneath his
feet seemed to tilt, threatening to split open and swallow him whole. He wouldn’t even mind if it
did.

Thanks to his haste, Kazuha arrived at the main headquarters within minutes. His crow followed
him all the while, remaining solemnly silent. The poor thing was quivering as it flew, from both
exhaustion and stress. It was worrying for Xiao, too.

“Where is he?” Kazuha gasped, his chest heaving. A wave of nausea overcame him. Was it either
from nerves, or his run, he couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was simply both.

The master — Morax — was standing in the center of the yard, watching him. Had he been
waiting for Kazuha’s arrival? Those familiar amber eyes of his were solemn, and filled with a
sadness Kazuha had never seen before. It made his heart drop, falling down down down. Into his
stomach, down to his feet, then out of his body and into the earth.

“He’s in the infirmary,” Morax said. His voice was as grim as his gaze. “Go see him, now.”

Kazuha hurried off, practically flying into the infirmary and down the many halls. It wasn’t hard to
locate his mentor, either. He could recognize Xiao’s scent anywhere, only this time, it was swathed
with the tang of blood.

He burst into the room Xiao was in, scanning the area frantically. Sure enough, there the hashira
was, lying upon the center bed. His eyes were half-open, and glazed with pain.
All around him stood medics, doctors and nurses trained specially to deal with the wounds from a
demon. They talked together in hushed and frenzied voices, their hands moving rapidly to apply
bandages or weave stitches into Xiao’s slashed-apart flesh. Kazuha watched them as if it were a
scene from one of the books he read. It didn’t feel real. He was dreaming, wasn’t he?

Aren’t I?

“Kazuha . . .” Xiao spoke, calling out to him.

The room fell silent. All heads turned towards him. One girl opened her mouth. “You shouldn’t be
here,” she insisted, but her companion shoved her. “Quiet. Don’t you know that’s his tsuguko?”
She scolded.

No one lectured him for his disturbance after that. They simply stared at him as he nearly fell
forward, coming to stand at Xiao’s side.

“Leave us,” Xiao coughed.

“But sir — your wounds — if we don’t constantly tend to them, then you’ll . . .”

“I said leave.”

All around, the medics exchanged concerned glances. The head doctor was the first to leave,
slipping quietly out of the room with his gaze downcast. One by one, his comrades followed, their
faces respectfully lowered.

As if they were mourning.

Once the door shut behind the last person, Kazuha leaned forward, hovering anxiously over his
beloved mentor. “Aniki,” he whispered. “What happened to you? What happened?” He shook his
head in disbelief. The crow had said four hashira died. That meant . . .

Everyone is dead. Everyone is dead.

The flame hashira.

The water hashira.

The thunder hashira.

The stone hashira.

And now only the wind hashira remained, bleeding the contents of his heart out onto the cold bed
he laid across. How much longer did he have left? The doctors had claimed he needed nonstop
medical attention for even a chance of survival. If that was true, then . . .

“Kazuha.” Xiao’s voice was weak. Kazuha had never seen him in such a state. His mentor had
always been the image of strength. Xiao was tough, powerful, everything that Kazuha wasn’t.
When Kazuha needed him, Xiao was there. But when Xiao was in need, when he was in danger,
where had Kazuha been?

“I’m sorry.” Xiao lifted a hand upwards, caressing Kazuha’s cheek. It was then he realized that he
was crying. The tears fell like droplets of rain across his face, but Xiao wiped them tenderly away.
He realized another thing, then. The gloves his mentor always wore were gone, revealing pale
hands.
“Why are you apologizing?” Kazuha whispered, his throat threatening to close. He felt like
collapsing. His knees were wobbling, his legs bending and twisting like jelly. Even a small gust of
wind could knock him over at the moment. It was only thanks to his training that Kazuha remained
upright, clinging tightly onto Xiao’s bed.

“Because I failed you.” Xiao took a deep breath, and his lungs rattled, filled with blood. Crimson
streaks were trailing down the sides of his mouth, dripping down his jaw. “I couldn’t make it home
to you. I wanted to. Believe me, I . . . I tried.”

Kazuha’s lower lip began to wobble. He wanted to speak, to reassure Xiao, but words failed him.
There was nothing left to say.

“I’m selfish, Kazuha. I lied to you, back then.” Xiao smiled, his bloodstained lips twitching
weakly. “You are at the level of a hashira. I just . . . Didn’t want you to come because I was
scared. I didn’t want to lose you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to be safe.”

Kazuha choked on a sob, and Xiao’s smile softened, his chest heaving as he choked.

“You are truly my successor. My pride and joy. But like I said, I’m . . . Selfish. I want you to leave
the demon slayer corps, and live a normal life, like a regular boy. I want you to fall in love, maybe
even start a family. I want you to live until you grow really old, and I want you to die peacefully. I
know you’re working hard, and you truly are, but I also know . . .” Xiao faltered, struggling to
speak.

Kazuha lifted his hand, gripping tightly onto Xiao’s. “How could I ever live a normal life after
someone did this to you?” He demanded. “Tell me, aniki! Tell me about the demon that did this to
you! I have to know!”

There it was again.

That anger of his.

It started out small, before it grew and grew in size. What once was a flame now became a roaring
fire, surging throughout his veins with a vengeance. It threatened to consume him entirely,
drowning out every other thought. Trumping over rhyme and reason. Kazuha knew, logically, that
he would never be able to defeat a demon that bested his mentor. How would it be remotely
possible?

If Xiao lost, then he would, too.

Nonetheless, the rage simmered deep within his gut, eating him alive. Demons had taken
everything from him. His family, the people he’d been raised alongside, and now his beloved
mentor and the other hashira he had grown to know and respect. So many lives were stolen. Every
second, every minute, every hour, a demon slaughtered an innocent person. When would the
bloodshed cease?

They didn’t stop hurting people. Causing chaos, trouble and trauma wherever they went. Demons
infringed upon people’s freedom, took their lives or their families, and they did it all without
remorse. Kazuha couldn’t let it go. All of these atrocities kept happening, and he now had a duty to
stop it.

As long as those demons existed, as long as they continued massacring good people, he would
fight. Even if it took years, even if he spent his entire life, he would dedicate his entire essence and
being to the cause. It was all he had, now. There was no other purpose.
To Kazuha’s shock, something strange happened, then. It took his frazzled brain a moment to
realize what was going on. But when he did, he froze, his mouth parting, though no sound escaped
past his lips.

Xiao was . . . Crying.

The tears slipped sluggishly down his cheeks, which were growing paler by the minute. The liquid
glistened like diamonds upon his bloody skin, leaving tracks through the crimson grime. It was
beautiful, in a morbid way, which made it all the more heartbreaking. Especially since Kazuha had
never seen Xiao cry. Not until this moment.

“It wasn’t just one demon,” Xiao whispered. “We were ambushed by Upper Moon One and Two.
The rumors had been fed to us by an untrustworthy source. Even with five hashira, it wasn’t
enough. We were overwhelmed. I only managed to survive this long because the sun came up.
Everyone else, they . . . I watched them die. Kazuha, if you attempt to face these demons, then you
will—” Xiao faltered, beginning to trail off.

Kazuha gripped Xiao’s hand tighter, squeezing painfully. “Tell me,” he begged. “Tell me their
abilities, so I can know how to defeat them. Please, aniki!” He choked on a sob, watching as Xiao
slowly closed his eyes.

“Purple . . . Eyes. Lightning. He fought with a scythe . . . And had long horns . . .” Xiao’s breathing
faltered, and Kazuha could hear as the pace of his heartbeat began to slow.

“No! Stay with me! Xiao! Please!”

The tears gradually began to stop, coming to a halt altogether. They dried upon the surface of
Xiao’s face, and the hashira’s hand fell slowly from Kazuha’s cheek, his grip going limp. Kazuha
continued to plead, begging for his mentor to open his eyes, to hang on, to stay with him, because
how could he leave?

Memories flashed within his mind, one by one, in rapid succession. Of when he had first met Xiao,
on the worst day of his life. Of when Xiao took him in, when the hashira was there for him when
no one else was. He had guided Kazuha, taught him necessary things about being both a demon
slayer and a boy. Blood didn’t determine who your family was. Xiao . . . He had been Kazuha’s
family.

And now, for the second time, Kazuha had lost his family. In the blink of an eye, he had absolutely
nothing once more. Everything he didn’t want to lose was always lost, and it was all thanks to
demons. How could someone not grow bitter? How could someone not grow tired? He was
exhausted, sick of the suffering, sick of all the loss.

“You are truly my successor. My pride and joy.”

The words echoed throughout Kazuha’s ears, and he collapsed, falling onto the bed at Xiao’s side.
He clutched tightly onto his mentor’s still form, allowing himself to finally sob freely. The sounds
of his labored breathing and choked cries encompassed the room, and no one dared disturb him.
The corps knew what it had lost. Who it had lost.

They knew he needed to be alone. To grieve, and to process everything he had learned.

Purple eyes. Lightning. A scythe. Horns.

Clenching his hands into fists, Kazuha blinked past his tears. He repeated the information over and
over again to himself.
Purple eyes. Lightning. A scythe. Horns.

I swear to kill this demon, no matter what.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Several months had passed since Xiao’s death; since the corps had lost more than half of their
precious hashira, and since Kazuha had lost another piece of his heart.

He was made the wind pillar in Xiao’s stead.

This was a moment he was supposed to celebrate. While he felt honored, he wasn’t happy, like
he’d always anticipated being.

Instead, an empty cavity yawned within his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. All he’d
wanted was for Xiao to watch this happen, to look on with pride as his only apprentice assumed his
role. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He felt painfully alone, especially when he returned to
the estate he used to share with his mentor. Its halls were now dreadfully devoid.

Xiao had left Kazuha everything. His mora, his land, his title, everything he owned. Even his mask,
the mask Kazuha had seen him wear when they first met. He donned it while slaying demons. It
had been cracked from his final battle, but Kazuha spent countless nights and thousands of mora to
fix it. In the end, it was worth it, because he was able to piece the mask back together once more.

Now he kept it fastened to his side, just like his mentor once had. When he finally confronted the
monster that killed Xiao, he hoped the bastard would recognize the mask.

It was all he could think about.

Revenge.

But it was more than just that.

He craved revenge, yes, but he wasn’t normally such a bitter person. If he could, of course he
would let everything go. He would release the pent-up trauma and grief boiling within him, and he
would seek peace, he would have that normal life Xiao had wanted for him. But things just weren’t
like that.

How could he return to normalcy when he knew demons roamed this earth? How could he find
happiness when he knew others lost theirs? How could he live freely that way? No freedom was to
be found there, not like that. If he chose to simply move on, he would be haunted every waking
moment by his past. He wished he could forget it, but he couldn’t.

Too much continued to happen, adding piles upon his already massive mound of pain. It was
overflowing now, and pointless to try and manage. There was no controlling this storm inside of
his heart. It raged within him, and he let it out the only way he knew how: by killing any and every
evil demon.

Tomo could see he was suffering.

His best—and only—friend noticed his agony. Tomo had been appointed the thunder hashira, but
like Kazuha, he couldn’t truly feel joy over the new position. While their rankings now earned
them respect and prowess, it all felt meaningless. There was a certain guilt that they both carried,
now.
There were many times where Tomo reached out to Kazuha. He wanted to help his friend, to
understand what he was going through, to try and soothe some of Kazuha’s burden. But the new
wind hashira was as reclusive as the old one; he kept his struggles close to his chest, and scarcely
let anyone see his weaknesses. He said it was because he was a pillar, now. That he had to always
be strong.

‘Pillars never broke’ according to him, but that didn’t change the fact that at night, Tomo could
hear Kazuha crying when he thought he was alone. It didn’t change the fact that Tomo knew his
friend blamed himself for Xiao’s death. It didn’t change the fact that he knew Kazuha was walking
on thin ice. One misstep, and he’d lose himself.

“I think I have a lead,” Kazuha blurted out one evening, turning excitedly towards Tomo. “I think I
know where he might be.”

Tomo stifled a sigh, looking towards Kazuha with a frown. “You don’t know if the demon is a
male or female, remember?” Tomo reminded him. Of course Kazuha was referring to the demon
Xiao had described before his demise. It was all he ever really talked about. That, or his recent
missions.

Day and night, Kazuha would either train or research this elusive demon. He scoured the land for
traces of his mentor’s murderer, threatening to turn the whole world upside down in his haste.
Tomo wished he could say it was admirable, but really, it was simply depressing. Kazuha was
wholeheartedly devoted to his cause, but it drained him of energy. It rendered him into an empty
husk.

“All signs and eyewitness descriptions point to it being a male. Besides, Xiao mentioned it was a
he,” Kazuha shot back. He tapped the pencil he held against his notebook, where he scribbled
down a few more things, biting his lip as if in thought.

“Okay. . . Well even if you know where he is, what can you possibly do about it?” Tomo leaned
back, crossing his arms. Tama laid across his lap, purring faintly, as he spoke.

“I investigate, obviously,” Kazuha murmured. “If my suspicions are correct, then I will fight him,
and I will win. I’ll kill him.”

Tomo tensed, moving his hands to stroke Tama’s soft fur. “You’ll fight him . . . Alone?”

Kazuha glanced up, meeting his gaze briefly. “Yes,” he mumbled. “It’s too dangerous for you to
accompany me. We’d draw too much attention, and the enemy would be alerted instantly to our
presence. If I’m by myself, I can potentially ambush our target. I’ve spent months training and
practicing for this moment. Even if I’m killed, I can’t let this lead go. I need to at least try and
defeat him.”

“It’s suicide,” Tomo snapped. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” When Kazuha didn’t respond, he
scoffed, shaking his head. “What would Xiao think? You told me he wanted you to live a normal
life, away from danger. Do you think he’d approve of you doing this? Do you think he’d want you
to throw yourself in harm’s way, time and time again, all in the name of avenging him? Because I
don’t.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, or what he might think. Because that’s just it: might. Dead
people can’t have thoughts or opinions,” Kazuha hissed. “I don’t care if he would disapprove. It’s
more than just avenging Xiao. This demon is of the highest caliber. If I can take him down, do you
know how many lives I’ll be saving as a result?”
“And if you fail?” Tomo countered. “We would lose another hashira. Do you know how many
lives we save as pillars? If we lost you, do you know how many other people would die? You’re
strong, Kazuha. Hell, sometimes I think you’re stronger than I am.”

“What’s your point?” Kazuha muttered.

“My point?” Tomo echoed. “I’m saying you’re valuable, Kazuha. You aren’t disposable. You have
an obligation, here. Not just to me, but to the corps.” He scowled, glancing away. “I don’t know
what I can do to convince you of that. You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“No one else can do this but me.” Kazuha’s voice lowered, and he blinked, staring towards
something Tomo couldn’t see. “Not you, or any other hashira. It has to be me.”

“Why?” Tomo retorted. “If you really want to do this, then why don’t you let me help you?”

“Because like I said, it’s too dangerous!” Kazuha rose to his feet in a flourish, inhaling sharply. “I
won’t discuss this any further.”

He headed for the door, unable to stand Tomo’s presence any longer. More than anything, he
needed to be alone. He needed to gather his thoughts, and consider what had been said. A part of
him knew that Tomo was being reasonable, he was being rational.

Tomo watched his friend go, sighing sadly.

His gaze drifted towards Kazuha’s notebook, which he had left behind. After a moment of
deliberation, he reached out, examining the pages closely. Piles of information were sprawled
across the paper, all detailing a variety of things. Tomo found himself staring at something
specific, however. A time and place. The demon’s alleged location, and the date which Kazuha
would travel there.

Clenching his jaw, Tomo ripped the page free of the notebook, crumpling it into his hand. He
stood up rapidly, startling Tama, who jumped onto the floor. She peered towards him with
confusion, and he smiled sullenly towards her, bending down to scratch her fluffy ears. “I’m sorry,
girl,” he murmured, and he meant what he said.

Slipping the paper into his pocket, Tomo left the room, leaving a baffled Tama behind.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Kazuha! Wake up, Kazuha!”

Kazuha’s eyes flew open, and within moments, he was sitting up, rubbing frantically at his face.
He couldn’t even remember ever falling asleep. All he could recall was sitting upon his bed,
mulling over everything Tomo had told him. Somewhere along the line, he must have passed out,
purely from how exhausted he always was.

Something he didn’t expect to hear was Yoimiya’s voice, however. She was the new flame hashira,
and while she and Kazuha were on good terms, he couldn’t fathom why she was in his estate. It
must be for an urgent mission—that was all he could think. But . . . If it were simply a mission,
then why did she sound so . . . So horrified and panic-stricken?

It took him a few seconds before he was staggering out of his room, confronting Yoimiya, who
regarded him solemnly. It was rare to see her ever look so serious. She typically kept a bright and
cheerful attitude, even in the darkest of times. Her optimism was one of her best qualities, after all.
The fact that she was upset frightened him.
 “What’s going on?” He forced the words out; they tasted like bile upon his tongue. What’s
happening? Why are you here and not someone else? Where’s Tomo? Where’s my best friend?

Yoimiya’s eyes clouded with tears, and she wiped frantically at her face, taking a shuddering
breath. “Oh, Kazuha, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, and that was when he knew. Deep down in his
gut, he just knew.

Tomo was dead.

All that was left behind was his haori, and the broken remnants of his sword.

He had been found at the Red Light District. His crow had alerted the medics to his location. The
Red Light District — that was where Kazuha suspected Xiao’s killer to be. But he’d never said
that, not to anyone. He’d only written it down in his notebook. And sure enough, he noticed that
crucial page missing, and the guilt consumed him whole.

It was his fault.

He should have taken his notebook and hidden it somewhere. He should have ordered Tomo not to
do anything reckless. He should have stayed, rather than leaving. Then maybe Tomo would still be
here, maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to do something so impulsively stupid. No matter what,
he always wound up killing anyone he ever cared for. It was as if he were cursed.

For a while, Kazuha struggled to understand why Tomo had done what he did. How could
someone be so foolish? To pursue a high-ranking demon like that, and alone?

But then he realized . . . It was all to prove a point. He set himself up as an example, as if the only
way to get through to Kazuha was by brute force. He’d done exactly what Kazuha intended to do,
only sooner. Like the damn idiot he was, he’d reversed their positions.

It made the guilt ten times worse.

Kazuha took care of Tama from then on. She didn’t seem to understand where her owner had gone.
Oftentimes, she would lay beside the pieces of Tomo’s sword, pressing against it as if she could
still sense her owner. It made his heart ache, but what could he do? He didn’t have the power to
bring back the dead, but oh, how he wished that he did.

When Xiao died, he thought he’d been alone.

But now, after Tomo’s death, he realized he’d been wrong. He hadn’t been alone, because he’d
had Tomo. Now, though? Now he was really — truly — by himself.

Chapter End Notes

Happy Father’s Day! ☺️ I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I’d really love to see
your thoughts on it *cough cough* anyways, updates MIGHT come earlier than only
every Tuesday because I have poor self control. Lol. Anyways thanks for reading!! ❤️
 Family
Chapter Notes

hi again it’s me. Hope you guys enjoy this update !! ❤️

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.

I am a hashira of the demon slayer corps—more specifically, the wind hashira.

When I was eighteen years old, I found a new meaning to my life: a new family to protect.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Two years. Two years had passed. Two years since Xiao’s death, and Tomo’s suicide.

Kazuha endured his life on autopilot. He attended his missions dutifully, placing all of his time and
energy into them. Night after night, he slaughtered evil demons, staining his hands and sword with
the color of their black blood. It didn’t grant him satisfaction any longer. He wouldn’t be satisfied
until a day came where he didn’t need to kill demons anymore. His hope was beginning to seem
futile. Nothing was changing, not anything.

All around him, people continued to lose their lives. Slayers died every passing day, and the
numbers of the demon slayer corps steadily dwindled. They were lacking in members, all thanks to
the demons. The selfish monsters took so many lives, too many lives, and it was difficult to keep up
with.

As a hashira, Kazuha’s plate remained continuously full. He could always be doing something.
There were people he needed to save constantly. If he even thought of taking a break, who knew
how many innocents would die? Hesitating for even one second would jeopardize the lives of
dozens of people.

The only time he wasn’t hunting was when he tended to Tama. He had hired a sitter for her, to care
for her while he was away. But still, whenever he found the chance to, he visited the small cat and
showered her with love and attention. She always purred when she saw him, and he could tell she
missed him. She’d lost not only Tomo, but him as well.

Still, he couldn’t help it. It was necessary that he was gone so much. He barely even slept anymore,
either; his body had adapted to garnering only one to two hours of sleep, sometimes only every few
days. There were occasions that this practice would catch up with him. He would sway on his feet,
dizzy with exhaustion, but a simple meal or some water would usually fix things. Usually.

His comrades noticed his sorry state, eventually. It would be hard not to.

Whenever he attended one of their required hashira meetings, he would seem so tired. Everyone
knew that out of them all, Kazuha worked the hardest, and rested the least. Except they could never
get him to relax. He was pushing himself past his limits far too much, and it was straining his
body, both mentally and physically. At this rate, he would surely kill himself, but when it was
pointed out to him, he didn’t even flinch.
“If I die from this, it would simply mean I was too weak,” he would say, and that was that.

Not even the master could sway him.

Morax had a private conversation with Kazuha a handful of times, but it never seemed to help. If
anything, Kazuha merely worked harder than before. It was as if he had something to prove, but
who was he trying to show off to? He was already at the very top. Why did he need to keep
climbing?

“I’m just worried about him,” Yoimiya mumbled, staring at her untouched bowl of udon. “You
guys didn’t see his face when he learned about . . . about Tomo. But I did. Shoot, I had to deliver
the news to him! He looked so—so broken. He hides that part of himself now, but I’m sure that it’s
still there.”

Ayaka, the ice hashira, took a long sip of her tea. She was frowning, her brow furrowed, though
she didn’t speak for a prolonged moment. Instead, she was thinking. Hard.

She had been appointed a hashira only recently, and she hadn’t known Kazuha for as long or as
well as the others. She was younger, and somewhat more inexperienced. Nonetheless, she cared
deeply for her fellow pillars, and that included Kazuha. If he was suffering, then she wanted to
help however she could. It was her duty as his comrade, but more than that, as one of his few
friends.

Every person within the corps had lost someone; Kazuha wasn’t special. And yet, every person
handled their loss differently. Kazuha, for example, was burying himself into his work. As if it
could make him forget.

“I think he needs a tsuguko,” Ayaka announced, causing Yoimiya to blink.

“An apprentice . . . ? Are you sure?” Yoimiya hesitated, tapping her fingers lightly upon the bowl
of her meal. “I don’t know if he’d be willing to accept anyone as his own. Besides, there are so few
slayers left. What if he doesn’t find one suited to be his successor?”

Ayaka shook her head, smiling slightly. “It doesn’t matter,” she retorted. “I’m positive that he will.
It’s only a matter of time, now.”

Though Yoimiya had doubted her at the moment, it turned out that Ayaka was right.

Kazuha had been sent on a mission, to a reclusive mountainside. Apparently, there were reports of
a fearsome demon here—potentially even an Upper Moon. It made his heart leap, only slightly.
What if this was the day he finally confronted that demon? The one who had stolen his family?

Yet as he raced across the snowy slopes, investigating the area the best he could, he realized that
wouldn’t be the case. He couldn’t smell the faintest hint of lightning, nor the remnants of a
scythe’s attack. This lead had taken him to a dead end, but that was fine. He still had people to help
here, and a demon he could hopefully exterminate.

When the metallic tang of blood drifted towards him, flooding his senses, he switched the course
of his path entirely. People had been hurt. No; it was likely that they’d been killed. Judging from
the thickness of the scent, it wasn’t just a few victims, and it wasn’t just an easy killing.

His footsteps were the only sound throughout the forest, crunching lightly within the snow. Not
even the birds sang, and any animals knew well to hide. A demon had been here, but it was likely
gone now. If it was, then he’d been too late. Too late to save anyone, and too late to avenge
anyone.
Rounding the slope of a hill, Kazuha overlooked a strange sight. In the middle of his route were
three people. Siblings, presumably. They all shared the same smell.

But no . . . Not three people.

One of them was a demon.

On instinct, he moved, unsheathing his blade with a gentle clink. In one fluid motion, he had drawn
his sword, and with a push of his feet, he was descending towards the demon.

Of course he intended to kill it. It was attacking one of the humans alongside it, after all. If he
didn’t dispose of it, then it would take an innocent life. His stomach churned just a bit, though,
when he realized that the demon was a child. Just a young girl. She had likely been turned against
her will.

Still, a demon was a demon.

Below Kazuha, Aether Kong turned, rolling away as fast as he could with his little sister cradled
tightly inside of his arms. The hashira just barely missed his strike thanks to Aether’s hasty dodge,
landing barely a few feet away. Within his grip, his little sister snarled, though it wasn’t at him. It
was at Kazuha. He could feel her trembling, too.

“Stop!” Aether cried out. “That’s my sister!”

Kazuha remained silent for a long while, his chest rising and falling steadily. He eventually
straightened, narrowing his eyes. “That is your sister no longer,” he said. “Can’t you see? She’s
been turned into a demon. If I allow her to live, she will kill you, and everyone around her. She’s
dangerous.”

“No she’s not!” The girl beside the boy suddenly spoke, jumping to the demon’s defense. They
really were all related, it seemed.

The boy had long blonde hair, tied back into a disheveled braid. His golden eyes matched his
sister’s, the one who had argued with him. She had the same blonde hair, only hers was cut much
shorter. And their youngest sibling, the one who had been turned into a monster, looked different
from them entirely.

It was likely due to the results of her transformation, but she now had longer nails, pure white hair,
and wide blue eyes that glimmered with—were those tears? Kazuha had never seen a demon cry
before. Even when he’d slain them, and they laid on death’s door, they never shed a single tear.

“Her name is Paimon, and she’s our sister!” The girl snapped. “Our family was killed by a
monster, but it wasn’t her! There was a scent at our house, one I didn’t recognize. That surely must
be the murderer. I know our sister is innocent. If she were the killer, wouldn’t she have blood on
her mouth? All over her clothes? Look at her. She’s clean!”

She was right. The demon— Paimon, apparently—was spotless. The kimono she wore was torn in
a few places, likely from a struggle, but that was all. If Paimon truly had harmed a human, there
would be evidence, remnants that could not be hidden. On top of that, she smelled different from
all of the other demons, too. She didn’t carry the scent of death, chaos or carrion; instead, she
reeked of charcoal and freshly fallen snow.

I don’t understand. A demon who hasn’t killed people . . . It should be impossible. Besides, wasn’t
she attacking her own brother just now?
“While that may be true, it doesn’t matter. She’s still a demon, and I can’t guarantee she won’t
steal the lives of innocents if I let her live. Just earlier, she was trying to kill you.” Kazuha lifted his
blade, frowning deeply. “A demon will always be that. A demon.”

“No! You’re wrong!” Aether shouted. “I’ll turn my sister back into a human, no matter what! Do
you hear me?! No matter what!”

Kazuha froze, blinking with shock. His eyes widened by a fragment, and words failed him for a
moment. During all of his years, he had never met anyone quite like these three. He’d never heard
someone make such ridiculous claims before, either. To turn someone back into a human, after
they were already a vicious demon? That was positively impossible, otherwise, the corps would
have been using such a method a long time ago.

“There is no cure,” Kazuha told him. “Once you become a demon, there’s no going back.”

“That’s not true!” Aether exclaimed. “There has to be a cure, and if there isn’t, I’ll make one! If she
could become a demon, she can turn back! I won’t stop until she’s human again! I swear that I’ll
get my sister back!”

Kazuha lowered his sword, sighing. “You have idealistic and naïve hopes,” he murmured.
“Demons need human flesh and blood to survive. Your sister would have to eat one of us if she
wishes to live, but if she does such a thing, I would have to kill her.”

“Do you realize what I’m saying?” Kazuha stepped forward, beginning to advance towards the
siblings. “There is no way she can peacefully exist on this earth. Even if she manages to resist
harming a human, once she begins to starve, she’ll lose all self-control. A hungry demon is the
most dangerous. She will lose all her sense of rhyme or reason.”

“No! I would never let her kill anyone! I’ll find a way for her to live without needing to eat
humans!” Aether cried. “Paimon is different! My little sister wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Scoffing, Kazuha darted forward. He snatched the growling demon from Aether’s arms, taking her
into his embrace instead. The siblings both gasped, stunned by his speed and terrified for their
sister all at once. Especially once Kazuha shifted, pressing his sword directly against Paimon’s
throat.

“Even if she’s different, even if she’s somehow special, what makes you think you’d be able to
save her?” Kazuha demanded. “You’re weak. Both of you. You two allowed your little sister to be
turned in the first place. How could someone like you ever hope to find a cure? Hm? Answer me!”

Aether sank onto his knees within the snow, beginning to cry. He tugged at his hair, choking on a
sob. “Please, mister,” he whispered. “I’m begging you. Please don’t kill my little sister! She’s the
only family we have left! Please don’t take her from us!”

Kazuha remained silent, forcing his expression into one of coldness. He knew that these two had
suffered. They’d just lost everything, and he understood how wretched that felt. But if they ever
hoped to become demon slayers, they needed to be strong. They needed to prove to him that they
could pick themselves back up no matter what.

Begging and crying in the face of someone stronger than you wasn’t the answer. Kazuha wanted to
change that, to turn them into the strong one, so they’d never have to beg again.

“If you truly wanted to save your sister, you wouldn’t lay upon the snow pleading for her life,”
Kazuha spat. “You would get up and fight. You would take her from my arms, and defeat me in
combat. Do you understand?”

“I . . . I . . .” Aether trembled, falling silent, but his sister was different. She listened.

With a scream, she charged towards Kazuha, launching herself across the ground. A head-on
attack; both overconfident, and stupid. But he supposed the effort was admirable. He would give
the girl some credit, at least she had more bravery than her brother, who watched the scene with
horror.

“Lumine!” Aether cried. “Stop, don’t—”

The blonde girl—Lumine—halted in front of him, moving to strike his face. He lifted a hand,
knocking her unconscious with a single blow to the back of her neck. She collapsed onto the floor
in an undignified heap, and within Kazuha’s arms, Paimon began to struggle. She thrashed like a
caged animal, letting out an ear-piercing scream.

Kazuha huffed, fighting to keep her under control. While he was distracted, Aether summoned his
courage and charged, barreling into Kazuha with all of his force.

With a grunt, Kazuha loosened his grip upon Paimon. The demon broke free just as he knocked
Aether out, as well. The blonde boy had fallen beside his sister within the snow, and with a sinking
heart, Kazuha realized that Paimon would probably rip them apart.

Instead, she surprised him.

The young girl turned, snarling, and stood in front of her siblings. She spread her arms out,
protecting them from Kazuha. Though she was newly turned and surely starving, she pushed aside
those urges and guarded her brother and sister. That must surely mean she recognized them, in
some way or form.

Kazuha had never seen anything like it.

Paimon didn’t even move to attack him, either. She was simply defending her loved ones with all
of her power. It was almost admirable. In fact, Kazuha had to praise her. He had never witnessed
someone quite like this. These siblings were fairly odd, indeed.

But now the question arose.

Should he kill Paimon?

If he did, it would be for the good of humanity. One less demon, the better. No one would judge
him except for the two siblings. He knew that any other slayer, any other hashira, would have
sliced Paimon’s head clean off long ago. Technically, he was being unloyal to the corps already by
keeping Paimon alive for as long as he had. If his comrades could see him, they’d be aghast.

Nonetheless, Kazuha never had to do this before. When he killed a demon, he didn’t hesitate. He
didn’t experience a prickle of guilt. So why now did he feel so reluctant?

His gaze drifted towards the two blonde siblings, twins presumably, lying unconscious within the
snow. They both believed in their little sister. While their word didn’t mean much, their
unwavering faith was still something to consider.

Dammit.

What would Xiao do? What would Tomo do?

No — they were gone. He couldn’t rely on them or their opinions, not any longer. For once, he
needed to form his own opinion.

His heart versus his head. Which would win?

After a long while of debation, Kazuha exhaled, moving forward. He slashed his blade
downwards, colliding the hilt with the back of Paimon’s neck. Her eyes fluttered, and she swayed,
falling unconscious on top of her older brother without another sound.

For a moment, Kazuha watched the three siblings, running a hand through his hair.

What had he done?

This was probably a mistake. He could be tried for treason and executed over this.

With wavering hands, Kazuha shoved a muzzle made of bamboo within Paimon’s mouth, tying it
securely around her jaw. It was for an extra precaution, to ensure she wouldn’t harm anyone. If she
really wanted to, she could bite through it, but by then, Kazuha would have likely already killed
her.

Sitting down against a tree, Kazuha mulled over what he was going to do, now. There was only one
plausible option. If he wanted to do this, he’d need to do it the right way.

He would bring them to the master.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Stay close to me.” Kazuha sighed, gazing at the main headquarters of the demon slayer corps.
“Don’t make any sudden moves, either. Right now, you all are considered a threat.”

He glanced back at Lumine and Aether, who were holding hands, staring at him with wide eyes.
He was carrying Paimon across his back, although of course the demon had been placed into a
small box for her own safety. The sun had risen, and if she were exposed to it, she’d be burned into
a crisp. Kazuha had crafted the box himself on a whim, weaving it out of thin branches of nearby
bamboo.

If someone had told him he’d be here, monitoring twins and carrying a childlike demon, he’d have
laughed himself silly.

But here he was.

He’d sent his crow out earlier, to inform the master of his arrival and the current situation.
Everyone was sure to be expecting him by now. They were undoubtedly all shocked. After all, it
wasn’t everyday a hashira took in a couple of strays, let alone one that was a demon. It made him
internally cringe to imagine the backlash he’d face.

During the walk here, he’d explained everything he could to the twins. He told them about
demons, the corps, the rankings, their ways and their beliefs. They both listened to him silently,
digesting the information in different ways. Aether seemed contemplative, more weary, while
Lumine appeared to be more determined than ever to become a slayer and save her little sister.

Although the twins didn’t exactly trust Kazuha fully yet, their relationship had improved quite a bit
since their first meeting. The two had been eternally grateful towards the hashira, since after all, he
had spared Paimon’s life. Not to mention, he was putting his own self on the line for them. Risking
everything for some kids he had just met.
Maybe he’d gone crazy.

“Did you have to bring us here?” Lumine murmured. “You said that if they don’t approve of
Paimon, they’ll kill her. And maybe even you, too, for saving her. That makes this place and
everyone here dangerous.” She shifted uncomfortably, squeezing Aether’s hand, and Kazuha
sighed.

For perhaps the millionth time that day, he repeated: “I’m obligated to report to the master.
Besides, how do you think you two will ever accomplish anything on your own? If you seek to
make a cure, you’ll need the help of the corps, and the training, too. You can’t get that assistance
anywhere else.”

“But if they kill Paimon—”

“I already said I will do everything in my power to stop that from happening,” Kazuha interrupted,
glancing back at the girl. “As long as I’m here, and as long as Paimon remains innocent, I promise
I’ll protect her.”

Lumine fell silent before nodding, following after Kazuha as he entered the main base’s courtyard.
At once, heads from all around turned towards them, watching them closely.

Shortly after, voices erupted into clamor.

“How could you do this, Kazuha?! Bringing a demon into our headquarters, let alone sparing one,
is unforgivable! Detestable!”

“I say we kill them both!”

“Why can’t we just hear him out first?”

“Kazuha, what were you thinking?”

Kazuha lifted his chin, standing tall in the face of his bewildered comrades. He shielded the twins
with his body the best he could, guarding them from prying eyes, but he could only do so much.
People had questions, and ultimately, they deserved some answers.

“Enough. Silence, please.”

The voice of Morax caused everyone to quiet. All around, the hashira dropped into a bow,
including Kazuha. He dragged the siblings down after him, knowing they wouldn’t understand
who the master was just yet. Still, it was essential they treated him with respect. Otherwise, he’d
kill them himself.

“You may rise.”

Kazuha stood up, the siblings cowering behind his back. He met the master’s gaze, trying to
squash down the sudden fear he felt. If he died here, he would accept such a fate. It would be what
he deserved for betraying the master’s wishes. Still, he didn’t want to die, not yet. Not until he
could avenge both his mentor, and his best friend.

Had he really made a good decision? Putting his reputation and life on the line for some rowdy
kids he barely knew — it was foolish. Xiao would have undoubtedly scolded him to hell and back
for making such a risky choice. Tomo probably would have laughed at him. He wondered what
they’d think of the siblings. More than ever, he missed them.
No matter what happened, Kazuha couldn’t go back. He had ultimately chosen this for himself, and
he had to live up to any consequences he might face. Already, the backlash was harsh from his
peers. He could feel their stares on him, driving intensely into his form. If looks could kill, then
well . . .

He’d already be dead.

“Kazuha. I understand your situation, but please explain it once more, for the sake of your peers.”
Morax gestured towards the crowd of angry pillars watching him. The other hashira didn’t seem
too pleased at all.

Keeping his head held high, Kazuha recounted the recent events in perfect detail. While he spoke,
Lumine and Aether shifted closer to him, clearly unnerved. He’d been merciful and hadn’t tied
them up, but he could tell that the other hashira would have preferred it if they’d been bound. It
would eliminate the risk of them trying to escape, but in all honesty, they wouldn’t have gotten far
either way. Besides, they wouldn’t leave behind Paimon, who Kazuha still carried.

Once he had finished his winded explanation, Kazuha exhaled, dipping his head. “Please
understand that I vouch for all three of them,” he said. “Should they do anything wrong, or should
Paimon harm a human, I will immediately commit seppuku.”

Gasps broke out across the courtyard, though the master didn’t blink at such a declaration. Kazuha
had already told him this, in the letter he’d delivered through his crow. Said crow was watching the
scene from a nearby tree, watching Kazuha with worried eyes. It was still fiercely loyal to him, to
the very end.

“S-seppuku?” Aether whispered, stunned. “But i-isn’t that . . . ?” He trailed off, blinking in horror.

“You would commit suicide for us?” Lumine inquired, bewildered. “Slicing open your own
stomach . . .” She fell silent, stunned, and Kazuha cast her a brief glance from over his shoulder,
sending her the smallest of smiles.

“Your honor is mine, now, and mine is yours,” he said. “Should you do something dishonorable, I
will thus be dishonored, and vice versa. This became true the moment I brought you in, and spared
all of your lives.”

“It is an admirable vow, Kazuha. You are one of my most loyal hashira, and perhaps the most
hardworking of us all.” The master stepped forward, moving to stand directly in front of Kazuha.
“You have done a vast number of things to earn your rank,” Morax murmured. “Are you willing to
potentially lose everything you have for these three?”

“I am,” Kazuha retorted with certainty.

“I see.” Morax closed his eyes, smiling gently. “And what do your fellow hashira think?” He
inquired. “Speak one at a time now, please.”

Sinking his teeth into his lip, Kazuha stared towards the eight other hashira, who all met his gaze.

There was Ayaka, the ice hashira. Yoimiya, the flame hashira. Ayato, the water hashira and
Ayaka’s older brother. Itto, the stone hashira. Raiden, the thunder hashira. Kuki Shinobu, the insect
hashira. Kujou Sara, the crow hashira. And Heizou, the deduction hashira. Each stuck to their
respective fighting style, and some had even created their own personalized breaths from scratch.

Yoimiya spoke first, lifting her hand into the air. “I don’t see why we’d need to harm or cast out
Kazuha, or his . . .” She hesitated, trying to find a word to use for the siblings. “Or his
subordinates. As long as they don’t harm anyone, they’re innocent, right? The demon slayer corps
doesn’t kill good people.”

“But the demon isn’t a person,” Kujou Sara protested. “It’s a demon, and that’s that.”

“A demon was a person, once,” Ayato countered. “Perhaps it retains some, if not all, of its original
memories. It’s not impossible. If its resolve is strong enough, then perhaps it really could exist
without hurting anyone. Still, nothing is for certain.”

“That’s why it’s better off dead!” Sara snapped. “Why would we ever keep around something that
might one day go berserk and kill us all? It’s far too dangerous! By bringing that demon here,
Kazuha has risked our lives! He has no regard for our safety whatsoever!”

“If this demon truly does peacefully exist, then it threatens nature’s stability,” Raiden spoke up,
causing Sara to immediately fall silent, her eyes wide with wonder. “Abnormalities shouldn’t be
allowed. They’re too unpredictable.” Raiden tilted her head, regarding Kazuha closely. “That
includes him, as well. A hashira who sides with a demon shouldn’t be a hashira at all.”

“I don’t agree.” Ayaka frowned. “Are we not all abnormalities, as well? We’re all different,
stronger than the average human. Our differences allow us to help other people, and do good for
this world. Perhaps that’s the same for this demon?” She rested her chin on her hand, frowning.
“We can’t make assumptions. We must proceed with caution, but we should keep an open mind,
too.”

“I think she’s right!” Itto piped up. “I mean, look at me! I was mistaken for a demon when I was
younger. If the master hadn’t saved me, I would have been burnt alive at the stake! Trust me, I
despise demons as much as the next guy, but to hate a creature that hasn’t done anything wrong? It
just feels . . . Odd.”

“Its existence is wrong,” Sara hissed.

From behind him, Lumine and Aether seethed. They clearly wanted to protest, to rush to their
sister’s defense, but they couldn’t speak. Kazuha’s stern glare kept them silent, but even he wished
he could intervene. Kujou Sara and Raiden would both be the main opposition to Paimon’s
existence, and they wouldn’t back down easily. How would those two ever be convinced that
Paimon could live peacefully?

“False.” Heizou suddenly interjected, a wry smile curving across his lips. Out of everyone—second
to Itto—Heizou challenged Sara and Raiden the most. As the deduction hashira, he fought using
logic and observational skills, completely analyzing a situation within seconds before making his
move. It was the same when it came to arguments, which made him a pain to talk to.

“This demon did not ask to exist, so how can its creation be wrong?” Heizou stepped forward,
peering closely at the box strapped across Kazuha’s back. “Logically speaking, a demon is the
most likely to attack and kill another person after just turning. Based on Kazuha’s report, this
demon held itself back, and protected its family. Not only did it recognize its siblings, it defended
them too.”

“If it was able to fight off its cannibalistic urges in the midst of painful starvation, after just being
transformed, then I don’t think it would suddenly lose control and attack someone on a whim.
What I do think, however, is that you’re frightened. People are scared of things they can’t
understand.”

Resting his hands upon his hips, Heizou smiled. “That’s why we should keep this demon! So we
can study it, and learn from it! That would be the best solution, no?”

Kuki Shinobu sighed, adjusting the mask she wore. “I doubt the demon would consent to being
your lab rat, Heizou,” she pointed out. “Kazuha said they want to find a cure for her, to turn her
back into a human. Since she behaves so unusually, maybe she really is the key. If there’s
something different about her, then she could be the way we find a cure.”

“Just think about it,” Yoimiya added. “Anyone changed into a demon can be turned back to
normal. Do you know how many lives we can save if we can accomplish that? And we won’t have
to fight as much, either.” Her tone shifted into something more dreamy, and she sighed longingly.

“You’re all naïve!” Sara exclaimed. “A cure doesn’t exist. We’ve been searching for centuries, and
constantly turned up empty handed. You guys really think one will pop up now?” She shook her
head incredulously.

“Not just pop up.” Heizou stared towards Kazuha, and the box Paimon rested within. “With the
right tests, experiments, and medicine, we can create one on our own.”

Lumine bristled, unable to hold her tongue any longer. “I won’t let you turn Paimon into some test
subject!” She exclaimed. “She still has thoughts and feelings too, you know!”

Heizou blinked, meeting Lumine’s gaze without pause. “I know,” he retorted. “That’s why any
tests would be performed ethically, and with consent. But if we don’t get that consent, Paimon is
useless to us and the corps, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” His tone shifted into
something darker, and Kazuha cleared his throat, deciding to interrupt before it got worse.

“I would monitor any experimentation,” he promised. “Paimon wouldn’t be hurt or mistreated

under my watch. I swear it.”

Morax lifted a hand, silencing them all. “Is it settled, then? Do the majority of you agree that
Paimon can live as a companion to the demon slayer corps?” He inquired. When the majority of
the people expressed their agreement, he smiled, dipping his head. “Then it is settled,” he declared.
“She will—”

“Wait!” Sara cried out. People immediately glared towards her; interrupting the master was highly
impolite, and quite rude. Even Raiden seemed irritated, her eyes narrowing into thin slits of
disdain. Morax, to his credit, didn’t appear bothered. He gestured for Sara to continue, and she
bowed with apology.

“I’m sorry, sir, but please — allow me to test the demon first!” She lifted her arm, unsheathing her
sword in a fluid motion. Within moments, she had slashed her flesh open, spilling dark blood all
across her skin.

Across his back, the box didn’t stir. Paimon wasn’t reacting to the scent of blood. Kazuha glared
towards Sara, crossing his arms over his chest. “She won’t attack you,” he said. “What further
proof do you need, Kujou?”

“Bring her out of the box,” Sara insisted. “And see if she’s so determined, then.”

“Fine.” Kazuha stepped forward confidently. If this was the only way to earn Sara’s approval, then
it was essential to do. He had to prove to the corps, as well, that he believed in Paimon. If he
refused Sara’s request, he would be regarded as cowardly. Not only that, it would look bad on his
part, as if he didn’t really trust Paimon that well.

Entering the shade, Kazuha ensured that the sun’s rays didn’t reach them in such a position. Once
he was positive that Paimon wouldn’t be harmed, he lowered the box from his back, placing it
upon the ground. Sara moved to join him, extending her arm forward. She didn’t flinch as he
opened the box, revealing Paimon’s confused expression.

She poked her head out, turning to stare towards Kujou Sara, who practically shoved her arm into
Paimon’s face. The demon froze, visibly tensing. This was probably one of the first times she was
smelling fresh blood.

Kazuha held his breath, praying that Paimon held herself back. If Sara turned out to be correct,
he’d not only look like an idiot, he’d surely be banished from the corps. Not to mention, Paimon
would instantly be killed.

To his relief, Paimon managed to turn her head away, disregarding Sara entirely. She sat within the
box, pouting, and Kazuha didn’t understand why he felt a swell of pride.

“See?” He turned towards a bewildered Sara, offering her a casual smile. “I was right.”

“Paimon truly has proved herself,” Morax announced. “It is final, then. Kazuha, you will be
responsible for tending to Paimon and her needs, and ensuring she doesn’t harm another human
being. I will also be placing these two within your care.” He nodded towards Aether and Lumine.
“When we are ready to start working on a cure, we will send for both you and Paimon by crow.”

“I understand, master.” Kazuha bowed, quickly situating Paimon back into her box. “Thank you,”
he added, and he truly meant it.

Moving forward, Kazuha pushed past Sara, who wiped the blood off of her arm with a scowl. He
rejoined the twins, who watched him with wide eyes. “Are we demon slayers now?” Aether
whispered breathlessly, and Kazuha managed to laugh, shaking his head.

“Not even close.”

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Quite a few months had passed since that fateful day. Over time, Kazuha had trained Lumine and
Aether relentlessly. Both of the twins were hard workers, which he appreciated, and both seemed
dedicated to their cause. He admired their determination.

Within those few months, the two were ready for final selection, which they passed with flying
colors. When people saw them together, training vigorously, they would inquire about their
relationship. Kazuha found himself saying that Lumine and Aether were his tsuguko, because they
were. He couldn’t imagine anyone else being his apprentices.

Paimon was taken in for a few tests every now and then, which Kazuha would supervise closely.
The girl always behaved well. Despite her demonic nature, she wasn’t a violent creature at all.
Kazuha discovered that she loved human food, even though demons were supposed to despise it. It
was just another one of the many oddities about her. She also slept quite a lot; Kazuha assumed it
was how she maintained her energy, and recharged her strength.

As a gift, Kazuha constructed a new box for Paimon himself. It was made of fine wood, and much
bigger and better than her previous containment. She seemed to like it, given that it provided more
space and comfort. Aether and Lumine took turns carrying her around across their backs.

To make matters better, none of the other hashira seemed to have a problem with Paimon anymore.
They all regarded her as if she were a cute pet, rather than a demon.
Yoimiya would allow Paimon to play with sparklers, and even showed her various fireworks, while
Ayaka fed her a plethora of sweets and delicious food. It amazed her each time when Paimon
consumed everything without growing ill or repulsed. Even Raiden and Sara grew more
comfortable around Paimon; Kazuha had spotted Raiden patting the girl’s head once.

By that point, Kazuha should have known that no good things could last forever.

He had really hoped that they would, though.

“The master has assigned us on a mission.” Kazuha stood before his tsuguko, who both had been
bickering over which one of them would get the last slice of the apple they’d been sharing. At his
words, they stopped what they were doing, turning towards him.

“A mission?” Lumine echoed. “Where?”

The twins had already gone on plenty of missions before, but never alongside Kazuha. This was a
step up, something more challenging than what they were used to.

“The Eternal Paradise Cult.”

“A cult?” Aether wrinkled his nose, glancing down at his hands. “Sounds quite creepy.”

“There are rumors of a vicious demon stalking the worshippers, and picking them off one by one,”
Kazuha said, reciting what the master had told him. “It’s our job to infiltrate the cult and stop this
demon.”

“Do you know what the cult worships?” Lumine asked, picking idly at her nails.

“According to the master, they worship an alleged god of theirs,” Kazuha replied. “They call him
the Balladeer. If we intend to blend in with them, we’ll have to pretend to worship him, too. Can
you both do that?”

Lumine and Aether exchanged a glance, before they both nodded. “Sounds excruciating, but I can
do it.” Lumine smiled, nudging Aether playfully. “But can you?”

“Of course I can.” Aether crossed his arms across his chest, huffing. “It’s no problem.”

“Good. Prepare yourselves, because we leave tomorrow morning,” Kazuha informed them. He
turned on his heel, beginning to walk away. “Rest now, while you both still can.”

In the end, none of them ended up resting well at all. Kazuha was too busy planning everything,
wrought with worry. The master had warned him of something. According to one source, this
might be an Upper Moon.

And if it was really an Upper Moon, then that meant . . .

My tsuguko will be killed.

Fear struck through him, then. He wasn’t scared for himself or his own well-being. Rather, he was
terrified for both Lumine and Aether. Back when he was younger, he could never understand
where his mentor was coming from. Why did he worry for Kazuha, when he should be more
concerned for himself? But it all made sense now. He had apprentices of his own, and so he
understood.

Xiao had wanted to protect him, because he cared for him, and now Kazuha felt the same for
Lumine and Aether. Paimon, too. They were all so small, so full of life, hopes and dreams and
aspirations. To cut such budding flowers short would be the gravest sin ever committed, and yet an
evil demon would do so in a heartbeat. Kazuha couldn’t let it happen—he would do anything to
stop it.

He stared at himself in his mirror, alone in the sanctuary of his room. The wind hashira, that was
who he was. Eighteen years old, and yet he was still just a boy deep down. A boy who had been
forced to grow up far too soon, who had been burdened with way too many responsibilities and
trauma at a young age.

If he were being honest, he hated himself.

Kazuha was always small, though he’d grown taller than Xiao had been. Still, he was tinier than
his fellow hashira, and no matter how hard he trained or worked, he couldn’t grow taller. His
muscles never thickened. His form remained lean and firm, but never bulky like he craved. Even
Aether was taller than him now, and he was only thirteen. It was—

Humiliating. Shameful.

Across his shoulders, his haori lay. It was a unique pattern — he’d gotten it customized.

When Tomo died, only parts of his haori remained. Kazuha had infused those bits of fabric with his
own haori. One side of his attire was red, to honor and commemorate his lost friend. The other half
was black, with the maple leaf pattern he so dearly adored.

And of course, pinning back his hair was his mother’s pin. Around his waist sat his sword and
Xiao’s mask. His whole body was covered with things that didn’t belong to him. Items that came
from the ones he loved most, and yet failed to protect. He was a walking, talking, and breathing
memorial.

Would a day come where he adorned something of Lumine’s? Of Aether’s? Of Paimon’s? Would
he lose them, too?

People so precious to him — he couldn’t let them go again. Something had to change. He had to
protect them. Kazuha was older now, and he liked to believe that it made him stronger. Back then,
he had been naïve, foolish and inexperienced. But not anymore. He would make sure he didn’t
repeat the same mistakes of his bitter past.

He had to.

Clenching his jaw, Kazuha left his room, deciding to search for a breath of fresh air.

To his surprise, his usual spot upon the estate’s roof was currently preoccupied.

There Aether sat, his hands folded within his lap. He appeared to be meditating, or perhaps
practicing his total concentration breathing: constant. It made Kazuha feel a prickle of pride, to
know that his apprentice continued to be so fiercely dedicated to his training. He was reminded of
himself.

“Hello there.” Kazuha drifted to sit down beside Aether, startling the blonde boy. His golden eyes
flew open with alarm, and he gasped, looking towards Kazuha with shock.

“O-oh! Hello, sensei.” Aether smiled nervously towards him, and Kazuha smiled back. “Hello,” he
greeted. “It’s quite lovely tonight, isn’t it? The weather is just perfect.”
“Ah, the weather?” Aether blinked, glancing towards the sky. “You’re right. It’s pleasant.”

Kazuha continued to smile, closing his eyes. The evening breeze billowed against his face,
caressing his cheeks tenderly. He could feel the tendrils of his bangs waving, brushed about by the
wind. His pin helped keep his hair in place for the most part, though he tucked a few stray strands
behind his ear.

He could feel the moon’s rays shining upon his pale skin, causing it to nearly glow. During rare
moments like these, he felt almost at peace. Always just almost. He could never truly be content.
Not really, anyways.

“Sensei,” Aether murmured after a prolonged silence, causing Kazuha to open his eyes.

“Hmm?” He turned to look towards his apprentice, smiling encouragingly towards him. Aether
was hesitating; he clearly had a question he wanted to ask. Kazuha assumed it would involve their
mission tomorrow.

“Are you angry?”

Kazuha froze, his eyes widening with genuine surprise. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He’d
been rendered speechless.

“For some reason, even though you’re always smiling, I’m picking up an angry scent from you.”

Swallowing thickly, Kazuha could feel as his smile fell, his expression easing into one of sadness.
He never expected anyone to notice, especially someone so young. Out of all people, his own
apprentice saw through the mask he placed over his features. Aether had been able to pick apart
what he really felt, even if it had been entirely by accident.

To the outside world, Kazuha put on a show.

He always wore a calm, plain expression. He always smiled towards everyone he knew, reassuring
them that he was alright. He maintained an air of perfect tranquility, and assured his comrades that
he’d moved on from the burdens of his past. But he hadn’t.

Although he wanted to forget what he’d been through, he couldn’t. He kept moving forward
because he had to, but it didn’t mean his demons didn’t still haunt him. There was never time for
him to properly heal, never any room for his heart to actually grieve.

The hollow pit within his heart simply continued to grow and grow in size, threatening to swallow
him entirely. Along with it, his anger burned, scorching his insides and all that he was. It reminded
him that he could never forget about his past. No, it stayed with him, and it probably always
would, for as long as evil demons existed.

“Yes,” he whispered. For the first time, Kazuha found himself being entirely honest.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m in a constant state of anger. Ever since my family and beloved mentor
were slaughtered by demons, I’ve been angry. When I hear the cries of those unfortunate souls
who have lost everything as well, my anger continues to swell inside of me. Demons are selfish
beings, who take without any compassion.”

Kazuha gazed towards the moon in the distance, imagining Xiao’s smiling face within his mind.
“Until they are all eradicated, I can’t rest. I must perform my duties as a hashira of the corps, and
maintain a smile all the while. I can manage it just fine, but sometimes I suppose . . . It’s just a little
tiring.” His hands tightened into fists.
“It comforts me to know people like you and your sisters exist in this world,” he said. “I can trust
you all to protect the freedom of the innocent. And Paimon . . . She has a pure and kind heart, just
like you. I feel reassured. You three will surely change this twisted world.”

Rising to his feet, Kazuha lowered his head, allowing his bangs to obscure his expression.

“Please sleep soon, Aether. You need rest.”

With that, he disappeared, vanishing without another trace. He left Aether speechless instead, with
only the croaking of frogs and chittering of insects to keep him company.

Returning to the solitude of his room, Kazuha practically collapsed onto his bed.

Are you angry?

Burying his head within his hands, Kazuha sunk his teeth into his lower lip, fighting against the
way it wobbled. He eventually lost the battle, sinking against his blankets as he cried, muffling the
sounds with his hand.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Wait! Wind hashira!”

Kazuha paused, glancing briefly over his shoulder. He had been ready to set off with Lumine,
Aether, and Paimon. The demon was, of course, resting inside of her box, which was currently
strapped across Aether’s back. It was quite early in the morning; he’d wanted to leave before the
sun even rose.

Which left him surprised, finding someone else other than him and his tsuguko awake at such an
ungodly hour. What could they need?

His gaze rested upon the newcomer. The strange newcomer. It was a boy who looked to be about
the twins’ age, maybe slightly younger. He had long, tousled gray hair, and a few scars across his
youthful face. Pale red eyes peered hopefully towards Kazuha, who found himself staring silently
back. Perhaps the oddest quality about this kid was that instead of a haori, he wore a wolf’s furry
coat across his shoulders. Did he not grow hot?

Shaking his head, Kazuha greeted the boy with a small smile. “What is it?” He inquired.

“Master told Razor to accompany you!” Ah, so that was his name. Razor . . . It wasn’t a common
name, that was for sure, and Kazuha couldn’t imagine someone naming their child such a thing.
Had he chosen his own name? If that was true, then Kazuha wouldn’t judge. In a weird way, he
saw the name as fitting.

“Is that so?” Kazuha hesitated. He hadn’t been specifically told this by Morax, and he hadn’t even
received a crow, either. Still, he saw no reason for Razor to be lying to him. This mission was
going to be dangerous; why would he want to come? Then again, perhaps he just wanted to be
around a hashira. It wasn’t uncommon for people to seek him out, hoping to learn things from him.

Before he could properly respond, his crow arrived, circling above his head. Its pointy beak parted,
and in a harsh cry, it exclaimed: “CAW! The master has ordered Razor to accompany you on the
mission! CAW! I repeat, the master has ordered Razor to accompany you!”

Lumine stepped forward, extending her hand. “Come on, then,” she said. “My name is Lumine,
and this is my brother, Aether.” Aether waved towards Razor, who smiled sheepishly at them both.
“Hello,” he mumbled. “My name Razor. You all smell kind. Razor likes. Razor will help you all!”

The way he spoke was strange, as if he didn’t quite have a proper grasp on their language. Still,
Kazuha found it endearing. He gestured Razor forward, and the boy hurried towards his side,
falling into step with them. Together, they headed off towards their destination: the cult of Eternal
Paradise.

As they walked, the kids began to talk amongst themselves, becoming acquainted with one another.
It was amusing to hear them interact; in a way, it reminded Kazuha of him and Tomo. When he
stared at the trio, it left a hollow, aching feeling within his chest. He had been that way once upon a
time; so cheerful and carelessly happy, surrounded by his friend and his mentor.

His happiness hadn’t lasted, but the kids’ could. He would do anything in his power to make sure
that their life wasn’t like his.

“Say, Razor. Why are you wearing that?” Aether inquired, seeming puzzled. “I’ve never seen
anyone wearing wolf fur before!”

Razor paused, brushing his fingers across the coat. “It’s fur of my Lupical,” he explained. “Razor
wears it to honor them.” He blinked, a sad expression overtaking his features. “A while ago, demon
attacked Razor, but Lupical protected him. Lupical was killed by the demon, and Razor couldn’t
save them. The corps came, and saved his life. I am . . . Thankful.”

Razor swallowed, gripping tightly onto the fur, as if it comforted him. “Without Lupical, Razor
had no family left. Demon slayer corps became his new Lupical.” He glanced towards the sky,
frowning slightly. “Razor will help to kill evil demons, for his Lupical.”

“Lupical . . . Does that mean family?” Lumine asked quietly, and Razor nodded.

“The wolf was your family?” Aether paused, before his face shifted to one of sympathy. “I’m
sorry, Razor. It seems like demons took away all of our families. But don’t worry. I’m sure they’re
all watching us, somewhere.”

Razor’s eyes widened slightly, before he smiled, nodding rapidly. He pointed towards the heavens
above them, beaming. “When stars and moon come out, I feel safe. I know Lupical is watching me.
Now Lupical watches you all, too. Protects all of us!”

Lumine giggled, a smile breaking out across her features, as well. “Really? Then there’s no way
our mission can fail, then!” She turned towards Kazuha, looking enthusiastic. “Right?” She asked
him, and he hesitated.

Three hopeful faces turned towards him, and he didn’t have the heart to let them down.

“Right,” he agreed.

They continued walking for a handful of hours, and as the day wore on, his tsuguko began to grow
hungry. If he were by himself, Kazuha would have never thought to stop and rest. But he wasn’t;
he was with three kids. And so he brought them all along with him into a diner, deciding to make a
short detour to have some dinner. He had no appetite, but his apprentices certainly did.

Resting his chin on his hand, Kazuha watched as the three demon slayers tucked into their
individual meals. He had enough mora to buy anything they wanted; Razor of course chose meat,
while Lumine picked some udon, along with Aether. Kazuha, meanwhile, sipped a single glass of
water.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Lumine asked, turning to peer towards him. Kazuha shook his head,
sending her a reassuring smile.

“I’m not hungry,” he told her. “But thank you for your concern.” He turned away, taking a long
gulp of his water to keep from talking further. It worked, as Lumine looked away, quickly starting
up a new conversation.

At the end of their supper, each of them departed to take a brief bathroom break.

Kazuha, of course, had no need to go just yet. He waited for his apprentices outside the restroom,
leaning against the wall. Some people eyed him suspiciously, probably due to his uniform. He had
ensured that none of them carried their swords inside the diner, lest they draw too much unwanted
attention. Instead, he’d hidden them carefully outside.

Tilting his head back, he counted the seconds that passed. Every moment was crucial. They needed
to get going as soon as possible, but he wasn’t impatient enough to rush his tsuguko. So long as
they weren’t dawdling, then he wouldn’t say anything.

It was then, however, that he heard two familiar voices, speaking to one another behind the
restroom’s closed door. Razor and Aether — what could they be discussing?

Kazuha didn’t intend to eavesdrop. In fact, he went to move away until he heard his name.

“Wind hashira . . . He angry. Razor smells it on him. Did Razor do something wrong?”

There was a short pause, before Aether responded. “No, Razor. Of course not. Don’t worry. I
noticed it, too. He’s not mad at any of us. I think he’s just mad at the demons . . . And maybe even
at himself, too. It has nothing to do with us. Try not to mention it though, okay? It’s a . . . Sensitive
subject for him.”

Kazuha stiffened, his chest tightening. So even Razor had discovered his emotions?

I think he’s just mad at the demons . . .

And himself, too.

Turning on his heel, Kazuha left the diner, choosing to wait outside. He gathered their swords,
trying to push the conversation he’d overheard out of his mind. They hadn’t intended for him to
hear, and none of them had said anything wrong, either. And yet—

Why did it hurt so much?

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Kazuha had dressed them all up.

Obviously, they couldn’t waltz into the cult wearing their demon slayer uniforms and wielding
their swords. They’d be tossed out right away, and would lose any chance of stealthily attacking
their target. And so, Kazuha changed everyone into new clothes.

“Razor dislikes this,” Razor murmured, picking at the pale gray kimono he wore.

“I’m sorry, I know it must be uncomfortable for you.” Kazuha sighed, smiling sheepishly. “But at
least you look quite nice, Razor.”

“Yeah! You look so pretty!” Lumine exclaimed. “So do you, Aether!” She smiled, shaking her
brother’s shoulders lightly.

Aether blushed faintly, smiling shyly back at his sister. He wore a flowing white kimono, adorned
with patterns of the sun. His hair was still styled into its usual braid, although more strands hung
loose, brushing against his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re perfect as always, Lumine. And
you, sensei!”

Lumine, who wore a golden kimono, spun around to face her mentor. She whistled loudly, causing
Kazuha to frown at her. She grinned back at him, clapping her hands and wiggling her eyebrows
suggestively. “Sheesh, sensei! Are you going to kill a demon, or flirt with it?” She giggled, and
Kazuha sighed.

“Please, Lumine. Of course not,” he murmured, pinching his temple. “My outfit isn’t that
suggestive . . . Is it?” He paused.

“No, of course not!” Aether assured him.

“What’s suggestive?” Razor asked.

Lumine snickered, while Kazuha groaned.

Similar to his haori, he was wearing a black kimono, styled with a variety of maple leaf patterns. It
was what felt the most familiar to him. A long time ago, he had seen his mother wear outfits almost
identical to this one. In a strange way, it made him feel closer to her.

“Let’s go,” Kazuha sighed, beckoning his apprentices closer with a wave of his hand.

They crowded like baby birds around him, pressing close against his side. Their swords were
hidden carefully beneath their kimonos; Kazuha had ensured they’d be fitted well enough to allow
such a thing. As long as they weren’t searched, then they should be fine, though they’d have to
hide their swords somewhere better once they grew properly assimilated within the cult’s
rankings.

“Remember what I told you,” Kazuha warned, assuming a more serious tone. “Repeat to me what I
said. All of you, so I know that you listened.” He stared sternly at the trio.

“Rule number one: act natural!” Lumine piped up. “If you seem too suspicious, then the demon
will catch on and flee the area.”

“Rule number two: stick together,” Aether added. “If we’re alone, we risk being attacked and
picked off, so it’s better to stay close.”

“Rule number three: if Razor smells anything suspicious, he tells Kazuha!” Razor exclaimed.
“Razor will be on the lookout.”

“And rule number four: no matter what happens, you will all listen to me,” Kazuha ordered. “If the
demon we end up facing is powerful, then it’s crucial you obey my orders, to ensure that none of
you are harmed. Promise me that you’ll all listen.”

“Promise,” Kazuha repeated, more firmly.

“I promise,” his tsuguko echoed in unison.

A small smile formed upon Kazuha’s face, and he nodded, feeling just a bit more confident.
“Okay. Good. Let’s go, then. Is everything alright with Paimon?” He asked.
Right on cue, the demon stuck her head out from her box, peering at the four of them.

Razor studied her curiously, and Paimon stared right back. The young slayer sniffed her for a
moment before nodding solemnly. “Friend,” he said, placing a hand across his chest. “Smells like
Aether and Lumine.”

Paimon extended a hand, reaching out to pat Razor’s head. To Kazuha’s surprise, the boy reacted
much like a dog would. He leaned into the touch, and Paimon practically pet him as if he were an
animal. After a few moments of this, Kazuha cleared his throat, causing Paimon to draw back into
her box.

“Remember, you need to stay hidden,” Kazuha advised. “We’ll tell everyone that this is a box
filled with personal supplies. If anyone tries to check it, we won’t let them.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lumine retorted. “What are we waiting for?” She seemed earnest, those
golden eyes of hers glittering with excitement. Kazuha wished he could match her enthusiasm, but
he wasn’t young. He didn’t get eager over missions like he used to; now, all he felt was weariness.

“Stay close behind me, and follow my lead,” Kazuha instructed. He led the way towards a
massive, dome-like building in the distance. It was nestled within a secluded area; forest
surrounded the place on all sides, hiding it from the general public. Perhaps that was intentional.
Just how long had this demon been lurking here, hunting undetected?

That didn’t matter . . . Soon enough, Kazuha and his apprentices would put a halt to its schemes.
He wouldn’t allow it to prey upon the vulnerable worshippers any longer.

Approaching the front entrance, Kazuha schooled his expression into one he’d rehearsed quite
well. He appeared perfectly calm and composed, a stunning image of nonchalance. In the back of
his mind, he kept note of his scent, attempting to numb his emotions. He shoved them down the
best he could, lest they give his intentions away.

Lifting his hand, Kazuha intended to knock upon the grand oak doors, but they swung open before
he could. A girl stood before him; she wore a mask, strangely enough. It hid her eyes and some
portions of her face, but her mouth was revealed. Her red-painted lips parted, her voice accusing as
she spoke.

“What do you want?”

“Excuse me, miss.” Kazuha bowed, and behind him, his tsuguko dropped to their knees as well,
copying him closely. “My siblings and I heard rumors of this establishment. We come from a rich
family, but our parents intended to sell us all off to the highest bidder. None of us wished to be
separated, but we couldn’t find a single place to go. There was no sanctuary for our souls.”

Sounding as desperate as he could, Kazuha continued. “Until someone told us of the Eternal
Paradise cult. It seemed too good to be true, but we had to follow our one lead. A place where we
can live together freely, and serve a god? The Balladeer?” He gasped faintly, pretending to be
wrought with emotion. “Please. Tell me that such a haven is true!” His lashes fluttered pleadingly.

The girl hesitated, clearly taken aback by his dramatic display, but she also seemed to be the
empathetic type. She was no doubt buying his elaborate tale. Before she could respond, a new
presence joined them—it was someone that Kazuha noticed immediately.

His blood turned to ice, a chill rippling down his spine when this newcomer spoke. The voice was
silky and deep, as smooth as honey and nearly as sweet. But there was something about it,
 something Kazuha couldn’t trust.

“Oh? What do we have here?”

“Lord Balladeer!” The girl immediately dropped onto her knees, beginning to bow.

Kazuha felt his heart leap, tangling within his throat when he met a dark blue gaze.

The Balladeer stared back at him, gradually beginning to grin, and it was then that Kazuha realized
this mission would be far more complicated than he’d ever imagined.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter summarized: Kazuha becomes a single father to four orphans!! Oh also
Scaramouche makes his first appearance (finally) I know you guys were
excited/impatient to see him LMAO

Anyways sorry this is a lot of mostly just info/dialogue. The next chapter is more,
ahem… intense. This went from updating every Tuesday to updating like every few
days, whoops.

My Twitter is scarakazuuuu if you’d like to keep up with me there. Other than that, see
you all soon!
 Betrayal
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.

I am a hashira of the demon slayer corps—more specifically, the wind hashira.

When I was eighteen years old, I discovered something new. Romance. But it wasn’t all that it
seemed, and shortly after, I made another new discovery: betrayal.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

The Balladeer allowed them to stay.

He seemed to take a special interest in Kazuha, who pretended as if he didn’t notice.

They were all assigned quarters of their own, although Kazuha requested for his ‘younger siblings’
to share a room. The Balladeer appeared confused by such a request, but complied regardless,
much to Kazuha’s relief. It would be a cramped living situation for the tsuguko, but at least they
would be safer.

Kazuha, meanwhile, would be by himself. He didn’t mind, despite his apprentices’ concern. As the
strongest of them all, he wasn’t the one who required any protection.

He had hidden all of their swords away, tucked underneath a loose floorboard below his bed. So
long as people weren’t actively searching for the items, it wouldn’t be found.

“Are you settling in well?”

The voice caught Kazuha by surprise. He glanced sharply upwards, staring towards his door,
which he had left slightly ajar. There stood the Balladeer, leaning against the doorframe with an air
of casual nonchalance. Kazuha hadn’t even sensed him approaching, which was unusual. Had he
simply been too distracted? He disguised the way he frowned.

“Just fine, thank you.” Kazuha beamed, offering the Balladeer his most eccentric smile. “I’m
flattered you’d check in on me.”

“I do it for all of the new arrivals.” The Balladeer returned his smile, waving a hand dismissively.
“As the leader of Eternal Paradise, it’s the least I could do. I want to make sure all of our members
feel comfortable. Besides, your home situation wasn’t the best before coming here, was it?”

“Ah, no. No, Lord Balladeer, it wasn’t.” Kazuha ducked his head. It still felt odd to call someone
else ‘lord’ — especially someone he barely knew. This man certainly didn’t look like a god, he
simply acted like one.

But, although Kazuha hated to admit it, the Balladeer was attractive. As a hashira, he had never
paid much attention to other regular people, let alone in a romantic light. Yet as he grew older,
more mature, he couldn’t deny that he started to eye those around him. Particularly men. These
emotions had always confused him, but he never indulged them.

After all, he was a demon slayer, and the highest ranking one, at that. He didn’t have time to be
ogling other people when he should be saving them instead. A normal existence wasn’t possible
for him, and so he had signed off the rights to a love life ages ago. He had never even wanted one,
either, despite his budding curiosity. All he felt was merely that: a far off, thin veil of intrigue.

Like anyone would, he wondered what a kiss would feel like. What it would be like to touch
someone else, in a more intense way than normal. What it would be like for your body to be
worshipped and held. What it would be like to sleep with another person, to surrender your all to
someone else entirely. To finally allow yourself to let go.

Despite his inner musings, Kazuha never let them get farther than the depths of his own mind. Any
free time he had was spent training, either himself or his apprentices. He couldn’t go off chasing
the illusion of romance. But he’d never considered something: what if it came to him instead?

When the Balladeer smiled towards him, it caused a strange sensation to flutter within Kazuha’s
stomach. He remembered Yoimiya describing this as butterflies. For the longest time, he’d
assumed she’d been lying, dramatizing things for the sake of it. Yet now he realized she’d really
been telling the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha tried to grab ahold of those butterflies and crush them. There was no
room for such soft feelings. He was on a mission, to kill a dangerous demon.

Still, it became just a bit harder to focus when the Balladeer leaned closer, sending him a lopsided
grin. “You don’t have to call me that, you know,” he said. “When we’re in private like this, just
Scaramouche is fine.”

“Scaramouche . . . I see.” Kazuha nodded thoughtfully, folding his hands within his lap. “Well,
Scaramouche, I thank you for your compassion and concern. I am forever indebted to you for
welcoming my siblings and I. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t.” He shifted slightly,
replaying the fabricated sob story he’d created throughout his mind. He had to get all the details
down.

If even one part of his explanations didn’t add up, then his lies could be exposed. They’d unravel
like tendrils of thread, and at that point, there would be no going back.

“It’s not within my nature to turn aside those in need, especially someone such as yourself.”
Scaramouche continued to smile casually, even after saying such flattering things. It appeared
effortless to him. Was charming others a part of his personality?

“Such as . . . Myself?” Kazuha echoed. “My apologies, but I’m not quite sure I follow.”

Scaramouche drifted closer, traveling across the room within seconds. His speed was startling. If
Kazuha wasn’t a hashira, he doubted he’d have even been able to notice Scaramouche moving.
That sent a chill down his spine, though he forced his frantic heartbeat to calm, meeting
Scaramouche’s blue gaze evenly. He wouldn’t let himself be intimidated, not even by an alleged
‘god.’

“You’re pretty, you know?” Scaramouche told him solemnly, extending a pale hand. His
fingernails, Kazuha noticed, were painted a jet black color. Actually . . . Upon closer inspection,
Kazuha couldn’t discern if there was any polish used at all. His stomach churned, and his mouth
parted, the urge to question things quickly overcoming him.

Scaramouche stopped him, gripping lightly onto Kazuha’s chin. Their faces were unbearably close
now. Kazuha could smell Scaramouche’s breath; it reeked of mint, as if he had been using a rather
strong toothpaste.
“It’s dangerous out there for pretty boys like you,” Scaramouche explained simply. “Especially at
night. You don’t know what kind of monsters lurk through the dark.”

Kazuha couldn’t help but stiffen, a shiver encompassing his body. He could feel his brow
furrowing, suspicion instantly clouding his features. Monsters lurking through the dark. Could he
be implying something deeper . . . ?

“Here at the Eternal Paradise cult, we offer a sanctuary. No sick individuals will get you here, so
you may rest easy.” Scaramouche released him with a lofty smile, practically gliding away from a
dumbfounded Kazuha.

“I hope this conversation could provide some comfort for you, Kazuha. If possible, I’d like to talk
with you again soon.” Scaramouche turned away, heading towards the door. He paused briefly,
glancing over his shoulder.

“Sleep well.”

For a while, Kazuha stared at the empty space Scaramouche had left. His mind was reeling, and not
entirely in a good way. Truthfully, he wasn’t too sure how he should feel about that entire ordeal.
A part of him was certainly wary. They hadn’t located the demon yet, and while Scaramouche of
course looked perfectly normal, there was still an underlying issue: if a demon was powerful
enough, it could alter its entire appearance.

That was how they integrated into society, by changing themselves to look more like their prey. By
the time anyone realized something was wrong, it was too late. And considering this demon
seemed to be the strong type, there was a high chance it had disguised itself as one of the
worshippers. Presumably one of the lower ranking, so that it could remain unnoticed for a long
period of time.

Stepping forward, Kazuha closed his door, exhaling heavily. Already, this cult was giving him the
creeps. There was a bad aura all around here. Scaramouche himself didn’t seem entirely cruel or
menacing, but there was something off about him. He appeared to be hiding something, but
Kazuha doubted he was the source of the disappearances. Why would a cult leader kill his own
worshippers?

We need to find this demon, and fast.

Before it’s too late, and more lives are lost.

As Kazuha settled in to sleep—he had to maintain some forms of rest, at the very least—
Scaramouche remained wide awake.

He was nocturnal, after all, and so he had no need to sleep like others. Rather, he was spending his
time watching the moon and stars above. The only time he could go outside was under the cloak of
darkness. He’d forgotten what the sun looked like long ago, and the memories of clear blue skies
seemed far off and faded to him by now.

Right now, he wasn’t trying to marvel at nature’s beauty. He was using the quiet atmosphere to
think. The Tsaritsa had warned him that the corps were hot on his tail. It was only a matter of time
before they sent slayers to his doorstep. He had, naturally, presumed they’d be lambs walking off
to slaughter. Instead, he’d been mistaken.

A hashira had arrived on a silver platter.

That excited Scaramouche, although it also complicated things. The corps had been smarter this
time around. If it had simply been those three runts of Kazuha’s, Scaramouche would have been
able to dispose of them with ease. No one would bat an eye if a trio of stray dogs disappeared, and
they wouldn’t be difficult to defeat, either.

But now their mother was here. Kazuha would protect those mutts, undoubtedly with his life. And
they would, of course, do the same for him. With them all working together, it could cause just a
slight problem.

See, Scaramouche didn’t want to kill Kazuha immediately. He hadn’t been lying earlier. Although
the personality he presented was fake—nothing more than a fabricated mask—his words rang true.
Kazuha was pretty, and exactly his type. It was such a shame. If he wasn’t a demon slayer, perhaps
Scaramouche would have welcomed him openly, maybe even kept him as a pet.

That could never happen now, however. The best Scaramouche could do was delay their inevitable
battle. Kazuha would fall to his hands soon enough, but until then, why couldn’t he have some fun?
It had been centuries since he’d gotten any real action.

He might as well enjoy himself.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Razor no like him.”

“Me either,” Lumine agreed. “He weirds me out. Did you see the way he was looking at you
earlier, sensei? He was practically making out with you with just his eyes! How creepy.”

Aether nearly choked on the noodles he’d been eating, while Kazuha sighed, crossing his arms
over his chest. The four of them were sitting in a huddle together at a small table; the cult had
breakfast, lunch, and dinner together at specified times. Before each meal, they would send a
prayer to Scaramouche himself, and offer him their best pieces of food. It was all just a bit odd.

Kazuha made sure to watch Scaramouche closely during these times. He would always flash such a
pleasant smile, and effortlessly consume the morsels presented to him. As far as Kazuha could tell,
he seemed to enjoy what he was eating. Unless he was an outlier like Paimon, then he couldn’t be a
demon.

Still, he never let his guard down.

“Why don’t you like him, Razor?” Kazuha inquired. Any outside insight would be good.

“He smells . . . Bad,” Razor explained. “Like deceit, and very strong fumes. Like Co . . . Co-lo . .
.”

“Cologne?” Aether offered, and Razor nodded. “Yes!” He said, lifting a finger. “Cologne. Razor
thinks he hiding something.”

“Even if he is, we don’t have the time to find out what it is,” Kazuha murmured. “Our top priority
is to locate this demon, and dispose of it without causing any big disturbance.”

“But what if he is the demon?” Lumine whispered, leaning closer. “You can’t tell me you haven’t
wondered that at least once, sensei.” She frowned, throwing a wary glance towards Scaramouche,
who was laughing at something one of the worshippers had said.

“I have.” Kazuha’s grip upon his fork tightened. “Still, I find it doubtful a demon would start a
cult, let alone prey upon the worshippers. It all seems a bit too complicated. Nonetheless, we can
never eliminate the possibility. Not until we see Scaramouche out during the daytime.”

“In a way, it does make sense, though,” Aether countered, lowering his voice. “Think of it this
way: a cult that a demon leads is basically an all-you-can-eat buffet. The worshippers practically
throw themselves at him, and he gets a fulfilling meal every day. If he really wants to, he can write
the disappearances off as sacrifices to their god.”

A chill rippled down Kazuha’s spine.

Lumine swallowed, seeming pale. She pushed her unfinished curry away. “These desperate people
would be none the wiser,” she mumbled. “They’d all fall like flies.”

“Sensei, you said he took an interest in you, right?” Aether mumbled. “You should be careful. Who
knows what he’s planning?”

“Or you should get closer to him,” Lumine added. “If he really is the demon, it’ll allow us an entry
to attack him. If he isn’t, then maybe he can give us clues as to who the real culprit might be.
Either way, it’s beneficial if you get as close as possible to Scaramouche.”

“I understand.” Kazuha stared into his half-empty glass of water. “I’ll investigate further.
Meanwhile, the three of you should remain on guard and continue searching for any other
suspicious signs. Understand?”

His tsuguko nodded, and he smiled, relieved.

“Good. You all are dismissed.” Kazuha rose to his feet, beginning to move away. His apprentices
watched him leave, exchanging glances amongst themselves. They each had their own suspicions,
but it was clear that their mentor had a lot weighing on his mind.

Kazuha wandered throughout the building, deciding to explore. He, Razor, and the twins had been
given an official tour yesterday, but he still wanted to check things out for himself. There could be
hidden clues somewhere, traces of the demon that no one had discovered yet. Though as he
ventured through the marble halls, he found nothing.

Everything appeared to be entirely normal. There wasn’t even a faint whiff of blood. That must
mean that the demon had caught on to their arrival. It was being cautious, but it would need to eat
soon. When that time came, the slayers would all be prepared. As the hashira, Kazuha was the
most ready of everyone. He would take that demon’s head.

No matter who it was.

By the time he had reached the gardens, the sun was already beginning to set. Once he actually got
situated, leaning back upon the grass, the moon was hanging low within the sky, its rays just barely
shedding light onto the land. He would, of course, be staying awake. Keeping vigil, and patrolling
wherever he possibly could to ensure that the innocent members of this cult stayed safe.

The night’s darkness seemed to set in quickly. Shadows swept in on him from all sides, circling
him like a hawk. After spending so many hours in the pitch black, fighting demons under the glow
of the moon, Kazuha’s senses had adapted to the darkness. He could discern faint shapes
throughout the gloom, though none seemed threatening.

For a while, his surroundings remained dreadfully mundane, until he heard the faint sound of light
footsteps approaching him from behind. Of course, he turned around immediately, already
preparing to attack.
“Woah, easy there!” Scaramouche regarded Kazuha plainly, a chuckle spilling past his lips. He
raised his hands in a friendly manner, and Kazuha relaxed by a fragment, though he didn’t speak.
“Can I sit here?” Scaramouche asked, nodding to the empty spot beside Kazuha. After a long
moment of hesitation, the hashira finally relented, patting the space beside him invitingly.

Scaramouche settled down next to him, sighing softly. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He asked, nodding
towards the sky. “I could spend hours just watching the moon and stars.”

“Hmm. You’re right,” Kazuha murmured, humming quietly. A small, bittersweet smile formed
upon his face. “A very long time ago, I might have written a haiku about this scenery.” He didn’t
know why he shared such information, especially with Scaramouche.

Not many people knew about his passion for literature, and his love for poetry. Why was he
sharing such private details with Scaramouche, then, of all people? It wasn’t like Kazuha exactly
trusted him. He could only fully trust his fellow hashira and demon slayers. Anyone else was
always a risk, always a potential threat, save for innocent citizens.

In the end, he couldn’t quite discern why. Maybe he just wanted—or needed—to tell someone. Or
perhaps he thought that Scaramouche might understand, in a way.

“Why don’t you?” Scaramouche asked, glancing towards him. “What’s stopping you? In the
Eternal Paradise cult, you’re free to do whatever your heart desires. Including poetry. There are no
limits here, Kazuha.”

“Freedom.” Kazuha exhaled heavily, laughing into the wind. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“And you have it, now,” Scaramouche pointed out, staring intensely towards him.

Kazuha gazed back, his expression shifting into one of sadness. If only you knew, he thought. I
don’t have freedom. None of us do.

We won’t be truly free until the last demon is vanquished from this world. As a hashira, it is my
duty to work towards that dream. I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means sacrificing my own life.

“You’re right. I have it now,” Kazuha lied.

“You don’t seem entirely convinced,” Scaramouche murmured. “Can I tell you something?” He
lifted his head, staring back towards the heavens. “Human lives are so fleeting. If you have a
passion, pursue it. If you’re going to exist within this world, do so with pride, doing something
which you love.”

Human lives.

“Do you have something that you love to do, Scaramouche?” Kazuha asked. The question hung
heavy within the air for a moment.

“I do,” Scaramouche replied after a brief pause. “Leading my followers is my greatest passion,
though at times, it can become my biggest burden. You might understand. After all, you have
younger siblings. You wish to guide them, to protect them. We feel the same, you and I. It’s what I
like about you. We’re more similar than you even realize.”

Fishing through the pocket of his kimono, Scaramouche pulled something out, holding it between
two fingers. “Like two sides of the same coin,” he murmured, presenting said coin towards
Kazuha, who remained silent.
“Here. Follow me, would you?” Scaramouche extended a hand, rising to his feet. He waited
expectantly, a small smile lingering upon his lips. After a moment of reluctance, Kazuha accepted
Scaramouche’s outstretched hand, allowing himself to be pulled to a stand.

Scaramouche’s hand felt deceptively soft within his own. The other didn’t let go, either. Instead, he
guided Kazuha deeper into the gardens. Like a lost dog, Kazuha could do nothing but follow,
trailing helplessly after the alleged god. It made him feel pitiful, but for once, it wasn’t exactly in a
bad way.

The grass tickled Kazuha’s bare ankles as he walked, the tendrils caressing his warm skin and
offering a feeling of coolness. His heart was jumping, leaping and battling within his chest when
Scaramouche squeezed his hand, glancing back at him with that damned smile. How could
someone be so effortlessly alluring? Kazuha couldn’t begin to fathom it.

“Here,” Scaramouche announced, just as the sound of running water met Kazuha’s ears.

They halted in front of a small pond. Cherry blossom trees towered above them, their silhouettes
almost menacing within the dark. However, when a pink petal drifted to land within Kazuha’s
palm, he felt comforted. Suddenly, nothing was frightening anymore. The darkness began to feel
almost welcoming.

Scaramouche led him towards the pond, and together, they gazed into the water. Small fish swam
within the murky waves. Koi, Kazuha realized. Memories hit him all at once, then, of times when
he was much younger, feeding the koi back at his family’s estate, and smiling when they nibbled
upon his fingers. His mother would sometimes stand with him, watching his every move.

If he pretended well enough, he could almost feel her ghost with him now, standing just behind his
shoulder. But when he turned around, there was nothing and no one there. Only the endless, empty
expanse of the night.

“They’re lovely creatures, aren’t they? I thought you’d like them.” Scaramouche released Kazuha’s
hand, and the boy tried to ignore how much he missed the contact.

Scaramouche tossed the coin he held into the pond, and it fell with a gentle splash, quickly sinking
to the bottom. The fish didn’t seem too disturbed, merely continuing to swim.

“Did you know that some people say koi represent strength?” Kazuha inquired. He bent down,
dipping his fingers into the pool. The water felt cool against his flesh, and he made small circles
within the depths, glancing back towards Scaramouche. “Others say they even symbolize
success.”

“Oh? What would you need strength and success for?” Scaramouche asked, and Kazuha shrugged
casually. “For life,” he replied. It wasn’t as if he could simply say: for a mission to kill a
bloodthirsty demon that’s slaughtering your worshippers one by one.

“Well, I wish you good luck and fortune through whatever you do.” Scaramouche closed his eyes,
smiling softly. A gentle breeze blew, caressing both of their faces. It scattered some of the cherry
blossoms, and the wind carried the petals away, drifting them off to distant lands. Kazuha wished
he could follow them, wherever they went.

“Likewise,” he retorted quietly.

For a while, they remained in peaceful silence. Kazuha found himself stealing glances towards
Scaramouche every now and then. He was dreadfully handsome. Kazuha couldn’t help but notice
it every time he looked at the cult leader. It was as if he had been sculpted by the gods themselves.
Such fair, youthful features, and unblemished skin.

He was too good to be true.

His hair was dark, almost as dark as the night surrounding them. When Scaramouche moved,
strands of that jet blackness fell upon his forehead, like splashes of ink across pure white paper.
Not to mention, when those eyes looked up, catching Kazuha’s stare, it was like he was gazing into
the ocean’s depths. Murky, stormy, deadly but beautiful.

“Do you remember when you called me pretty?” Kazuha blurted out, feeling a faint blush
overtaking his features. Those pesky butterflies fluttered within his stomach again. “Well, I think
that you’re pretty, too.”

“Is that so?” Scaramouche grinned. “Well, thank you. It’s not everyday I get a compliment from
someone so stunning.”

Kazuha flushed, glancing towards the pool. “Ah, well, I . . . I don’t know what to say,” he
murmured honestly. He still didn’t know how to properly handle receiving such flattery.

“Then don’t say anything.” Scaramouche leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against Kazuha’s.
“Sometimes, silence is a valid answer.” He was so close, Kazuha could make out every fine detail
across his face. The gentle curve of his nose, the hook of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled when
he smiled.

Thump, thump, thump.

There went his heart again, skittering into a nervous wreck. He could feel his palms growing slick
with sweat, though he tried to ignore the way his skin prickled with heat.

“Scaramouche, have you noticed anything unusual around here?” Kazuha blurted out. The random
subject change was mostly due to his nerves, though he also genuinely wanted to know. Who better
to garner information from than the cult’s own leader?

“Strange? In what way?” Scaramouche tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of confusion.
“Could you . . . Elaborate a bit?”

“Like . . . Have any worshippers gone missing recently?” Kazuha inquired. “Or have you heard any
odd noises? Seen anything strange amidst the night?” As he spoke, he realized how bizarre he
sounded. He probably seemed insane, though luckily, Scaramouche wasn’t eyeing him as if he had
a few screws loose.

“No,” the other responded. He held his chin for a moment, as if contemplating. “Not that I know
of.” He paused. “Why? Is something going on, Kazuha?” He seemed concerned.

“Oh, no! It’s nothing.” Kazuha scrambled away, staggering to his feet. He waved his hands,
forcing a smile. “Some other members were just teasing me with a few ghost stories, that’s all. I’m
sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. But it’s getting quite late, so I should be returning to my room
now. As should you.”

“Would you like me to escort you there?” Scaramouche asked, standing up as well.

“No, no! It’s alright.” Kazuha practically flinched away, already beginning to step back. “I’ll be
just fine. Thank you, though.”
Spinning around on his heel, the hashira nearly ran off. He felt silly for fleeing from something so
mundane, but he could hardly take the situation anymore. Scaramouche made him feel weird, and
not necessarily in a bad way. However, it was still distracting, and he had a mission he needed to
attend to.

He couldn’t afford to get caught up in anything, or any one, for that matter.

Nonetheless, as Kazuha returned to his room, he cradled his hand close to his chest. He could still
feel the ghost of Scaramouche’s fingers, intertwined within his own. And for some reason, the
memory made him smile.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

They stayed at the Eternal Paradise cult for another week, and it really did feel like an eternity.
Kazuha missed the warmth and comfort of his own bed, the safety of his estate. And yet still, he
never complained.

The sooner they located this demon, the better. Yet that was proving to be nearly impossible. At
times, Kazuha wondered if they’d been given a false lead. Was anything even here, because
everything sure seemed normal. Kazuha knew appearances could be deceiving, but he’d been
patrolling this place day and night, and there wasn’t a single sign of demonic activity. It was purely
baffling.

Even his apprentices were becoming restless. They were agitated, growing both pent-up and
frustrated. None of them could locate even a single clue, either. It seemed as if all of them were
stumbling across nothing but dead ends, following mere paper trails. If this kept up, then they’d be
here for months.

As he promised to do, Kazuha grew steadily closer with Scaramouche. Being the cult’s leader, he
would naturally provide any information that Kazuha might be missing.

However, Scaramouche didn’t utter a single word about vanishing worshippers or strange sounds.
He talked about anything and everything else. While their conversations weren’t unpleasant, not by
any means, Kazuha still felt himself growing impatient. He needed to know where the demon was.

Instead of fighting like he was supposed to be doing, Kazuha spent his days drinking tea with
Scaramouche, and his evenings taking midnight strolls with said man. It was perhaps the most
peaceful he’d been in a while, but such a mundane life wasn’t suitable for someone like him. He
was a hashira; he wasn’t meant to live like this, carefree and without many valid worries.

As much as he hated to consider it, Kazuha was growing weary. The demon hadn’t struck a single
victim, yet it was bound to be starving by now. Not even one worshipper disappeared. Everything
appeared perfect.

I have never seen Scaramouche beneath the sunlight.

I spend most of my time with him, and as such, if he were the demon . . . He would have very little
time to sneak away and kill someone.

It seems like such a ridiculous assumption, especially since I like Scaramouche. He’s kind, and
wonderful to talk with. And yet I can’t shake this nagging gut feeling, which I know to trust.

Something isn’t right with him.

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha rose to his feet. It was the middle of the night, and around the time
for him to start patrolling. He figured this round would be like every other: him finding absolutely
nothing, and returning to his room disappointed. Nonetheless, he grabbed his sword, disguising it
underneath his flowing kimono.

Making his way outside, Kazuha wandered down the estate’s winding hallways. His footsteps
echoed eerily across the ground, unnerving him slightly. He never saw anyone when he ventured
out like this. It was presumably because of a curfew, but if the cult was as free as Scaramouche
claimed, why did they have something like that?

As he walked, he noticed something strange. It was a sudden shift within the air, which he had
never seen until now. His attention was immediately caught, his interest peaked nearly
instantaneously. It was only a matter of seconds before he was following after the new lead, his
heart racing within his chest.

His stomach churned when a bitterly familiar scent reached his nostrils. It was the reek of metal—
of blood. Yes, it was unmistakable.

His steps became more urgent, and soon Kazuha was running, following the trail like a hound. The
smell grew strongest outside of a room he recognized; it was Scaramouche’s room, and that could
mean only two things.

One: he was injured, or even worse.

Or two: he was the . . .

Kazuha swallowed past the lump that had formed within his throat. He didn’t even want to
consider it! If Scaramouche really was the demon, then how could Kazuha have been talking to
him, steadily growing closer with him, and even finding him handsome? If it were true, then he’d
be ashamed of himself.

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha braced himself, pushing open the door to Scaramouche’s room in
one fluid motion.

Despite how much he had readied himself, he still wasn’t prepared for just what he saw.

Blood caked the floor, the ceiling, the walls. It wasn’t the most grisly thing Kazuha had ever seen,
but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. To make matters worse, the reek of metal was ten times stronger
inside the actual room. That, and the unmissable stench of a demon.

All of that paled in comparison, however, to the true culprit behind such a gruesome scene. Deep
down, Kazuha had been hoping it wasn’t him, but maybe he’d always known, somewhere inside,
that it had to have been.

Scaramouche peered over his shoulder at him, sending him a smile. His mouth was covered with
blood, and his white teeth now had two long, bloodstained fangs. No wonder he always reeked of
strong mint toothpaste. It was presumably to cover up the fact that Scaramouche was none other
than a no-good, vile demon that preyed upon the living, feasting on their flesh and their bones.

Within his hands, he held a severed leg, which already had a massive chunk taken from it. Kazuha
could see the outline of a bone, and the meaty tendrils of a tendon. He swallowed past the lump
forming within his throat, but it was growing difficult to breathe. The aura within the room was so
intense; it was the most stifling thing he’d ever experienced, and that unnerved him.

Even throughout all his years as a demon slayer, and even during his time as the wind hashira, he
had never met an Upper Moon. He had only heard of them from stories, specifically from his lost
mentor. Now, however, he understood. He knew why Xiao had been so worried for him, why he
had wanted so desperately to protect Kazuha.

The presence was almost nauseating. If Kazuha weren’t growing so angry, he’d have probably
collapsed by now. The formidable energy of a truly powerful opponent was making his knees
weak; his legs wobbled for a moment before he managed to cement them, shifting his position to
stand properly.

“Well, well. I should have known you’d come the moment I spilled a single drop of blood. It’s a
shame you were too late to save her though, isn’t it?” Scaramouche nodded towards the mutilated
body of a young girl, one of his many worshippers. Kazuha tried not to look at her for too long; the
guilt would consume him, and he needed to focus.

Drawing his sword in the span of a second, Kazuha gripped tightly onto the hilt, digging his fingers
in until they nearly cracked from the pressure. His brain felt foggy, and a red haze was settling over
him, clouding his eyes.

“Tell me, aniki! Tell me who did this to you!”

“We were ambushed . . . By Upper Moon One . .”

“And Two.”

There was a number engraved within both of Scaramouche’s eyes. His purple eyes. Two.

Upper Moon Two.

Xiao’s face flashed within Kazuha’s mind, the tears his mentor had shed recounting the events that
had led to his untimely demise. The pain he had experienced, and the desperation he had shown,
the way he had pleaded with Kazuha to abandon the corps, so that he’d never have to meet this
demon. Remembering it all made him grow angrier.

“You,” Kazuha choked out. The word was laced with venom. It was all he could say. After years of
planning and searching, he’d unknowingly walked right into Upper Moon Two’s hands, and not the
other way around.

“Me,” Scaramouche echoed playfully, wiping blood from his mouth with the sleeve of his kimono.
He dropped the leg he had been holding, heaving a long sigh. “You don’t sound too happy,” he
mused. “I suppose you didn’t like being tricked. But don’t worry, I’m not a total liar. I meant most
of what I said during our late night conversations. You did too, didn’t you? You felt our
connection.”

Our connection.

Kazuha grit his teeth.

All that time, he had been laughing with his friends’ killer. Smiling with him, holding his hand,
sharing tender moments with him and feeling things for him that should have never been felt. He
felt disgusted with himself. Shame was rapidly coiling within his gut, playing hand in hand with his
boiling anger.

But he wouldn’t allow Scaramouche to manipulate him—not any further. He had woken up to his
surroundings, and he wouldn’t look at the world through rose-tinted glasses anymore. No, he saw
Scaramouche for who he really was: a monster. And a strong monster, at that.
“Oh, come on. You still aren’t going to say anything?” Scaramouche threw his arms out, and
Kazuha simply watched him. His throat had constricted, squeezing any possible words away. No,
he couldn’t say anything.

Would you be able to?

The third most powerful demon in the world. That was what Scaramouche was. Xiao’s murderer,
Tomo’s murderer, the killer of four former pillars, people Kazuha had also looked up to. Who
knows how many other lives Scaramouche took? Just how many other slayers had he gruesomely
slaughtered? The numbers could be endless, and when he realized that, Kazuha wanted to scream.

All this time, he had envisioned their battle within his head. He would be surrounded by comrades,
and together, they would have the strength to take this bastard down. But the reality wasn’t so
simple, it wasn’t so perfect. Instead, here he was, alone. Only his tsuguko served as backup, and he
didn’t want them coming within a five meter radius of Scaramouche. They would certainly be
killed.

The room was beginning to close in on him. The walls were moving, coming to swallow him
whole and trap him forever. Or perhaps the ground would open up, a large crater forming, and
maybe a pit would steal him away. That wasn’t as likely, however. Scaramouche would probably
kill him first, and add his corpse onto a steadily growing pile. Kazuha would be just another
victim.

No. I promised. I promised him!

His lower lip quivered, wobbling dangerously. He had sworn to Xiao that he would be avenged, no
matter what. And after Tomo’s death, he vowed to see that promise through more than ever. The
longer he took to complete his goal, the more people died. But was he ready? Was he ready to kill
Upper Moon Two, in this cramped room, by himself?

I have to be.

“Relax. I’m not going to kill you. If you won’t talk, then allow me to.” Scaramouche’s entire
personality seemed to have changed, as if he were a snake finally shedding its old skin.

Talk? I don’t care about talking.

“Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!”

Kazuha surged forward within the span of a second, slashing consecutively in a horizontal, cyclone
pattern. If it had been any other target, they would have been torn into pieces. But considering his
opponent was an Upper Moon, Scaramouche was able to predict his attack, moving to the side
effortlessly. He appeared completely at ease, smiling patiently towards a furious Kazuha.

“I said to let me talk,” he advised, lifting a finger pointedly. “Then we can fight, yeah?”

Kazuha lifted his sword, finally speaking once more. His voice was strained, his anger bleeding
through every syllable. “Talk? What don’t you understand, demon? I don’t want to talk to you. Just
looking at you makes me sick. I want to wipe you off the face of this earth and send you to hell
immediately!” His tone rose, but he managed to immediately control himself once more, though he
still shook, practically vibrating with emotion.

As a typically calm person, people rarely saw this side of Kazuha. That was why, when it was
finally unleashed, it could be quite frightening. The anger lurking deep underneath his skin was
kept under tight wraps, but not anymore. Now, he had someone to direct that rage at. And oh, he
wanted nothing more than to tear Scaramouche apart with his bare hands.

Those red eyes of his practically glowed, illuminating the dimness of the room. His menacing aura
might have terrified another, lesser demon, but Scaramouche wasn’t phased. As an Upper Moon, he
had seen worse. He had killed far scarier hashira; one sprung to his mind, a small man who the
slayers had called the Conqueror of Demons.

If he could defeat that man, then he would have no issue dealing with Kazuha, either.

“I see.” Scaramouche seemed amused. “But don’t you want some clarity? I figured you’d start
immediately asking me questions. It’s what nearly every slayer does once they discover my
identity.” He tilted his head to the side slowly, resembling a predatory bird. “Unless you have
already heard of me?”

“You’re mistaken.” Kazuha smiled, lacing with it as much vehemence as he could muster. “I
simply just don’t care. Why would I want to know more about you?” He sneered.

“Oh? But you were so curious before you knew what I was,” Scaramouche reminded him. He
moved closer within the blink of an eye, gripping Kazuha’s jaw much like he had when they had
first met. Only this time, Kazuha knew that Scaramouche could easily rip his jaw clean off. And,
of course, this time Kazuha didn’t want Scaramouche to touch him. His skin felt as if it were now
burning.

“Get your filthy hands off of me,” he hissed, curving his swords upwards. Scaramouche’s hand
was sliced within the span of a second, only for it to regenerate immediately, as if nothing had even
happened. Scaramouche smiled towards him, and Kazuha resisted the urge to balk.

This strength . . . It’s incredible.

“Are you going to listen, now?”

Kazuha shook, staring into those purple eyes. Scaramouche’s demonic form was much different
than his human one. While masquerading as a person, he seemed normal. He seemed like someone
Kazuha could have truly fallen for. Was that how he’d looked before being turned into a ruthless
monster?

As a demon, he was much taller. He had black horns atop his head, which curled into razor-sharp
tips. There were purple marks running along his arms, chest, neck, and back—tattoos in the shape
of electro symbols. And, of course, his eyes matched the color of his brandings. They were
unnaturally bright, glowing eerily within the darkness. Maybe they’d have even been pretty, if they
didn’t belong to a demon.

Scaramouche’s nails were still black, and still long, although now they resembled claws more than
ever. His fangs glinted within the room’s dim lighting, catching shadows as he spoke. “Like I said,
I don’t intend to kill you yet. If you’re wondering why, I mean to tell you, if you’d allow me to
actually speak.”

Placing a hand over his chest, Scaramouche went on. “I’m not entirely evil, you know? I see
potential in you. View yourself as a butterfly. Fresh out of the cocoon, you’re barely flapping your
wings. If I were to clip them, cutting your lifespan short, it would be such a shame. Who wouldn’t
want to see you blossom into a beautiful, strong butterfly?”

“Besides,” he continued. “Ending your life here would be too easy. Too simple and boring! Do you
know how long it’s been since I’ve had some real excitement? You’re exactly my type, and people
like you show up only once every few centuries. I should cherish you while I can, you know what I
mean? I’m really big on savoring my meals.”

Scaramouche’s tongue swept across his lips, which were still stained red with blood. “I wouldn’t
have grown to be so powerful if I killed without rhyme or reason,” he muttered. “Consuming you
when you’re at your full potential will be a glorious reward. Your strength shall become mine. And
if I can’t have your heart one way, then I might as well resort to some other way, right?”

“You think you can kill me?” Kazuha lifted his chin, glaring towards Scaramouche. “You might be
powerful, but you are no god. You are the manifestation of sin. I won’t sit back and allow you to
cause trouble and suffering. You will die by my hand, one way or another.”

“Manifestation of sin,” Scaramouche mused, clicking his tongue. “I suppose you’re right.”

He grinned, all blood and teeth. “And yet these people call me their god. Lord Balladeer, that’s
what they refer to me as. They pray to me, bow to me, worship me. Do you know why? Because I
can offer them eternity. Dying at my hands, and becoming one with my being, is the truest form of
eternity. As long as my immortal life persists, so will theirs. They will live on with me forever.”

“You’re insane and delusional,” Kazuha spat. He attacked again, this time swinging his sword
directly towards Scaramouche’s neck.

The Upper Moon practically floated backwards, smiling loftily towards Kazuha. “Me? No,” he
crooned mockingly. “I am very much sane. Your mortal lives are so fragile, and so utterly
worthless, especially when compared to someone like me. In fact, you should consider me a
merciful being; to be eaten by me is one of the highest honors of this world. All of my victims are
lucky.”

All of my victims are lucky.

Something snapped within Kazuha, then.

“Wind Breathing, Second Form: Claws-Purifying Wind!”

He lifted his sword upwards towards the right, above his head, unleashing four vertical slashes at
once down upon Scaramouche. The attacks resembled the formation of claws, and all around them,
maple leaves swirled, the scent of autumn wafting over the reek of blood within the room.
Scaramouche, despite his life being threatened, watched on with some awe.

“Your form is quite pretty,” he commented, dodging each one of Kazuha’s slashes in a series of
twists and turns. “I’ve never seen anything like it, although your fighting style reminds me of
someone. I’m not sure who, though.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head dismissively. “Ah, it
doesn’t matter.”

Straightening up, Scaramouche extended a hand. Lightning began to crackle within the room,
purple energy crawling across the floor and walls. The Upper Moon’s eyes lit up, and he grinned,
opening his mouth.

“Blood Demon Art: The Wrath of Eternity!”

Move! Kazuha’s mind screamed. His body reacted just in time, dodging a bolt of lightning that had
been sent straight towards him. Now it was his turn to play on the defensive side, but there were
few places he could go within such a cramped room.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Scaramouche drawled. “I won’t use my scythe just yet.”
A large gash across Xiao’s chest, blood dripping from his mouth, his face contorted with pain—
that is the power of this monster’s scythe.

Kazuha’s eyes darkened with fury. “Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clean Storm Wind Tree!”

His surroundings were sliced, the walls shredding into paper around him, but he was also shielded
from Scaramouche’s oncoming attacks. It was a defensive form, meant to both protect him from
and dispel an enemy. The Upper Moon was observing him with ease, licking a cut on the side of
his face. Kazuha had, finally, managed to land a hit.

“Not bad,” Scaramouche hummed.

“My turn, now.” He grinned, unleashing torrents of powerful electricity from his hands. Kazuha
was too slow to properly block it from reaching him, and as such he collapsed, wrought with
currents of pain. They filled his entire body, lighting his nerves on fire and frying his mind into
nothing but a shell of white-hot agony.

Despite how hard he bit down onto his lip, splitting it and drawing blood, Kazuha couldn’t prevent
himself from screaming in the end. He didn’t want to give Scaramouche the satisfaction of hearing
him, but it simply hurt so much. He felt as if he were dying.

“How lovely,” Scaramouche cooed, drawing nearer. His figure was a blur through Kazuha’s haze
of pain, but he could make out the glow of purple eyes. “You sound just like a songbird,” he
sighed. “Or a bell chiming beautifully. How I wish I could hear more, but it appears as if we’ve got
some company.”

Scaramouche bent down, lowering his face directly to Kazuha’s. The temperature within the room
dropped, and a chill rippled up Kazuha’s spine despite how much he burned with pain. “Despite
how much I’d love to kill your rangy little apprentices in front of you, it would take too much time,
and cause too much effort. The sun will be rising soon,” Scaramouche muttered, his tone dark.

“Consider yourselves lucky yet again. I’m in a good mood tonight.” He spun on his heel, vanishing
off amongst the rubble their fight had created.

Kazuha was left alone, reeling and struggling to come to terms with what had happened.

In the distance, he could faintly hear someone calling him.

No, multiple people were calling him. They sounded young. And familiar. He could almost
recognize them . . .

“Aniki! Aniki!”

Hands gripped tightly onto him, and Kazuha gasped, his lashes fluttering with pain.

“He’s injured! Aether, send a message to our medics through the crows!” Lumine ordered. Despite
the way she took control of the situation, she sounded panicked. Her hands shook as she held
Kazuha, supporting his weight. “Can you hear me? Aniki, talk to me!”

There was the sound of footsteps running off, no doubt Aether leaving to obey Lumine’s order.

Another set of hands pulled at him, and Razor spoke, whining softly. “His wound is bad,” Razor
said. “But not fatal. He will be okay. Razor can smell it . . . His strength.”

“I know he’s strong,” Lumine snapped. “But even strong people have limits, Razor!”
“No.” Razor trembled, cradling Kazuha as the hashira slowly began to lose consciousness.

Lumine blinked, staring with confusion.

“No. No, not aniki’s strength. The demon that he fought . . . It is stronger than him. It is stronger
than all of us. It is powerful.”

Those were the last words Kazuha heard before darkness arrived, swallowing him entirely. He fell
into an empty, vast black expanse, dimly wondering if he would die.

The wounds allegedly weren’t fatal, and Scaramouche had intended to spare him, but what if?
What if this really did kill him?

He didn’t want his tsuguko to go through what he had.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

When Kazuha opened his eyes, he quickly discovered that he luckily wasn’t dead.

The second thing he discovered were sets of many eyes, all staring directly at him. As his
disoriented brain gradually began to refocus, he realized that the eyes belonged to his friends, and
not some bizarre spider demon.

“You’re awake!” Lumine peered down at him, smiling with relief. “We were all so worried.”

“I’m . . . Sorry,” Kazuha choked out, his voice strained. He didn’t know why he was apologizing
—actually, no. He did know why; he was sorry for failing to kill Scaramouche, he was sorry for
being too weak, he was sorry for becoming a burden and worrying everyone. He was sorry for
constantly messing up. Could he even do anything right?

“Don’t apologize.” Lumine gripped tightly onto his hands, squeezing gently. “We’re the sorry
ones. We could hear you fighting, but we couldn’t get to you until it was too late. Those
worshippers had locked us in our room, and wouldn’t let us out!” She scowled, shaking her head
slowly. “They’re insane.”

“Razor smelled it,” Razor sniffled, his face hovering over Kazuha’s. “Your anger. The lightning.
Blood and suffering.” He looked tired, eye bags painting his skin purple and blue, as if he hadn’t
slept for quite a while. “Razor is sorry. He wanted to help you.”

“We could have lost you.” Aether’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. “The medics
said your wounds weren’t fatal, but still, there was always a chance that you wouldn’t make it. I
know that you’re strong, but even a pillar can only take so much. And you fought such a powerful
demon all on your own. You could have been killed! And we would have been too late to save
you!”

Lumine lifted a hand, covering her mouth at her brother’s words. She seemed choked up, and
Kazuha watched the three of them, his heart swelling with a strange, foreign emotion. His chest
was practically aching, as if he could feel the sorrow of his apprentices.

“But I’m okay,” he managed to say, smiling weakly towards them. “And it’s because of you guys.
Thank you . . . If you hadn’t gotten me help immediately, I might have succumbed to my injuries.”
He paused, glancing down at himself. Rather than the kimono he’d been wearing, he was dressed
in a thin white gown, and covered in bandages.

“Don’t move too much,” Lumine advised, fretting anxiously over him. “You could aggravate your
wounds. You were badly burned. Is there anything you need? One of us can get it. Food, water? As
a matter of fact, maybe Aether should go fetch a nurse.”

“I’m fine.” Kazuha leaned his head back, exhaling heavily. “Just stay with me, alright?”

Lumine went to reply when they all were distracted by a small figure emerging, coming to climb
onto Kazuha’s bed. Paimon had left her box and was staring towards Kazuha, nestling close against
his side. She mumbled something incoherent, the muzzle muffling any sound she might make. Her
tiny hands reached up, coming to take Kazuha’s.

“Paimon, no! Get down! You’re disturbing him,” Lumine scolded, going to grab her little sister, but
Kazuha shook his head.

“No, no,” he murmured, squeezing Paimon’s hand. “She’s fine.” He smiled towards her, and
Paimon hummed happily, leaning against his shoulder. She quickly settled in to sleep; she took
plenty of naps all the time, and now was no different. Though she was easily exhausted, she still
seemed to express her concern and care for Kazuha. He had saved her life, and she remembered
that.

“Back when you all first found me,” Kazuha murmured, resting a hand atop Paimon’s head, “you
called me something, didn’t you?”

Lumine paused, a faint blush painting her features. She exchanged a glance with Aether and Razor.
For a long moment, none of them spoke, before Lumine cleared her throat timidly. “Uh, yes . . .
Aniki. Do you mind it?”

“It’s just that, we call you aniki all the time in private, and it slipped out. It might have actually
happened a few times. We see you as a big brother, and a sensei too of course, but—” Aether
trailed off, turning a faint pink after his sudden outburst. He was clearly embarrassed, quickly
ducking his head.

“You’re Lupical,” Razor murmured. “Family.”

“If you don’t wish to be referred to by that, it’s okay,” Lumine added, waving her hands. “We can
stop if you find it disrespectful.”

Kazuha remained silent for a long moment, his hair hiding the most of his expression.

When he lifted his head, his apprentices gasped with shock. There were tears brewing within
Kazuha’s red eyes, a few even beginning to drip slowly down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s an honor to be called that by you three.” He paused, refusing to speak
any further, lest his voice broke. Instead, he sent them all an honest smile, allowing it to light up
his solemn features.

“It means a lot to m—” he was cut off by three pairs of arms wrapping around him. Gasping with
surprise, Kazuha froze as his tsuguko practically smothered him, drowning him in their embrace.
Their touch aggravated his wounds slightly, causing small prickles of pain to envelope him, but it
was nothing compared to the warmth in his heart.

Kazuha hugged them back the best he could, continuing to smile as Lumine began to cry, sobbing
into his chest. Aether was sniffling, and even Razor was choking up, hiding his expression in the
slope of Kazuha’s neck.

“Come on,” he murmured. “There’s no need to cry. I’m alright. You didn’t lose me.”
“But we almost did,” Lumine sniffed, pulling back to look at him. “What happened back there,
aniki? What did that demon do?”

Kazuha hesitated. He didn’t know if he should disclose such information to his tsuguko, especially
when their emotions were still so tender. They were young; they didn’t need to know the bitter
details. That type of intel should only be shared with—

“We’d like to know, too.” A knock sounded at the door, before it cracked open slightly, revealing
eight figures watching him and the current exchange. Kazuha’s fellow hashira greeted him warmly,
and at the sight of the pillars, his tsuguko scrambled away from him, struggling to look properly
dignified. They wanted to impress their superiors, and hugging their mentor wasn’t exactly a flashy
display.

Rubbing the back of his neck warily, Kazuha smiled sheepishly towards his comrades, clearing his
throat loudly. “Hello, everyone,” he greeted. “I believe some explanations are in order.” His gaze
trailed towards Lumine, Aether, and Razor, who were all staring at him like a litter of lost puppies.
He ushered them away, shooing them from his bed with a wave.

Though they groaned and moaned, the young slayers gathered Paimon up, leaving the room with
bowed heads. They’d probably try their best to eavesdrop, but Kazuha doubted they’d get very far.
Snooping on the nine hashira was a futile attempt, but kids would be kids. They’d be bold enough
to try it, but once they’d learned their lesson, they wouldn’t repeat the same mistake twice. (Or at
least he hoped so.)

“Kazuha, my bro!” Itto’s voice — as loud and booming as ever — quickly enveloped the room. He
practically dove forward, peering down at Kazuha with wide eyes. “I was so worried for you, little
man! Rumor has it that you went up against an Upper Moon! Is it true? If it is, then how the hell
did you manage to survive? I mean, no offense, but you’re tiny, and it takes around three to five
hashira to defeat an Upper Moon! You must be really tough!”

“Itto,” Shinobu chided, her tone sharp. She grabbed ahold of the stone pillar’s bulky arm, yanking
him away as if he were no more than a disobedient child. “Behave yourself and mind your
manners,” she scolded, playing the exact part of a disappointed mother. “Kazuha only just woke
up. You’re clearly smothering him.”

“Oh.” Itto blinked, glancing towards Kazuha with genuine regret. “I’m sorry, little man.” He
dipped his head. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you, it’s just a bit . . . Well it’s insane, you know? I
might as well call you the strongest hashira of us all!” Itto beamed, a smile forming across his face.
“Kazuha’s the strongest, guys!”

Kazuha managed to smile slightly in return, glancing down at his hands. They were wrapped with
thick bandages. Swallowing past the lump that had formed within his throat, Kazuha spoke.
“Thank you,” he murmured quietly. “But I am most certainly not the strongest. I only survived
based on pure luck.”

“What happened back there, Kazuha?” Ayato stepped forward, coming to stand beside Kazuha’s
bedside. “Usually, we would save this type of interrogation for a hashira meeting, after you had
fully recovered, but . . . Since your opponent was an Upper Moon, this can’t wait.”

“I understand.” Kazuha glanced away, briefly looking towards the multiple sets of expectant eyes,
all staring curiously towards him. They were seeking answers, and he needed to give them. He
would give them, it was just . . . Daunting, to say the least. He was still gaining his bearings, so this
was all a little bit much.
Taking a deep breath, Kazuha steeled his nerves, and began to talk. The words poured out of him as
if he were a faucet, spilling out like water into the air before him. His fellow hashira absorbed
every sentence like they were sponges, consuming every bit of intel greedily, and he was relieved
that they seemed to respond well to his recount. Deep down, he had been worried.

No . . . He had been . . . Terrified.

What was there to be scared of?

In the end, Kazuha was petrified that his comrades would judge him. What if they ridiculed him
for failing to take the demon’s head? Or what if they mocked him for barely landing a single hit?
There were a variety of possibilities, but not even a single person criticized him. Even Kujou Sara
and Raiden, two people who tended to be particularly harsh, gazed at him with nothing but
concern.

“That’s . . . Wow.” Ayato sat down in a chair beside Kazuha, rubbing his temple. “It sounds as if
the Upper Moon is . . . Infatuated with you.” His nose wrinkled with disgust. “If that’s the case, we
will need to enact measures to protect you from him and his future plans—”

“No.” Kazuha cut Ayato off. He hadn’t intended to interrupt, but he had spoken before he could
properly stop himself. Everyone turned towards him with shock, and Kazuha exhaled heavily,
bracing himself for any upcoming judgement.

“Let it happen,” he insisted. “I will be ready.”

“But . . . Kazuha . . . You said it yourself. The only reason you lived today is because he spared
you,” Ayaka pointed out gently. “The next time you two meet, you might not be so lucky.” She
frowned, wringing her hands nervously. “We can’t let him kill you. You’re not only a valuable
comrade, but our dear friend.”

Glancing upwards, Kazuha met Ayaka’s anxious gaze, sending her a reassuring smile. “Don’t fret
so much, Ayaka,” he soothed. “There’s no reason to be so worried about me.”

“Are ya crazy?!” Itto squawked, waving his arms around like a floundering bird. “You’ve got a
crazy, obsessive stalker, if you ask me! And to make it ten times worse, that creeper is a demon,
but not just any demon! An Upper Moon! At this rate, you’ll need a bodyguard!”

“I hate to say it, but I think Itto is right.” Sara closed her eyes, pinching her nose. “You’ll need to be
protected, now that you’re a clear target.”

“I already said that there will be no need for such intensive measures.” Kazuha’s smile widened,
and he leaned back, staring up towards the ceiling. “You may all rest assured.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Yoimiya cried. “Or do you just have a death wish, Kazuha?!”

All around, his friends began to clamor, struggling to speak over one another and input their
opinions. Some people sided with Kazuha, but the majority seemed against him and his suggestion.
They were growing quite loud, and the noise was hurting his sensitive ears. He wished he could
just block them out.

Clenching his jaw, Kazuha snapped, “Enough!”

At once, the room fell silent. No one dared to move, dared to speak, dared to even breathe.

“If you would have allowed me to finish talking, rather than beginning to argue, I could have told
 you this much sooner,” Kazuha murmured, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Tell us what?” Itto piped up timidly.

Kazuha smiled, but this time, it was far more menacing than ever before. The curves of his lips
were sharper than his sword, sending a chill down even Ayato’s spine. People seldom witnessed
Kazuha behave in such a manner.

Lifting a finger, Kazuha pressed it against his mouth, swallowing the urge to laugh. “I have a
plan,” he announced proudly. Excitement was already beginning to course through his veins.

“I know how to kill Upper Moon Two.”

Chapter End Notes

Things are just going to get more intense from here on out… The tags will be
updated as the chapters progress so please keep an eye out for that as well! (I’ll say in
the author’s notes if they’re updated.)

See you all soon!! ❤️

(ps was anyone disappointed that there was no drip marketing today? I looked like a
clown waiting for it )
 Revenge
Chapter Notes

Me doing a double update because I couldn’t resist (plus one comment begging for a
quick update made me laugh and smile a bunch so here you go!!)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.

I am a hashira of the demon slayer corps—more specifically, the wind hashira.

When I was nineteen years old, I began my plan to take down Upper Moon Two, and eradicate evil
demons — once and for all.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

A year had passed since Kazuha’s initial battle with Scaramouche. While his body was now
permanently scarred from the aftermath, he didn’t allow it to phase him. They were reminders.
Each time he looked at his bare skin, he remembered who he was up against.

He remembered who he had to kill.

Although he now wore bandages across his more badly burned hand, it wasn’t because he was
ashamed. He did it to grip his sword better, and to keep the faded burns from growing aggravated.
Besides, he could do without the intense questioning he’d receive from curious citizens or naïve,
nosy passersby.

As the months passed, Kazuha made a full, and flawless, recovery. He even got back on his feet
quicker than most, presumably due to his strength as a hashira. His comrades were impressed with
his practically iron will and determination. They hadn’t seen him act in such a way, not since the
first few months following Xiao’s death. That meant that something was motivating him, giving
him the ability to do what others normally could never.

Kazuha’s fellow pillars assumed it had something to do with his outspoken declaration. The wind
hashira claimed he knew how to kill Upper Moon Two, but he refused to elaborate on exactly how
he’d achieve such a thing. He kept it a secret and held it close to his chest, even after careful and
insistent prodding. No one could pry answers from him, not even Kazuha’s curious tsuguko. It
seemed as if it was something he’d take to his grave.

Eventually, people stopped questioning him as much. The endless inquiries were getting nowhere,
and only proved to be needlessly exhausting in the end. It was best to just let Kazuha do his own
thing, like he usually did.

Even his apprentices took the hint after a while. They had overheard what he’d said since, of
course, they’d been eavesdropping on the makeshift meeting between the pillars. Kazuha wouldn’t
open up, not even to them, and begrudgingly they relented. A line had to eventually be drawn, and
at some point, enough was enough. Running around in circles chasing answers was just a pointless
endeavor.
The only person Kazuha was entirely truthful to was the master. He laid his heart out on his sleeve
to Morax, who had listened on with an expression of stone. The corps’ leader hadn’t provided his
insight until the very end of their conversation, where he told Kazuha exactly what he thought.
Some good things, some bad.

Ultimately, Morax had approved of Kazuha’s choices. He’d even recommended some people that
could help him fulfill his goal. It was almost too good to be true; everything Kazuha had ever
wanted was slowly drawing closer, becoming more and more obtainable by the second. All he had
to do was work towards it.

And work he did.

If he wasn’t on a mission, if he wasn’t training his apprentices, then he was steadily chiming away
at his plan. Many nights he spent wide awake, browsing over the fine details and analyzing
everything the best he could. There couldn’t be a single thing out of place, lest it ruin everything.
Even one mistake could lead to disaster. If even the tiniest thing was wrong, it could jeopardize the
plan.

Luckily, he wasn’t entirely alone in his efforts. Morax had directed him towards some people who
could help him, and they really did. They spent long hours with him, discussing their thoughts and
ideas aloud, running experiments and jotting down notes.

While they didn’t get along perfectly at first, they had gradually grown closer over time. When you
spent long periods with someone, it was inevitable that you’d either start to like them or despise
them. Thankfully enough, Kazuha didn’t hate either of his companions.

In fact, he could consider them his partners. They were working together towards this goal, this
shared dream that they had. Everything they did was a combined effort. Kazuha couldn’t have done
this without them, and as such, they couldn’t have done it without him. It was good to work in a
team.

Albedo and Sucrose seemed to think the same. They were always quite polite with him, even when
he was understandably wary at first. He struggled trusting new people, especially when those
people weren’t even people at all. No, instead they were demons.

Kazuha had been utterly floored when Morax suggested it at first. Working with demons?
Collaborating with the species he had sworn to destroy? He almost wanted to refuse, before his
mind trailed to Paimon. Her wide blue eyes, and her childlike innocence. She was good; maybe
there really were other demons like her out there somewhere. He wouldn’t know unless he gave
this a chance.

And so he agreed, promising himself to keep an open mind. After actually meeting Albedo and
Sucrose, it wasn’t hard. They seemed entirely normal, and he might have even mistaken them for a
pair of humans, if it weren’t for their nocturnal tendencies, regeneration abilities, and fangs. Other
than that, they were just like him. It seemed as if they were clinging onto their humanity as much
as possible, refusing to let it slip away entirely. In a way, Kazuha almost pitied them.

Almost.

Albedo and Sucrose were not beings who required pity. They were strong, capable, and
exceptionally intelligent. Albedo’s mind was an especially brilliant place. He could solve almost
any problem immediately, without batting even a single eye. Issues weren’t even really issues for
him, merely a small bump in the road that he would soon pave clean over.
It struck a chord within Kazuha. To put it plainly, he was awed that someone so smart could be
real. And in a way, he was incredibly grateful. If Albedo or Sucrose had devoted their resources
and intelligence into evil, then they would pose to be quite formidable enemies. But instead, here
they were, the grand representation of genuine, kind beings. The corps should be infinitely
relieved, and consider themselves lucky.

Currently, Kazuha stood with his two partners. They were stationed within Albedo’s laboratory,
which was honestly quite grand. Kazuha had never seen anything like it. He supposed, though, that
after living for hundreds of years, you were bound to acquire some kind of sum of large wealth.
When adding Sucrose’s funds to the mix, it proved to create quite the luxurious and divine scenery.

Sucrose was hunched over a notepad, drumming the pencil she held against the surface. “I’d say
we need more samples of Upper Moon blood,” she said. “Regular demons’ blood just isn’t
powerful enough.”

Kazuha sat down beside her, resting his chin on his hand. “Let me guess,” he mused. “That’s my
job?” As the hashira here, any work that required brute force went straight to him.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Albedo stood with his back turned on them, holding a small vial within his
hand. “We understand that confronting an Upper Moon is dangerous, and at times, quite deadly.
Especially for you. Upper Moon Two is already enthralled by you. We shouldn’t wave you around
in his face. Tempting him is a . . . Bad idea. Think of it as holding a bird or a mouse in front of a
cat.”

“Then how would we get the samples?” Kazuha inquired. “I could always ask the other hashira,
but they would start to question my motives.”

Albedo glanced back at him, sending him a small smile. “Don’t worry about that,” he reassured.
“Just leave it to me, alright?”

Heaving a sigh, Kazuha nodded reluctantly. “Alright,” he murmured. “If you say so.”

“Don’t worry. Mr. Albedo will get things done.” Sucrose smiled towards Kazuha. “He won’t let us
down, and when he says he’ll do something, he always does it. It can be kind of scary, actually.”
She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck while sending Albedo a bashful glance.

Albedo hummed, leaning against his desk. “You’re wrong, Sucrose,” he murmured. “I vowed to
kill the Tsartisa, and destroy all evil demons, and yet for now I haven’t accomplished my goal.
Until then, I’m a failure.” He didn’t sound too upset by this, however. Instead, he looked
contemplative. “But it’s only a matter of time,” he muttered.

Rising to his feet, Kazuha moved towards Albedo, gently resting a hand upon his shoulder. “You
aren’t alone in this fight,” he reminded him. “Sucrose and I are on the same boat as you. So are all
of the other hashira and demon slayers. We want to take down the Tsaritsa just as much, and we’ll
make it a reality.” Now, he was more certain than ever.

Humanity would prevail, and demons would lose. It was something he knew for a fact.

Albedo glanced up, meeting Kazuha’s gaze with a small smile. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re
right.” He looked away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m just worried about the
sacrifices we’ll have to make to get to that point,” he murmured.

Kazuha’s expression darkened, and a grim mood settled over the three of them. For a moment, no
one spoke, allowing Albedo’s words to sink into the air between them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kazuha replied. “For the sake of humanity, we must sacrifice anything, to save
countless lives in the future.” He glanced down at the mask attached to his hip, trailing a finger
across the once-cracked surface. “We know this better than anyone.”

“You’re correct, of course, and yet some lives still don’t deserve to be sacrificed,” Albedo
countered. Kazuha simply moved away, picking up a small bottle of liquid. “That doesn’t change
things,” he reminded Albedo. “You know that as well as I do, don’t you?”

“I do.” Albedo fell silent, clenching his jaw and watching as Kazuha downed the bottle, wiping his
mouth with his sleeve afterwards.

“Let’s get back to work,” Kazuha suggested. No one dared to protest; they didn’t have the heart.
Besides, burying themselves in work was far better than actually facing the truth.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

He awoke in a cold sweat.

Gasping, Kazuha sat up, looking wildly around his room. He had fallen asleep at his desk, he
realized. It was becoming a more common occurrence over the past few weeks. He couldn’t
properly remember the last time he’d actually slept in his bed. A part of him missed it, the soft
mattress and warm sheets. But such luxuries could be sacrificed, if it meant he could squeeze in
more work hours.

Wiping ink from his cheek, Kazuha sighed, staring with heavy eyes at the piles of paper in front of
him. He was still reeling from the nightmare he’d experienced. Those were only growing more and
more frequent. Visions of those he loved dying horribly, all while he watched, unable to lift a
finger to help them.

In a way, it scared him so much because it had happened before, and he knew deep down that it
could easily happen again. A headache brewed, his temple beginning to throb, as he pictured one of
his tsuguko dying. Falling to the clutches of a bloodthirsty demon, when he was meant to protect
them, keep them safe from any harm.

Shuddering, Kazuha rose to his feet, rubbing at his eyes. Imagining such gruesome scenarios
wasn’t helping him whatsoever. And yet the countless intrusive thoughts clamored within his mind
anyways, clawing at his brain and rendering him into an anxious mess of jumbled, bundled-up
nerves.

Perhaps some fresh air would do him some good. Kazuha rarely ever took breaks, but he figured a
simple walk would help his mind. If it could clear his head, refresh him a little, then he could get
back to work much faster.

Slipping out of his room, the hashira headed outside, his steps light and careful. His apprentices
were still sleeping, after all. The last thing he wanted was to disrupt them.

He was caught off-guard to see Lumine standing before him, her back turned. She was wearing a
pale white gown, appearing almost ghostly within the darkness of the night. When she heard him
approaching, she turned, sending him a small smile. “Hi, aniki,” she murmured. “You couldn’t
sleep, either?” She stared quietly down at her hands, and Kazuha paused, shaking his head.

“No,” he sighed. “I suppose we’re both restless tonight, huh?” He turned his gaze to the sky,
watching as various stars twinkled. “Is there anything on your mind, Lumine?”
“I suppose I’m just worried,” Lumine admitted after a moment, kicking lightly at the ground.
“Razor says he can feel something coming soon, and I can’t help but agree with him. You and the
other hashira keep a lot of things from us, but that doesn’t mean we don’t notice . . . Stuff.” She
hesitated, biting her lower lip anxiously. “Please be honest with me,” she whispered. “Just this
once.”

Kazuha remained silent, allowing the wind to blow between them. It ruffled the ends of Lumine’s
gown, and caused Kazuha’s bangs to billow, brushing into his eyes. He didn’t have the strength to
speak; he knew that whatever Lumine asked was going to be difficult to answer. Yet still, he would
do it.

“There’s a battle coming, isn’t there?” She looked towards him, those golden eyes filled with
nothing but concern. “And it won’t be any average fight, either. I can tell. There’s been more
hashira meetings, and everyone is busy or training ten times harder than usual. Are we going to
confront the Tsaritsa herself?” Lumine’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are we going to kill the
creator?”

Kazuha closed his eyes. Are we going to kill the originator of demons? He wondered to himself. If
everything went according to plan, then yes. They would. His chest tightened, his stomach
beginning to churn with nausea.

What if we can’t do it? What if we aren’t strong enough? What if we lose? What if the demons
prevail, and the demon slayer corps falls apart?

No. That would never happen.

Opening his eyes, Kazuha smiled. “We will,” he said, and he forced himself to sound confident.
Even if he wasn’t sure of himself, he had to act like it. Not for his own benefit, but for Lumine’s.
She was looking towards him with such hope. How could he let her down? He had people who
relied on him.

His apprentices depended on him, and that was both the best and worst feeling in the world. It
made him feel both light and heavy all at once. One wrong word, one misstep, and he would be
bringing his tsuguko down with him. Everything he did was for them, and so he couldn’t
disappoint any of them.

So much weight rested upon his shoulders. So many lives counted all on him. Could he handle that
responsibility? No — it didn’t matter if he could or couldn’t. He just had to.

“Then I look forward to it.” Lumine smiled, and it was much brighter than before. She was
enthusiastic, relying on optimism for a bigger and better future—one that Kazuha intended to give
to her. To all of his apprentices. If he could do only one last thing, it would be to give them all the
life he never had, and the one he’d always wanted.

Leaning closer, Kazuha flung an arm around Lumine’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “That means
you have to train harder, though,” he reminded her teasingly. “No more slacking off.” At his
taunting, Lumine blushed faintly, shoving playfully at his arm. “Oh hush!” She exclaimed. “I train
my butt off, you know!”

Kazuha grinned, and soon his laughter began to fill the air, a sound that was so rare to hear.
Lumine relished in it, leaning into the warmth her mentor provided. She knew they wouldn’t get
moments like this often, and so she cherished them while she still could.

Not very long from now, they wouldn’t get a chance for a break like this. Their days would be
filled with pure bloodshed and fighting.

And she was right.

The next morning, there was nothing but intense training; the master had mandated that each and
every demon slayer, no matter their ranking, would endure hashira training. That meant that
Lumine, Aether, and Razor were taught by not only Kazuha, but the other eight pillars as well. And
they definitely weren’t as kind as their mentor.

Itto, Shinobu, Ayato, Ayaka, Sara, Raiden, Heizou, and Yoimiya all ran their own training
regimens. Slayers were expected to partake in each and every one, cycling through until they had
completed every course to its fullest. Most were confused as to why they were being given such
treatment.

Typically, hashiras only trained who they chose—their tsuguko. For them to teach anyone who
came to them for assistance? It was a little daunting, but the master’s orders rang true, and the
pillars complied with it.

While everyone remained puzzled by such developments, Lumine knew the real reason. The corps
needed their members to be strong; this was all a preparation for the final battle that Kazuha had
told her about. And so she made sure to work harder than ever before, straining her body to its
utmost limit.

After all, she had to be prepared. Not only to defeat the Tsaritsa, but to protect her loved ones, as
well. If she wasn’t strong enough, how could she ever hope to protect her siblings? Kazuha and
Razor, as well? She knew that they probably didn’t need her defending them, and yet she would,
anyway.

Simply because she cared for them.

As the weeks passed, Kazuha noticed her dedication. Unlike the other pillars, he hadn’t opened his
own training sessions, although he continued to mentor his tsuguko. He never disclosed why, and
Lumine had never been brave enough to ask.

“You’re working awfully hard there, aren’t you?” Kazuha appeared at Lumine’s side, watching as
the blonde girl wiped sweat from her brow, taking a deep breath of air. As she regained her energy,
she glanced towards him, flashing him a bright, beaming smile.

“Of course I am. You told me to, remember?”

Kazuha paused, a foreign expression passing over his face for a moment, before he returned
Lumine’s smile. “I did, didn’t I?” He hummed, extending a hand out to offer something. Within his
palm was a jug of water, something Lumine had been craving for ages, but had been too distracted
to get.

“Oh, thank you!” Relieved, the girl dropped her sword almost instantly. Her hands shook from
exhaustion as she grabbed the jug, taking a long and ravenous gulp of water. Kazuha watched her
all the while, hating how he was reminded of his younger self.

He had pushed himself to his limits at that age, as well. He’d gone beyond them, in fact, which was
exactly what Lumine was doing. It wasn’t healthy, and he knew it. His heart ached watching his
apprentice unknowingly copying his own actions, repeating the same mistakes he’d once done. As
her mentor, he knew he had to put a stop to this early on.

When Lumine had finished her water, he accepted the jug back, sighing softly. “Have you taken a
break at all?” He inquired, and Lumine glanced towards him with shock.

“A break . . . ? No, of course not! Don’t worry, I really haven’t,” she replied earnestly. She
probably assumed he wanted her to work herself ragged. But that wasn’t his intention at all. She
didn’t need to grind herself to the bone like this; she was strong enough as is.

“Then go rest.” Kazuha picked up her sword, holding it away from her reach. “Behaving in such a
way isn’t good for you, Lumine.”

“But—!” Lumine began to protest, her eyes widening with surprise, but Kazuha shook his head
firmly, refusing to relent. “No,” he replied sternly. “I meant all that I said.”

Stepping forward, Kazuha peered into Lumine’s eyes, searching her gaze. She looked upset, but
also utterly exhausted. The poor girl was tired, and probably hadn’t slept properly in ages. “Look at
you,” he murmured. “You’re a mess right now. I know you’re doing your best, and I’m quite proud
of you, but this isn’t how you should act.”

“If you don’t take a break, you’ll eventually collapse,” he reminded her solemnly. “Even if I have
to force you to rest, you will do it. Do you understand what I’m saying, Lumine?”

“A break . . .” Lumine murmured. “You say all these things to me, but when was the last time you
rested, aniki? And be honest!”

Kazuha sighed heavily. “This isn’t about me,” he muttered. “Besides, I don’t want you to follow in
my footsteps. I’ve made many errors. That’s why it’s important that you don’t repeat them. You
must end the cycle, not continue it. Anyways, I’m your senior. You have to listen to me, by
obligation.”

“Ugh, you’re not fair.” Lumine groaned, but she relented, dragging herself away from the training
grounds. “I’ll go and take a nap.”

“Wait,” Kazuha called out, stopping her. “Before you do, there’s something I’ve been meaning to
talk to you about.” He deposited the sword and water jug he held, beginning to walk off towards
their estate. “Follow me.”

Lumine paused, confusion overtaking her, but she listened to Kazuha regardless. She would obey
his every order blindly, after all.

When they eventually settled into Kazuha’s office, sitting across from each other on small plush
mats, Lumine’s puzzlement mounted. What could he need to possibly say, for them to require such
utter privacy? And why couldn’t anyone else know, either?

“As you probably know, I haven’t been conducting hashira training.” Kazuha placed his hands
within his lap, staring down at them for a long while. “There is a reason.”

“What is it?” Lumine blurted out, and Kazuha paused, staring towards her. She blushed,
embarrassed, and cleared her throat.

“It’s just that . . . Aether, Razor, and I . . . We’ve missed you a lot recently. Training with the other
hashira is nice and all, and quite fun, of course! It’s good to receive new experiences and outside
input, trust me it is, but . . .” Lumine’s blush darkened, and she seemed almost shy, her expression
turning nearly bashful. “No one is like you,” she confessed. “They’re just not the same as our
aniki.”

Kazuha froze, his eyes widening with surprise, before he blushed as well. A warm sensation was
overcoming him, and he found himself smiling tenderly, his stomach fluttering with butterflies of
pleasantness.

“I see,” he murmured. The smile remained on his face for a moment, before slowly fading.

“Lumine . . . Did I ever tell you the story of my own mentor?” Kazuha inquired.

“N-no,” Lumine stammered, her gaze wide with curiosity. Kazuha had divulged very little about
his past, keeping it a closely guarded secret. Was he going to tell her, now? And if so . . . Then
why? And what made him want to tell her, of all people?

“He saved my life when I was a young boy. My family had just been killed by demons, and right
when I was going to join them, he rescued me. He took me in, and taught me how to become a
demon slayer. His name was Xiao, although others might have referred to him as the Conqueror of
Demons.” Kazuha’s expression had turned into one of sadness, his voice oddly quiet.

The Conqueror of Demons! I’ve heard legends about him! Lumine gaped, though she quickly
closed her mouth, trying to disguise her shock. She lapsed into a stunned silence, and Kazuha
continued, tilting his head towards the ceiling. He stared at it for quite a while.

“When I was sixteen, Xiao was killed. He was murdered along with four other hashira, by Upper
Moons One and Two. Xiao specifically was slain by Upper Moon Two.”

No way!

Lumine couldn’t possibly speak, now. Upper Moon Two . . . ? Isn’t that the same demon from the
Eternal Paradise cult . . ? It can’t be—!

“Ever since he was murdered, I vowed to avenge his death.” Kazuha lowered his gaze, meeting
Lumine’s wide eyes with finality.

“Now, I know how I will do so,” he said. Lumine held her breath, her heart racing.

“Why don’t I tell you?”

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“There’s a festival being held in the city,” Aether told his sister, leaning closer towards her. “Why
don’t we all go? It sounds fun.”

Ever since a week or two ago, Lumine had been much quieter, and far more reserved than usual.
She kept to herself mainly, now, fully enveloping herself within her work. At least she seemed to
start taking more breaks, but nonetheless, Aether was quite worried.

He figured that this festival might boost his sister’s energy, and put her into a happier mood. After
all, it had been a very long time since either of them went out for the sake of having a good time.
They never did the things that regular kids their age did, but just this once, Aether wanted to act
like a normal boy, and pretend that they led average lives.

“I don’t have the time.” Lumine’s voice sounded dull, and her golden eyes didn’t glow as brightly
as they used to. She looked tired, wiping sweat from her brow. “I’m sorry, Aether. I’m just too busy
for festivals.”

Aether’s chest tightened, constricting painfully. “Everyone is busy,” he pointed out. “Everyone is
training too, but they still make time for other things! How can your schedule be that full? You
aren’t even a hashira!” He faltered, guilt creeping into his heart. “Even Kazuha can be with us, but
you? Not you.”

Lumine hesitated at the mention of their mentor, exhaling quietly. “You’re right,” she agreed after
a moment, much to Aether’s surprise. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “We can go to this festival. What’s
it called, anyway?”

Aether’s expression brightened, and he smiled with both relief and excitement, going to respond
when someone interrupted him.

“The lantern rite festival,” Kazuha told them, appearing almost soundlessly at their side. “I’ve
already gotten lanterns for us all, and some new kimonos too.” He returned Aether’s optimistic
smile with one of his own. “I’ll make sure that we all have some fun. It’ll be good to have a proper
break, no?”

Something about Lumine seemed sadder when Kazuha joined them, though Aether couldn’t place
his finger on why. His sister smiled at them both, but it looked nearly sulky, and quite solemn.
“Yeah, it would.” She sighed, turning away. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll see you guys later,
okay?”

As she walked off, Aether turned towards Kazuha, waiting until his twin was out of earshot.
“What’s the matter with her?” He inquired breathlessly. “Did I say or do something wrong? I just
don’t understand why she’s like this.” He faltered, confused.

Kazuha shook his head, patting Aether’s shoulder lightly. “No, it’s nothing that you did,” he
assured the boy. “She’s just . . . Going through a bit at the moment. I told her some things that she
might not have liked.” He gazed at the place Lumine had disappeared to, and even his gaze seemed
to look rather sad. It made Aether feel strangely anxious.

“Not anything bad, right?” Aether asked worriedly, feeling his stomach doing knots.

“No.” Kazuha was already walking away, not bothering to glance over his shoulder. His tone
turned quieter. “No, nothing bad.”

Now left alone, Aether stood by himself, wondering what on earth was going on.

It certainly didn’t seem good.

He could only hope that the lantern rite changed things, and cheered his family up.

Kazuha, meanwhile, headed to meet up with Albedo and Sucrose. Upon arriving at the laboratory,
he exhaled heavily, leaning against the nearby wall. The lantern rite was later tonight, and while he
should logically be getting ready, here he was. Both of his partners were staring at him with
concern, and Sucrose nearly dropped the flask she had been holding, rushing worriedly to his side.

“Kazuha, are you alright?” She inquired, supporting half of his weight. Kazuha could barely form a
response. Waves of dizziness were washing over him, and the room soon began to tilt, his
surroundings blurring all around him. Life became distorted, and for a moment, Kazuha assumed
he would pass out.

Instead, he managed to remain conscious, although he did have to sit down. With the help of
Sucrose, he practically collapsed into a chair, leaning his head back tiredly. Albedo approached
him, staring down at him with an unreadable expression. For a long while, no one spoke; only the
sounds of Kazuha’s labored breathing filled up the quiet lab.
“I warned you,” Albedo said eventually, breaking the silence. Kazuha’s gaze cleared slightly,
enough for him to meet Albedo’s stare. “I know you did,” he replied softly, clenching his jaw
against another torrent of nausea. “But the side-effects don’t matter.”

“Of course they matter!” Sucrose exclaimed. “They’re negatively affecting you and your body!
You know you’re only human, after all!”

“I know,” Kazuha repeated. He closed his eyes tightly, his body heaving as a coughing fit
consumed him. On impulse, he covered his mouth, the sounds of his hacking and choking
encompassing the room. Both Albedo and Sucrose exchanged a concerned glance, although neither
of them dared speak. Sucrose went to fetch a cup of water, while Albedo stayed loyally at Kazuha’s
side.

Opening his eyes slowly, Kazuha lowered his hand hesitantly, his face going pale. Stained across
his skin were large droplets of red—it was blood. He licked his lips reluctantly, tasting the
unmistakable tang of copper. Glancing towards Albedo, he saw the demon’s expression shift to one
of worry.

“Here.” Albedo passed him a handkerchief, and Kazuha wiped the blood from his hand, scrubbing
it away the best that he could.

“How much longer?” Kazuha mumbled.

“Not much.” Albedo tossed the soiled handkerchief aside to wash later. Even in the presence of a
bleeding human, his composure didn’t waver. He was truly remarkable, just like Paimon. Turning
back to face Kazuha, he gripped lightly onto the hashira’s shoulders, meeting his gaze grimly.

“Listen to me,” Albedo said firmly. “It isn’t long now. We’ve almost perfected the cure, and we’ve
created everything that we need. Enjoy your night, and have a moment of peace while you can.
You just need to stay strong for a little while longer.” He squeezed Kazuha’s shoulder, sending
him a small smile. “I know that you’ve missed your tsuguko. You talk about them non-stop.”

Kazuha smiled weakly in return, humming quietly. “Do I? . . Sorry about that.” He shook his head,
glancing away. “How did you know that I planned to go to the lantern rite?”

“You told us, remember?” Albedo reminded him gently, and Kazuha swallowed, the memories of
such an event quickly rushing back to him. Yes, he had. He rubbed his temple, frowning slightly.
There were already breaks within his mind, ones that he couldn’t repair. When would it grow to be
too much?

“Here!” Sucrose called out. She returned to them, practically shoving a glass of water into
Kazuha’s face. He accepted it gratefully, mumbling his thanks. After taking a long sip, he felt a bit
better. His throat was clearer, and the dizziness enveloping him had faded.

“Make sure you sleep, and eat proper portions of your meals,” Albedo advised. “If you want to
remain strong, this is how.”

“I understand. Thank you.” Kazuha set aside his empty cup of water, rising to his feet. “I should be
going now, but . . . I appreciate it.”

“Wait! Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?” Sucrose inquired worriedly, her expression
contorting with concern. “Maybe you should stay here, so we can monitor you—”

Albedo rested a hand upon her arm, shaking his head. “No,” he said firmly. “Let him go.”
Kazuha glanced back, sending the two demons a smile. “Thank you,” he repeated. “But I’ll be just
fine.” Turning away, he left the laboratory, counting every one of his steps. At least now, he didn’t
feel as awful.

Upon returning to his estate and entering his room, Kazuha buried his head within his hands. He
felt like he was losing his mind. Logically, he knew he should get up and prepare for the festival,
but he could hardly move. His muscles ached, and his limbs were the equivalent of lead, weighing
him down.

“You don’t deserve to go, anyway.”

Kazuha stiffened, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes. There, in the corner of his room,
stood a familiar silhouette. Purple eyes gazed coldly at him, and the pointed gleam of sharp fangs
made Kazuha’s blood run cold. He could feel himself beginning to tremble, his frozen body
shaking with sudden emotion. Anger, fear, confusion, even panic.

“How did you get into my room?” Kazuha demanded, drawing his sword hurriedly.

“You don’t deserve anything.”

Scaramouche stepped forward, but his features weren’t there. He was cloaked in shadow, every
detail of his face hidden by darkness. The only spots of color were his glowing purple eyes that
chased Kazuha’s every little movement like a hawk. It made the hashira’s stomach churn, his heart
beginning to race faster within his chest.

“Do you think you earned this break?” Scaramouche—or what looked like him—demanded. It
stalked closer, and even though he was meant to be a demon slayer, Kazuha backed away, his
breath hitching.

“You don’t deserve to be happy.”

Quivering, Kazuha flinched away, glancing desperately towards the door. Maybe he could run.
Maybe he could still escape—

“Look at me! Look at what you did!”

Kazuha’s head jerked around, and he recoiled, covering his mouth with horror.

Now both Xiao and Tomo stared at him too, flanking Scaramouche’s sides. Only they weren’t
normal, either. Xiao had various gashes carved throughout his body, and blood trailed in thick
streams from his mouth and wounds. Tomo was even worse. His skin was incinerated, burned
nearly to dust. When he moved, ashes fell from his body, pieces of his essence falling away.

The horrible figures drew closer, flinging a variety of questions towards him. Why didn’t you save
us? Why didn’t you help us? Why did you fail us? Do you hate us? Didn’t you love us?

“No!” Kazuha screamed, dropping down onto his knees. He curled up into a ball, tears flooding his
eyes. No, stop, go away! This isn’t them! They wouldn’t say these things! Please no!

“Aniki!”

A concerned voice caused Kazuha to gasp, his senses crashing back to him the moment arms
wrapped around his quivering form.

The warm scent of flowers enveloped Kazuha; it was Lumine. As the world gradually began to fix
itself and brighten again, Kazuha practically collapsed into her embrace, burying his head against
his apprentice’s shoulder. She held him, practically cradling him, and he bit back a sob. He had
never wanted this to happen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You should have never seen me like this. It isn’t appropriate. A
mentor shouldn’t break in front of his tsuguko, a pillar should never waver—”

“Enough.” Lumine cut him off sharply. She sounded sad, exceptionally so. “I don’t care.” She
hugged him tighter, and he fell silent, finding comfort in her touch. The people he cared for were
still here. He could still do good in this world, and protect his remaining loved ones. Maybe he
could redeem himself.

“Are you okay now?” The blonde inquired after a moment, pulling away to look at Kazuha. He
managed to nod, and she smiled at him, helping him onto his feet. “Good. Get ready, then. The
lantern rite festival is soon,” she said. “And I don’t want us to miss it.”

“Thank you, Lumine.” Kazuha’s lips twitched into a small smile, and Lumine’s expression
softened. She dipped her head, nodding quietly. “Of course, aniki,” she murmured, before silently
leaving the room. Once she was gone, it certainly felt a bit more gloomy than before, but nowhere
near as bad as it was. Kazuha wanted to thank her again.

Pushing aside his brewing guilt and shame, the hashira finally began to prepare himself for the
festival. He shoved the recent events to the back of his mind, drowning them out.

It didn’t happen. It wasn’t real.

(But if that was the case, then what was wrong with him? What was wrong with his mind?)

When Kazuha had finally finished getting ready, he examined himself anxiously within his mirror.
He was dressed in a simple yet elegant kimono; now that he thought about it, Sucrose had actually
helped him pick this out. She’d claimed that it complimented his figure—whatever that meant, he
didn’t know.

Running his hands over the soft fabric, Kazuha made a mental note to thank the girl again later.
The color was a gentle shade of red, with faded-out, black patterns of maple leaves across the
surface. Looking at it made him smile. It reminded him of his home in Inazuma, back at his
family’s old estate.

Sighing, Kazuha glanced at his hair. He had styled it differently for tonight. Instead of his usual
side ponytail, Kazuha wore his hair down, allowing it to spill across his shoulders. His beloved
maple leaf hairpin was still there, however, resting comfortably at the back of his head. It pulled
some of the thicker strands of his hair back, preventing it from becoming a distraction and getting
into his face. It also served as a comforting item.

Calming his nerves, Kazuha slipped on his sandals and left his room. Since this was a public event,
he wasn’t bringing his sword or anything like it to the festival. It was odd to not always have his
weapon at his side, but he simply couldn’t risk it. His blade could be confiscated, or he could be
arrested if he were to be discovered. In the end, it was much safer to just leave his sword at home.

The chances of a demon attacking at the lantern rite were slim, anyway. There were too many
people, which meant too many witnesses. They wouldn’t strike so boldly.

“Oh, aniki! You’re ready!” Lumine appeared before him, smiling widely. She wore a snowy white
kimono, with silver moon patterns. At her side stood Aether with a matching kimono of his own,
only his was a golden color, with the shapes of suns across the surface. They both looked quite
stunning.

“You two look nice,” Kazuha complimented them, returning Lumine’s smile. Aether blushed
faintly, laughing softly. “You think so? Thank you,” he said shyly. “You look quite pretty as well,
aniki! I love your kimono!” Lumine nodded with agreement at her brother’s words, and Kazuha
chuckled.

“Thank you,” he replied fondly. “A friend of mine helped me pick this out. I’m sure she’ll be
pleased to hear that this was well-liked.”

“Razor is here, too!” Razor suddenly approached from behind Kazuha, waving cheerfully. “With
Paimon!” He gestured to the box he wore across his back, and moments later, Paimon’s head
emerged. “Mph!” Paimon exclaimed, the muzzle muffling her attempts to speak. Razor patted her
head, revealing a wide and toothy smile.

“Hi, you two.” Kazuha greeted them warmly, wrapping an arm around Razor and pulling him
affectionately closer. “You look amazing,” he complimented the boy, who blushed, grinning.
“Thanks! Aether helped!” Razor nodded towards Aether, who dipped his head. “I chose his kimono
out of the other options and styled his hair,” he admitted. “It looks nice, right?”

“Of course it does.” Kazuha examined Razor’s kimono, which was a dark gray color with starry
patterns. His hair was also more noticeably brushed and tamed. He looked perfectly suited to
attend the upcoming festival. It made Kazuha proud, in a strange way, to be with his apprentices
like this.

“Oh, before we leave, one more thing!” Kazuha paused, rushing off. He made sure that Tama was
well-fed, giving the cat a few thorough pets and kisses before leaving. Despite so many years
passing, Kazuha never forgot to take care of her. Although Tama would often go out into the wild,
regardless of Kazuha’s efforts to keep her inside. Nonetheless, she always returned eventually.

“Let’s go.” Kazuha left the estate, followed closely by his tsuguko. Tama perched at one of the
windowsills, watching them leave. She settled down to take a nap, purring quietly.

As they walked, his apprentices began to talk animatedly amongst themselves. Kazuha listened
only partially to their conversation. He was much more interested in watching the night sky,
admiring the way the various stars twinkled, looming high above his head.

“When we arrive, we need to go pick up our lanterns,” Kazuha reminded his tsuguko after a
moment. “I had them pre-ordered, so we won’t have to stop and pay or anything.”

“Okay,” his apprentices chorused in unison.

When they finally approached the city, the sounds and scents of many people slammed into
Kazuha all at once. Despite it being the middle of the night, the city was still bright and bustling,
illuminated with both lights and lanterns. The tantalizing aroma of a variety of food hit Kazuha’s
nostrils, beckoning him closer. There was so much to do here, and so much to see. How would they
ever be able to do it all in a single night?

“Wow!” Razor gasped, staring towards the sky. He pointed excitedly, gripping tightly onto
Kazuha’s shoulder. “Look, Lupical! Dragon!” He breathed. Kazuha followed his gaze. A variety of
kites were being flown through the air, by both children and adults alike. The sound of laughter
wafted towards Kazuha, and he paused, basking in the noise.
“That’s no dragon, Razor,” Aether snorted. “It’s a kite. You’ve never seen one before?”

“No. Kites exist not in the wild,” Razor responded softly, his eyes wide with wonder.

“We can go buy one, if you’d like,” Kazuha offered. All three of his apprentices brightened, stars
practically shining within their eyes. As he promised, Kazuha took them to purchase a kite. They
each got their own; Lumine chose a flower-shaped one, Razor a wolf, and Aether a sun. Kazuha
opted not to buy anything. He was content on simply watching his tsuguko run around, waving
their kites about with childish glee.

While they played throughout the streets, Kazuha picked up their lanterns. He stored them safely
within a bag; they’d be used once the time eventually came. It wasn’t late enough into the night for
them. Right now, the lantern rite festival was only beginning.

As Kazuha stood back, observing his tsuguko playing with their kites, he noticed a familiar gang of
people. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized his fellow hashira. They were all also
enjoying the festival, talking animatedly amongst themselves. It was so strange to see them outside
of a work setting; he almost couldn’t fathom it. They all looked so normal. He forgot that past their
fighting skills and hashira duties, they were just people, regular humans like everyone else.

Yoimiya was laughing, practically dancing through the streets. She held a pair of sparklers within
her hands, waving them around animatedly. Both Ayaka and Ayato watched her. Ayaka held a
prettily patterned fan to her mouth, hiding her smile. Ayato, meanwhile, stood with a blonde man
that Kazuha didn’t quite recognize. Perhaps he was a personal friend to the Kamisato clan?

Itto was apparently engaged in a battle, but it wasn’t the kind he was typically used to. He was
shouting, holding his head in his hands as a small child laughed at him, pointing mockingly. In
between them, resting on a box, were two onikabuto. One clearly looked beaten, while the other
was standing triumphantly, flexing its immense strength.

“You little—! Just you wait! I’ll beat you one day!” Itto exclaimed. “Mark my words, man!”

“Enough, boss. You’re causing a scene.” Shinobu sighed, dragging Itto away from the laughing
child and his defeated onikabuto.

“But — my poor onikabuto!” Itto practically wailed. “I need to avenge him!” He sniffled, seeming
on the verge of tears. “His loss shouldn’t be in vain.” Wiping at his eyes, the burly man nearly
sobbed, and Shinobu patted his bulky arm soothingly. “There, there,” she said, entirely used to
Itto’s intense antics.

“Tsk.” Sara stood at Raiden’s side, gazing at the spectacle with disdain. “How pathetic. Wouldn’t
you agree?” She glanced towards her friend, but Raiden was too busy eating ice cream to respond,
her mouth stuffed full.

“It makes you melancholy, doesn’t it?”

Kazuha turned towards the person at his side, blinking when he saw Heizou. The other hashira
smiled towards him, but it was a gesture tinged by the faint hint of sadness.

“What does?” Kazuha inquired, playing dumb. Heizou knew what he was doing, but elaborated
anyway, nodding towards their friends. “This,” he said. “Everyone together.”

“You and I both know that this will be the last time we’re all together like this.” Heizou crossed his
arms over his chest, his lips pursing into a thin line. “I may be the world’s greatest detective, but
anyone could figure that out. You certainly have.” He met Kazuha’s gaze. “Don’t worry. I feel it,
too.”

Remaining pointedly silent, Kazuha tried to hide his budding sadness as Heizou continued. “It
makes you happy,” he said. “It really does. But it makes you sad, as well, because you know this
will never happen again. You’ll never feel this way ever again.”

“How do you know that?” Kazuha asked. “How do you know we’ll never have a moment like this
again?” He trailed off, and Heizou smiled. It looked terribly bittersweet.

Leaning forward, the red-haired boy rested a hand on Kazuha’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “I’m
the best detective ever, remember?” He mumbled. “You might think the others are oblivious, but
not me. Never me.” He pulled away, sighing quietly. “Have fun, Kazuha,” he said. “And enjoy
yourself.”

Heizou waved cheerfully, and with that, he was off, joining Itto and Shinobu as they bickered over
something entirely pointless.

“Kaedehara.”

Kazuha was startled by the sound of another voice approaching him, one he would have never
expected. Raiden stared down at him, a half-eaten ice cream cone within her hand. She took a
small bite, sighing quietly. “I have something to tell you, though I will try to make it brief,” she
said after swallowing.

“What is it?” Kazuha frowned.

“The demon which you seek to kill.” Raiden finished off her ice cream, wiping her mouth daintily
with her sleeve. “He is my family.”

“What?” Kazuha froze, his eyes widening with shock. The world seemed to pause for a moment.
Now that he examined Raiden more closely, she did bear a startling resemblance to Scaramouche.
They shared the same beautiful, fair and serene features. Hell, they even had the same nose.
Kazuha had passed it off as a coincidence before, but now—

“Please don’t speak. Only listen. I’m not here to plead for his life, or anything of the sort.” Raiden
sighed, closing her eyes. She looked strangely tired, in an odd way. It was an expression Kazuha
had never once seen on her before, and that greatly unnerved him.

“A long time ago, my family reigned over Inazuma. We were powerful, and incredibly wealthy.
My ancestor, Ei, had a sister. Her name was Makoto. Ei cherished Makoto, more than anything or
anyone. Yet before the sisters could live their lives together, Makoto was slaughtered by a demon.
Ei was heartbroken and inconsolable afterwards.”

“Despite her grief, she craved vengeance. She wouldn’t rest until Makoto was avenged, and all
others like her. This is what sparked the creation of the demon slayer corps that we know of now.
For centuries, those within my family led the corps. Until one day. My very distant grandmother,
also named Ei, gave birth to a son she called Scaramouche.”

A chill rippled down Kazuha’s spine.

“Scaramouche wasn’t strong enough to become a demon slayer, let alone to lead the corps,”
Raiden murmured. “Not only that, he allegedly shed tears whilst he slept. His mother was ashamed
of him, and as such, tried to cast him away and hide him as much as possible. She disregarded him,
and had a daughter in an effort to forget his existence.”
“That daughter was my great grandmother. She became next in line to lead the corps.
Scaramouche’s destined role was stolen from him, and some say that pushed him over the edge. No
one knows the exact tale of how or truly why, but he became a demon, the very thing our family
had sworn to destroy.”

“Afterwards, we were never the same. We were disgraced. Scorned. One of our own had
succumbed to the darkness; we were no longer worthy. Morax’s family took over from there.”
Raiden fell silent, and Kazuha stared at her, stunned. How had he never known this? He was just
about to ask that, when Raiden smiled, shaking her head slowly.

“It is ancient history,” she said. “That my family tries desperately to hide.” She glanced away,
sighing. “Scaramouche’s mother committed seppuku after she learned what he’d done. His actions
cast my family into ruin. That’s why, when you kill him, use not only your strength. Use mine, too.
I know you’re angry. I am, as well. He has to die.”

Raiden dipped her head, bowing towards Kazuha. “I will forever be grateful to you.”

Kazuha’s throat tightened, and he rested a hand upon Raiden’s shoulder. “Don’t thank me,” he
whispered. “I’m just doing us all a favor. I promise you, I will end his life.”

Raiden smiled sadly, nodding slowly. “I know you will,” she said. “Trust me. We all do.”

“Aniki! Look! They’re releasing the lanterns!” Lumine shouted, calling out to him. She waved
towards him, Aether and Razor standing at her side. As his apprentices smiled at him, Kazuha
managed to smile back, lifting his hand into a subdued wave.

“Go to them,” Raiden advised. “I apologize for interrupting, but . . . I wanted you to know, and this
might be the last time we ever have the chance to talk privately like this.”

“It’s alright.” Kazuha grabbed the bag filled with lanterns, smiling towards Raiden. “Thank you for
telling me your history. I promise to remember it, and keep it secret.”

Raiden smiled back at him, watching with a fond gaze as Kazuha hurried off to join his
apprentices, greeting them enthusiastically.

“Here.” Kazuha smiled towards his apprentices, allowing them to pick each of their lanterns. He
handed them each a pen, as well. “Write what you wish for on the bottom of your lantern,” he
advised. “When you release it, your wish will come true.”

“Really?” Razor beamed with awe, and Kazuha nodded, continuing to smile. “Yes, but don’t tell
anyone what you wished for, or else it won’t come true,” he added warningly.

“I know what I’ll wish for.” Lumine was already writing, and Aether thought to himself, mulling
his decision over for a bit.

Kazuha, meanwhile, knew what he wanted from the start. He had already jotted it down, in fact, a
long time ago. It was an idealistic wish, and one that he knew would probably fail to come true, but
he could hope nonetheless. That’s what made things so fun; they allowed for hope to exist and to
flourish.

I wish for those I love to live happily and freely, in a world rid of any evil demons.

“Aniki, have you made your wish yet?” Lumine asked, and Kazuha nodded towards her, lifting his
lantern towards the sky. “I have,” he said. “Are you guys almost ready?”
“We’re ready,” Aether agreed.

Kazuha smiled, beginning to count down.

“Three . . .”

“Two . . .”

“One.”

He released his lantern into the air along with his apprentices. Together, they stood, and even
Paimon poked her head out to watch as their lanterns joined the hundreds of others already drifting
through the sky.

For a moment, Kazuha wondered what his tsuguko had wished for. Glancing at the three of them,
he assumed it had to be for something relating to their interests. Though he wanted to ask, he
wouldn’t. It would defeat the purpose of keeping wishes a secret. And who knows? Maybe their
dreams really would come true, sometime soon.

I wish for my Lupical to be happy.

I wish for Paimon to turn back into a human.

I wish for those I love to stay safe and alive.

Their wishes were cast to the heavens in the form of glowing, intricately patterned lanterns. It was
beautiful, to say the least. In all his years of living, Kazuha had never seen anything like it. It was
like thousands of fireflies were swarming through the sky, illuminating the night with their bright
light.

For a while, he simply relished in the moment. His heart was swelling, feeling oddly full. Any pain
or reluctance he had felt earlier was gone, now. He was glad that he’d come, because he would
never forget this moment, not for as long as he lived. This was probably the happiest he’d been in a
long time; the same was said for his apprentices.

“Look over there!” Aether suddenly exclaimed. “They’re setting up fireworks!”

“Come on!” He began to tug his friends away, glancing back towards Kazuha. “Are you coming
with aniki?” He called out hopefully.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Kazuha replied. Aether nodded, disappearing into the crowd along
with the others. Kazuha watched them go, his smile gradually beginning to slip away, until it
eventually fell completely.

He tilted his head back up towards the sky, and his mind trailed towards his family. His parents,
the servants that had tended to him and protected him. Xiao, who had always looked out for him,
and Tomo, who had been his friend when he needed it the most. He wished that they could all be
here with him right now, enjoying this beautiful view.

I miss all of you.

His chest ached, and he rested a hand over it just as the fireworks erupted, cascading throughout the
sky. With childlike wonder, he watched as colors splashed through the air. Pink, purple, red, blue,
green, yellow and orange—it was like a variety of sparkling, fiery rainbows had assorted through
the air, high above where the lanterns now drifted.
Closing his eyes, for a moment, Kazuha simply listened to the sound of the fireworks exploding. It
was loud, certainly, and it did hurt his sensitive ears. They were already beginning to ring,
throbbing faintly with pain, but he could deal with it for now. It was all worth it, to experience such
great scenery.

Nonetheless, Kazuha drifted towards the back of the crowd, seeking a quiet place to recover
himself. Once he had found a more private, secluded area, he relaxed almost immediately. Rubbing
his sore ears, he tried to hide the way he grimaced with dull agony.

“Your ears are sensitive too, I see?”

Kazuha tensed, his entire body going rigid. He looked up sharply, meeting a familiar purple stare.
For a brief second, he wondered if his brain was going haywire again and playing a bizarre and
demented trick on him.

But no. Scaramouche’s features were entirely clear, excruciatingly so. He looked devastatingly
beautiful, even after everything. His attire was as elegant as him; a flowing black kimono, with the
faintest hints of indigo patterns in the form of lightning. Kazuha felt underdressed compared to
him.

His hand drifted downwards, towards his side, but his sword was gone. He was entirely
defenseless, as helpless as a sitting duck. If Scaramouche wished, he could end Kazuha with ease
here and now. It had been naïve of him to leave without bringing his weapon, social etiquette be
damned, he was a hashira. He should have been prepared for this—!

“Calm down.” Scaramouche sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He appeared as he did when
Kazuha first met him, resembling a human. The only demonic thing about him was his eyes. They
glowed eerily within the dark, shifting to look at Kazuha as he spoke. “If I wanted to kill you, I
already would have. So you can stop looking so damn terrified.”

Kazuha’s eyes narrowed into slits, anger prickling underneath his skin, although he wrestled it
down. He wouldn’t cause a scene, not here. Not in front of countless citizens and innocent people.
Besides, this festival was meant for relaxation. A chance to unwind and be happy. He shouldn’t
ruin it.

Scaramouche knew this, and he used it to his advantage. He’d specifically chosen this time to
appear, because he knew Kazuha couldn’t do a single thing about it. He was a conniving bastard,
but an admittedly smart one. He’d planned this out perfectly. But how had he known that Kazuha
would be here?

Lifting his chin, Kazuha met Scaramouche’s piercing gaze, offering the Upper Moon Two a razor-
sharp smile. “You caught me off-guard this once, but don’t expect it to ever happen again,” he
muttered warningly. “The next time we meet, Upper Moon Two, I will slice your wretched head
clean off of your shoulders. You will be mine to kill.”

“Is that so?” Scaramouche replied thoughtfully, before his lips curled upwards into a grin. He
chuckled, leaning over to loom over Kazuha, no doubt in an attempt to intimidate him. “I never
pictured you as the type to threaten,” he hissed. “But let me be kind and return your sweet
pleasantries.”

Reaching upwards, Scaramouche traced his fingers across Kazuha’s jaw. Immediately, the slayer
moved his hand to swat Scaramouche away, but the demon gripped onto him, stopping his
movements effortlessly. He smiled as Kazuha struggled, much like a spider observing a fly caught
within its web.
 “The next time we meet, it will be on the battlefield,” Scaramouche told him solemnly, bending
over to whisper into Kazuha’s ear. “I will tear your pretty body apart, just like I have done to
countless hashira before you. Then, as life slowly fades from your veins, I will consume you. I’ll
capture your heart and devour it, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Everything about you
will be mine.”

Kazuha jerked within Scaramouche’s grip, trying to calm the frantic racing of his heart. He ignored
the way his stomach lurched, churning uncomfortably; he was grateful that he hadn’t eaten,
because if he had, he’d have surely thrown up by now. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to
glare at Scaramouche, mustering up as much venom as he could possibly produce before replying.

“Do your worst, wretched creature,” he snarled. Scaramouche seemed startled by his blatant
defiance, blinking momentarily before he smiled. “Feisty,” he hummed. “You have spirit, I’ll give
you that. It’s refreshing.”

He released Kazuha, and the hashira jerked away from him, fuming with simmering rage.

Shaking his head, Kazuha stared towards the sky, where fireworks were still erupting. They
crackled and roared, filling Kazuha’s ears with their explosive clamor. Such a pretty sight helped
ease some of his nerves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Scaramouche asked him, following his gaze to watch the show.

“It is.” Kazuha found himself agreeing with Scaramouche on at least this one thing.

“Aniki! Aniki, where are you?!” The voice of Lumine reached Kazuha’s ears, and he closed his
eyes, smiling with genuine fondness.

Opening his eyes once more, he met Scaramouche’s gaze. The demon had been staring at him all
the while, but it didn’t phase Kazuha anymore. The earlier fear drained from his body, and now, he
couldn’t feel anything but a surge of utter confidence.

“Don’t worry,” he told the Upper Moon, turning back towards the fireworks. “When we go out, it
shall be just as beautifully,” he murmured, watching as the sparks fizzled out, disappearing into the
night’s crisp air.

Scaramouche didn’t respond. He allowed Kazuha to leave, rejoining his worried tsuguko. Hiding
himself further within the shadows, Scaramouche grinned to himself.

“Where were you? Were you talking with someone?” Lumine asked with concern.

“No. Let’s go.” Kazuha led his apprentices away to go watch the fireworks. He glanced one last
time over his shoulder, towards the darkness that Scaramouche vanished into.

No matter where you hide, I will find you.

You may think I’m the prey, but you’re wrong.

I will destroy you.

Chapter End Notes

Buckle up everyone — next chapter is where shit starts hitting the fan!! I’m so
excited!!

Thank you all for your kind comments, I love reading them so much, even if I don’t
always respond, they make me smile so much and always brighten my day.
❤️ your support means the world to me!!
 Anger
Chapter Notes

This chapter is dedicated to my friend who told me to post early and to my readers
who begged for an early update, ily all ❤️

PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS!!! THEY’VE BEEN UPDATED!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My name is Kaedehara Kazuha.

I was a hashira of the demon slayer corps—more specifically, the wind hashira.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Scaramouche was right.

The next time they met, it was on the battlefield, surrounded by a sea of blood.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

The frantic shrieking of Kazuha’s crow caused him to look up, his blood turning to ice. His veins
filled with a frigid frost when he noticed those dark wings flapping with feral desperation—it could
mean only one thing. Of course his mind flashed back to the death of his mentor, still fresh within
his head despite how many years had passed.

But that wasn’t the case, not now. Now it was something else, something arguably worse.

“EMERGENCY SUMMON! EMERGENCY SUMMON! ATTACK ON THE DEMON SLAYER

HEADQUARTERS! ATTACK ON THE DEMON SLAYER HEADQUARTERS!”

Kazuha immediately took off running. His legs burned from just how fast he went, channeling all
of the strength within his muscles to carry himself quicker. Despite how much his ankles burned,
screaming with protest, he didn’t dare slow down for a moment, not when so much was at stake.

His surroundings were nothing more than a faded blur as he ran, faster than even the wind. Strands
of pale white hair whipped against his face as he moved; he didn’t even have the energy to push it
aside. Instead, he was too focused on running, on getting there in time to save Morax. If the master
of the demon slayer corps fell to a demon’s cursed claws, then he would never forgive himself.

Morax had accepted him when he had nothing else, he had believed in Kazuha when nearly no one
else did. He had watched the boy’s journey into becoming a hashira closely, and had been there
every step of the way. When he lost Xiao, when he lost Tomo, Morax was always there to comfort
him. To encourage him to keep going, to keep fighting. It was thanks to him that Kazuha was still
here, able to push through each day.

I have to make it! I HAVE to!

As he ran, he wondered what kind of demon would be able to locate the headquarters. Surely an
Upper Moon? There was no other explanation.

Unless . . . It wasn’t an Upper Moon at all, but the originator herself. Just the idea made Kazuha’s
body shudder, a chill rippling unintentionally down his spine.

Even if it was her, that wouldn’t matter. He’d fight her with everything he had, and for the sake of
the world, he would be sure to win.

Chest heaving, Kazuha practically leaped forward, his steps seeming more like jumps than
anything. Despite the risks and dangers Morax faced, he refused to have a bodyguard. He insisted
that the strength of the pillars was better directed elsewhere, towards exterminating demons, rather
than protecting him. And now look; the master was in danger, with no one around to help.

It drove Kazuha insane. Such a kind and compassionate person deserved to be kept safe. Morax
was the glue that kept the corps together. Without him, they were nothing.

Panting, Kazuha burst through the tree line. In the distance, the estate loomed, a sight which used
to fill him with relief and happiness. It was such a familiar vision, but now, all it made him feel
was primal terror.

His crow was gradually catching up to him; he had left it far behind in his frantic run to the
headquarters. Kazuha could hear it cawing, screeching purely out of sheer panic.

It’s okay, Kazuha wanted to say. I’ll make it.

Just when he went to race forward, a huge blast stopped him, nearly knocking him onto his feet.
Staggering backwards, Kazuha covered his face with shock, his eyes widening with pure horror
when he realized what had happened. The base he’d considered a home had exploded, with the
master inside; the stench of blood and flesh confirmed that. He was going to be sick.

Flames lapped at the sky, smoke already beginning to clog Kazuha’s lungs. Beads of sweat rolled
across his forehead; his body felt both hot and cold all over. He could feel himself trembling.
Morax was dead, the leader of the demon slayer corps had been killed. He had been murdered by a
demon, and when Kazuha found that demon, he would be sure to make them pay. No one would
get away with killing their master!

Unsheathing his sword with a newfound vengeance, Kazuha charged towards the ruins of the
demon slayer headquarters. His crow now hung back, nearly collapsing both from exhaustion and
sadness. Like Kazuha, it had loved the master down to its very core.

Upon arriving at the scene, Kazuha was met with a gruesome sight. Pieces of rubble and carrion
were scattered everywhere across the floor, crushed against his feet as he ran. But there was
something much worse than that, something that made his gut churn uncomfortably, that sent
every hair upon his body standing straight up with primal fear.

There in front of him stood a woman. She was clearly a demon; her scent and aura alone
exacerbated so much power, it made Kazuha’s knees weak. They began to wobble, though he
forced himself to remain firm, concentrating on keeping his breaths even.

It has to be her.

The originator of demons glared towards him, baring her teeth. The glint of pearly fangs caught
within the moonlight, causing Kazuha’s chest to tighten. Her hair was long, cascading in a flowing
river down her back. It was a jet black color, though it was woven with shards of what looked to be
ice, and flakes of snow that somehow wouldn’t melt, even despite the heat of such an explosion.
She lifted a hand, revealing long nails painted a pale blue. Even her skin resembled winter, like a
blanket of freshly fallen snow. Despite her otherworldly appearance and stunning beauty, it didn’t
hide the fact that underneath those looks, she was a monster.

Her eyes revealed her true nature. They were just like a cat’s, nothing but vertical slits. If that
wasn’t eerie enough, they were a startlingly pale silver, certainly nothing human. Her stare sent
shivers throughout Kazuha’s body, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be intimidated. No, not by this
creature.

All around Kazuha, the other pillars were arriving, desperately calling the master’s name, but it
was no use. Morax was gone.

Itto stood at the center of it all. Unlike most slayers, he used a nichirin chained spiked flail and axe.
It was covered with drying blood, evidence of a recent fight. He glanced towards them, and for
once, his usual silly and childish nature was nowhere to be seen.

Right now, he was entirely serious, brow set with grim determination. Everything was on the line.
Their lives, and the future of the world, it all was at stake. Tonight would decide who lived and
who died. Tonight would decide the fate of the entire nation.

And it all depended on them.

“It’s the Tsartisa!” Itto shouted, lifting his axe over his shoulder. “The creator of demons! This
freak won’t die even if you cut her head off!” So that was where the blood came from; he had
managed to cut her head off, but against all odds, it hadn’t killed her.

If we can’t kill her that way, then I understand.

Sunlight is the only answer.

We need to last until dawn!

Around Kazuha, the various pillars launched into battle, including him. Their intense training had
paid off. They moved in stunning synchronization, launching as a unit towards the Tsartisa, who
was still regenerating from the massive explosion. She glowered at them, her gaze filled with fury.

As Kazuha drew closer, he noticed something. The reason the Tsartisa wasn’t recovering quickly
was due to Albedo; his partner had one fist lodged within the originator’s stomach. It looked as if
she had tried absorbing him, only to fail. Albedo’s face was creased with sweat, blood, and pain,
but he looked more determined than ever.

It’s all going according to plan, Kazuha thought, ignoring the way his chest tightened painfully.
Deep down, he understood that this would be the last time he saw Albedo.

Those agonized blue eyes shifted to look at him, meeting his gaze briefly. Albedo managed to send
him a small but victorious smile. It was something only they could exchange; a shared triumph.
Everything they had worked for was going to come to life.

Memories flashed through his mind, then. Long nights spent awake, chugging coffee left and right,
while Sucrose and Albedo helped keep him up. They worked with him nonstop, approving of his
ideas and methods, building him up and encouraging his dreams. While their relationship hadn’t
been the best at first, it’d improved. They had become friends, and it always hurt to lose a friend.

Don’t worry. I’ll avenge you. WE’LL avenge you!

Just as the slayers were about to pounce upon the Tsartisa, something strange happened.

The ghastly woman grinned, her eyes flashing white. A fortress appeared underneath her, various
doors beginning to open up, right underneath the pillars’ feet. They could do nothing to avoid
being captured, beginning to fall away from the originator, who watched them with glee.

“You seriously thought you could corner me?” The Tsaritsa screamed, her voice filled with sick
contempt. “You’re all going to hell, now! You pathetic demon slayer pests—I’m slaughtering
every last one of you tonight!”

As Kazuha fell, he grit his teeth, clenching his jaw with rage. You won’t get away with this, he
thought angrily. We WILL defeat you!

Plummeting away from the Tsaritsa, Kazuha looked around with wide eyes. What is this place? Up
and down, left and right, they’re all mixed up! Was this built with the originator’s blood demon
art? Can she really be that strong?

I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but I know that Albedo was holding off the Tsartisa, exactly
like we had discussed. But how long can he hang on?

He needs backup . . . Right now!

Kazuha managed to flip himself over with a technique, landing gracefully upon solid ground. For a
moment, he recovered himself, taking a long and deep breath. Before he continued into the
unknown, he needed to think; rake his brain and get a proper grip.

Just as we planned, Albedo is forcing the Tsartisa to consume the cure we created. Even though
it’s unlikely to work, it should weaken her. Not to mention, she’ll have been injected with the aging
poison we crafted by now. That should slow her down, both in speed and in regeneration. Despite
this, it won’t be enough to kill her. That’s up to us. We need to use our strength to end her!

We’ll fight her until the sun rises. It’s the only way to be sure she’ll die. Paimon is currently being
administered the cure, too. If all goes well, she’ll have been turned back into a human by the time
the Tsartisa is exterminated. That way, she won’t also disappear. She can return to her normal life,
and live happily with her siblings once again.

All of our hard work . . . Albedo, Sucrose, and I, we’ve done so much . . . It has got to pay off!

The master sacrificed himself for us. I can see now. He used the explosion to weaken the Tsaritsa,
giving up his own life for ours. Not only that, Albedo is now doing the same. They knew what they
were doing. We can’t let any of it be in vain!

With a newfound confidence, Kazuha began to walk, his heart pounding. He forced its frantic
beating to slow. Despite his determination, he had to admit that he was nervous. Being alone in
such a strange, foreign place — and surrounded by various enemies — was undeniably daunting.
The Tsaritsa was no doubt close by, too. Hiding somewhere, but she couldn’t hide forever.

Pausing, Kazuha recognized the faint scent of blood the second it met his nostrils. The metallic
tang nearly made him ill, but he followed it regardless, guiding his path in the direction of death.
Was it from a fight? Were his comrades already beginning to die?

Kazuha halted by a small pond. Lillypads floated lightly across the surface, and if it wasn’t created
by a filthy demon, Kazuha would have found this estate quite beautiful.

Turning away, he faced a grand set of oak doors, positioned directly across from the pond. The
scent of blood and carrion was right behind these doors; a powerful demon was no doubt lurking
deep within. That left him with no other option other than to open them. Someone could be in
trouble.

His thoughts flickered briefly to his tsuguko. No doubt, they had been sent to this place as well.
Anyone who arrived to help fight would likely be banished into this fortress of death. He could
only pray that they stayed safe; he wasn’t there to protect them, not yet at least.

Inhaling sharply, Kazuha gathered his resolve, pushing the doors open a crack.

Peering inside, he heard the unmistakable sounds of loud chewing. The gnawing of sharp teeth
upon flesh and bones. His skin began to crawl, as if insects were creeping all over him. Not to
mention, the temperature around him appeared to plummet quite a few degrees, filling him with an
ice-cold chill.

“Ah . . . You came.” Scaramouche lowered the severed arm he held, turning his head to send
Kazuha a smile. His mouth and teeth were caked red with blood. If that wasn’t bad enough, piles of
corpses surrounded Scaramouche, all of them torn to pieces.

“I’ll have to thank Dottore later. He’s irritating as all hell, but at least he listened to my request.”
Rising to his feet, Scaramouche threw his arms out, his smile widening. “He brought my beloved
little slayer right to me.”

Dottore. Who is that? Kazuha had never heard such a name before. He assumed it was one of the
other Upper Moons. Was he the demon responsible for creating this fortress? Regardless, it didn’t
matter. What mattered was the Upper Moon currently in front of him, the demon Kazuha had
wanted to see.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment ever since we met,” Scaramouche went on. He was dressed
differently, this time, in a very Inazuma-styled fashion. At the top of his head, he wore a broad and
traditional hat, with bells that rang shrilly upon his every slight movement. The sound made
Kazuha want to cover his ears; it hurt to listen to.

Before Kazuha could respond, a voice called out to him. A girl was crawling desperately towards
him, extending a hand frantically.

“H . . . H . . . Help me!” She sobbed.

Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She was covered head-to-toe in blood; she had been lying in
a pool of it, as a matter of fact. Having an innocent person in their midst certainly made things
complicated. Kazuha now had someone to protect, someone who couldn’t fight or even defend
themselves.

Nonetheless, he darted forward, moving faster than the blink of an eye. He captured the girl within
his arms, cradling her close to his chest. Landing on a platform farther away from Scaramouche,
Kazuha managed to smile reassuringly towards the frightened girl, who was staring at him with
wonder.

“Are you alright?” Kazuha inquired kindly.

The girl was rendered speechless, trembling within his grip. She panted, gasping for breath, as
Scaramouche watched them both.

“You sure have gotten fast,” Scaramouche hummed, tilting his head. “Impressive.”
Kazuha wished he could ignore Scaramouche, but he couldn’t. Not when the girl he held suddenly
cried out, choking on her own blood. Kazuha watched in horror as she was sliced into nothing but
pieces, blood spraying across the floor and his hands. Her severed head collapsed onto the ground
beside him, her eyes wide and unblinking.

He wanted to scream.

For a moment, he was back in that cupboard at his family’s estate, watching as his mother was
slain and eaten. He could do nothing back then, just like he could do nothing now.

“Don’t worry about her,” Scaramouche called out to him. “Just set her down on the ground. I’ll
make sure to devour her later on.” He smiled, flicking blood off of the purple scythe he now held.
It had been simply manifested into existence, and that surely had something to do with
Scaramouche’s blood demon art.

Kazuha straightened up, staring coldly towards the Upper Moon, who merely grinned back at him.
“You know that I promise all of my worshippers eternity,” he went on. “And they’re all so happy
and grateful towards me. How merciful am I, to share my immortality with them? To offer them
the pure, unchanging plane of eternity? Sometimes, though, mortals balk when presented with the
truth. It’s truly pathetic.”

“When I intend to unite our souls, to grant them their eternity, they scream and cry and plead. The
songbirds change their tune.” Resting a hand upon his chest, Scaramouche scoffed. “They’re all
fools, every last one of them. They should be lucky I don’t spit upon their sorry corpses. The nerve
of some people, to be such ungrateful, ugly swines.”

“Their reason for resisting me? They’re afraid. Afraid of death and of dying. But they
misunderstand. Once I consume them, they’ll never die, because they’re living on with me.
Through me. Forever.” Scaramouche heaved a sigh. “But I suppose humans are stupid, wretched
creatures, who can’t even begin to understand something so vastly complex.”

“There’s no way you’re sane.” Kazuha curled his lip into a sneer, regarding Scaramouche with
disgust. “You’re truly wrong in the head, you’re actually making me vomit here.”

“Huh?” Scaramouche blinked rapidly for a moment, tilting his head to the side as if confused. “Out
of all the times we’ve met, you’ve never seemed so angry. Are you really this incensed over some
random girl? Hm?”

He paused, realization suddenly dawning upon him. “Oh, I know! There’s something else
bothering you, isn’t there?” He grinned, leaning casually against his scythe. “Alright, then. Go on,
you can tell me. I’ll listen.”

“Something else? Of course something else is bothering me.”

Kazuha had never felt this angry before. It threatened to consume him entirely, blurring his
surroundings until they were nothing more than a jumble of red. He didn’t know how to handle this
anger, either. For so long, he had kept it pent up inside of himself, simmering just underneath the
surface of his skin, never able to be released.

Kazuha could feel the veins along his forehead emerging, threatening to pop entirely. He gripped
his haori tighter, his hand a trembling fist as he held the fabric, the red cloth that had once
belonged to Tomo.

“You’re the one who killed my mentor and my best friend, aren’t you?” He spat out.
“Don’t you recognize this haori? This mask?” Kazuha’s words were laced with a venom so potent,
it could nearly kill. As Scaramouche stared at him, those purple eyes wide with surprise, he seemed
to finally realize, his expression shifting into one of recognition.

“Ah, I see . . .” The Upper Moon dipped his head, brushing a hand along his jaw. “You mean the
Conqueror of Demons, and the thunder breathing boy from before . . . ! I had no idea you knew
them, although now that I think about it, I should have known. When I fought you, I was filled
with a strange sense of deja vu. Now I know why!” He snapped his fingers, grinning maliciously at
Kazuha.

“Your style is so similar to the Conqueror of Demons’ — and no wonder! He must have taught you
everything he knew. My, what a shame. He was exceptionally skilled, despite his small size. I
missed out on finishing him off due to the sun coming up. I’m still bitter about that. I really wanted
to eat him all—”

“Up—”

Scaramouche’s voice trailed off right as a sword came piercing through his eye.

Kazuha’s face was contorted with white hot fury, his veins flowing not with blood, but with fire. It
burned inside of him as he yanked his blade from Scaramouche’s now bleeding eye. To hear that
demon talk about his mentor in such a way— it was despicable!

“Woah! That was one nice stab. It was so fast, I couldn’t even stop it with my hand.” Scaramouche
licked up the blood that trailed down his cheek, beginning to grin. “Magnificent! You’ve clearly
gotten better! Or maybe this is your rage fueling you?”

“Allow me to use an attack of my own.” Scaramouche flung his hand, and immediately, bolts of
lightning erupted, casting huge craters within the floor. Kazuha was forced to leap backwards,
flipping himself onto his feet a safe distance away from the blasts. They were blazing hot; he could
feel the heat even from here. If he hadn’t moved in time, he’d have been incinerated, just like
Tomo had once been.

“Ha!” Scaramouche shouted with glee, those bright violet eyes wide with both delight and
bloodthirsty malice. “So quick! I’m proud!” He brandished his scythe, steadily beginning to
approach Kazuha, who faced him with a glare. “It’s just too bad that you can’t kill demons with
speed and stabbing alone.”

“It’s the neck.” He tapped at his own neck with a mocking smile. “Are you really sure that you’re
strong enough to cut my head off, Kazuha? Not even your mentor or beloved friend could. What
makes you think you’re any different?” He arched his brow. “Do you believe that you are
somehow special . . . ?”

“Enough talking, evil creature.” Kazuha brandished his sword, which still dripped with the
remnants of Scaramouche’s blood. “I know you and your tricks, and I know where you come from.
The Raiden family. It must have been terrible to be so neglected and mistreated. What a pity it is,
then, that you’ll be even more alone once you burn in the depths of hell for your precious
eternity.”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed into deadly slits. “So that pathetic girl told you, hm?” He must have
been referring to his own descendant, Raiden. “I figured she would.” Within seconds, he was
attacking, hurling his scythe straight towards Kazuha’s head. “But pretty slayers like you should
know by now to stay out of other people’s personal business.”
Fast! He’s fast! Kazuha thought, panicking for a moment. I won’t be able to dodge his blade!

“Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clean Storm Wind Tree!”

Kazuha released a whirlwind of slashes around his body, all of which protected him from
Scaramouche’s oncoming blow. The breeze from his form rippled both his hair and
Scaramouche’s; maple leaves were already swirling around them, the evidence of his fighting.
Although Scaramouche didn’t seem too phased by the current events, he certainly wasn’t all too
pleased by it, either.

Falling back, Scaramouche regarded him plainly, eyeing him from head-to-toe. “This is futile,
Kazuha,” he said. “And you know it.” He paused, extending a hand. “I’m never this merciful, but I
will make an exception for you. You caught my interest, more than anyone else ever has. Come,
and I will grant you the most painless death I can offer.”

Kazuha stepped forward, as if he intended to accept Scaramouche’s hand. Instead, he sliced it

cleanly off, watching the severed appendage fall onto the floor between them. Within seconds, the
limb had already regrown, tendons sewing themselves noisily back together. Scaramouche clicked
his tongue disapprovingly, staring at Kazuha with disdain. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he drawled.
“Oh, well. Have it your way, then.”

“Blood Demon Art: Plane of Euthymia!”

Kazuha froze, glancing downwards. Below, his mind shouted with alarm. An attack coming from
below! His body reacted immediately, and he managed to backflip, dodging the attack that would
have no doubt been lethal. If he had been just a second slower, his life would have been surely
lost.

Panting softly, Kazuha landed on a nearby platform, watching as Scaramouche’s attack receded. It
had been a purple pattern, a plane of sorts, opening up directly onto the ground. Lightning bolts had
been released upwards from the plane. A shiver rippled up his spine knowing that both Xiao and
Tomo had faced these attacks before him. Neither of them had survived. Could he really manage
to?

“You’re only enduring my attacks right now,” Scaramouche reminded him, drawing closer. “You
aren’t making any moves of your own. How do you hope to take my head that way? Besides,
you’re only human. Your stamina and endurance has a limit. Eventually, you will undoubtedly
waver, and once you do . . .” Scaramouche smiled, licking his lips menacingly. Kazuha knew what
that implied.

He’s right. If I want to have any hope of killing him, I’m going to need to shift to the offensive.

“Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!”

Dashing forward with blinding speed, Kazuha slashed continuously in a horizontal cyclone pattern,
aiming towards Scaramouche’s head. Unfortunately, the Upper Moon dodged the majority of his
blows. Kazuha’s blade cut through flesh once or twice, but only along Scaramouche’s chest and
abdomen. The gashes quickly healed themselves, anyway, as if every hint of progress Kazuha
made was worth nothing.

Several more times, Kazuha attacked, and several more times he failed to take Scaramouche’s
head. He would always come up short, or prove to be just a bit too slow when he tried to meet his
mark. Honestly, he would be lying if he said it didn’t frustrate him. He found his lack of success
agonizing.
Scaramouche, however, loved it.

“Look at you,” he called out, cackling. The sounds of his mocking laughter echoed throughout the
vast room. “All of your attacks are no good. Not one is working! In fact, it’s just getting less and
less effective. How much longer can you keep this up?”

Chest heaving, Kazuha gripped his sword tighter, digging his nails into the hilt. This is the real
strength of an Upper Moon, he thought. By myself, I’m nothing. I’m only partaking in a game of
cat and mouse. My techniques are proving futile, and after each strike, he shows more and more
resistance. He’s adapting to my style, and predicting my movements in advance.

“You’re breathing pretty hard, there,” Scaramouche mused. “You must be tired. Despite being a
hashira, you can only last so long, especially since you endured my lightning attacks. The smoke
resulting from them is toxic to you humans. So I must applaud you, you’ve matched me for far
longer than most. It’s truly satisfying!”

I have to use a new form, Kazuha thought. One that he hasn’t seen before. It’s the only way I might
catch him off-guard and secure his head.

Positioning his feet, Kazuha gathered up his last remnants of strength. His sore muscles ached with
protest, but the passion brewing deep inside of him guided him, fueling him. It led him on, giving
him that extra burst which he needed to keep fighting onwards.

“Wind Breathing, Ninth Form: Idaten Typhoon!”

Kazuha launched himself into the air, twisting his body into a backflip. While upside down,
directly above Scaramouche, he released a powerful gust of circular wind which slashed everything
to pieces beneath him. He could feel his blade tearing through flesh and bone, blood splattering the
ground all around them.

Landing a good distance away from the Upper Moon, Kazuha flicked blood from his blade. In the
midst of his attack, he hadn’t been able to properly see the aftermath. Glancing hopefully over his
shoulder, Kazuha held his breath, his heart racing with anticipation. Had he done it? Did he win?

“You really are . . . Fast,” Scaramouche coughed, spitting blood from his mouth. “Probably the
fastest hashira I’ve ever met!”

He wiped his bloodstained face with his hand, straightening up. His body, which had been ripped
to shreds by Kazuha’s blade, swiftly began to heal itself. All of Kazuha’s hard work faded within
the blink of an eye. Scaramouche’s throat had even been torn clean open, his head so close to
becoming severed, but it just hadn’t been close enough.

No.

Kazuha’s heart dropped, his stomach churning. His hands quivered, though he grasped his sword
tighter, forcing them to steady. I won’t let this set me back, I won’t—

Pain exploded throughout Kazuha’s body.

For a moment, his mind blanked, white-hot agony drowning out any chance of a coherent thought.
In all his years, he had never felt anything like this before. That was when he realized, his brain
finally catching up with the current circumstances, that: he cut me!

Kazuha managed to dart away from Scaramouche, landing a little hazardously onto a platform
nearby. His body made a dull thump as he hit the ground, blood already forming a steady pool of
red underneath him.

“You should have relied more on strength than speed,” Scaramouche told him, watching him with
a reserved expression. “If you were just a bit more powerful, you might have been able to beat me.
But then again, maybe not. You are quite small, after all.” He laughed, the sound ringing through
Kazuha’s ears, echoing blaringly within his head.

Kazuha’s eyes were wide. His gaze wavered, blurred both from pain and his own inner turmoil. He
could do nothing but stare down at his hands, which were already coated with his own blood. His
wound continued to drip with fresh rivulets of the thick liquid, staining his skin dark red.

Why are my hands so small?

Why didn’t I grow any taller?

If I had been just a little taller . . . I might have taken the demon’s head and defeated him.

Arms and legs . . . The longer they are, the more muscle they have . . . Which is an advantage, and
yet . . . Xiao was shorter than me, and still stronger. What’s wrong with me? Why must I be so
pathetic? So pitifully weak and insignificant?

I envy Itto. Ayato and Heizou. When they come to the rescue, people can rest easy. Everyone knows
that they won’t ever lose. Not like me.

I know . . . What my aniki was going to say.

Tears welled within Kazuha’s eyes. He couldn’t stop them; he felt so upset at himself. After all this
time, he’d worked so hard. Pushing himself past his limits, staying awake for days on end just to
get ahead of his peers. He had to try twice as much as everyone else, and yet he’d never
complained.

He had never uttered a single word of self-pity, because pitying yourself was an endless nightmare.
A pit which you should never make the mistake of falling into. Once you took the plummet, you
would never stop.

And yet now, here Kazuha was, plunging into that hole. He was sinking, farther and farther, and
he couldn’t stop himself. Try as he might to reel himself back in, he failed. Every little thing and
disgrievance he’d held against himself and the world came crashing down on him, weighing heavy
on his back.

It was unfair.

“Kazuha, if you attempt to face these demons, then you will lose.” Xiao had been starting to say
that, and yet he’d stopped. Deep down, his mentor had known, and he’d wanted to protect Kazuha
from ever tasting that defeat.

The tears became blinding, now, threatening to fall. Kazuha choked back a sob. He could feel his
throat closing up, both from his own emotion and blood. It littered the floor underneath him, and
his own haori. Xiao’s mask was even splattered with crimson. He felt guilty for getting everything
so filthy.

“Pull yourself together. I won’t allow you to cry.”

Xiao . . . ?
The tears continued to linger within Kazuha’s eyes. He looked up, breathless, to find his mentor
staring calmly down at him.

“Stand up,” Xiao ordered.

Aniki . . . I’ve lost so much blood, I can’t stand. My left lung is punctured, and I can’t breathe.

“That doesn’t matter.” Xiao’s voice was firm. He looked exactly as he had on the day he’d told
Kazuha he was leaving for that fateful mission. The only thing different about him was his mask. It
was now missing, and attached to his apprentice’s hip instead.

Xiao’s yellow gaze was stern, just like it would be when they trained. Just like during old times,
when it was just the two of them.

“I said stand up, wind hashira Kaedehara Kazuha.”

Kazuha froze, blood falling like a waterfall from his mouth. The metallic tang flooded his tongue
until it was all he could taste. When he blinked, he could still feel the dampness of his own tears,
clinging onto snowy lashes. Despite the pain, he found himself listening. Listening to his mentor.

“Once you decide to defeat a demon, defeat it. Once you decide to win, then win. Win, whatever
the cost. You made that promise to Tomo and I, and to your own tsuguko. Didn’t you?” Xiao
dipped his head, his hair hiding his expression, although his words rang true.

My own tsuguko . . .

Lumine appeared within his mind’s eye, staring at him with both hope and sadness. Aether and
Razor stood at her side, watching him with pain. They were counting on him. The three of them
were all relying on him.

Footsteps echoed within the air. Scaramouche was drawing closer, beginning to approach Kazuha.
“Sorry, sorry,” he sighed. “It wasn’t a thorough cut, so you’re suffering.” He didn’t sound too
apologetic.

“Kazuha.” Xiao dropped onto his knees, leveling his face with his successor’s. Gloved hands
gripped Kazuha’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly. Xiao met his gaze, those yellow eyes now
revealing his true emotion: sadness. For the second time ever, Kazuha watched as tears brewed
within his mentor’s dark gaze.

“You can do this,” Xiao told him. “So do your best.”

Kazuha’s tears began to dry. As his mentor disappeared, vanishing from his view, he stood.
Trembling and bleeding, but standing.

A pool of blood formed underneath his feet, but he didn’t let it sway him. Xiao’s words encouraged
him, and the knowledge that his apprentices still depended on him kept him going. If he didn’t do
this for them, then who would? It was all up to him, and him alone.

“Woah.” Scaramouche paused, blinking. “You can stand? You’re actually standing? Wow . . .”

“Are you really human?”

Kazuha turned to look back at the Upper Moon, glaring at him. Of course he was human. He was
nothing but human. Being a human made him weak, it made him small and pathetic, but it also
made him a person. It enabled him to meet such wonderful friends, to find a family, and to save
countless lives.

Even if he wasn’t strong like a demon, even if he couldn’t regenerate like Scaramouche, even if he
wasn’t all-powerful, that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to be. People loved and cared for him all the
same, and that made him strong. That was what kept him fighting.

“I cut your collarbone, lung, and ribs but . . . You’re still kicking. For someone of your size, losing
that much blood should be fatal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet.” Scaramouche studied him
closely, his brow furrowing.

Kazuha coughed, unable to stop himself. His lungs rattled with pain, beginning to gurgle from the
blood filling them. It hurt beyond what words could describe, but he had to endure it. He had no
choice but to endure it.

“Agh! See? The pain of all that blood gurgling in your lungs, well, it’s beyond imagining! Alright,
I’ll cut your head off right away. You’ve suffered enough, so don’t overdo it anymore, alright?”
Scaramouche raised his scythe. “You’re well beyond saving at this point, so quit being so
stubborn! Of course, this could have all been mercifully avoided if you’d have listened to me at the
start . . .”

“But you humans never want to see common sense or reasoning. Look at you! So naïve and
disgustingly pathetic. Your hope, which was so abundant before, is now almost entirely gone.
That’s always the best part of a battle, watching the light slowly fade from eyes.”

“I really do wish things were different for us, though. I wasn’t lying when I said I found you
interesting, and rather pretty. If you weren’t a hashira, I’d have kept you for myself, and allowed
you to live a peaceful life at my side. You’d have been able to die of old age, rather than in this
violent, brutal way.”

“But, alas, fate is oh so cruel, isn’t it? So this will have to do!” Scaramouche grinned, looking
towards Kazuha, who glared at him.

If I want to take his head, then I need to go all out. If I use everything I have within me, I can win.
Kazuha evened out his feet, lifting his sword. I’m not dead yet. I can still do this!

“Wind Breathing, Tenth Form: Kazuha Slash!”

“You want to make your own form?” Xiao had inquired, staring towards his apprentice with
surprise. “A tenth form of wind breathing?”

“Yes.” Kazuha had given an eager nod, looking with hopeful eyes towards his mentor. “Something
that is entirely personal to me. One day, I hope that future wind breathers can use my form. And
you too, aniki!” Kazuha had smiled, and Xiao had hummed, patting his head briefly.

“I believe that you can do it, Kazuha.”

The memory flashed within Kazuha’s mind as he attacked, using his own personal form.

I see eternity go by in an instant, the autumns of many years from a single leaf. The faces of
Kazuha’s parents flashed within his mind, smiling towards him. Xiao’s hand reached out to him,
saving him from the clutches of darkness. Tomo’s laughter echoed within his ears, the warm
embrace of his friend a ghost upon his shoulders. That was all gone, now.

Thus I shall slice this maple in a flash, and ask a question of the ages. Lumine’s bright smile
beamed towards him. Aether’s fingers curled through his hair, styling it into a braid so that they
could match. Razor held his hand, leading him outside to stargaze. Paimon hugged him close,
humming with happiness.

What will it take for us to finally be free?

The faces of every other hashira peered towards him, one by one. What would they need to do, to
finally rid the world of demons? To be free of that evil, once and for all? Just what would they
have to sacrifice?

As Kazuha launched himself forward, maple leaves swirled with him. They encompassed the entire
platform he stood upon, shrouding his surroundings in a haze of autumn. Through the mist of
shifting leaves and colors, Kazuha wove, using the wind as a distraction. He spun in all directions,
his movement pattern entirely unpredictable.

He used enough force to sunder the platform! Scaramouche thought with alarm, watching as the
wood underneath him broke and fell apart beneath Kazuha’s attack. He’s fast! Too fast! Too many
leaves, I can’t predict his moves!

Lashing out with his scythe, Scaramouche attempted to drive Kazuha back, bolts of lightning
erupting in random directions. Kazuha dodged them all, although the tip of Scaramouche’s scythe
caught against his haori, ripping a part of it away. The fabric fluttered to the cratered ground,
stained with his own splotches of bright red blood.

He’s coming in low—! Scaramouche realized, just a little too late. Kazuha’s face appeared before
him, then. His mouth was painted crimson with splashes of blood, and sweat rolled across his
forehead, which was creased with strain. Despite how much pain he was clearly in, he exerted
nothing but power.

Scaramouche’s hat fell to the floor with a loud clattering of bells, joining Kazuha’s haori, just as
the hashira’s sword plunged directly into the Upper Moon’s neck. The force sent both of them
flying towards the ceiling; as a matter of fact, Kazuha had practically pinned Scaramouche against
it.

Slowly, Kazuha’s blade fell away from Scaramouche’s flesh, along with his body. He was
plummeting back towards the ground, the scattered remains of his haori whipping around him. As
he fell, he waited with bated breath, praying that Scaramouche’s head would come toppling off of
his shoulders.

It didn’t.

Scaramouche’s wound gradually began to heal, the blood drying upon his flesh. He opened his
eyes, grinning towards Kazuha, who watched him with nothing but fury.

I swore to kill you.

Even if I am weak, and not as strong as you are, I promised I would destroy you. If you die, that
will save hundreds of people. It isn’t about whether I can or can’t do it. Sometimes, there are
things we just have to do. And I have to kill you. I have to.

“Are you angry?”

Aether’s voice echoed within Kazuha’s ears, those curious golden eyes flashing inside of the
hashira’s mind. Back then, Aether hadn’t realized the true weight of such a question.

Yes, I’m angry, Aether. I’ve always been angry.

My family was killed.

My mentor was killed.

My best friend was killed.

If demons hadn’t murdered my apprentices’ families, then they would all be living happy lives with
them right now, instead of suffering like this.

It really makes me furious!

Kazuha wanted to scream. Scaramouche was reaching out to him, dark tendrils of smoke appearing
from his hands and hardening into a physical form. They wrapped around Kazuha, saving him from
hitting the floor. The impact would have surely killed him.

Instead, he was yanked upwards, pressed against a strong chest. Scaramouche wrapped his arms
around Kazuha, cradling him close. The scythe he used was nowhere to be seen; he had likely
banished it to wherever it’d come from. Could it turn into smoke, as well? Kazuha wished he
knew, so that he might warn whoever came after him.

“So admirable,” Scaramouche whispered in his ear. “You tried so hard. I truly am impressed. Such
a weak boy doing so much. It could move anyone’s heart, you know? You don’t have your
mentor’s talent, and you don’t have your friend’s strength, yet you’ve still done well as a demon
slayer. It’s a miracle you aren’t dead in my arms yet.”

“Everything you do is pointless, but you’re foolish enough to keep trying. This is both the folly and
wonder of humanity.” Scaramouche gripped him tighter, nearly breaking Kazuha’s fragile bones.
The gash within his chest was throbbing, and he could barely see past the white-hot sparks of pain.

“You are certainly worth taking. Your heart will be the most delicious I’ve consumed, I know it.
I’ll treasure it for eternity, and you may live with me forever, until the end of time. Do you have
any last words? I’m listening.” Scaramouche squeezed him.

Choking on blood, Kazuha spat.

“Go to hell!”

Footsteps sounded, hammering against the ground. Moments later, the doors were forcefully flung
open, a familiar girl bursting into the room. She had come as quickly as she could, but what if she
was too late—?

Lumine’s head immediately snapped upwards, towards where her beloved mentor was trapped
within Upper Moon Two’s embrace. Terror immediately pierced her, striking through her harder
than any blow.

“Brother!” She cried, her face contorting with panic. Kazuha could hear her scream for him, his
stomach lurching when he recognized the terror-stricken voice of his younger sister.

As the vision faded from his eyes and the strength fled from his limbs, he managed to twitch his
fingers, signing a desperate message. ‘Don’t breathe.’ If she inhaled too much of the toxic smoke,
it would impair and weaken her, just like it had done to him.

Scaramouche glanced down, noticing what he was doing. He scoffed, tightening his grip upon
Kazuha and ensuring that the boy could release no further communication. When Kazuha
eventually began to go limp against him, he smiled, watching as the wind hashira’s sword slowly
slipped from his hand.

Lumine stared in horror. Her eyes were so wide, she could feel them straining against her face,
threatening to pop out. As her vision burned, Kazuha’s sword clattered to the floor with a loud
clang, landing almost directly in front of her. The sound echoed within her ears hauntingly, playing
on a devastating repeat. It was all she could hear.

She screamed, releasing all of her inner horror and fury. Brandishing her sword, the girl hurtled
herself towards Scaramouche, blinded with a hot and simmering rage.

“Flower Breathing, Fourth Form: Crimson Hanagoromo!”

She slashed her sword desperately, hoping that it would meet its mark. Instead, it closed upon an
empty space. Just as she had neared the Upper Moon and her mentor, Scaramouche had darted
away, moving faster than Lumine could properly respond to. She was left reeling, glancing down
at his distant form as he landed on the ground far below.

She fell to the floor a few feet away, gripping her sword’s hilt tightly. Scaramouche still held
Kazuha away from view, though when he turned, the sight made Lumine go pale.

The world seemed to darken, going black all around her. It was just her, now, standing within a sea
of devoid emptiness. Her ears were ringing with a dull noise, and a buzzing had filled her mind,
drowning everything else out. Someone reached out to her, then. A pale hand slipped into her own,
and a bright smile filled her vision, lighting up the dark.

Kazuha peered down at her, familiar and warm. He called out her name, and when she went to
squeeze his hand, the illusion shattered. Reality came crashing back down.

Her beloved mentor was dead.

Scaramouche was consuming him, as a matter of fact. Kazuha’s body was slowly sinking into the
monster’s flesh, merging with him, and Lumine could do nothing but watch. The ground swayed
and tilted underneath her, threatening to swallow her. Her brother was being eaten, and she
couldn’t do a single thing except blindly stare.

“You don’t have manners, you know,” Scaramouche chided her. “It’s rude to try and cut me when
I’m in the middle of absorbing someone. Would you like it if someone interrupted your meal?” The
demon scowled.

Lumine’s breath came out in strangled huffs. The darkness was ebbing away, being replaced by a
burning hot red. It clouded her vision, seeping through her veins until all she could feel was a
scorching hot fury. Her veins were straining against her skin, and she could feel the whites of her
eyes pop, her pupils shrinking into nothing but furious slits. She needed to rip this demon to
shreds.

“Hmm . . . Despite how furious you look, you won’t accept my challenge.” Scaramouche paused,
licking his lips and sighing with satisfaction as the last bits of Kazuha disappeared, sinking
underneath his skin. “Perhaps it’s because he signaled to you with his fingers. My, what a clever
one he was.”

Scaramouche lifted something within his hand, something that he had stolen just before Kazuha
vanished inside of him. A familiar hairpin in the shape of a maple leaf.

“Did he tell you about my powers or something? It took only a moment. Ah, still so impressive,
even after death. He tried so hard, though it’s all futile.” Scaramouche regarded the hairpin within
his palm, his expression distant and perhaps even forlorn.

Then he glanced up, smiling maliciously towards Lumine. Lifting the hairpin to his lips, he licked
it tauntingly, intending to send the girl over the edge. “Anyways, tonight is a good night. Such fine
feasts keep showing up, one after the other! You’re practically offering yourself to me on a silver
platter.”

Lumine trembled, her eyes and muscles straining as her anger mounted, climbing to impossible
heights inside of her.

Somehow . . . I feel the people I care for and those most important to me . . . Will still be alive
tomorrow.

But that’s just my hope . . . And there’s no way I can promise that with any kind of certainty.

The faces of her family appeared within her mind, smiling towards her. Kazuha’s face appeared
within her mind, the brightest of them all. He held a lantern within his hand, looking innocently
happy as he released it into the sky. A faint orange glow lit up the features of his face, shrouding it
in a beautiful light. Lumine had wanted to capture that moment and cherish it forever.

Why do people . . Believe such things?

Somewhere in the distance, at a different part of the infinity fortress, Lumine’s brother ran. Aether
had gotten separated from both his sister and Razor early on. This place was constantly shifting and
changing directions. It wanted to separate and divide people, to isolate them so they’d be rendered
helpless.

Luckily enough, Aether had stumbled upon the deduction hashira, Shikanoin Heizou. He had also
gotten divided from his comrades in the midst of things. Together, they now ran, looking for their
friends, or a demon to fight.

Underneath Aether’s feet, the floor suddenly opened, and he gasped, leaping over the gap just in
time. He staggered as he landed, his heart pounding with fear. If he hadn’t honed his reflexes due
to Kazuha’s intense training, then he would have surely fell to his death.

Heizou glanced over his shoulder, fixing Aether with a stern gaze. “Stay sharp!” He ordered. In a
way, he reminded Aether of Kazuha, and it made his chest lightly ache.

“Got it!” Aether shouted, scrambling to run at Heizou’s side. Together, they matched their pace,
racing through the fortress. Aether could only think of his friends and family. Lumine, wherever
she was. Kazuha and Razor . . . He hoped that they were safe.

A crow soared above their head.

Aether glanced upwards, recognizing it to be Kazuha’s. He could distinguish it by the small maple
leaf charm Kazuha had attached to its foot. Hope blossomed inside of him. Was Kazuha sending a
message? Maybe they could all recuperate and meet up somewhere!

“CAW! DECEASED!”

Aether’s heart fell into his stomach.

“KAEDEHARA KAZUHA IS DEAD!”

“HE FOUGHT UPPER RANK TWO AND DIED!”

From beside him, Heizou froze, his steps faltering briefly. His eyes had widened, filled with both
horror and shock. Aether was more or less the same—perhaps even worse.

The crow above them was crying, tears brewing within its eyes as it flew unsteadily off, no doubt
to relay the news to the other slayers trapped within this hellish fortress.

“Your sister uses flower breathing, but you use wind breathing. Aether, when the time comes, I’d
like for you to eventually take my place as the wind hashira.” Kazuha smiled warmly towards him,
resting a hand atop Aether’s. “I know that you can do it. You will make a fine swordsman, and an
even more brilliant hashira than I am.”

Tears brewed within Aether’s eyes, his throat beginning to close up. He was choked by emotion,
his surroundings starting to blur. He nearly tripped over his own two feet. Nothing was making
sense to him right now. Kazuha was dead?

His mentor . . . Had died?

“No matter what, I promise to protect you and your sisters.” Kazuha blinked, beaming towards
him. “Not just as a hashira, not just as your mentor, but as someone who genuinely cares for all of
you. I am honored that you all chose to rely on me, and I’m happy that I found the three of you that
day in the snow. I’m glad I made the choice that I did. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting
his head, Kazuha smiled at him.

A sob slipped past Aether’s lips, and he cried with despair, wiping frantically at his face. The tears
spilled freely down his cheeks, dripping onto his hands and the floor below.

“Pull yourself together,” Heizou snapped, gripping tightly onto his shoulder. Aether startled,
looking towards him, and the hashira met his gaze evenly. “There isn’t time to grieve right now,”
Heizou reminded him. “Focus on the fight first, do you understand? The sun isn’t even close to
rising just yet.”

Swallowing back his pain, Aether nodded.

Razor . . . Lumine . . .

Don’t you dare die, too!

Lumine glared towards Scaramouche, who smiled down at her, brandishing his scythe in a
dramatic flourish. “What is your name?” He inquired, tilting his head to the side.

Gripping her sword tightly, Lumine stared at the Upper Moon with unbridled hatred. She didn’t
bother disguising her blatant disgust, curling her lip towards the demon. Such a foul creature
shouldn’t be permitted to exist.

“I am Lumine Ying. Aether Ying, Paimon Ying, and Kaedehara Kazuha’s sister.” She gritted her
teeth, resisting the urge to immediately attack Scaramouche from where he stood. She wanted to rip
the bastard apart.

“Huh? Kazuha’s sister?” Scaramouche’s brow raised, and he had the audacity to seem surprised.
“You two don’t look much alike, and judging from the scent of both of your blood, it doesn’t seem
similar . . . What, are you telling me he adopted you, or something?” He snickered mockingly,
shaking his head. “Of course. I should have known Kazuha would be the type to take in a litter of
runts, and look where that got him.”

Lumine listened in fuming silence, her blood beginning to boil. This evil thing had no idea what it
was talking about. She would allow it to spill its taunts and jabs; she wasn’t going to fall for its
obvious temptation. It was trying to goad her into making a first move.

“His kindness was a weakness. He wasn’t particularly strong to begin with, although I can admit he
was fast. What a unique pillar he was, don’t you agree?” Scaramouche smirked towards her, his
lips curving upwards into an expression of pure smugness. “Ah, but kind people like him tend to
suffer the most. That’s why I killed him!”

“It’s a shame it had to end this way, however. I really did like him. He was beautiful, and his voice
was incredibly pleasant. I don’t think anyone has quite caught my attention like he did.” Resting a
hand on his chest, Scaramouche heaved a long, saddened sigh.

“I can admit that I do feel quite remorseful,” he murmured. “Such a pure, innocent soul . . .”

“That’s enough.” Lumine spoke, cutting Scaramouche off. “You can stop spouting your lies.” She
regarded him with repulsion.

“What?” Scaramouche frowned.

“I know that every word coming from your mouth is a thoughtless lie. You’re not sad, nor are you
guilty. Not even a little. Right?” She cocked her head to the side, her hair brushing into her cold
golden eyes. They were like chips of steel, analyzing Scaramouche with nothing but crisp anger.
There was no light there, just empty pupils brewing with deep, pure hatred.

“Your pallor hasn’t changed at all, even though you’re oh so remorseful. Though you’re a demon,
your blood still circulates the same as a human. You can pale, or flush with anger or shame, and
yet you do neither.” Lumine sneered, looking down upon Scaramouche.

“Shortly before his death, Kazuha spoke with me,” she said. “He told me he felt sorry for you. Do
you know why? It’s because you don’t feel anything. You’re nothing but a husk. An empty shell.
There is nothing but a blank space where your heart should be. Does it bother you? Is that why you
kill? Is it why you became a demon? Do you steal others’ hearts in an attempt to find your own?”

Lumine pointed her sword towards Scaramouche, scoffing with contempt. “People born into this
world can feel joy. Sadness, anger, and other emotions so intense that it makes them shake.” She
recalled her own happiest moments, watching fireworks with her loved ones.

“But that’s all a mystery to you, right?” Her lips twitched into a conniving smirk. “And yet you’re
smart enough to make up for it by lying. You can only pretend to be happy, or to have fun, or to
feel sad, so you won’t have to reveal your empty heart. Enjoying happy things, fun things, facing
difficult situations and painful moments, it means nothing to you, because you experience none of
it.”

“In actuality, you’re no better than a doll masquerading as a man. You are no human, but you’re no
demon, either. Just a shell.”

Lumine’s shoulders shook as she began to laugh. “Heh . . . What a ridiculous joke.”

Looking up, she met Scaramouche’s gaze, offering him a cold grin. Her eyes were blank and
devoid, her expression filled with nothing but the purest form of malice. If he weren’t an Upper
Moon, and if he were a different person, Scaramouche might have felt frightened.

“Why were you even born?”

Scaramouche’s hands clenched into fists around his scythe, his face darkening. A shadow fell over
his features, and he scoffed. “You know, I’ve spoken to a lot of people throughout the years,” he
said. “And yet this is the first time I’ve talked to anyone as unkind as myself. Why must you say
such spiteful things?” Scaramouche scowled at her.

Lumine paused, her eyes widening briefly. Her sword seemed to thrum within her grip, and her
gaze soon narrowed into deadly slits. A menacing aura had begun to overtake the room. Shadows
practically danced around the girl as she regarded Scaramouche, fixing him with an expression of
utmost loathing.

“Don’t you know?” She sneered. “It’s because I hate you. I want to cut off your head and send you
to hell as quickly as possible. Let me rephrase that, since you don’t seem all too smart.” She tilted
her head, smiling in a sweet gesture laced with the strongest venom. All light had died within her
eyes, if there was any to begin with, and had vanished entirely from the room.

“You absolutely disgust me, and the sooner you die, the better. Do you know why? Because
there’s simply no point in a repulsive creature like you living.”

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Scaramouche came hurtling towards her, and Lumine scarcely had any time to react. She just
barely managed to dodge his scythe as it barreled towards her head. If she hadn’t moved in time,
she’d have been killed instantly. And yet, she wasn’t even afraid.

As she ducked, she twisted, slashing her sword across Scaramouche’s side. A gash was torn clean
through his flesh, blood splattering to the ground in a brilliant arc. Fuming with annoyance,
Scaramouche struck at her again, although Lumine dodged the blow effortlessly, flipping herself
away.

Landing nimbly onto the ground, she stared towards Scaramouche, who watched her closely, his
expression entirely unreadable.

This girl . . . Really is Kazuha’s apprentice, he thought to himself. While she doesn’t use his
breathing style, I can recognize some of his fighting techniques in her movement. He must have
trained her well for her to survive this long.

Licking a trail of blood from his mouth, Scaramouche glanced down at his side. His intestines were
leaking out thanks to Lumine’s slash, though they would fix themselves in moments due to his
regenerative abilities. It was honestly a miracle that the girl had even managed to injure him so
much in such a short time.

Hmm . . . Not only that, but she’s reacting faster. With each attack, I released some of my smoke as
well. She didn’t notice it, and yet she didn’t inhale it, either. Even if Kazuha had signed with his
hand for her not to breathe, it would be extremely difficult not to. Especially when engaging in
close combat with me. This girl . . .

She might be just a little stronger than Kazuha.

It made him want to laugh.

Humans . . . They truly were naïve creatures. Kazuha had done his best, despite it all being in vain,
and now here was his successor, following directly within his footsteps. Lumine was bound to die
here, as well. There was no way she’d be able to defeat him by herself, not without her mentor’s
assistance.

And he was dead.

 While she hadn’t been entirely wrong about her comments, they still left a foul taste within
Scaramouche’s mouth. Kazuha’s anger must have bled into Lumine, because she regarded him
with nothing but utmost disgust. She truly despised him, and such a strong emotion had to be a bit
admirable.

He wondered what Kazuha would think, if he was still alive. Would he try to shield his sister?
Protect her, somehow? Or maybe he had prepared himself for this fight long ago. Maybe he knew
that one day, both he and his tsuguko would face off against Scaramouche.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

The battle was only just beginning.

Chapter End Notes

So…. How are we feeling?

Two more chapters left, guys the story isn’t over yet, so just
stick with me!! ❤️

I’m going on vacation so chapters might take a few days to release but don’t worry,
they’ll come soon!

P.S: I did include a BSD wan reference last chapter, and I also included a BSD
reference for this chapter too ☺️

Anyways I apologize in advance if this chapter was… dark. I’ll pay for any therapy.
 Vengeance
Chapter Notes

the battle continues…

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In front of an Upper Moon . . .

The goosebumps just won’t stop.

If I don’t put strength into even the tips of my fingers, my body will immediately start shaking.

Compared to this guy, all the demons I’ve defeated until now were like babies. The only reason I’m
even able to stand right now is because of this fierce anger. It’s so strong it feels like it’s burning
my body.

Lumine glared towards Scaramouche, who stared back with a malicious smile. His fangs protruded
past his mouth, glistening within the room’s dim lighting. That scythe of his was brandished within
one pale hand, the blade gleaming menacingly. No wonder Kazuha had fallen to this monster. No
wonder the Conqueror of Demons had lost, as well. Scaramouche was something else entirely.

The back of my throat is boiling. I feel so uncomfortable that I want to scream. Lumine grit her
teeth so hard they ached, digging her nails fiercely into the hilt of her sword. It was an attempt to
keep her grounded, to prevent herself from spiraling, but it was entirely futile.

If I don’t go on a rampage, my own body might rip itself to shreds. I actually feel dizzy for the first
time in my life. This anger that surges through me constantly—so this is what hatred really feels
like.

Disgusting.

Disgusting!

How dare you kill my family?!

Lumine’s expression darkened into one of rage, and in a flash, she had launched herself from the
bridge she stood upon. While her surroundings were deceptively beautiful, they could do nothing
to hide the brutal massacre that had taken place here. The dead bodies she stumbled across—piles
upon piles of them—and of course the murder of her brother, it all filled her with a steadily
mounting rage.

Crystal clear water drifted sluggishly underneath the bridges and platforms scattered throughout
the room. Lily pads floated across the blue waves, but they were all sent flying thanks to the force
of Lumine’s oncoming attack, water splashing wildly in their wake.

“Breath of Flower, Fifth Form: Peony of Futility!”

Tendrils of pink and white wisps emerged from the tip of Lumine’s sword, following her blade as
she struck. Cherry blossoms and the petals of white flowers even floated throughout the air,
generated from the strength of her blows. Nine straight slashes, sent straight towards Scaramouche,
who blocked them all with his scythe, smiling maniacally all the while.

“Seven, eight, nine consecutive attacks,” he commented idly, as if they were discussing something
as simple as the weather. “They’re easy on the eyes. How nice. But now it’s my turn.” It was the
only warning Lumine received before that scythe of his was hurtling directly towards her face, at
almost unimaginable speeds. For a moment, time seemed to slow down, her mind blanking.

“Flower Breathing, Second Form: Plum Spirit!”

Lumine managed to block every single strike Scaramouche sent towards her, and he watched with
fascination as she moved, twisting and turning nimbly. She acted with both grace and precision,
calculating every single step and slight gesture. As he studied her closer, he came to a stunning
realization.

Oh, I see. It’s her eyes. She has special eyes. The only reason she endured my attack just now is
because she barely warded off the blows. My shoulders, gaze, toes, elbows, and knees . . . She’s
predicting my next move by attentively looking at my faintest movements. Not only is she smart, but
she’s also not just your average swordswoman.

So let’s just gouge those ‘special’ eyes out.

Shit! Lumine thought, her eyes stretching wide with alarm. Within the span of less than a second,
Scaramouche’s scythe had come barreling towards her face. The blade had targeted her eyes
specifically; if she hadn’t ducked in time, they would have been ripped clean from their sockets.
Sweat dripped down her temple, both from adrenaline and fear. The mixture caused her pulse to
skitter all over the place, jumping up-and-down.

He knows my vision is my strongest trait, she thought, her stomach lurching. I need to be more
careful from now on! If she let Scaramouche land even one hit, it would be over. She suspected that
was what ended her mentor. It filled her blood with a simmering rage to know that Scaramouche
was trying to end her the same way he’d done with Kazuha.

“Flower Breathing, Sixth Form: Swirling Peach!”

Evading Scaramouche’s scythe swinging towards her, Lumine spun around, moving with the
weight of her body to deliver her attack. Her blade swung towards the demon’s neck, coming so
tantalizingly close, until Scaramouche swatted her away effortlessly.

She stared up at him as he smiled tauntingly down at her, clearly oozing with confidence. “That’s
quite a well trained body you have there!” He commented with faux kindness. “How hard did you
have to work for that? It’ll be a shame when I rip you to shreds. All that effort, dripping right down
the drain!”

“Blood Demon Technique: Omnipotent God!”

Move! Move! Lumine’s mind screamed. She flipped, jumping backwards just in time. Underneath
her feet, plumes of deadly smoke lurked, the crackles of lightning simmering deep within. If she
hadn’t dodged, she would have surely been not only incinerated, but knocked down by that
wretched poison. It was too close — far too close for comfort.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you?” Scaramouche grinned towards her, flicking two lightning
bolts from the palms of his hands. They formed the shapes of sickles, and came hurtling directly
towards her head. Lumine had to duck and weave to avoid them, her brow creased with
concentration.

With a gasp, she realized that the sickles hurtled back towards her no matter how many times she
evaded them. In her flustered and overwhelmed panic, she lost her footing, slipping from the bridge
she stood upon and crashing into the water below. It was freezing cold, shocking her nerves and
awakening her to the reality of the situation.

What should I do? What should I do? Lumine wondered, her brain scrambling to think of a
solution. She couldn’t strike the sickles with her blade, lest she wanted to be swiftly electrocuted.
But they were coming towards her again, and likely wouldn’t stop until they had finally made
contact with something. Her heart began to sink, a sense of hopelessness beginning to creep in on
her.

Kazuha’s face appeared within her mind, staring sternly down at her. Whenever she’d grow too
lazy or tired to continue training, he would always lecture her, lifting her back onto her feet and
ordering her to continue. At the time, she’d thought of him as too strict and harsh, but now she
knew he’d only been preparing her for the real world, and the battles she would have to eventually
face.

She — they — had come too far to just surrender now. If she died here, she would disgrace not just
herself, but her family as well. And Lumine refused to give Scaramouche the satisfaction of killing
her.

Jumping to her feet, she darted out of the water, leaping through the air right as the sickles closed
in on her. They embedded themselves into the wall behind her head instead, burning the wood and
leaving a deep gouge within the surface. She tried not to think about the fact that it could have been
her body instead, being split clean in half.

Scaramouche watched her with a jaded expression. If he was impressed by her problem solving and
quick thinking, he didn’t show it. He simply advanced, throwing his arms out with a conniving
smile. “Alright then,” he drawled. “Time for the next one!”

Next one . . . ? He’s still not done with his attacks? Lumine wondered, her chest tightening. No; it’s
fine. I can endure it all!

“Blood Demon Art: The Wrath of Eternity!”

The reek of burning electricity quickly enveloped the air. Lumine was forced to fling herself back,
practically crashing onto a platform far away from Scaramouche. All around him, powerful bursts
of purple electro energy erupted, charring anything and everything amidst its path. The platforms
and bridges within Scaramouche’s range burned and simmered into nothing but ash. It could have
easily been Lumine’s body.

Covering her mouth, Lumine did her best not to inhale too sharply, remembering the advice her
mentor had given her. It was his last words, and she wouldn’t let the message go to waste. If she
breathed too much of the toxins from Scaramouche’s smoke, there was no telling what would
happen. It wasn’t as if she wanted to test her luck and find out.

That was a very wide range attack. I couldn’t get too close, or else I’d have been caught in the
midst and killed. Lumine clenched her jaw. And I still can’t get near him. It’s too risky. But if I
can’t approach him, I can’t cut his head off!

“Blood Demon Art: The Meaning of Aeons!”

Lumine’s eyes widened with horror. All across her body, chills erupted in full force, the hair upon
her arms and neck standing up rather abruptly. Her skin felt cold to the bone, and on instinct, she
jerked her head upwards, her mouth parting into a soft gasp.

I have to move! He’s going to kill me!

Directly above her loomed six mechanical hands, each armed with a dark purple sword that frothed
with boiling electric energy. They slashed in sync towards her, and with a newfound sense of pure
terror, Lumine dove away, crashing unceremoniously onto a nearby platform. Her heart was
hammering wildly within her chest, aghast with fear.

The blades landed into the ground, right where she had just been, and left her feeling rather ill. A
constant surge of such powerful attacks . . . And a demon’s stamina would never waver.
Scaramouche could undoubtedly keep this up all night, but could she? Just how much more could
she endure?

“Hey, you know you’re moving farther and farther away, right?” Scaramouche called out to her,
covering his mouth with a hand rather smugly. “If you want my head so bad, then you have to get
close.” He grinned mockingly, and Lumine’s blood boiled with a dark rage.

Scaramouche suddenly shifted, and Lumine watched the Upper Moon closely, her vision straining
to keep up with his movements. He was so fast, even she struggled to match him.

He’s goi—

!!

For a moment, the world blanked. Her surroundings faded, ebbing into nothing but a plethora of
blurs and white noise. As her ears rang painfully, she stared down at her hands, where her sword
had only just been.

Except now it was gone.

Lumine’s heart had plummeted, sinking deep into the floor below. This was worse than that feeling
of dread and uncertainty she’d experienced earlier. Now, she was blinded by pure and unfiltered
panic. Without her sword, she wouldn’t be able to fight. And if that demon had it, the chances of
getting it back were slim to none. She felt nauseous.

There wasn’t a proper word to describe what she was feeling at the moment. Frightened, angry,
horrified, stricken, shocked and ashamed of herself, it was a mix of everything and anything. She
couldn’t believe that she’d just allowed this atrocity to happen.

“See that?” Scaramouche straightened up, dangling Lumine’s sword within his hand. He swung it
from side to side teasingly, chuckling faintly. “You weren’t holding this tight enough, so I took it.”
He lowered it from his hand, plunging it into the ground at his feet. “I’ll just stick it here,” he said
casually. “If you want it back, come and get it.”

Scaramouche grinned menacingly towards Lumine, the purple hue of his eyes seeming to glow
with a renewed intensity. He was directly challenging her, and if she wanted to stand a chance
against him, she’d have no choice other than to accept his blatant taunts. She needed to get her
sword back, or else it was only a matter of time before she—

“Blood Demon Art: Tears of the Calamitous God!”

What looked to be hundreds of tiny blades in the shape of teardrops hurtled towards Lumine, who
stared towards them with horror. She could feel her heart hammering within her chest, echoing
within her ears. Thump, thump, thump. She counted the unsteady beats as she thought of what to
do.

A lot of swords? Or one of his demon techniques? Look closely. Look closely and then decide. Her
eyes strained against her head, widening as she tried to assess the oncoming attack.

Look through it all, as precise as I can. I have to look for the minimal areas and find where the
damage can be kept to a minimum. I have to—!

Her cheeks, face, arms and legs were already being cut, gashes and slashes appearing across her
pale flesh. So far, she sustained no lethal wounds, but it was only a matter of time before she
slipped up, or Scaramouche took this seriously and attacked her with everything he had. Then, it
would be over.

I can’t let it be over!

A cracking sound disrupted Lumine’s thoughts, distracting her. At first, she wondered if this was
another one of Scaramouche’s many attacks. But when she noticed his confusion, spotting the
baffled expression upon his face, she quickly realized that wasn’t the case. So then what could it
be?

For the second time, she looked upwards sharply, only this time Scaramouche did as well. During
this one special occurrence, both her and the Upper Moon were in total harmony. Neither of them
knew what was happening, and both of them were on-guard.

Above their heads, the ceiling was cracking. It split apart and broke with a loud crash, and
moments later, a familiar figure plummeted towards the ground, landing neatly. Lumine’s heart
soared, and she could do nothing but stare in a stunned silence.

“Breath of The Beast, Fifth Fang: Mad Cleave!”

Razor immediately dove into battle, brandishing the two jagged swords he used to fight with and
rescuing Lumine from Scaramouche’s attack. The girl could feel her chest swelling, with an
emotion she distantly registered as relief. Her friend . . . He was here! Things didn’t seem as dire,
no, not anymore!

“The crows were right!” Razor exclaimed. “Led Razor to the strongest Upper Moon, and to
Lupical!” He glanced towards Lumine, sending her a bright smile, and though she couldn’t smile
back, she did feel much better.

She wasn’t alone any longer.

Razor squinted towards Scaramouche, who stared calmly back at him, as if he were analyzing the
boy. “Hm . . .” Razor murmured contemplatively, as if he were thinking long and hard. “Two . . .
Your eyes say Upper Two—so it is you! Your secret is finally out!”

Scaramouche snorted, tilting his head to the side. “Are you an idiot?” He sneered. “I don’t exactly
hide the fact that I’m Upper Two.”

“If I defeat you, I become hashira!” Razor exclaimed. “They’ll call Razor beast hashira. No, wolf
hashira!” He turned towards Lumine, blinking with wide eyes. “Which does Lumine think is
better?” He trailed off, his expression beginning to shift to concern.

Razor observed Lumine closely, realizing how haggard she looked. She was bleeding from various
cuts all over her body, and her eyes were devoid of their usual glow. Not to mention, her hair was a
disheveled mess, and her clothes were wet and torn in multiple places. To put it simply, she seemed
terrible.

“You . . . You all beaten up!” Razor mumbled, stricken. “What is Lumine doing?! If Lumine gets
injured, you’ll . . . you know . . . Aniki will get really mad at you! And when aniki is angry, he gets
really scary!” Razor shuddered just imagining it. Kazuha rarely ever broke his composure, but
when he did, he was truly a force to be reckoned with. Razor would never admit it aloud, but
Kazuha reminded him of a mother bear protecting her cubs.

Once, he had been injured during a mission, and Kazuha had gone nearly ballistic. He’d
slaughtered the demon they’d been up against within seconds, and in the same beat, had been
tending to Razor’s wounds with genuine and heartfelt worry. He’d even carried the boy all the way
back to the infirmary, even though Razor’s injuries hadn’t even been that serious to begin with.

His thoughts trailed to a halt when he noticed Lumine staring back at him silently. She wasn’t
saying anything. Not a single thing. Razor wondered why she was so silent, until he saw the look
she was giving him.

It was of raw and unfiltered pain.

Her eyes practically swam, brewing with unshed tears. He could see her lower lip trembling, though
she bit down on it to keep from crying. That was all it took for the world to blank, darkening
around Razor.

“Is Kazuha . . .”

“Dead?”

“Of course not!” Scaramouche called out, smiling with false sweetness. He extended his arms, his
scythe dangling within one hand. “He’s not dead. He lives forever inside of me. All the people I eat
are that way. I save them. They’re no longer in pain. They no longer suffer. They become a part of
me and find eternity.” He chuckled, his lips curling up into a grin sharper than any possible blade.

From beside him, Lumine’s shoulders hunched. She shook like a leaf caught within a brutal storm,
staring with watery eyes at her feet. Razor stood quietly next to her, Scaramouche’s words oozing
into his mind.

“I stitched up the wound . . .” Kazuha tied a bandage around Razor’s hand, his movements tender.
“So don’t touch it, and don’t pull the thread out on your own.” His hands were soft and strangely
gentle; almost familiar, in an odd way.

Lifting his good hand, Razor hooked his pinky with Kazuha’s smaller one. “Pinky promise,” the
wind hashira told him, sending him a gentle smile as Razor begrudgingly repeated the words.

“Pinky promise.”

Darkness swirled around Razor’s vision before his blood began to boil, his veins flooding with a
fiery hot rage. He grit his teeth so hard they ached, glaring over his shoulder. All around him, a
fierce battle aura oozed out, and Scaramouche watched with contempt, a small smile resting upon
his lips. It was so amusing to watch others’ anger.

“I’m gonna chew you up, you scum!”

Razor launched himself towards Scaramouche, using enough force to break the ground he’d been
standing upon. As he attacked, Lumine called frantically after him.

“Don’t breathe the toxic smoke he spreads!”

“Beast Breathing, Fourth Fang: Slice-n-Dice!”

Razor attacked Scaramouche with a flurry of frenzied blows, but the Upper Moon simply laughed,
effortlessly blocking them all with his scythe. “Ha! What a sloppy technique, with those chipped
swords and your strange swordsmanship!” He snickered, ducking as Razor slashed one of his
swords towards his head. “Did Kazuha mentor you too, now? You all were together when you
showed up at my cult, so I’m assuming he did! How hilarious!”

Faster than the blink of an eye, Scaramouche lunged, his scythe barreling towards Razor’s neck.
He managed to dive downwards just in time, lashing out and kicking Scaramouche away with a
particularly harsh blow. The Upper Moon skidded backwards, observing Razor with a newfound
sense of intrigue.

“Hmm. You’re both strong and flexible. Interesting. That fur coat you wear belongs to a wolf,
doesn’t it?” Scaramouche examined Razor with skeptical eyes, his gaze narrowing. “I’ve never
seen anyone wearing a wolf before, let alone a demon slayer like you.”

“Is this yours?” Razor ignored Scaramouche, landing beside Lumine, who had been watching the
exchange with wide eyes. She hadn’t even noticed Razor stealing her sword back; he had moved
too quickly even for her. He offered her sword back, gripping it tightly within one hand. She was
thoroughly impressed by both his strength and speed.

Accepting her sword back, Lumine swallowed past the lump that had formed within her throat. “Y
. . . Yeah. Thanks,” she managed to choke out. Scaramouche stared at the two of them, analyzing
their movements attentively. They seemed close. It was always harder to fight demon slayers that
had already established a strong bond.

“Don’t let him take it again.” Razor turned away, just as Scaramouche launched himself towards
them with a wicked smile. He sent bursts of lightning hurtling towards them, leaving the two
slayers no choice other than to dodge, lest they wanted to be burned alive.

“You’re quick,” he told Razor. “I didn’t even notice you stealing the brat’s blade back.”

Razor didn’t grace him with a response. Instead, he clashed his blade against Scaramouche’s
scythe, and the two engaged in a fierce battle. The sounds of metal clinking together echoed
throughout the room, ringing hauntingly throughout Lumine’s ears. The intense duel was brought
to a head when Razor’s foot pierced Scaramouche’s stomach and ribs, sending him flying
backwards by quite a few steps.

The demon skidded across the ground, watching as Razor stared silently towards him. “Not bad,”
he commented. “But nothing extra exceptional. If a hashira couldn’t sever my head, what makes
you think you could?”

Hm? What? He’s swinging his sword? Scaramouche watched as Razor drew his arm back, blinking
with puzzlement. What an idiot. He’s out of range! I’m too far away. How does he possibly hope to
hit me? Snickering with amusement, Scaramouche scowled, but the gesture was quickly wiped off
of his face when Razor flung his arm swiftly forward.

What the hell?! Clutching his head, Scaramouche stifled a curse as blood flooded his vision. The
little bastard had actually managed to land a blow! He’d slashed both of Scaramouche’s eyes,
rendering him temporarily blind. As his shock faded and his wounds quickly healed, he choked on
a laugh. What an absolute fucking freak show.

“Beast Breathing, Ninth Fang: Extending Bendy Slash!” Razor breathed, revealing his arm, which
was now twisted at an unusual angle.

Huh?! Did he dislocate all the joints within his arm?! What’s he possibly going to do next?
Lumine wondered with both shock and alarm. She stared towards her friend with blatant surprise,
watching as Razor snapped all of his dislocated joints back into place.

“Ugh . . .” Razor scowled, flexing his sore shoulders. “The precision of Razor’s new technique still
isn’t good. I was aiming for your neck but missed.” He scoffed, glaring venomously towards
Scaramouche, while Lumine fixed him with an incredulous gaze.

Huh? No way . . . No way . . . ! He made up a new technique on the spot?! Just now?! And it
involved dislocating all of his joints, too! He’s gone crazy!

“Ha!” Scaramouche chuckled, eyeing the kids with amusement. “So the insane one can
immediately reset his joints, huh? But doesn’t that hurt?” He cooed mockingly.

“Ah, my. Everything about you is just so sloppy. You’re quite a gruesome sight to my eyes.” He
trailed a finger across his eyes, which were now fully healed. “I’ve been alive for a really long
time, and yet I’ve never seen a kid like you. You make me wish I could go blind again, just so I
don’t have to see you.”

“Heh.” Razor spat vehemently towards Scaramouche. “I can gladly gouge your eyes out for you,
bastard!” He shouted furiously. “Just come over here, you goddamn son of a bitch . . . !”

Lumine had never heard Razor talk in such a way. He was usually always quite calm and
complacent, soft-spoken and gentle, though he had his moments of wildness. Nothing like this,
however. Now, she could tell that he was truly angry. She could see it in the way his veins
throbbed, and in how he held tightly onto his swords, practically seething.

“As you wish.”

Scaramouche plunged forward, and in a panic, Lumine screamed Razor’s name. Luckily, he wasn’t
hurt. Scaramouche left them both unharmed, standing with his back turned to them, but in his arms
he held a familiar wolf coat, examining it closely.

“Hmm . . . This sure has been through a lot,” he commented. “Although it maintains a relatively
good shape. How’d you do it?”

“You . . . Give that back!” Razor yelled, seething with fury. He went to dive forward, but Lumine
stopped him, gripping tightly onto his shoulder. It was surely just a trap.

“Now that I think about it . . .” Scaramouche glanced up, regarding Razor once again. “Your
ugliness is familiar. I feel like I can remember your face from somewhere . . .”

“Have we met before?”

“I don’t remember meeting a maggot like you before!” Razor shouted. “Don’t touch my fur with
your filthy hands!” He practically snarled, straining against Lumine’s hold.

“No, we have. I know you.” Scaramouche raised a finger, wiggling it around knowingly.
“And I’m telling you we haven’t! You shit-face!” Razor screamed, and Lumine frowned, watching
Scaramouche with reserved, hateful eyes.

The only person I’ve met before is Kazuha. Razor pictured his mentor’s face within his mind,
surrounded by a backdrop of fluttering maple leaves. Kazuha . . . I know I’ve met him before. I
can’t shake the feeling. He imagined Kazuha smiling towards him, waving him closer.

I wanted to ask him about it the next time we met. But I never got the chance. Razor clenched his
jaw, gritting his teeth until they ached.

“Razor, calm down,” Lumine advised. “He’s just spouting random nonsense.” She glared towards
Scaramouche, who simply smiled.

“Random? Oh, that’s surprising. My only saving grace is being serious!” He chided. “Besides, I
have a good memory. I can remember when I was a human, when I was first turned, and mostly
everything after that. Sometimes, I just need to jostle my memory.”

Scaramouche plunged his finger into the side of his head, and Razor flinched, wrinkling his nose
with disgust. “What are you doing?!” He snapped. “Ew!” He watched in furious repulsion
alongside Lumine, who regarded Scaramouche with unrestrained loathing.

“Hmm . . .” Scaramouche hummed to himself, even as his vision flooded with blood. “Fifteen years
ago,” he went on. “That’s pretty recent, isn’t it?” He tilted his head, pulling his bloodstained finger
out of his own flesh with absolutely zero effort; he didn’t even flinch at the damage he’d caused.

“Back then, there was a woman carrying a baby. She looked to be quite young. Maybe in her early
twenties. Her family didn’t treat her right. She had been married off to the highest bidder with no
hope of escape. Her husband punched her every day, and her mother-in-law bullied her daily as
well.”

“She longed for something more. See, despite how she was treated, this was a very intelligent
woman. She wanted to find a place where her intelligence would be embraced and welcomed, not
discarded or abused. Once she had a son, even though it was against her will, she loved that child
dearly. She ran from her abusive home in search of a better life for herself and her kid.”

“And as such, my Eternal Paradise cult took her in. She had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to be
safe. When I first met her, it was bad. Her face was swollen so terribly that I couldn’t tell what the
original shape had been. It was rough to watch, even for me.”

“But, when I touched her face, her wounds healed instantly. She was rather beautiful, although the
repeated beatings had left her partially blind. It would be incredibly hard for me to ever forget such
a brilliant woman.”

“Anyways, she had the same face as you.” Scaramouche pointed towards Razor, who stared
unblinking back at him. “You lack her prettiness, but there’s no doubt about it. She was more
delicate and soft, but the same features are there. She was your mother, wasn’t she? There’s no
mistake about that.”

“I have no mother!” Razor snapped. “Razor was raised by the wolves! Razor is a wolf! That story
has nothing to do with Razor!”

“You’re no wolf.” Scaramouche snorted. “Just look at you. You have no fur, and pale skin. You
lack a wolf’s ears and tail. And you’re saying that a wolf gave birth to you? Don’t spout such
nonsense. It’s pathetic. You’re clearly a person, you goddamned idiot.”
Razor’s gaze flashed with anger. He launched himself forward, breaking free from Lumine’s grip
and growling furiously. “Zip it already, you stupid piece of trash! Give me back my fur!” He
snarled. Scaramouche peered up at him calmly, while Lumine gasped, reaching desperately out for
Razor.

“Breath of the Beast, Sixth Fang!”

“Hey, now, you impatient brat.” Scaramouche’s lip curled into a sneer. “Mind your manners and
listen until the end. This encounter is nothing short of a miracle.” He slashed his scythe upwards,
cutting two long gashes in the form of an ‘x’ across Razor’s chest. Blood soared through the air,
and Lumine screamed with both fear and anger.

She dove forward, shielding Razor from any further strikes. Deflecting the blows with her sword,
she grabbed onto her friend, hauling him to safety. Together they landed within the shallow water
surrounding the bridges, and Lumine turned to face him worriedly. Luckily, his wounds didn’t look
too serious.

“Are you okay?” She asked breathlessly. “Please calm down. You’re being reckless!”

“So, about your mother.” Scaramouche flicked blood from the tip of his scythe, sighing heavily. “I
had no intention of killing or eating her. Contrary to popular belief, I’m no mindless murderer. I
was content to let her live peacefully within my cult. While she was intelligent, she did lack
common sense, which was quite unfortunate. At least she was good at one thing. She liked to
sing.”

Scaramouche waved a hand through the air, rolling his eyes. “She’d sing at any hour, carrying you
around in her arms. For some reason, it was always that pinky promise lullaby. ‘Pinky promise,
pinky promise.’ That was all she ever sang to you. It was practically engraved into my damn
mind.”

Razor’s eyes widened, blood dripping down his chest, and droplets of water trailing down his face.
A distant voice called out to him, light and melodic. It flooded his aching ears.

“Pinky promise, pinky promise.”

“I will protect you, I promise that.”

“Until you get big and strong, your mommy will protect you all by herself.”

“I’m sorry, Razor. You may be feeling lonely now, but your mother is doing her very best to fill
your father’s shoes and protect you. Lives can be replaced, but Razor, your mother . . .”

“Will always protect you.”

The blurry memories that had lingered within his mind suddenly became clear, and a face appeared
within his vision, smiling towards him. A woman. She had long, silky brown hair tied back into a
braid, and the kindest green eyes he had ever seen. Her hand extended towards him, caressing his
face, and he knew who she was at once.

“Every time she sang that pinky promise song, the lyrics were different. At some point it became a
tanuki village song. It was cute.” Scaramouche mused to himself, sighing softly, but Razor was
ignoring him, now.

It wasn’t Kazuha.
I thought it was him, but it wasn’t.

“Anyways, like I said, I wasn’t going to eat her. I purely planned on having her roam the estate,
and do as she pleased with you. She could read books and research to her heart’s content; she
always loved the library. She’d even read you stories. But your mother . . . Right, her name was
Lisa. Despite her being so foolish, she was unfortunately sharp.”

“She found out I was eating my worshippers. And despite all my explanations, she refused to
understand my benevolence. It was insult after insult, saying I was a horrible liar, blah blah blah.
Then she flew out of my temple with you tucked in her arms and ran away.”

Razor trembled, his breath hitching.

“I’m sorry, Razor. I’m sorry mommy’s so stupid.”

Lisa gasped, sweat dripping down her face as she ran. “I always make mistakes, and I always go
the wrong way. Sorry, I’m so sorry . . . I’m your mother. I needed to keep it together for you! And
yet . . .”

“Oh gods, I don’t know where the road is. I got lost! Where’s the human village? Oh no. Oh, I’m
sorry. I’m so sorry . . . !” Lisa fled further into the forest, clutching her child closer with grief.

Her path led her to a cliff. It was nothing but a dead end. “There’s no other place to run,” she
whispered. “The two of us are going to be killed. At the very least, Razor, you can . . .” Her voice
broke, and she cradled her baby boy even closer.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She brushed her hand
across Razor’s head, choking on her sobs.

Within that same moment, she was dropping her only child off the edge of the cliff, into the river
that roared below. As Razor fell, Scaramouche appeared behind Lisa, slicing her neck open in one
fluid movement. Blood soared through the air, and her body slumped, falling to the ground right as
Razor plummeted into the freezing water.

“I thought that there was no way she could have saved you by dropping you off of a cliff. I
assumed she was just as naïve as ever. I mean, to think you would have died because your mother
threw you off a cliff — how sorrowful, right? But I guess it worked out for you and her after all.
The wolf pack saved you, didn’t they? And they raised you.” Scaramouche laughed behind his
hand.

She . . . Got killed. My . . . Mother.

“I suppose she got what she wanted in the very end! You survived, and now she lives on for an
eternity within me. I ate her to the very bone! After all, if she went home, she’d get beaten by her
husband. And if she was by herself, both you and her would have ended up dead alongside the road
somewhere, since well, she was just so hopelessly pathetic.”

“Lisa was just so unfortunate. Was there ever a happy moment in her life? She had a pointless
existence.” Scaramouche smiled, dangling Razor’s fur coat within his hands.

“Shut the fuck up and cut it out already!” Lumine shouted furiously. “You sleaze bag!”

“You’re so cute, Razor! What tiny hands.” Soft laughter, like the chiming of gentle bells. Tender
hands brushed over his own, playing with his much smaller fingers. “You’re so warm, my
treasure.” A familiar figure hugged him close, nuzzling against him. “Being with you is bliss for
me.” Lisa smiled, kissing his forehead sweetly.

“It truly is a miracle meeting you here.” Razor’s hand clenched around the hilt of his swords, his
veins beginning to nearly pop.

“The demon who killed my brother and mother is right before my eyes!” He snarled, turning to
glare towards Scaramouche, who smiled back at him.

Razor’s eyes were straining, every muscle within his body tensed to spring. He couldn’t remember
feeling this angry in his life, not since his wolf pack had been killed. His teeth were gritted so hard,
he could hear them scrape against each other, his jaw clenching to the point of where it truly hurt.

“Allow me to thank you for letting me remember, but I won’t just cut your head off now!” Razor
spat. “I’ll show you what true hell is like!” He shouted, rising to brandish both of his swords in a
flourish. The whirling anger he felt wouldn’t be satisfied, not until he ended this Upper Moon’s
wretched life.

“You say you were raised by wolves. At first, the way you spoke testified to that. But now, your
language and grammar seem to have improved. Is it because you’re angry?” Scaramouche tilted
his head, twirling his scythe around within one hand. “Ah, and it also appears you’ve learned some
misconceptions. Poor, poor you,” he sneered.

“There is no heaven or hell in this world,” he spat. “Those places don’t exist! They’re nothing but
human fantasies — fairytales. And how do I know that? Because demons exist. Humans are
capable of being vile and cruel, and can turn into another monster entirely. They can lead insane,
wretched and evil lives. They can commit various atrocities, and receive no divine punishment for
them. If heaven and gods really existed, why have I not been struck down yet? Hm?”

Scaramouche laughed, the sound deranged and nearly unhinged. Lumine watched him carefully,
clutching her sword tightly and trying to swallow back her burning hatred.

“The weaklings within this world comfort themselves with the idea that those who trample over
them will one day face justice,” Scaramouche continued. “It’s what keeps their fragile little minds
sane. If the evil upon this earth can face retribution once they die, then their suffering must have
been worth it, right? They’re wrong. I can not die. Demons can not die. We will face no
punishment, no wrath from any of the so-called divine rulers.”

“We will never go to ‘hell.’ We will never pay. And even if we do manage to somehow die, we
will not suffer. We will simply cease to exist, and all our crimes shall fade with us.”

Scaramouche sent the kids a twisted grin. “Believe whatever you’d like, but I informed you of the
truth. The sky, the stars, the fate and heaven which you rely on, it’s all a gigantic hoax. A lie. And
you humans will fall for it every single time. How pitiful.”

Razor’s eye twitched, and from beside Lumine, he practically roared with anger.

“If there isn’t hell, then I’ll goddamn make one for you! Just shut the fuck up already! Don’t
you dare talk about my mother as if she was unhappy, you dimwit!” Razor launched himself
towards Scaramouche, who attacked him with thick, dark plumes of toxic smoke.

“Breath of the Beast, Tenth Fang: Circular Fangs!”

Razor swung his arms in a rapid succession of circular motions, and his swords managed to dispel
the smoke coming towards him. Scaramouche watched with mild intrigue, humming faintly. “What
a weird kid,” he muttered. If it was possible, he’d like to toy around with both of Kazuha’s tsuguko.
At least until he got bored. Then he’d kill them both, and consume them like he’d done to their
mentor. It would be a vicious cycle.

While he was distracted by Razor, Lumine attacked him from behind, swinging her sword towards
his neck. Scaramouche turned around just in time, meeting Lumine’s golden gaze. She locked eyes
with Kazuha’s murderer, a newfound fury overtaking her. Gritting her teeth, she felt her blade clash
against his scythe as he blocked her attack, stepping with grace to the side of her.

Scaramouche jerked away from the girl’s slashes, instead flipping backwards and darting away. He
left both Lumine and Razor where they were, beginning to move elsewhere, as if he were now
avoiding them.

“Get over here, dammit!” Razor shouted. “Are you scared?!” He taunted furiously.

“Sorry,” Scaramouche replied breezily, shrugging lightly. “I have better things to be doing right
now than this.” He could feel it deep within him. Something had changed.

All of the Upper Moons were connected, in some way. When one engaged in a fight, the others
could feel it. When one died, the others could feel that, as well. And, almost at once, Scaramouche
had felt both Signora and Childe’s presences disappear in a frighteningly short span of each other.
That could only mean one thing: they were dead.

If they were gone, that meant the demon slayers were actually gaining ground. He almost couldn’t
believe it. However, if he managed to ditch these two runts and join the main battlefield, it would
surely be an all-out massacre. With his power, and full potential, the corps wouldn’t stand a
chance.

“Here. You can entertain yourselves with this, I’m sure,” Scaramouche called out, flicking his
hand. “Blood Demon Art: Magatsu Mitake Narukami no Mikoto!” He muttered.

Out of seemingly thin air, two dolls that resembled Scaramouche appeared, tendrils of smoke
weaving around where they had generated from. Both Lumine and Razor watched in confusion as
the dolls advanced in strange synchronization, brandishing swords that looked to be made of fine
black material. It was only when they actually attacked that Lumine realized: this is bad.

“These clones share my techniques and power,” Scaramouche called out to them. “I’ll leave them
to you.” He was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t finish off the apprentices and consume them
himself, but duty was calling. Even though he wasn’t fond of the Tsaritsa, he had to obey her every
last order.

As Scaramouche headed towards the exit, Razor grit his teeth, blocking one of the doll’s slashes.
“Damn you,” he snarled. “Don’t run away!” He shouted, moving to pursue Scaramouche, but the
clones blocked his path, sending bursts of lightning towards him. Razor was forced to dodge,
which allowed Scaramouche an easy getaway.

They’re both unique fighters, the Upper Moon remarked to himself. While their techniques and
breathing styles are completely different, I can see in the way that they move: they’ve trained
together countless times before. When they attack me, I can see the ghost of Kazuha’s own slashes.
He really did raise them well. Not only that, he managed to warn the girl not to breathe my smoke,
and she told her friend, too. It saved them.

For a moment, Scaramouche envisioned Kazuha’s face. It wasn’t whilst they were fighting,
however, or one of his many looks of anger. It was when they took long walks together during the
evening, or when they talked together beside the pool of koi. The wind hashira had such a kind and
gentle smile, and when he spoke, flowers emerged rather than words. Scaramouche didn’t
understand what sensation filled him, then.

It was strange. His chest had begun to ache, and he was confused as to why he felt so off. He’d
slaughtered and eaten countless hashira before. What made Kazuha so different . . . ?

Shaking his head, Scaramouche advanced towards the doors, pausing beside them. Both Lumine
and Razor were still fighting and holding out strongly. He would likely have to up the ante if he
wanted to kill them.

We’re being held back! Lumine thought, her heart racing.

He’s going to escape! No . . . No!

We have to endure just a little longer.

We have to keep this guy here somehow.

Just a little longer!

She gritted her teeth as Scaramouche sent five more dolls towards them. As the clones ran towards
her, she attacked, slicing limbs and heads, and dodging as many blows as she could. Razor covered
her blind spots, preventing any blades from reaching her. Together, they worked in tandem, the
effects of Kazuha’s patient and insistent training.

Dammit, dammit! How is this even possible?! We’re losing ground against things that aren’t even
the real demon! I can’t get close! He’ll get away! I need to hurry up and get my revenge! Razor
thought, his blood boiling with rage.

“Ugh!” Razor screamed, going to dive for Scaramouche, when one of the dolls sliced at him,
cutting his arm. Blood sprayed throughout the air, and he flinched back, pain shooting in thick
streaks across his body. The agony and stress were catching up to him, rising into a crescendo
inside of him.

“Razor! Don’t panic!” Lumine shouted, moving to assist her friend as they fought. “Calm down!
Just a little longer! Hold out just a little bit longer!” She yelled encouragingly, slashing and cutting
at the swords that swung towards her head.

Just a little longer? Scaramouche’s brow furrowed with confusion. What the hell is she talking
about? Whatever. She doesn’t ever make sense, anyways. Besides, my clones will record
everything that occurs within this battle. Later on I’ll be able to analyze everything over again.

Turning away from the two tsuguko fighting for their lives, Scaramouche gripped tightly onto the
door handles, moving to tug them open, when something strange happened.

“Huh?” Scaramouche whispered.

Pain encompassed his every sense, and almost at once, his hands fell from the door, beginning to
turn into nothing but mush. He froze in horror, agony lighting his nerves on fire. Lifting a hand to
his face, he could feel his flesh sliding off in thick, heavy clumps.

“What the . . . ?” Scaramouche choked out. One of his eyeballs had come loose and was now
hanging from its socket, dangling uselessly. His vision was nothing but a discombobulated blur, his
surroundings beginning to glitch in-and-out of clarity.
Yes . . . Yes! Lumine thought, her heart soaring. She felt so happy, she could cry.

Throb.

Throb.

Throb.

Scaramouche collapsed onto the ground, choking on blood. Melting . . . He thought deliriously. My
insides are melting apart?!

But how?!

A face appeared within his mind.

Kazuha stared down at him, but it was with none of his usual expressions. This one was of pure,
unfiltered contempt. Those red eyes glowed mockingly as the hashira’s lips curled upwards into a
taunting smile, shadows dancing across his pale face, and it was then that the puzzle pieces fell
slowly into place.

You . . . You—!

“Never look down upon human emotion.” Kazuha’s voice seemed to echo within his ears, but that
was impossible. He was dead!

And yet . . . He’d done this.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Lumine.”

Kazuha sat with his apprentice, watching as her wide golden eyes stared towards him. This was a
conversation that he had been dreading for a while, but it needed to happen.

“If we encounter the Upper Rank Two demon who killed my friend and mentor, we will fight it
together.” Kazuha placed a hand against his chest, masking his expression.

“But the first condition is: I have to get eaten by the demon and die.”

Sweat broke out across Lumine’s forehead. Suddenly, her body felt all too hot. Her hands shook as
she leaned forward, lip quivering. “Why?” She blurted out. “If we fight it together, t-then I’m sure
that . . . We . . . We can win!”

“You need to throw away such soft thinking right here and now.” Kazuha’s voice was oddly firm
and stern, causing Lumine to jolt with surprise. “At the very least, and I am talking the bare
minimum, the power of an Upper Rank demon is equivalent to three hashira.” Kazuha dipped his
head, frowning.

His eyelids drooped slightly, and he seemed almost saddened as he spoke. “However, according to
information I’ve gathered, this demon is rather gluttonous when it comes to certain things. For
example, he has a strange fixation with me, and considers me ‘pretty.’ He will certainly consume
me. There is no doubt in my mind about that. He even promised it.” Kazuha looked up grimly.

Though Lumine had felt too warm before, now she was too cold. Chills broke out all across her
body, even though she was sweating. The room felt far too small; the walls were shrinking, closing
in on her. All she could think was one thing: no. No, no, no!
“At the present time, I have a high concentration of wisteria flower poison circulating through my
blood and internal organs, even down to the tips of my fingernails.” Kazuha examined his hands
distantly, speaking with a grave certainty.

“Then I’ll do it, too!” Lumine blurted out, not even giving herself a chance to think. Anything if it
meant her brother would be safe. Anything if it meant Kazuha could live another day. She would
give anything to swap their places, to save his life in exchange for hers. Squeezing her hands into
fists, Lumine prayed to the heavens, begging them to let it happen, to let her die so Kazuha could
live.

“It’s impossible, Lumine.” Although he was strict, Kazuha’s tone was gentle. He seemed to realize
she was panicking, unraveling at the seams. “For one thing, there isn’t enough time. It takes over a
year to reach this state. You must continuously take in the wisteria flower poison, over a prolonged
period.”

“Furthermore, I am the first to attempt this.” Kazuha closed his eyes, exhaling quietly. “I have no
idea what side effects will arise, or whether this will work on an Upper Rank demon or against the
Tsaritsa.” He opened his eyes, staring towards a stricken Lumine.

No wonder he had looked so sick lately. So tired and overworked, so small and fragile, pale and
nearly ghostly. She had even seen him stumble once or twice while walking, and had spotted blood
on his palm when he coughed into it. He was killing himself, slowly but surely, and he knew it!
That was his intention! She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Why? Why did he have to do all of
this?

“For insect breathers, who also use wisteria poison, their swords can deliver fifty milligrams of
poison in one blow. However, if a demon consumes me as I am now, the dose of poison it will
receive would be the thirty kilograms throughout my body. That’s about seventy times over the
lethal amount.”

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

SLAM.

Scaramouche’s hand collided against the ground, his body beginning to writhe. Wet sloshing
sounds encompassed the room as his body began to fall apart, pieces of his skin slipping in chunks
onto the floor. My bones are melting, and I can’t stop it! Dammit! Why won’t I regenerate? Heal!
Heal already!

On the battlefield, the clones Scaramouche had produced began to break into tiny shards,
dissolving into nothing but smoke. Lumine watched with excitement, her heart beginning to leap
hopefully within her chest.

“What’s going on?! Everything suddenly disappeared! Is it a trap?!” Razor cried, lifting his swords
upwards defensively.

Lumine was already running forward, determination surging throughout her limbs. “No!” She
shouted. “It’s our brother’s poison!” He’s helping us, saving us even now!

“Razor, aim for his neck! Press him all at once!” Lumine yelled. There was no way Scaramouche
was getting out of this, now!

“However . . . There is no guarantee that the poison will kill an Upper Rank demon. At least,
Master Morax believes it to be impossible. So, in order to increase the possibility of my revenge,
the master encouraged me to perform collaborative research with two demons. Supposing our
poison actually does begin to work, do not let your guard down. Beheading him is the only way
that we can be entirely sure.”

Kazuha smiled towards Lumine. It was a sad smile, one filled with absolute certainty, yet a
lingering and deep melancholy. He was pained, and yet still, he tried his best to comfort her.

“I will not fail to weaken the demon . . .”

“So you must cut off his head and finish him.”

As the memory ebbed from Lumine’s mind, she clenched her jaw, fighting back the throbbing ache
blooming within her chest. I understand, she thought. It’s alright. Don’t worry. I’ll take his head. I
will not fail to do this.

I won’t let Kazuha’s sacrifice be in vain!

Together with Razor, Lumine leaped over Scaramouche, lifting her blade above her head. “Face
your death, you rotten bastard!” Razor shouted, and Lumine couldn’t agree more. He needed to
die, as soon as possible!

Grasping at his oozing face, Scaramouche gasped. “Blood Demon Art: Husk of Opulent Dreams!”
He choked out, wheezing faintly.

Stricken with terror, both Lumine and Razor nearly screamed as the ground was torn open
underneath them. The bridge they stood upon was sullied, breaking entirely in half as a massive
doll rose from the water, splashing waves and lily pads everywhere. Lumine was launched into the
air alongside Razor, chills encompassing her entire body. The doll was massive, bigger than
anything she’d ever seen!

Heart hammering, Lumine moved alongside Razor as they dodged the gigantic hand barreling
towards them. It felt like an earthquake was erupting throughout the building—various booms and
crackles reverberated throughout the room, so deep Lumine could feel it within her very bones.

Gripping her sword tightly, the girl trembled, trying to fight back her mounting despair. Such a
huge technique at this point in the fight! I’m surprised he has this much strength remaining. Not to
mention, this doll is exceeding that toxic smoke as well. To inhale it would be disastrous, but we
can’t afford to fall back. If we move away, Scaramouche will surely recover.

What should I do?

Aniki warned me on the verge of death to not inhale the smoke! I can’t . . . I . . No. Look closely. I
need to look closer at this technique of his!

It’s rough. It clearly lacks precision. It’s a technique of desperation! A last-ditch effort! I see now!
I see it clearly. Yes, I need to use that.

Another memory appeared within Lumine’s thoughts, then, as if to warn her of what she was about
to do. Kazuha’s sad face flashed within her mind, his expression downcast. His brow was drawn,
his eyes fixed on the floor, and his lips pursed into a small frown.

“If you use that technique, Lumine, you may go blind,” was what he had told her. “Eyeballs are
very delicate. The nerves and blood vessels are extremely thin. It is incredibly dangerous to place
an excessive burden on them.” He had said that.
And yet . . .

Why?

Why did you tell me such things?

You were preparing to sacrifice your own life, so why were you worrying about my vision?

He was such a kind person. So precious!

Lumine gripped her sword tighter, twisting her body. Atop her head, the flower accessory she
always wore fell and broke, slipping into the water that coursed far underneath her.

I wanted to protect him.

Kazuha’s smiling face flashed within her mind, looking warmly back at her. That familiar scent of
the breeze, maple leaves and the grilled fish he would always feed Tama—she could practically
smell it, now.

I wanted to risk my life for him.

I wanted to go home together!

She envisioned their estate, where they would spend the majority of their time. Playing with Tama,
telling stories during rainy days, comforting one another throughout a painful night filled with
nightmares. Sitting around a table and enjoying a good meal with Kazuha, Razor, Aether, and
Paimon happy at her side.

That life had been stolen from her.

Lumine grit her teeth, her feelings building up into a crescendo of crashing emotions.

“Flower Breathing, Final Form: Equinoctial Vermilion Eye!”

Straining herself, Lumine looked up, seething with fury. Her eyes had been shifted to a deep,
blood-red color. As she launched herself towards Scaramouche, her surroundings began to play in
slow motion. She was seeing everything much clearer, as if she were looking through a magnifying
glass.

The doll had snatched Razor, gripping him tightly within an iron grasp. It was lifting its other
hand, no doubt to smack his head off.

Lumine rushed to help him, her heart pounding. Raising my dynamic vision to the utmost makes
any surrounding movements look dull and slow. The pressure on my eyes causes bleeding that
stains them red, but it doesn’t matter. Even if I go blind, it won’t matter!

Appearing before Scaramouche, she swung her blade towards the Upper Moon, who stared up at
her with one singular eye, half of his face dissolved. She glared down at him, her veins pulsing
with adrenaline. From behind her, the doll was blowing out plumes of toxic smoke, all of which
slowed down her movements, stiffening her aching muscles.

Go! Go! Do it! There’s no way I can’t cut this slowly rotting head off! Agh—I’m going numb!

Within the doll’s grip, Razor howled. “Beast Breathing: Sudden Throwing Strike!” He shouted,
hurling both of his swords forward.
They came hurtling towards Scaramouche, colliding with Lumine’s extended blade. It was exactly
what they needed: with the extra force and push, their combined blades pushed through
Scaramouche’s rotting flesh, severing his head clean off his shoulders.

Lumine watched as black blood sprayed throughout the air, her red eyes widened.

As Scaramouche’s head separated from his body, he didn’t know what he should feel.

I can’t believe it. She cut off my head. Those two brats worked together and actually managed to
do it. But . . . They would never have been able to get this far without Kazuha. Damn him. I want to
feel angry, but I can’t. I suppose, in the end, I’m just impressed. I’m in awe at how he could think
so far ahead, and plan things so carefully as well.

Ah . . . I underestimated you, didn’t I?

That’s my fault. I looked down on you. To be fair, you were just a measly human. They’re all the
same, usually. But I guess there’s one main difference between Kazuha and everyone else. I killed
everyone that he ever grew to love and cherish, and he set his heart on avenging them. For ages, I
thought he was naïve and foolish.

Could I have been wrong?

How pathetic. Me, being incorrect about something? Tsk. Just the concept makes me want to shout
with fury. And yet the rage dissolves when my mind circles back to your face. The wind hashira
and his little cronies . . . No. Siblings. They called themselves your siblings.

Heh . . . Good job, Kazuha. You raised them well. If you were here, I know you’d be proud of them.
They did exactly what I’m sure you wanted, because this was all a part of your plan, wasn’t it?

In the end, we wound up killing one another.

How tragic, don’t you think?

It almost makes me want to vomit.

That girl said I have no heart, nor any emotions. I hate to admit it, but I think she was correct.
There’s been an emptiness within me for a long time now. When I was with you, or when I saw you,
some of that emptiness didn’t seem as vast. I wanted to keep you with me for all of eternity, so that
you might make me feel more whole again.

It . . . Wasn’t the right decision.

I know now why my mother cast me aside. I know now why she despised me so much. She was
scared of me, of the empty cavity where my heart should be.

I can’t even blame her anymore.

Was I born a monster, or did she make me into one?

I can’t believe I actually might regret something, if this is what regret really feels like. I wouldn’t
know. For the longest time, I truly didn’t know.

Sadness, guilt, happiness, shame, regret and even love . . . Emotions that make people human . . .

It was all a mere dream to me.

 Scaramouche’s head hit the ground with a sickening splat, beginning to dissolve. As he faded into
nothing but fragments of ash, he began to shed tears. He didn’t know why he cried; he wasn’t sad
that he was dying, or that he had lost. Perhaps it was his own thoughts that made him finally shed
tears. After all, he didn’t like to admit it, but on occasion he would awaken to damp cheeks or
pillows.

“This child sheds tears in his sleep. He is too fragile,” his mother had told him, and so he refused
to shed any kind of tears ever again.

Until now.

Once he had disappeared, Lumine nearly collapsed, her body beginning to shake.

The huge doll, the scythe, the smoke and lightning, it was all gone. Nothing remained. The
evidence of their gruesome battle persisted, however. Blood stained the platforms and bridges in
various places, some splashes even lingering through the water, which had once been crystal clear.
Everything was torn to pieces, broken splinters of wood and mounds of rubble scattered throughout
the desolate room.

For a moment, she couldn’t believe it.

She half-expected Scaramouche to reappear, to attack them both while they were least expecting it.
But he made no grand re-entrance, and every last trace of his scent had vanished. Lumine wasn’t
dreaming, and she hadn’t hallucinated the entire ordeal.

Honestly, she wished she was asleep.

She wished that this was all just some nightmare. She wished that soon enough, Kazuha would
come knocking on her door, shaking her gently awake so that they could begin their long day of
training and missions. But that was a futile, naïve hope.

This was reality, and he was gone.

A few feet away, Razor stood, staring into empty space with an expression of blankness.

They were both still in shock.

They’d won, they should be celebrating, screaming, leaping and kicking with joy.

But they couldn’t.

Too much had been lost for this victory for it to ever be considered a celebration.

They’d only won thanks to Kazuha, but he wasn’t even here to celebrate with them.

Chapter End Notes

Anddd one more chapter left now!

This story was so fun to write and I was very passionate about it as well. I grew
attached to this AU, and I love reading everyone’s comments. They really brighten my
day!
Spoiler alert for the demon slayer manga!!
⚠️⚠️
To those who guessed Kazuha would play Shinobu’s role, ding ding ding, you were
right. Someone said Kazuha seemed to be a mixture of Giyuu + Shinobu, which is
entirely correct, that’s what I had intended. I took inspiration from both of those
characters, I’m glad it was noticed :D

Anyways, see you guys in the next chapter!

(Ps: did anyone watch part 2 of Stranger Things season 4? I cried.)

 Rebirth
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Oh. Did you finally die?”

“Good.”

Scaramouche opened his eyes to a familiar voice. Staggering to his feet, he blinked, his gaze
resting upon a figure he never thought he’d see again. There stood Kazuha, watching him with an
utterly unreadable expression.

“Kaz . . . Kazuha.” Scaramouche couldn’t remember ever stuttering before, not once in his life. He
blinked once more, still struggling to comprehend what was going on. He’d been poisoned, his
head was cut off, and everything had faded to black. Then, he’d awoken here. Did that mean—was
he dead? There was no possible way he could be alive.

Not to mention, it would explain why he was looking at Kazuha, who he himself had killed.
Although . . . If they were here, and together, that had to mean something, right? Did heaven and
hell actually exist? Or at the very least, some type of afterlife? His gut churned, tightening
uncomfortably. Had he really been wrong about so many things?

All those people he’d called naïve and foolish, stupid and imprudent, had they been right all along?
Just the concept made bile rise to his throat, tasting foul upon his tongue. His pride was certainly
wounded, but he had bigger issues to be worried about, now. A damaged ego was nothing
compared to the eternal suffering he’d face in hell. While he’d deserve it, he nearly dreaded it.

His thoughts of everlasting damnation faded, however, when he studied Kazuha closer. He looked
beautiful, the same exact way Scaramouche remembered seeing him last. Wearing that familiar
haori, the demon slayer uniform, that maple leaf hairpin and the Conqueror of Demons’ mask
attached to his hip. The sight of him was almost reassuring, though he knew it shouldn’t have been.
Scaramouche had no right to even look at Kazuha, not after all of which he’d done.

Kazuha moved closer, and it was then that Scaramouche observed their surroundings. They stood
within a plain green meadow, with a variety of colorful flowers caressing their feet. Cherry
blossom trees loomed high above them, some pink petals even falling to land within
Scaramouche’s extended palm.

“Now I too can rest in peace,” Kazuha said, smiling towards Scaramouche, who stared back
silently. He didn’t know how to respond. How did you properly speak to someone you had killed?
To someone who you had stolen everything from? Their loved ones, their own life, he had taken all
of it.

“You hate me,” Scaramouche blurted out. “So why are you here? To gloat? Or to brag?”

“Hmm. No.” Kazuha closed his eyes, tilting his head. “But now that you mention it, I suppose I
will. Just a little.” He opened his eyes, glaring slightly, though his usual anger was gone. “You
lost,” he said, his voice filled with both satisfaction and contempt. “You looked down on not only
me, but on my tsuguko. Your own arrogance got you killed.”

“How does it feel?” Kazuha moved closer within the blink of an eye, their faces devastatingly near,
now. He gripped onto Scaramouche’s chin tightly, a gesture meant to be mocking. Tilting the
former demon’s head up, he beamed. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“I don’t feel much of anything.” Scaramouche blinked, staring into Kazuha’s hardened red eyes.
They were stunning. “Something is beating within my chest. I suppose it is my heart? I could never
recall feeling it before. For some reason, it hammers harder whenever I look at you. Is it due to
your poison? Can I still feel the effects, even now?” Scaramouche’s lips fell into a frown.

“No. Once you died, your body returned to its human state.” Kazuha released him, sighing quietly.
“I suppose you are just feeling as any man would, when in close quarters with someone attractive.”
His tone turned smug, and Scaramouche huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Oddly enough,
his cheeks felt strangely . . . Warm.

“How can you be so civil with me?” Scaramouche inquired curiously. “I killed your mentor. Your
best friend. And . . . You.”

Kazuha looked away, up towards the sky above them. It was a funny color, a mixture of red and
orange. Scaramouche realized it was the sunrise. After becoming a demon, he hadn’t seen the sun
or daylight in . . . Ages. He hadn’t even known that he’d missed it.

“I don’t know,” Kazuha admitted. “I hated you. Truthfully, I suppose a part of me always will.
You are a sinner whose crimes can never be forgiven, but by dying and paying for your atrocities,
your soul may be purified.” He glanced down at his feet. “Only after you have suffered enough,
just like the ones you slayed suffered, can you be reborn. And I suppose seeing you like this made
me realize that once upon a time, you were human too.”

“Like . . . This?” Scaramouche echoed.

“Didn’t you listen to me?” Kazuha peered towards him. “After you died, you regained your human
form. You’re not a demon, not anymore.” He smiled gently, and Scaramouche’s eyes widened, his
breath hitching. Glancing down at himself, he realized with a jolt that Kazuha was right.

He was dressed in a pale white kimono, adorned with various sashes and trinkets. His hair was
longer, as well. Lifting a hand upwards, he could feel a familiar flower pin, tucked behind his ear.
It had belonged to his mother, but she’d passed it down onto him. When he’d transformed into a
demon, he’d broken it, and neglected its repair. He’d simply tossed it aside, but now, it was back.

All that time, he’d refused to acknowledge that he’d missed it. He’d missed the connection it gave
him, the bond it formed to him and his mother. He always pushed everything down until he became
numb. Someone like him wasn’t supposed to feel, he couldn’t feel. That’s why he’d been cast aside
by everyone, that’s why he became a monster.

So why did everything hurt so much, now?

“I . . .” Scaramouche couldn’t bring himself to answer Kazuha. His throat was closing up, as if a
rock had lodged itself inside of him. Not to mention, his mouth felt oddly dry, his chest beginning
to tighten uncomfortably. There was something brewing inside of him, something that he needed to
be released.

“It’s alright.” Kazuha rested a hand upon his shoulder, and Scaramouche tensed at the contact,
staring towards him with shock.

“Don’t touch me!” He snapped, jerking away. “Don’t be so nice to me! Just—just stop it!”

Kazuha blinked passively, pausing briefly. “Why?” He asked carefully. “Are you confused? Are
you unused to kindness? You react to me like a cornered animal would. I can assure you, I don’t
wish to hurt you anymore. I’m satisfied. I obtained my revenge, and now I truly just wish to move
on. It’s what I have always wanted to do.”

“Then why won’t you?!” Scaramouche spat. “Move on!” He insisted. “Why are you here? Why are
you wasting your time with me?! Showing — showing compassion for your own murderer. How
stupid are you, Kazuha?!”

Despite the harsh tone, Kazuha didn’t seem too phased by Scaramouche’s words. He merely
chuckled, shrugging lightly. “Technically, I’m also your murderer,” he pointed out. “My poison
was what got you killed. Don’t you feel angry at me, as well?”

“I . . . No,” Scaramouche muttered, his shoulders slumping. He hunched in on himself, sinking his
teeth harshly into his bottom lip. “I’m not angry at you, or your apprentices. In fact, I’m only
impressed. How did you manage to create such potent poison? I didn’t even detect it. Not once.”

Kazuha laughed, the sound being light and chiming, like a set of bells. He tucked his hands behind
his back, grinning just a bit smugly. “The master instructed me to receive the aid of demons,” he
said. “Their names were Albedo and Sucrose. Thanks to them, I was able to fill my body with
wisteria poison. Not only that, but they helped me create a cure, to turn demons back into humans.
We also prepared poison for the Tsaritsa, too.”

“Albedo sacrificed his own life, just as I did. Within him was an aging poison. It will rapidly age
the Tsaritsa, and thus slow her down. That should allow my comrades to fight her properly, without
being immediately slain.” Closing his eyes, the former hashira sighed, seeming almost sad.

“I wish that such sacrifices didn’t have to be made,” he murmured. “Though Albedo was a demon,
he was extremely kind. He had a good heart. And I know . . . That my fellow comrades will also
lose their lives tonight, in the final battle to defeat demons once and for all. In the end, it will be
worthwhile, to bring this world to freedom for the first time in centuries. I just really hope . . . That
it doesn’t have to be any of them.”

“Your tsuguko?” Scaramouche mumbled.

“My little siblings,” Kazuha breathed, nodding quietly. “I don’t want them to come here. Not yet. I
want them to live long lives, normal lives, in a world rid of any demons.”

“And what about you?” Scaramouche blurted out. “You deserved that kind of life, too.”

Kazuha opened his eyes, glancing towards him. “Demons took that future away from me,” he
murmured. “Sometimes, we can not always have the happy ending we so dearly desire. Our only
solace is that our loved ones, in our stead, can enjoy the life we never got to. That . . . That would
be enough for me.”

Something damp flooded Scaramouche’s eyes, then. He could feel his knees beginning to wobble,
and shortly after, he collapsed onto the ground, burying his head within his hands. Tugging harshly
at the roots of his hair, he yanked at his own scalp, squeezing his eyes forcefully shut. It was all
too much.

Kazuha watched him, puzzled, though he froze when Scaramouche suddenly yelled.

“I’m sorry!” He cried out. “I’m so sorry.”

The former demon’s shoulders heaved, and he visibly trembled, curling in on himself.

Kazuha had interacted with manipulative beings before, and when Scaramouche had been an Upper
Moon, he was certainly conniving. But he wasn’t living that life any longer. For once, he was
experiencing pure and raw unfiltered emotions, for the first time in hundreds and hundreds of
years, and as a result it was making him break down.

With caution, Kazuha sat down on the grass beside Scaramouche, gently grabbing onto the other
boy’s hands. He held them tightly, squeezing briefly. “Stop,” he ordered. “You’re hurting yourself.
You can feel pain, now.”

“I want to feel it,” Scaramouche snapped, struggling within Kazuha’s grip. “Don’t I deserve it? For
every sin I’ve ever committed?” He blinked, his damp lashes brushing against his wet cheeks.
Don’t I deserve to finally pay for everything I’ve done?

“The time for that will come,” Kazuha replied calmly. “But not now, and it should not be delivered
by your own hands. It’s alright. You feel regret, don’t you? Guilt. That brings me consolation. I
feel better, knowing that you can look back at your actions and reflect. It shows me that you’re not
entirely a monster.”

Scaramouche glanced up, meeting Kazuha’s steady gaze. “Why are you here?” He whispered.
“Why are you here with me?”

“I wanted to ensure that my apprentices succeeded in taking your life,” Kazuha murmured, his
expression downcast. “And I quickly realized that you had no one else.”

“What?” Scaramouche breathed.

“No one else was waiting for you but me,” Kazuha repeated, and Scaramouche nearly flinched,
glancing away quickly. “I figured,” he mumbled. “And I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Reaching out, Kazuha brushed a thumb along Scaramouche’s cheek, wiping away the various tear
tracks. “You are not past redemption,” he said. “As I told you before, if you truly regret your
actions and repent for your crimes, you may be reborn, your soul purified into something new.
There is still hope for you, so please, do not weep anymore. Instead, try to feel . . . Optimistic.”

“Optimistic?” Scaramouche choked out. “I didn’t even believe hell or the afterlife existed for the
longest time! Now I’m about to be burning in the underworld for who knows how long. How can I
not be negative?”

“Whose fault is that?” Kazuha retorted, his tone sharpening into something fierce. “Entirely your
own. Do not fall into an endless pit of self-pity. I will not sympathize with you. You did this to
yourself, Kunikuzushi. Now you must suffer the consequences, like any other person would.”

Kunikuzushi . . .

That’s me.

That was the name I gave myself . . .

When I was still human.

But how does he know that?

Kazuha peered towards him knowingly, offering Scaramouche—Kunikuzushi?— a small smile. “I

hope you feel at least a bit better. Although I hate to say it, we won’t have much longer left.”

“What do you mean?” Scaramouche mumbled. “We’re already dead. Are you telling me we can
die a second time or something?” His brow furrowed in confusion, and Kazuha laughed at him,
shaking his head with blatant amusement.

“No, of course not,” he chided. “Anyways, what I mean to say is that soon enough, we will have to
depart. Think of this as a crossroads of sorts. You must go to hell, and I must go to heaven.
Although the afterlife is different for every person. It merely depends on what you believe in.”
Kazuha glanced away, catching a cherry blossom petal within his palm. He smiled affectionately
down at it.

“I’ll be alone, won’t I?” Scaramouche whispered. “That will be my punishment. An eternity of
loneliness.” Well, it won’t even be much different than my life while I was alive.

“I can not say,” Kazuha replied, releasing the petal. It caught on a faint breeze, billowing gently
away. The wind ruffled Scaramouche’s hair, and he inhaled sharply, sitting up. “What if I never
atone for anything?” He asked. “What if I’m just stuck in an endless loop of torture, for as long as
time persists?”

Kazuha hummed, carefully considering his words. “I forgive you,” he said suddenly.

“Wh—what?” Scaramouche paused, his jaw hanging slightly open. It had come so randomly, so
out of the blue, he hadn’t been expecting it. He’d never been expecting it. How could any of his
victims have the capacity within their heart to forgive him?

Especially Kazuha, someone who he had so gravely wronged, and so sinisterly hurt.

It didn’t make any kind of sense to him.

“I don’t understand,” Scaramouche blurted out. “What do — what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?” Kazuha replied evenly. “I said that I forgive you. Why don’t you
look at me and tell me what that entails?” Kazuha stared patiently towards him, and
Scaramouche’s mind blanked out.

For a long moment, he simply sat there like a fish out of water, dumbly opening and closing his
mouth. Eventually, he shook his head. “I . . . Don’t know,” he admitted, which took a lot of
strength to do. He always knew, but now, he had come up empty-handed. There was no way, no
reason, to properly explain why Kazuha had forgiven him.

“It’s just as I said earlier,” Kazuha murmured. “I want to let go. Forget the past, and move on. I
want to search for a better and brighter horizon. Lingering on what happened to me won’t allow me
to properly progress. Besides, I’ve gained my closure. You’re dead, and the demons will soon
cease to exist. If I’m lucky, my friends and family can live happy lives together. All of my dreams
have come true.”

Scaramouche’s lip quivered. “But you don’t have to forgive me to do all that,” he pointed out,
willing his voice not to break. “Why? I want to know why you chose to forgive me.”

“I am not a bitter or vengeful person.” Kazuha glanced down at his hands. “At least, I’d like to
think so. My anger has vanished, and I feel a sense of blissful ease. I am . . . comforted. At peace.
There’s nothing for me to be mad at any longer. Besides, when I look at you, I see nothing but a
scared and vulnerable person. The man you were before you turned. If things were different, you’d
be different.”

“Different?” Scaramouche choked on a laugh. “How could I ever be different?”

“If you were given the proper love and attention you had deserved while growing up, perhaps you
wouldn’t have succumbed to darkness. I know you also faced tremendous grief and loss while you
were alive. You lost your best friend as well, didn’t you, Kunikuzushi? He lingered here for a
moment before leaving. I think he was too sad to face you. To see what you had ultimately
become.”

Katsuragi . . .

Scaramouche pressed a hand against his face. Two halves of himself were fighting. Was he
Scaramouche? Or was he Kunikuzushi? Who—what—had he become? And what was he now? His
mind felt as if a storm had been unleashed inside of his very brain, a tsunami rising steadily across
every slope of his head.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” Kazuha sighed. “It’s okay. You can accept it, now. That sadness that has
always run through you—welcome it, before it begins to drown you entirely.”

Scaramouche lifted his head, those dark blue eyes of his wide and red-rimmed, brimming with his
endless sorrow. “It hurts to feel, after being empty for so long,” he gasped out. “I want to make it
stop. Can you make it stop?” He dug his nails into his hands, flinching when he felt prickles of
sharp pain.

Kazuha leaned closer, smiling. “No,” he replied softly. “If I could, don’t you think I’d have turned
off my own feelings long ago?”

“This is dreadful. And you humans—” he faltered, realizing that he was human now, too. “You felt
this way . . . All of the time?”

“Pretty much.” Kazuha seemed forlorn, oddly solemn. It made Scaramouche’s chest hurt.

“My family was killed by a demon. They died for me. My mentor died within my arms, and my
best friend was slain by you in battle. I was sad for a very long time, but I’m free now. I don’t have
to be sad anymore. Neither do you.” Kazuha glanced towards him. “You can let go of the burdens
from your past.”

“Will you show me how?” Scaramouche begged. “I don’t — I don’t know how to.”

“I can’t.” Kazuha seemed remorseful. “If I could, trust me, I certainly would. But this is a path you
must tread all on your own.”

“Do you think . . If things really were different . . . Would we have been friends?” Scaramouche
asked. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I enjoyed watching the fireworks with you. For just a moment,
I almost felt like I was normal. It made me wonder what a normal life could have been like, but I
always pushed those possibilities aside. It was unattainable.”

Kazuha snorted, laying back amongst the flowers. “Well, for one, you were born hundreds of years
before me, you old man,” he said teasingly. “If you hadn’t been a demon, we wouldn’t have shared
lifetimes. Either that, or you’d be a living fossil. Anyways, if we were born in the same timeline,
and happened to meet, then . . .”

Kazuha smiled, extending his hands towards the sky. “We’d be friends,” he said. “I’m sure of it. In
fact, maybe we’d have even been lovers. Back at the Eternal Paradise cult, I certainly felt things for
you that I’ve never felt for anyone else. If it had gone on a little longer, I am sure that it would
have escalated into a full blown romance. But a hashira has no time for such trivial matters like
love.”
“You aren’t a hashira anymore,” Scaramouche reminded him. “And I’m not a demon. Now, we’re
just . . . Our regular selves.” He blinked. “Just two humans.”

“Do you still think I’m pretty?” Kazuha asked teasingly, and Scaramouche flushed a faint pink,
crossing his arms over his chest. He huffed, taking a long moment to respond.

“ . . . I do,” he admitted. “But nothing can come of what I feel. While we were alive, we were
enemies. Now that we’re dead, we’re separated by heaven and hell. Any potential story between us
was just ridden in tragedy.”

Kazuha sat up, fragments of flower petals lodged within his hair. He looked beautiful. Behind him,
the sun had finally risen, shedding its gentle glow across the land. For the first time in centuries,
Scaramouche experienced its warmth, watching as a golden light cascaded over Kazuha’s features,
making him seem so painfully lush and alive.

Even if he wasn’t.

Acting entirely on impulse, Scaramouche reached out, plucking a flower from Kazuha’s hair. He
held it within his fingers, but his gaze was fixed directly upon Kazuha’s face.

Kazuha stared back at him, and then as if he were also acting on impulse, leaned forward.

After their deaths, they finally kissed.

Kazuha’s lips tasted warm, full of life even when he was already gone. His hands came to cup
Scaramouche’s cheeks, and they were dreadfully soft, tender to a fault. Scaramouche couldn’t
remember kissing anyone before; it was always such an intimate and heartfelt gesture, something
that he knew he could never truly experience.

He could feel his mouth moving back, returning Kazuha’s kiss in earnest, though his actions were
quite sloppy and inexperienced. It didn’t matter. Neither of them minded the other’s clumsiness or
lack of knowledge. They simply absorbed the moment, spent between two people who had finally
released the torment of their past.

Maybe it was wrong. They had killed each other, after all. One was a dreadful sinner, and the other
a merciful saint. One saved lives, the other took. What if by associating with Scaramouche, Kazuha
was also sent to hell? But the other didn’t seem to care. He was willing to risk it all— everything
—for this.

Time seemed to pass both slowly and far too fast. When Kazuha finally pulled away, a string of
saliva connected their swollen lips. He wiped it away with his fingers, managing a breathless
laugh. “That was nice,” he commented idly. “Though we need practice.”

“How will we ever be able to?” Scaramouche asked, his tone lowering. “In no time at all, we’re
going to be divided by heaven and hell. We’ll probably never see each other again.”

Maybe it’s for the best.

I don’t want to hurt you, not anymore.

“Don’t worry.” Kazuha smiled, brighter than the rising sun. “Even though the time has come for us
to go our separate ways, I am certain that we will meet again, in some corner of the world.” The
boy began to fade, and Scaramouche attempted to cling onto him, to no avail. He was going to
disappear.
As Kazuha’s form ebbed away, his voice persisted, echoing within Scaramouche’s ears; it was his
only source of comfort.

“The fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut.”

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

“Ha! We won!”

Razor kicked at the ground, stomping on the place where Scaramouche’s head had disappeared.
“Razor and Lumine won! With aniki’s help! Ha . . .” His voice faded, falling into a breathless gasp.
He collapsed onto the ground, beside his fur coat, his knees giving out underneath him; he didn’t
have the strength to keep himself up any longer. Instead, he felt weak.

“Razor doesn’t have a mother.”

“But everyone has a mother.” Aether stared towards him, frowning. He seemed saddened.

“Then Razor was abandoned!” Razor had retorted. “Razor was raised by the wolf pack.”

“There must have been unavoidable circumstances which caused your mother to leave you,”
Lumine had interjected. “Otherwise, you’d have been dead, and entirely nameless, idiot.”

“Razor doesn’t remember his mother. If he doesn’t remember, it is the same as not having one,”
Razor had mumbled, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Don’t talk like that, Razor.” Aether had rested a hand upon Razor’s shoulder, smiling gently
towards him. His expression had been kind.

“I’m sure that your mother . . .”

“Loved you a whole lot.”

Razor’s chest tightened, his breaths becoming labored huffs. Sweat dripped across his forehead in
steady rivulets; as one memory faded, another quickly began to appear, resurfacing into his
frazzled mind.

“Razor . . .” There that woman was again, holding him close with a beaming smile. She had
cuddled him as he smiled and laughed, his tiny hands and feet kicking within the blanket she held
him in.

Something wet brewed within Razor’s eyes, swelling to a breaking point. Tears cascaded like
waterfalls down his bruised and bloody cheeks, dripping down onto the floor below.

“Mother . . .”

While Razor cried by himself, Lumine moved through the water, staggering slightly. She forced
her exhausted legs to move, sloshing through the murky, though shallow, depths.

A pin . . . A hairpin . . .

Kazuha’s hairpin . . .

Tripping over her own feet, Lumine leaned briefly against a pile of rubble, panting softly. I can
barely see with my right eye. I managed to get by because I only used the final form for a short
time. Still, I’m nearly blind. My flowers fell and broke apart, too. I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry.
I’m sorry I couldn’t save my family. Not even once. I’m so sorry, aniki. I wanted to live happily,
together with you, our brothers and our sister.

Lumine continued to move, her body overcome with a feeling of grim heaviness.

I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you how much you meant to me.

My family always saves me. When I needed him most, Razor appeared to help me. When we needed
you most, you saved us, even in death. You gave up your own life so we could keep ours.

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!

Lumine fell to her knees within the water, desperately reaching through the sodden waves. She
picked up a familiar maple leaf hairpin, immediately pressing it close to her chest. Cradling it
close, she hugged it against her body, waves of sorrow devouring her.

I love you, brother. I love you so much. I did well, right? I made you proud, didn’t I? I did
everything that you asked of me that day. Even if it hurts, I did it!

I miss you . . . I miss you . . . ! Tell me what to do. What do I do without you?!

“You did well . . .”

A gentle hand reached out, resting tenderly upon Lumine’s bowed head. She froze, her heart
seeming to stop within her chest.

“Lumine.”

That voice—!

She looked up sharply, her eyes wide, but no one was there. Only the lingering remnants of a
cherry blossom petal, which certainly hadn’t been there before. For a moment, the scent of maple
lingered within her nose, so familiar that it made her chest instantly ache.

Gripping Kazuha’s hairpin tighter, Lumine began to tremble, her lower lip quivering.

For the first time since her family had been slain by a demon, for the first time since Paimon had
been turned into a monster, Lumine cried. She shed vicious tears, all of which dripped down into
the water below.

Her sobs ripped past her chest with so much force she feared she’d break in half. As her body
shook and quaked, she repeated that voice she knew so well, forcing it to replay within her ears.
Deep down in her shattered heart, she knew it had been him. Her brother had come to see her —
just one last time.

Lumine finally allowed herself to grieve, and the agony came crashing down all at once.
Truthfully, she didn’t think it would ever go away, and it would certainly never get easier.

But she had done well.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Kazuha stood amidst a grove of cherry blossom trees, the sweet scent encompassing him entirely.
He was dressed in one of his old kimonos; it had been his favorite as a child. Around his feet, red
spider lily flowers danced, the perfect symbol of death. Their flowing petals brushed against his
feet as he walked, drifting aimlessly along the path.
As he continued on with no true goal in mind, he spotted a set of figures in the distance, mere
blurry blobs — though as he gradually grew closer, those distorted shapes began to change and
finally become clear.

Kazuha’s heart leaped within his chest, beginning to race erratically. His palms grew slick with
sweat, a strangled gasp spilling past his lips. Though he’d tried not to, he had continuously and
secretly hoped that this moment would eventually come. From the very beginning, he had been
yearning for it.

Running forward, Kazuha nearly fell over his own feet in his haste, scattering fallen blossoms
within his wake. They kicked out behind his feet as he ran, tears beginning to blur his vision. He
blinked them away the best he could, wiping furiously at his eyes.

Words failed him, but he didn’t need to speak. Some things went without saying.

“Kazuha.”

Arms wrapped securely around him as he practically crashed into the various people waiting for
him. A strangled sob tore past his throat, and a familiar gloved hand rose up, resting gently upon
his head. “You did well,” Xiao told him, smiling fondly down at him.

“Aniki,” Kazuha whispered, hiccuping. Xiao allowed him to cry, hugging him closer.

“Mom — dad—” Kazuha gasped out, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. He was crying
so much, he could barely think straight, his mind becoming a muddled mess.

“Welcome home, 私の小さな太陽.” His mother murmured, caressing his face tenderly. She wiped
away his tears as he cried, the words ringing familiarly within his ears, ones he never thought he’d
hear again.

My little sun.

“We missed you, Kazuha. Thanks for taking care of Tama for me.” Tomo grinned down at him,
and Kazuha choked on a laugh, managing nothing but a weak smile in return. He still couldn’t
believe it — everyone he loved was really here. They waited for him.

“Let’s go, Kazuha,” Xiao murmured, slipping his hand within his former apprentice’s.

Gripping tightly onto Xiao’s hand, Kazuha followed him and his family into the afterlife.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

In the end, humanity won the war.

Demons no longer existed.

It wasn’t without great loss, however.

Hundreds of lives had been taken. Hashiras perished, along with a countless variety of demon
slayers, in support of the cause. They had dedicated their hearts to ending the Tsaritsa, and after so
long, it had finally paid off. Their dreams had at last become reality.

Thanks to Kazuha, Lumine and Razor lived.

Thanks to Kazuha, Albedo, and Sucrose, Paimon had successfully turned back into a human. The
cure they had worked so tirelessly to make really was successful.
Although Lumine was happy, it was hard.

The demon slayer corps had been disbanded. All of her comrades either returned home to their
families, or departed to create their own normal life. The way of living Lumine had known for so
long was gone. She should feel relieved, shouldn’t she? No one needed to fight anymore. The
world was at peace.

Instead, she felt lost. It was like she was drifting without a true purpose. How did she find
normalcy when everything was wrong? Her family was still dead, and now Kazuha was gone, too.
She felt like, to be worthy of anything, she needed to keep fighting. To keep protecting and saving
other people.

Whenever she got like this, she visited the graves. The resting place of so many good and innocent
people, people who had deserved to live, far more than she ever did.

Itto.

Shinobu.

Sara.

Ayaka.

Ayato.

Yoimiya.

Kazuha . . .

All had been killed to secure the final victory. Their absences left her feeling oddly empty.

She should feel blessed. And she was, of course she was. Most of her siblings had lived, when
others weren’t nearly as lucky. Not to mention, she had survived with minimal serious injuries.
Despite how fortunate she was, she couldn’t feel grateful.

Burying her head into her hands, Lumine blinked past the tears blurring her vision. Her right eye
was almost entirely blind, thanks to her usage of the final form of flower breathing. It was such a
small price to pay. Shouldn’t she have more grave wounds? Why did she manage to escape so
unscathed, when others lost their limbs and their lives?

It wasn’t fair.

Me. It should have been me. Why wasn’t it me?

“They call what you’re experiencing survivor’s guilt,” a voice called out to her, making her head
whip around. For a moment, the figure in the distance almost felt familiar. Her heart leaped with
hope. Kazuha? She wondered fleetingly, but that was a naïve dream. Of course it wasn’t her
mentor. He was dead. She had seen him die, eaten alive by a demon.

As the person approached, she realized it was Heizou, one of the only surviving hashira. Perhaps
he could understand her. They were both people who didn’t deserve to be standing here today,
whole, alive and well.

Though Heizou had lost one of his arms, he was otherwise uninjured from the final battle. He came
to halt beside Lumine, glancing briefly towards her. “You want to trade places with him, don’t
you?” He asked. “You’d have given anything to make it you, and not him. I get it, but that’s not the
answer. Do you think he’d want you to feel this way? He died so you could live happily.”

“No!” Lumine snapped, clenching her hands into fists. “He died because I was too late, I came too
late to save him, I was too late—”

“Enough.” Heizou rested a hand firmly upon her shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Stop blaming
yourself. Do you think that’s what he would have wanted? Hm? Answer me.”

“I don’t know what he would have wanted.” Lumine’s shoulders sunk, and she hunched in on
herself, her lip beginning to quiver. “But I know what I want, and I want him back!”

“We all have people we wished were still with us.” Heizou clenched his jaw. “Out of everyone,
Raiden and I were the only pillars to survive. Don’t you think I feel guilty, too? But I remind
myself everyday that we have to keep going, for the sake of humanity itself.”

“Besides, you have loved ones who are still here, people who still care deeply about you.”

Just as he said that, a voice called enthusiastically out to them. “Lumine!”

Paimon came running forward, crashing into her sister. She wrapped her arms around Lumine,
hugging her tightly. “Paimon was looking everywhere for you! But Paimon figured she’d find you
here!” Glancing towards the grave Lumine stood at, Paimon faltered slightly, sadness tugging at
her heart. She remembered Kazuha well, and felt the loss of him just as much as everyone else.

Scattered across Kazuha’s grave were various gifts, trinkets and flowers. Though they had no body
to bury, they still prepared a funeral for him, and gave him a place to rest. He received special
treatment and honors due to his status as a hashira, and his contribution to the war’s efforts.
Without him, they wouldn’t have been able to win, and Paimon wouldn’t have regained her
humanity, either.

Out of all the siblings, Lumine seemed to take Kazuha’s death the hardest. She had seen it happen,
and had been the one to avenge him alongside Razor. There were oftentimes she’d awake in a cold
sweat, either screaming or crying, reaching out to something or someone no one else could see.

Ever since that fateful battle, Lumine wore Kazuha’s maple leaf hairpin. It looked nice on her, and
the pain of seeing it on someone else other than Kazuha had faded long ago.

Coming to stand beside Lumine and Paimon, Aether and Razor smiled, looking towards their
sisters fondly. Heizou watched them silently, feeling almost as if he was now intruding. He went to
leave, not wanting to disturb the siblings, but Lumine stopped him; he had helped her, and Aether
too. She had heard how they’d fought side by side back in the infinity fortress’s endless depths.

“Why don’t you stay?” She asked. “We’re going to have some dinner. You can join us.”

“Yeah! But don’t expect Paimon to share her food!” Paimon added, smiling widely. She laughed
when Aether nudged her scoldingly.

“Paimon acts like feral wolf pup around food,” Razor mumbled. “She can be scary.”

Heizou paused, caught off-guard by the request and the blatant hospitality the former demon
slayers showed. When he met Lumine’s kind golden eyes, he felt certain in his decision, managing
a small nod. He figured that at least he would be less lonely.

“Come on, then! Race you there!” Paimon shouted, quickly taking off towards their estate. Razor
was swift to follow her, almost immediately gaining ground on the girl, due to her small stature and
her shorter legs.

Lumine watched the two with amusement, beginning to slowly follow them. From beside her,
Aether breathed out a laugh, opening his haori to reveal a small head.

Tama peered out from the safe confines of Aether’s chest, meowing quietly. She looked towards
Lumine and Heizou, beginning to faintly purr. Perhaps she was the one to have taken Kazuha’s
death the hardest. She barely ate for days, and would often sit outside staring into the darkness, or
scratch aimlessly at the wind hashira’s former room.

It had made Lumine rather worried, but all at once, Tama began to recover. It happened one
evening, while Tama laid curled upon Kazuha’s old bed. She had lifted her head up, purring
towards something entirely invisible. Lumine had been perturbed, but her confusion faded into
relief when Tama soon began to return to normal shortly after that.

Kazuha’s crow was more or less the same.

In fact, it soared above her head now, coming to rest upon her shoulder. It squawked loudly, and
she gently stroked its feathers, smiling fondly. “Hello to you, too,” she murmured, her chest
swelling with warmth.

As she walked off into the distance with her family, a ghostly figure watched her leave.

When Lumine glanced hurriedly over her shoulder, feeling a familiar set of eyes upon her back, she
found that no one was there.

Only the lingering remnants of maple leaves remained, drifting aimlessly along the wind.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS LATER

“WAKE THE HELL UP, KAZUHA!”

Eyes flying open, Kazuha sat up with a startled yelp, staring incredulously towards his best friend,
who glared back down at him, waving an accusing finger in his face.

“You idiot!” Tomo scolded. “We’re going to be late again! Didn’t I tell you to set an alarm?! We
have that test today, you know!”

Oh, right. I forgot . . .

Smiling bashfully, Kazuha rubbed the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I got distracted by the warmth of the sunshine. I only wanted to take a quick nap.”

“YOU SLEPT FOR TWELVE HOURS!”

“Heh.” Kazuha grinned, and Tomo yanked him to his feet, tugging him urgently forward. “Come
on! If we run, we can make it!” He insisted. “So hurry the hell up, moron! This is a life or death
situation, you know!”

“Are you that scared of Professor Morax?” Kazuha chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand. “He
isn’t as murderous as you make him seem. I find him to be quite a nice man.”

“Blah, blah, blah, let’s just go!”

Together, the boys raced downstairs, but only after Kazuha had hastily gotten dressed. As much as
he wanted to, he couldn’t go to school in his pajamas, after all. That would undoubtedly land him in
a long detention.

As they barreled towards the front door, Kazuha’s mother peered towards them, seeming surprised.
“Oh, good morning boys,” she called out. “Tomo, you’re here? Did you spend the night?” She
seemed confused as to how Tomo had seemingly appeared out of thin air. What she didn’t know
was that Kazuha always left his window unlocked, in case his friend wanted to easily sneak inside.

“Yes ma’am!” Tomo yelled over his shoulder. “We overslept, so sorry, but we’ve gotta go!”

“Don’t be late, now,” Kazuha’s father ordered, looking sternly towards him. “If you want to inherit
the family business one day, then you need to have perfect attendance, and a good sleeping
schedule. No more lazing around—”

“Love you, Dad! Love you, Mom! Bye!” Kazuha shouted, practically throwing himself out the
front door. Tomo nearly tripped over his own feet in his effort to follow, and together the two took
off towards their school. As they left like a whirlwind, Kazuha’s parents exchanged a brief glance.

“They didn’t even eat any breakfast,” Mrs. Kaedehara sighed, sitting down beside her husband.
“This is the hundredth time they’ve skipped such an important meal.” She shook her head
disapprovingly, and her husband smiled, taking a long sip of his coffee. When he finally set his cup
down, he smiled wider.

“Kids will be kids, dear.”

Tomo guided Kazuha along, and together they ran throughout the streets, dodging both people and
cars along the way. They had a few close calls, but that was normal. Kazuha was used to the
sensation of a good run, enjoying the adrenaline it sent coursing through his veins. While he
certainly didn’t want to be late, he loved the excitement it brought to his heart. It made things so
fun.

As they passed an alleyway, a small white figure appeared, hurrying to catch up with them. Tomo
bent down, scooping a cat into his arms and smiling down towards her. “Tama!” He cooed.
“Who’s my good girl?”

“Tomo, you can’t bring Tama into school,” Kazuha reminded him. “You’ll get caught and be in
deep trouble since animals aren’t allowed.” Tomo had already received countless detentions and
referrals for sneaking in Tama before; it was a routine by now, and yet he never once learned his
lesson, judging from the way he now grinned, a smug expression overtaking him.

“I won’t get in trouble if I’m not caught,” he shot back. “Listen, I’ve got a foolproof tactic.” He
unbuttoned the top of his uniform, allowing Tama to rest comfortably inside of his shirt. He then
covered his front half with a thick jacket, which made him seem awfully suspicious. Kazuha
wanted to voice his doubts, but wisely kept silent.

Sometimes, you just had to let people learn the hard way. (Though at this point, Kazuha highly
doubted that Tomo would ever learn.)

“Look! There’s the school!” Tomo shouted, pointing at a familiar building in the distance. He
lifted his hand, checking the watch strapped to his wrist. “We can make it!” He said encouragingly.
“Just keep going!”

Together, they practically hurled themselves through the front gates, barreling on unsteady feet
into the school. Their entrance caused quite a commotion, with a variety of confused heads turning
to look at the two boys. Considering that they were technically still on time, no one was able to
reprimand them, which had Tomo grinning to himself.

“See? What did I tell you? We’ll make it,” Tomo boasted, placing his hands on his hips.

Just then, the bell rang.

“Get to class!” A teacher shouted at them, and the pair of them quickly scurried off.

Once he was situated in class, Kazuha did his best not to daydream. He always enjoyed Professor
Morax’s lessons, but sometimes, his voice grew a bit tiring to listen to. Occasionally he’d mention
something about osmanthus wine, and everyone would do their best not to groan. He said it a lot, to
the point of where it had become an inside joke.

Not to mention, Kazuha’s thoughts and dreams were filled with these strange visions as of late.
He’d had them ever since he was a child, but they grew worse and more intense as he became
older. Now that he was a teenager, he could barely close his eyes without being transported to
someplace both achingly familiar and frighteningly foreign.

Cherry blossom trees.

Laughter.

A cat.

A crow.

A koi pond.

Purple eyes, golden eyes, yellow eyes.

Happiness, sadness, and . . . Anger.

Massaging his temple, Kazuha wondered if he was going insane. He never brought up these weird
apparitions to anyone else; he was worried they’d send him to an asylum. How would he be able to
tell people that he experienced fragments of memories that weren’t his own? They belonged to
him, he knew that, and yet at the same time they didn’t. It was a paradox he couldn’t explain.

Sometimes, Kazuha would jerk awake in the middle of the night, covered in sweat from head to
toe. He would be tangled within his blankets, and more often than not, he would be crying. They
were real, vicious tears, and they didn’t stop until he had thoroughly calmed himself down. He
couldn’t understand it; he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t agitated, so then why was he always crying?

Once or twice, he’d gone searching for answers online. The replies he received were always more
or less the same.

Either he was insane, and had lost his mind, or it was a . . .

A past life.

Towards the end of Mr. Morax’s class, Tomo leaned over, nudging him lightly. They had just
finished taking a test, which had gone over the period of time five hundred years ago. A Great War
had taken place back then, claiming thousands of lives, but peace had ultimately been settled onto
the world as a result. He couldn’t explain it, but discussing this war left an aching feeling within
his heart, as if he himself had lived through it.

“Psst,” Tomo whispered, placing his book onto Kazuha’s desk. He flipped open a page, pointing
towards a picture. “This guy looks like you, doesn’t he?” He asked softly. “Almost identical.
Except he was way prettier.” Tomo snorted, and Kazuha rolled his eyes, glancing slowly down at
the image.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Kazuha gripped tightly onto his chair, his chest beginning to tighten. Crafted onto the pages of this
book was a man. He was dressed in a strange uniform, one that all the soldiers of the Great War
wore. Wrapped over his shoulders was a haori split into two colors; a solid red on one half, and
black on the other, adorned with the patterns of orange maple leaves. It looked . . . Beautiful.

Tracing his fingers lightly over the drawing’s white hair, he noticed a maple leaf hairpin etched
into the sketch’s locks. Deja vu struck him almost immediately, taking his breath away. For a
moment, he was rendered speechless, a lump forming within his throat.

“Boys, please stop talking. Some people are still taking their tests, after all,” Professor Morax
chided, and Tomo quickly drew away, taking the book with him. Kazuha dipped his head in
apology, staring quietly down at his lap. He couldn’t wrap his head around it; how could someone
from the past resemble him so much? Could it be his distant ancestor?

But wouldn’t I have known if it was?

As the bell rang, Kazuha walked outside with Tomo, clutching his books close to his chest. His
best friend glanced towards him, frowning slightly. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked. “When I
showed you that picture, you looked like you had practically seen a ghost!”

“I’m fine,” Kazuha lied, forcing a smile. “I was just nervous from the test, that’s all.” He paused,
glancing towards something in the distance. “I’ve got to get going now, Tomo.”

“Okay. See you at your place for dinner?” Tomo asked, gently punching his shoulder.

Kazuha nodded, his smile becoming a bit more real. “Yeah! My mom’s making udon.”

“It’s a date, then!” Tomo called out after him as he ran off, hurrying to meet the figure that had
been waiting—impatiently—for him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Kazuha gasped out, just a bit out of breath. Yellow eyes glanced
down at him, a sigh soon following.

“It’s fine. You weren’t as late as usual,” Xiao murmured, beckoning Kazuha forward. “Come on,
before we’re late to our class.”

Xiao was an upperclassman, but he still took time to hang out with Kazuha anyway. They shared
exactly one class together, thanks to Kazuha being a bit more advanced when it came to the subject
of literature. Funnily enough, they had only discovered their shared class due to Xiao saving his
life.

If it wasn’t for him, Kazuha could have been killed; he’d been getting harassed by a particular
group of bullies for weeks. Tomo did his best to protect him, but Kazuha was always targeted
whenever he was alone. His best friend couldn’t be everywhere at once. Luckily enough, that was
where Xiao stepped in. He had swooped in almost like a superhero, right when Kazuha least
expected it. It was like a scene out of an action movie.
Kazuha had been beaten up when Xiao chased off his attackers, pummeling them into battered
pulps. After that, they never messed with him again. Ever since then, Xiao had stuck to Kazuha’s
side, and Kazuha had stuck to Xiao’s. The senior seemed grumpy and almost grouchy at first, but
Kazuha knew deep down that he had a rather tender heart.

It was why they were such good friends.

“Are we still going bird watching together over the weekend?” Kazuha asked excitedly. Xiao
glanced towards him, nodding briefly. “Of course,” he said gruffly. “I promised, didn’t I?” He
shook his head, and Kazuha smiled, trying to suppress his eagerness.

He had been the first to suggest the idea, but ever since then, Xiao had grown to like the concept of
bird watching. It was peaceful, to just sit back and either study or sketch various birds and other
wild animals. No talking was required; they could just bask in the presence of each other and
nature. That was what Xiao liked the most about Kazuha. He could be silent and respect
boundaries.

As they settled down into their literature class, which was taught by Mrs. Kusanali, Kazuha
thought of his plans for the day. After school, he had to tutor his three younger friends: Aether,
Lumine, and Razor. It was always fun to work with them. They made sure that his life was never
boring. Not to mention, their little sister Paimon typically hung around, causing a lot of chaos.

Smiling fondly at the memory, Kazuha began to sketch on his paper. A meadow filled with
beautiful flowers, under a gently rising sun.

Most of his classes went by like that. He paid only half-attention, opting to usually daydream or
doodle upon his notes. For the most part, he didn’t need to write down anything important. He
already knew all of the material, and was passing all of his subjects with minimal studying. There
was little for him to really do or worry about.

When lunch finally rolled around, Kazuha couldn’t be happier. Though he hadn’t been working too
hard to begin with, the break was much needed. Besides, he was hungry.

Making his way outside, he headed to a secluded area of the school that was usually entirely
deserted. For some reason, not many people came around here. He kept the area intact however,
maintaining its cleanliness and keeping it looking fresh and even neat.

Standing beside a small pond filled with koi, Kazuha looked up towards the trees looming high
above him. They were cherry blossoms, and he had requested that they be planted a year or two
ago. The petals drifted down along the wind, skidding along his palm. Strangely enough, Kazuha
felt a weird sense of attachment to these cherry blossom trees.

Sitting down beside the pond, Kazuha pulled various items out of his bag. He used most of his
allowance to buy food for the fish, birds, and of course a variety of treats for Tama. It left him with
little money to spend for himself, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t exactly materialistic; he was
content with what he had, and preferred to give instead.

Sprinkling bits of fish food—designated for koi—into the pond, Kazuha watched as the koi began
to swarm to the surface, eagerly nibbling at what he offered them. From above him, amongst the
trees, a low bird call sounded, and in no time at all a black figure had swooped down, landing
beside Kazuha.

“Hello there. It’s good to see you again.” Smiling happily at the crow that affectionately greeted
him, Kazuha offered it bits and pieces of nuts, chicken, and fruits, all of which the crow gratefully
accepted. This had become a common meeting between them, where Kazuha would feed his crow
and in exchange, it would bring him various gifts and small trinkets. (Once, it had brought him a
dead mouse, but it quickly stopped once Kazuha had freaked out over it.)

Humming to himself, the boy closed his eyes, enjoying his brief moment of peaceful solitude. At
least, he was, until the sound of faint footsteps approached, causing his eyes to fly open with
surprise. Someone was here?

Turning around, Kazuha blinked when he saw another boy standing before him, nursing a split lip
and black eye. He seemed just as shocked to see Kazuha, taking a step back almost instinctively.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They were just two deer caught within some
headlights.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Kazuha called out, his voice soft. “Do you . . . Want to sit beside me?”
He almost awkwardly patted the empty spot beside him, and the boy scoffed, beginning to hesitate.
Kazuha figured he would be denied, but to his pleasant surprise, the boy didn’t refuse his offer. He
moved forward slowly, sitting down reluctantly.

Resting his chin on his hands, the boy sighed. “I’ve never seen you here before,” he muttered.
“This is my spot. I come here to smoke and shit. Why are you over here now?”

Kazuha paused, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he said quietly. “It’s bad
for your health.” After the boy sent him a piercing glare, he hastily continued. “Anyways, I always
come here during lunch. Every day. I’m surprised we only met just now.” Kazuha paused again,
gathering every inch of courage and resolve inside of him.

“What’s your name?”

“Scaramouche. Yours?”

Scaramouche.

At once, an intense wave of emotions crashed into Kazuha, causing him to gasp. He clutched at his
chest, shocked by the way it suddenly ached. All over, his body was tensing up, overflowing with a
variety of sensations. Anger, sadness, hurt, betrayal, happiness, fondness, contempt, regret,
forgiveness. It was all so much, he felt as if his mind was going to cave in and just explode.

A meadow filled with flowers. A rising sun.

A pretty room filled with bridges. Lily pads. Stained red with blood and the reek of death.

A night breeze, cherry blossom trees. A koi pond.

Sputtering for breath, Kazuha leaned forward, and hands quickly grabbed at his shoulders, shaking
him with rough urgency.

“Hey! Hey, kid, what the hell?! Don’t go dying on me now! Are you having a heart attack or
something?! Answer me! Shit, shit!”

As his vision finally began to clear, Kazuha coughed, choking and wheezing faintly. “I’m sorry,”
he managed to say. “I-I don’t know what came over me. P-please forgive me.”

“Hey man, it’s alright. You scared me there. Just don’t do that shit again.” Scaramouche released
him, running a hand through his disheveled black hair. “God, I need a cig.”
Kazuha fell silent, glancing down at his hands. He realized he was shaking. His crow had flown
into the trees long ago, and was now watching him worriedly, no doubt concerned for his health.
Physically, he was fine, but mentally? He wasn’t so sure. Just like Scaramouche, he was confused
as to what happened. What was wrong with him?

Looking at the other boy filled him with such a strange sense of . . . Of melancholy, and deja vu,
and longing. A longing so intense that it nearly made his legs shake. He was glad that he was
sitting down, because otherwise, he would have surely fallen over.

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha focused on evening out his breathing, timing the rise and fall of his
chest. Once he had calmed down, he cleared his throat sheepishly, feeling his cheeks burning with
embarrassment. What a horrible first meeting! God, his introduction was terrible.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha,” he managed to blurt out, his tone oddly timid.

Scaramouche glanced towards him, his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual. Those blue
eyes of his were filled with a strange emotion, before it abruptly vanished.

“Yeah? Nice to meet you, I guess.” Scaramouche looked away, staring down into the koi pond
with an over-exaggerated sigh.

“You too!” Kazuha exclaimed, trailing off awkwardly. He suddenly shifted closer, pointing into
the pond. “I named all of the koi,” he said. “Do you want to hear their names?” He paused,
realizing how weird that might sound. I just keep messing up, don’t I?

To his surprise, Scaramouche hummed. “Sure,” he mumbled, pulling something from his pocket. A
cigarette pack, and a lighter.

As much as Kazuha hated it, he didn’t protest as Scaramouche lit it up. Instead, he listed off each
and every one of the koi’s names, pointing towards the individual fish as he spoke. Surprisingly,
Scaramouche was mostly paying attention to him, his gaze half-lidded.

“You’re strange,” he commented once Kazuha had finished speaking. The boy began to deflate like
a popped balloon, up until Scaramouche grinned, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the ground. “I
like it.”

“Thanks?” Kazuha replied hesitantly, unsure of how to respond. They fell into silence for a
moment before Kazuha broke it yet again, unable to control himself. He was curious.

“What happened to you?”

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, before he seemed to realize his face was fairly beaten up. He
snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s definitely none of your concern.
Let’s just say I’m not afraid to get into fights. I mean, you should see the other guy.” He made a
punching motion with his hand. “Man, I pummeled him into dirt.”

Kazuha laughed quietly, leaning closer. “Really? You must be pretty strong, then!”

“Yeah.” Scaramouche exhaled a long cloud of smoke. “My mother signed me up for a shit ton of
martial arts classes when I was a kid.”

“How cool!” Kazuha’s eyes glimmered with awe. “My father taught me how to use a sword when I
was a young boy. It was fun.”

Scaramouche met his gaze, snorting. “You, using a sword?” He mumbled, before he broke out into
laughter, shaking his head and wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “I can barely imagine it,” he
chuckled. “Shit, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long ass time.”

“Ha ha ha.” Kazuha rolled his eyes, but even he was smiling, his chest feeling oddly light. For
some reason, his heart was fluttering wildly, the strange sensation of butterflies beginning to dance
around in his stomach.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Kazuha inquired after a moment, and Scaramouche sighed,
clicking his tongue. “Does it look like it?” He muttered. “My meal is this cigarette.”

“Here.” Reaching into his bag, Kazuha pulled out the bento box his mother had packed for him. He
placed it within Scaramouche’s lap, ignoring the other boy’s blatant shock. Glancing up, he smiled
warmly. “No one should go hungry,” he said. “So please, eat.”

“And what about you?” Scaramouche scowled, his brow furrowing. “If you think I’m going to pay
you back or something, I—”

“No,” Kazuha interrupted. “I don’t want anything like that. I just want you to eat.”

Scaramouche hesitated, before he reluctantly set aside his cigarette, stomping it out. He opened the
bento box carefully, practically drooling at the food inside. Almost immediately, he dug in, and
Kazuha watched him almost fondly, his heart still fluttering. He could ignore his own pangs of
hunger, if it meant that Scaramouche got a good lunch.

Halfway through eating, Scaramouche paused, his mouth filled to the brim with rice. “Thank you,”
he mumbled, his gaze downcast, as if he were somehow flustered.

“You’re welcome.” Kazuha beamed, his chest beginning to swell with an odd sensation.

Suddenly, voices called out to him, faint figures beginning to appear within the distance, waving
eagerly towards him.

“Kazuha!” Lumine called out, while Aether beckoned him closer. Razor and Paimon shouted for
him, and he quickly stood up, packing his things as fast as he could. He completely forgot that he
promised to tutor them; had the day passed by that fast already?

“Scaramouche — tomorrow, if you have nowhere to go for lunch, please meet me here,” Kazuha
said, blushing faintly.

Scaramouche froze, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, okay.”

He watched as Kazuha smiled at him, waving in farewell before he took off running. Cherry
blossoms fell in his wake as he ran, soon joining up with his friends, who clamored excitedly like
birds all around him. Scaramouche continued to silently stare as Kazuha’s figure became fainter
and fainter.

Deep down, he knew he’d be coming back here during every lunch period. He usually spent that
time alone or causing trouble, but now, perhaps he’d change that routine.

And yet still, after just meeting Kazuha, Scaramouche couldn’t shake this strange feeling. It kept
nagging at him, eating away at his every thought. He’d have to ask later.

Have we met before?

Chapter End Notes

And the end! I cried the most writing this chapter, I definitely needed some tissues.
This fanfiction was so fun (although sad) to write. I hope that for anyone who knew of
my past version of this story, I pray that you were satisfied with this rewritten piece.

I’d like to thank everyone for their comments and support. The compliments, the
feedback, and the help (people would point out typos and be such a lifesaver for me!)
it was all just so amazing. If you have any questions or anything you’d like to say, I’ll
try my best to reply now! ❤️

This story was obviously heavily inspired by Demon Slayer and its characters.
(SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA HERE!) Kazuha was meant to be a mixture of Giyuu
and Shinobu; I was inspired by both of them whilst writing him. Razor was obviously
inspired by Inosuke, Lumine by Kanao, Paimon by Nezuko, Aether by Tanjiro, Xiao
by Kanae, Scaramouche by Douma, and so on and so forth. Please keep in mind that
these were just inspirations! Their stories and characters all still differ in the end, but I
do owe KNY a lot for inspiring this work.

Anyways, please keep an eye out for my future works! I’m going to be busy for a
different fandom (a ship week is coming up) but afterwards, I have some Scarakazu
works planned. I hope you’ll be there to read everything!

Thank you for sticking with me and reading Kazuha’s journey. ❤️ I hope the end
satisfied you.

My Twitter is scarakazuuuu. See you all in the next story!

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