Chapter Text
“So if you haven’t seen it, how are you going to go about tracking it?” Shotaro asked as they made their way down the darkened streets. The two of them followed Yoru, who was walking with a purpose and seemed to know where she was going, unlike them. Shotaro leaned close and whispered, “And what’s her deal?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
Shotaro’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t feign ignorance. Clearly something is off here.” He nudged his head in her direction. “How did you guys end up meeting each other?”
He was suspicious of Yoru. That wasn’t entirely unexpected. Everyone was wary around Yoru when they first met her. “Listen, I don’t know too much about her, but I can vouch for her credibility, if that’s what you’re asking. She saved my life, and now she’s helping me complete my mission. We can trust her on this.”
Shotaro still looked unconvinced, and Akihito did not like the way he was gripping his sword. “Very well,” he finally relented.
Akihito let out a sigh of relief. “So where are you from?”
“A small farming village a long way from here. Nothing too fancy of a place. What about you? Where are you from, and what do you do?”
Well, he couldn’t really tell him that he was a swordsmith in training. Or was. That was before he left and basically abandoned his post. Frankly, he didn’t know what he was now. “I’m a traveler. You know, wandering around and seeing the sights. Let the wind take me wherever it blows.”
Shotaro nodded. “So where’s your next destination then? You mentioned you have a mission.”
“Oh. Uh…” He awkwardly scratched his cheek, feeling the skin warm beneath his touch. Why did he have to go and blabber about all these extra things? He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. The less details, the better. “I—”
Yoru suddenly stopped, and the two of them froze. Silence permeated the area.
Akihito nervously glanced around. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed that the air had gone still. Much too still.
Shotaro began unwrapping his blade, letting the cloth strips fall to the ground. A sleek, black sheath unveiled itself in his hands, and Akihito couldn't help but stare at it. Such beautiful craftsmanship. It was a standard issued blade to all new demon slayers, but it still amazed him nonetheless. If he could study it in finer detail, he could probably discern which swordsmith had forged it.
“Do you have a weapon?” Shotaro whispered, his words snapping Akihito back to reality.
“I—yes.”
“Draw it, and leave. It’s too dangerous for a civilian like you here. Go back to the house with her. I will take care of the demon from here on out.”
A droplet of sweat ran down his neck. “So there is a demon here?”
The boy pursed his lips. “Can’t you feel it? The unsettling silence. The stillness. How not even the bugs dare to buzz. I might not be able to see it, but I can feel it. Your partner was right. There is a demon here.” He warily glanced at the shadows of the darkened alleyways, then at the treetops and roofs. “The question is, what is the demon waiting for? Why hasn’t it attacked?”
That’s true. If the demon had been here for as long as Yoru had noticed it, then why had it stayed silent the entire time? Not a single human had yet to be taken, and there were no reports of a mysterious creature roaming around at night. The demon had stayed hidden this whole time, as if biding their time for something.
“Yoru!” he hissed. “Let’s go! We can leave the rest to Shotaro.”
Yoru turned around. Her eyes drifted down to Shotaro’s hands, which were clenched bone-white against his blade and slightly trembling. Contrary to how the boy acted, his body betrayed just how nervous he was.
He was a newer demon slayer. Of course he would be nervous.
“Are you sure you don’t want our help?” Akihito asked hesitantly.
Shotaro shook his head. “How will you help? Neither of you have weapons capable of killing a demon, and I doubt the two of you have any experience either.”
“Actually,” Akihito began, “Yoru—”
“Let’s go,” Yoru interrupted. “We should stop preventing him from doing his job.”
Akihito frowned. He knew Yoru was uncomfortable around the demon slayer, but he was still worried. The most dangerous time for a demon slayer was when they had just started out. That was when they were at their most inexperienced—where they were at their most vulnerable. Still, if Yoru deemed it fine, then he supposed Shotaro could take care of himself. “Fine. We’ll head back.” He turned to Shotaro. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” the boy muttered, his face grim.
Akihito cast one last worried look over his shoulder before going to join Yoru. The two of them walked in silence, one content with not speaking while the other straining his ears to listen for any signs of struggle as they turned the corner, and Shotaro disappeared out of their sight.
“We should help him,” Akihito said, breaking the silence. He already regretted the decision to leave Shotaro behind. He glanced at Yoru out of the corner of his eye. The sparse beams of moonlight creeping through the clouds illuminated her stoic face, sprinkling dashes of silver on her lashes. “He’s clearly a new slayer.”
She kicked a stray pebble. “Just because he’s new doesn’t mean he isn't capable.”
“But what if the demon is really strong?” Concern gnawed at his chest. “If you think about it, this demon has to be somewhat stronger than normal, right? Otherwise it wouldn’t have been this quiet the entire time.” The most dangerous demons were the ones who never acted out of instinct. They were the ones who plotted in the shadows, waiting for the right time to strike. He’d heard all sorts of stories about demons who would trick humans back at the swordsmith village. In a way, the more animalistic a demon was, the weaker they were. Not necessarily due their strength, but due to their lack of intelligence.
Yoru hesitated.
Akihito straightened. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but…” A conflicted look crossed her face. “I’d rather not deal with demon slayers any more than necessary.”
He decided to venture forth. “Any particular reason for that?”
She pursed her lips. “I have some bad history. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Oh. All right.” Her words did nothing to alleviate the curiosity he had about her. There was just so much unknown about her, and sometimes, he felt a bit peeved that he knew so little when she had been presented with so much of himself. “Still, I would like to go back and check on him. You don’t have to come or anything. I promise I’ll stay out of sight and hidden.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“I know. But I have a small knife in my boot, and, like I said, I’ll make sure I’m not noticed.”
“Just because a demon can’t see you, doesn’t mean they don’t know that you’re there.”
He threw up his hands. “Listen, I’m going to go check on him no matter what you say, whether you’re coming or not. I’m just too worried, and I’d rather not have a life on my hands knowing I could have helped in some way.”
Yoru looked at him. “How much help can you be, exactly?”
Her words didn’t carry an ounce of insult or snideness. They were simply an honest question.
“Well, Shotaro was right in that neither of us have nichirin, but any blade is better than none. A knife will still deal a decent amount of damage.”
“You don’t have combat experience.”
He crossed his arms. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I want to learn some self defense, and I can’t help but notice that you’ve got some moves under your toolbelt. Moves beyond your absurd strength.”
It wasn’t the hardest thing to notice. She moved with purpose, with a skill honed from hours upon hours of training. Nearly every movement of hers during combat was efficient. No amount of energy was wasted, and she possessed an intent to strike for death. She possessed the intent to kill.
And that, he was familiar with. He saw it in the most skilled swordsman, in the characters his mentors forged onto Hashiras’ blades. He saw it when she had previously killed—no, ripped apart—the demon that had threatened to eat him.
His foggy recollection of it was still enough to send shivers down his spine. He had been so close to death that day.
“That’s why,” he continued, “I want you to teach me. When you have the time, of course.”
Her gaze flicked away. “Maybe.”
He sighed. “Okay. Well, I’m going to check on Shotaro. You can head back to the house or whatever. I’ll see you later.”
“You’re being awfully brave.” And stupid, her words seemed to imply.
“My concern is overshadowing my fear, all right? As soon as I see that he’s okay, I’ll probably run back to the house.” His palms were already becoming clammy just from the thought of it.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
He watched Yoru turn and leave, keeping his eyes on her back until she was a good distance away before turning back the way they came from. Reaching down, he armed himself with his knife.
Internally, he prayed nothing would be happening when he got there.
As he approached the area they left Shotaro in, he began to hold his breath, afraid that the cold wintry air would betray him with the white puffs escaping from his mouth. With ears as open as he could make them, he crouched down, shuffled behind a wall, and peered over the side into the street.
As expected from the silence, Shotaro was gone. There was no one and nothing there. Only the pounding of his roaring heart could be heard.
So then, where did the boy go?
Faint footsteps could barely be seen leading further down the street and disappearing into the darkness. Akihito followed the imprints in the snow, wincing as every crunch his footsteps caused. The sound seemed to be amplified by the lack of anything else filling the air.
Like before, the silence was alarming. This time even more so since he couldn’t hear Shotaro anywhere. There also didn’t seem to be a single sign of struggle, nor could he hear the sounds of battle.
The footsteps ended abruptly, ceasing in the middle of the street. He crouched down and examined the ground. A light layer of snow covered the dirt everywhere, so there was simply no way Shotaro couldn’t have left footsteps elsewhere. However, despite this, they had simply stopped and disappeared, almost like Shotaro had been lifted up and carried away by some bird.
Besides the remnant steps of the slayer, there was nothing else present on the ground. The demon, which at this point Akihito concluded was the one who took Shotaro, didn’t leave a single trace behind.
It was clear. This was not something he could handle alone, not that it was from the beginning anyway. Thank goodness he had come to check on Shotaro.
He stood. He needed to get Yoru out here now, before the demon escaped too far away.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. Every muscle in his body tensed at this touch. His eyes fell to the ground, where his shadow, once alone, was now joined by another.
His skin crawled, and every hair on his body rose in alarm. This wasn’t Yoru. Instinctively, he knew. He’d screwed up. This was the demon behind him.
“Hello,” a smooth, low voice said, the word ringing in his ears.
Akihito whirled around, lunging forward with his knife. The neck. Aim for the neck, even if his knife wasn’t made of nichirin. Demons still took a while to regenerate when their heads were cut off. That much he’d learned from the demon slayers.
The demon slid back, and Akihito’s blade grazed its cheek, slicing a shallow cut across the demon’s face. The demon’s hand flew up, catching Akihito’s wrist before he could attack any further.
“Now, now, now,” it chastised. “It's not very polite to greet someone like that.” It ran a hand over the cut and licked the blood from his fingers. Within seconds, the cut had woven itself back together. Nothing remained of the wound, only smooth, sickly pale skin.
If Akihito didn’t feel it, if he didn’t see the injury healing itself, if he was some unknowing civilian, he would have thought the demon was another human, though dressed rather raggedly. With a tall stature, humanoid body, and the way it spoke so casually, in the darkness, it was easy to miss the way its teeth were fanged, and the sharp point of its ears peeking out from its brown hair.
What was hard to miss, however, were its glowing eyes and the characters carved into them.
Lower Moon Three.
“Let go of me,” he hissed. His arm shook. As expected from a lower moon, the demon was strong. Even with all of his strength, he couldn’t even budge his arm.
God, he was in a world of trouble.
The demon clicked its tongue. “Such impoliteness. Didn’t even bother to greet me back.” It looked around. “Where’s the other one?”
Yoru . “None of your business,” Akihito spat. He needed to find some way to contact her. His free arm snaked around his back, reaching into his back pant pocket. “What have you done to Shotaro?”
“He’s alive. For now.” The demon chuckled, and leaned forward, face mere inches away from Akihito’s. “I’ve answered your questions, so answer mine, if you wish to live. Where is the other one?” Its grip tightened around his wrist. Any tighter, and his wrist would snap.
Akihito clenched his teeth. “Behind you.”
The demon laughed. “Nice try, but—”
With a snarl, Akihito whipped his free hand around and shoved the stone in his palm as hard as he could into the demon’s neck.
Blood spurted from the chunk of flint lodged into the demon’s neck, and the demon howled in pain, its grip loosening enough for Akihito to rip free and run as fast as he could.
He was free for only mere seconds before a sharp blow cracked across the back of his skull, blinding him as stars exploded across his vision, and he flew forward into the side of a building with a loud crash. His ear popped, and burning pain throbbed in and out of his head. The world grew fuzzy and blurry, blinking in and out of existence. His right ear, the one that had popped, felt as if it had been submerged under water. Faintly, he could hear the concerned voices and the sound of doors opening.
A shadow fell over him.
The demon crouched down. “Look at what you’ve done,” it said almost cheerfully. “Now you’ve blown our cover. Looks like I’ll have to kill those meddling humans before they report us, hm?”
Akihito struggled to get up. His body was on fire, and his head—he could taste the bile rising in his throat, mixing with the iron already on his tongue. Everything was spinning in multiple circles at once. “Don’t you dare,” he managed to choke out.
The demon reached out and wiped the blood running down his face, its face breaking out in a wide grin. “You poor thing. You should have just cooperated. Then I wouldn't have to beat you up like this.”
The sound of voices was getting closer.
“No,” Akihito muttered. He couldn’t have these people die. Not on his account. Not because of him and his stupidity. “Don’t hurt them.”
The demon pursed its lips. “Apologize for your rudeness, and I’ll consider it.”
“I’m sorry.”
The demon laughed. “That was quick. You should’ve just answered my question like that earlier. Save us all this trouble.” It stood, flashing its blinding white fangs at him. “But you’re learning, I’ll give you that. Youngsters these days are more rowdy than I remember, but people still remain the same in the end.”
Akihito threw a glare at the monster gloating above him. “Don’t touch them.”
“Hmm.” The demon smirked. “Since you apologized, I’ll spare them. For now.” Its eyes narrowed as it glanced down at the disheveled state Akihito was in. “As for you, however, I can’t guarantee your survival.”
Fine. That was fine. Better one person than more. His hands shook, a torrid mixture of fear and pain and disgust all swirling in his body. He just needed to hold on a little longer—to make sure that the demon kept his end of the deal and left the civilians alone.
But really, what could he do in this situation? His body was broken and useless, and he, as well as those arriving to check out the commotion, were at the complete mercy of the demon right now.
There was only one hope. That the commotion was enough to attract the right person.
It was getting harder for him to breathe. His chest was constricted. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. He’d lost too much blood. The lights were bobbing closer, and the shadows grew sharper.
“You look to be in quite the pain. I’ll put you out of your misery.”
That was all he could remember hearing before a sharp burst of pain exploded across his face, and he fell into darkness.
