Whew, 6k words, this is the 2nd longest chapter I've written in this ff.
Also, thanks to Leftrar94 for his powerstones.
If you're seeing this, please leave some reviews, I want to get 10 reviews so my book can get a ranking.
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"Thunder Breathing Second Form: Rice Spirit"
"T-t-thunder Breathing First Form: Thunderclap and D-dash"
Two attacks at the same.
*woosh* *zing*
In an instant, Itsuki unleashed multiple strikes in succession, unleashing multiple arcs of lightning with each strike.
In the distance, Zenitsu focused on long range, as he unleashed the only form he knew.
The plan was simple: Itsuki would pin me down in close combat, and while I was locked against him, Zenitsu would unleash the fastest form of Thunder Breathing. A pincer. A trap. One mistake, and it was over.
Unfortunately, it won't work.
"Sun Breathing: Fake Rainbow"
Just as the lightning arcs passed me, I disappeared into a flurry of small rainbows.
"Wha-"
"Sun Breathing: Fire Wheel"
Instantly appearing behind Itsuki before he could speak, I unleashed a vertical circular slash, hitting him straight on the head.
*thud*
The sound was dull but final. His body jerked back violently as the force hurled him across the clearing.
Did I mention we're using wooden swords?
Even so, the impact was enough to launch him straight into Zenitsu's path.
"W-w-w-WAI-"
Zenitsu's eyes widened. He had already committed to his attack—Thunderclap and Flash at full speed, lightning sparking at his feet, his body little more than a streak of light, and so he could do nothing to change his direction or stop his attack.
*crash*
The collision was spectacular. Itsuki slammed into Zenitsu mid-sprint, and the two of them tangled together in a mess of limbs and weapons. The momentum carried them both, skidding across the ground before they finally tumbled into the dirt with a heavy thump.
"If I didn't know any better," I smugly remarked, "I'd say this is a scene from a romance manga where the main character and the heroine crash into each other and get entangled."
I mean, they were even holding hands.
"Urghh"
"Oh my, you're moaning?" I said, bringing my hand to cover my mouth," Does holding each other's hands arouse you two that much? How cute."
""SHUT UP""
Both of them shouted in unison, faces red with anger, and scrambled to their feet to escape further humiliation.
However, because Itsuki was much faster than Zenitsu, the instant movement Itsuki made was faster than Zenitsu's, making his head bash straight into Zenitsu's chin.
*CRACK*
"Gagh…" Itsuki muttered calmly, rubbing the sore spot with a wince.
"AAGH" Zenitsu, on the other hand, not so calmly shouted, "MY TONGUE! WHAT THE HELL!!!"
As Zenitsu wallowed in pain, I quietly turned on Transparent World to take a look at his injuries. Bleeding out from a cut tongue is one of the easiest ways for a human to die, Demon Slayer or not.
'Looks fine to me.'
*tap tap*
The tapping of a wooden crane diverted my attention from the two of them towards Jigoro, who calmly strode in.
"Now, now," he said evenly, "Itsuki, you've injured Zenitsu's tongue. It's only fair you kiss his boo-boo to make him feel better."
"Ugh—seriously?" Itsuki groaned, rubbing the back of his head.
"NOT YOU TOO, GRAMPS!" Zenitsu screeched, face twisted in panic. "ACK—DAMMIT, I BIT MY TONGUE AGAIN!"
He collapsed back onto the ground, clutching his jaw while rolling side to side in agony.
'I ship it.'
As the two of them carried on with their antics, Jigoro's gaze shifted toward me.
In an instant, the teasing warmth vanished. His expression hardened, the air around him heavy with authority, making me instinctively straighten up.
"Kyojuro Rengoku has slain Lower Moon Two," Jigoro reported, his voice firm. "He now stands as the Flame Hashira."
A Hashira.
Hearing so, I clenched my fist until a black mark appeared on the back of my hand.
"Kanoe"
The Demon Slayer Corps contains a special carving method called "Wisteria Carving," where the rank of the current slayer is written on the hand with invisible skin. When you flex your muscles, the invisible ink becomes visible again, which shows your rank.
Since the engraving is made of Wisteria, it is impossible for a demon to replicate this.
"Hey, Aoyama, don't worry. I'm sure you'll become a Hashira someday as well."
Itsuki, noticing my actions, tried to comfort me while Zenitsu rolled around on the ground in pain. Jigoro, noticing that the injury might be worse than he expected, immediately walked towards him to check up on him.
Meanwhile, I continued my thoughts.
'Does he think I'm jealous?'
I guess it's only logical for him to think so.
If I did not have the ability to traverse multiple worlds and was stuck in Kimetsu No Yaiba, then he would have been correct. After all, becoming a Hashira was pretty much considered the peak in this world.
'But I'm not limited to this world, am I?'
Now, if you gave a random person the ability to travel across infinite worlds, what would they desire? Of course, that depends on the type of person who gains such an ability.
Those grounded in reality, who began with little, would likely seek wealth and authority. They would use world travel as a tool to rise above all limits, becoming the richest and most powerful among countless worlds.
Those who already have everything, or who live without strong desires, might instead chase adventure. They would travel to experience wonders, make friends in distant realms, or perhaps find the perfect place to rest—a vacation beyond imagination.
A researcher would use the gift to gather knowledge, to unravel the mysteries of existence itself, leaving behind a legacy etched into history. An anthropologist would wander to study cultures and traditions, learning how each world shapes its people.
And then there are those less tied to reality, whose desires reflect the fantasies they consume. Some would dream of living as the "main character," carving out a life of danger and glory. Others, driven by base desires, might chase after harems, power fantasies, or stories where they are admired by all.
I could go on for hours about what different types of people would desire when given this chance.
So now that this ability has been given to me, what would I desire?
That's a bit complicated.
Of course, the answer to that should be obvious, considering I spend a lot of time watching supernatural media (which is just a fancy way of saying Anime), so logically I should have the desire to chase after beautiful women, or try to change the plot to how I like it.
But I never once imagined myself in those works. The only reason I read manga in the first place was because I didn't have anything else to do, not because I "admired" the characters or looked up to them.
I have never in my life felt any sort of real emotion towards fictional characters. Sure, I might momentarily feel something like sadness upon their death, or feel relatable to them, or very occasionally, feel anger towards them, but that was the limit of it.
I was never angry enough to start hating the character or voice my displeasure towards them in an online discussion. I never felt attracted enough to call someone my "waifu", and I certainly never felt any form of happiness when they achieved their goals or something.
Sometimes I even felt frustrated when the main character won, if their victory came only through some bullshit plot armor or a stroke of luck, like the fucking tunnel effect meme or. But that was the limit.
Because ultimately, they are not real.
Of course, now that I live in a world I once thought was fiction, my views on that have completely changed.
So then, since I'm not of that category, then logically I should be the one who goes after money or goes on thrilling adventures, right?
Wrong.
While I can't deny that the concept of earning money is something that never crossed my mind, ultimately, I never held much of a desire for anything worldly. I'm also not stupid enough to go on adventures in unknown worlds.
So then what do I want?
Overwhelming power.
I wish to become so powerful that there will never be any threat to my life ever again.
So, in short.
"I don't care much about becoming a Hashira," I replied, shaking my head, "I simply wish to become stronger."
Itsuki quietened down for a moment before asking me a question.
"Can I ask you why you're so obsessed with attaining power?"
My reason...
My reason for obtaining power is simple: to survive.
In a few months, my world will collapse with the return of All For One. Japan will fall first, and global chaos will follow soon after. And thanks to the butterfly effect of my own existence, the situation is even worse—I've already hospitalized the entire main cast. Canon is broken, the story is off its rails, and now the future is uncertain.
Who knows if we can even win against All For One anymore?
"There is something I must defeat," I said firmly.
"Something?" Itsuki tilted his head, confusion in his voice. "Not someone?"
"That thing is no longer human," I answered. "At this point, it's closer to a walking natural disaster."
"Um… I don't get it," Itsuki admitted, scratching his cheek. "But from what I understand, there's someone really strong you want to beat, right?"
"Mhm. That's basically the gist of it," I replied with a shrug. "Next time, I'll just say it like that instead of overcomplicating things."
"Um, it might be a bit presumptuous of me to say this," Itsuki said carefully, "but I can sort of relate to you. After all, I also want to kill someone strong."
"Yeah, that much is obvious," I replied flatly, as though stating a fact. "You're a Demon Slayer, after all."
Muzan Kibutsuji.
He didn't need to say it. No Demon Slayer did. The goal of every single one of them was the same—to kill Muzan Kibutsuji.
"Why would that be presumptuous?" I asked. "There's nothing wrong with two people—no matter how different their levels of strength—sharing the same dream. The only difference is whether you're willing to give everything you have toward that goal. So don't think of yourself as presumptuous, or inferior, just because your goal aligns with mine."
Itsuki fell silent at my words.
"You're...a lot more mature than I thought you were." Itsuki quietly replied
"I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for?" I asked
"That kind of maturity doesn't just come from nowhere," Itsuki replied. "For you to have it, despite being so young, can only mean you've lived through hardship already. So… I'm apologizing for my friends. Back at the Final Selection, they called you a rich, spoiled brat."
...
Oh
I don't even remember what his friends said to me back then; I just shut it out as some unimportant noise.
"It's fine," I said lightly. "I'll admit, I had some unpleasant thoughts about your group when we first met, too."
Just remembering it made me cringe. The way I labeled them as the "protagonist group," and myself as some "arc antagonist" who'd eventually join them later… the thought alone makes me want to bury my face in my hands every time I recall it.
Clearly, the me at that time, who had not yet become a proper Demon Slayer, subconsciously considered the world a fictional world and the people as fictional characters rather than an actual world with actual humans.
'So glad I moved on from that mindset.'
"So it evens out, you don't need to apologize."
"Ah, I'm glad."
"Speaking of your group, where are they?"
"Training, mostly," Itsuki replied. "We were badly injured on one mission. That's when we realized—even if we were a large group, it meant nothing if we were all weak. So everyone went off to seek out retired Hashira, hoping to become stronger."
"Is that so?" I said with a nod. "That's good."
No—seriously, that's good.
That group had at least a dozen members. If even half of them were as talented as Itsuki, then when they reunited, they'd all likely have achieved Total Concentration: Constant. That would put them at Kinoe rank or higher.
Just imagine it—twelve Kinoe-ranked Slayers, perfectly in sync, fighting as one unit. They'd be an elite force, strong enough to wipe out even the Lower Moons.
"However, you're mistaken," Itsuki said, his tone suddenly heavier. "It's not only Muzan Kibutsuji I want to kill."
"Huh?"
"I know my friends say Muzan killed my parents," he continued, "but that's not true. He was only a passerby. The demon who slaughtered my family… was someone else."
"Some other demon?" I asked. "An Upper Moon?"
"I couldn't see clearly. My vision was blurred with tears," Itsuki admitted. "But I know this much—his eyes had no markings. He wasn't an Upper Moon."
"So… just a normal demon, then?" I pressed.
"Um, yes," Itsuki replied with a nod. "It was dark, but I remember his shape clearly. He was about the height of a normal man. He wore a dusty brown kimono… and carried a rusted axe."
A rusted axe?
No such demon came to mind. Then again, Canon had always focused almost exclusively on the Moons, so it wasn't surprising that I wouldn't recognize a lesser one.
But still… a rusted axe? That was odd. Most demons relied on claws or fangs—sharper than any forged steel. And to my knowledge, there wasn't any historical precedent for fighting styles using farming tools in combat, let alone something as clumsy as an axe.
Unless…A lumberjack? A woodsman? Someone whose obsession carried into his demon form, just like the Drum Demon and his tsuzumi.
"So, you want to kill this demon?"
"Kill?"
The air grew colder. His voice dropped, heavy with venom.
"That demon took everything from me. My parents. My life. My farm. Even now, I can't sleep without waking from nightmares."
His hands clenched tightly at his sides.
"Killing would mean an instant death. No… that's too easy. I want him to suffer. I want to slash him again and again, drown him in Wisteria, torture him until he begs for death. And then, after hours of agony, I'll let him die—burned away by the sun. That's what I want."
That's...
Huh, that's much darker than I expected from someone who's shy and stutters when he talks.
'Then again, doesn't that exactly describe me as well?'
"Demons," Itsuki muttered, "demonsdemonsdemons, why do these things exist, why? WHY? Everything bad that happens is because of them! If only these freaks of nature, these vulgar shitheads, never existed, then life would have been so much better!"
His voice cracked halfway through, a desperate mix of fury and sorrow spilling out, as though each word was clawing its way up from somewhere deep in his chest. His hands clenched the hilt of his wooden sword so tightly that his knuckles whitened, veins bulging across his arms.
For a moment, I almost forgot I was looking at the timid boy who once tripped over his own words. Right now, Itsuki's rage was so raw it was terrifying.
Still, while his hatred is immense, it's nothing impressive. Pretty much every Demon Slayer harbors the same amount of loathing, if not greater, towards demonkind. Some of them have lost siblings, spouses, even entire families in a single night.
In the Corps, hatred alone doesn't make you special. If anything, it's the bare minimum required to keep a sword in your hand.
'However, everything bad happens because of them? Don't make me laugh.'
Demons might be terrible, but in the end, they're simply eating humans the way humans eat cows and cattle. Don't we also rip families apart just to satisfy our cravings?
If anything, humans are far worse. At least demons kill because they hunger. Humans kill simply because they can. Emperors wage wars over insults that lead to thousands of deaths. Slum-dwellers stab each other in the dark over petty disputes.
Hell, WW2 is just around the corner, and that really only happened because of Germany's wish to expand its territories, so it invaded Poland.
Demons don't gas other demons because of their eye colours, they don't capture demons and force them to work on farms because of different skin colours. They don't invent new ways to hurt their own kind just to prove superiority.
No, demons are monsters, but they're honest monsters. Humans… humans are infinitely worse.
'But there's no point in telling this to any of them.'
In the end, the only reason I could say this was because I was looking at it from the perspective of a reader, not as someone truly living in this world. From afar, it's easy to compare demons and humans, to analyze their cruelty and weigh them on some philosophical scale.
But I know for certain—if a demon had killed my family, I wouldn't give a single damn about logic, perspective, or fairness. I'd want blood. Nothing more.
So.
"Itsuki, if you had a chance to be able to kill any demon you come across, but in exchange, you would die at the age of 25, would you take it?"
"Absolutely"
That answer hit with no hesitation. No thought, no pause, just a firm, absolute reply that carried all his hatred in one word.
"Then become stronger, and come talk to me when you've achieved the position of a Hashira, and I'll teach you something."
"O..k?"
Itsuki said out a confirmation in confusion.
"That said," I said, turning towards Jigoro, "Hey, Old man, was there any news about me?"
"Don't call me old man, show me some respect," Jigoro shouted back. "As for any news, I was told that someone would be coming to escort you."
"Would it kill you to show some care for me?" Zenitsu shouted, "I just cut my tongue, I almost died here!"
"Zenitsu, you're going to face worse than this." I dryly stated
"E-e-eh? W-wait, don't just start saying ominous stuff like that."
Escort me, huh?
'Well, I'm not a Hashira, so that makes sense.'
The master's residence is a top-secret location that no one other than the Hashira is allowed to know. If a non-Hashira wanted to go there, they would have to be led to the location by multiple Kakushi who would drop him off to other Kakushi and other Kasugai crows, none of who knew the actual route but only the location of the next loadout.
"Huh?" Zenitsu suddenly muttered, his voice uneasy. "Someone's here."
"Someone is?" I glanced around, ears straining. "I don't hear anyone."
"Ah, I hear the beating of another heart."
"Beating of heart? I see"
Zenitsu's hearing was on an entirely different level—so sharp that even the faintest pulse couldn't escape him. Compared to that, my own senses felt dull. At best, I could pick out footsteps or the sound of breathing, but never something so subtle, so intimate.
'Still, who could it be?'
"Excuse me, may I come in?"
An extremely dry voice. Just hearing it felt like sand was being poured into my ears, draining away all the moisture.
'But…I know this voice.'
"Come in," Jigoro barked.
"Sorry…for bothering you," the stranger murmured, suddenly standing beside me.
"Ah, so you're my escort?" I asked, turning to face him without the slightest concern.
…
"EEHHHH?!"
Itsuki and Zenitsu shouted in unison, springing back in shock.
"Wh-how did he get there?!" Itsuki yelped, eyes wide. "He was at the door just a second ago!"
"Gh-gh-gh-GHOST! GRAMPS, THERE'S A GHOST IN HERE! IYAAA!" Zenitsu wailed, trembling and pointing at him.
I just blinked, puzzled by their overreaction.
'Didn't they see him walk in? Why are they acting like he teleported?'
"Stupid brats!" Jigoro roared, slamming his cane on Zenitsu's head. "Show some respect—that's a Hashira!"
'Right…' I sighed inwardly, palm to face. 'Of course, they couldn't follow a Hashira's movement. To them, it really would've looked like he appeared out of thin air.'
"Why are you trying to show off?" I asked with a wry smile. "That's so unlike you."
"I wasn't..." he muttered. His tone didn't change, but there was a trace of awkwardness. "Sorry...for scaring them."
"Seriously," I said, exhaling, "this is why you don't have friends, Senpai."
"...We are friends, right?"
My lips twitched at his question.
"Of course we are, Giyu-san."
~~~~
"Except for the Rumble Hashira, we now hold all the Hashira of the basic Breathing Styles," I noted.
After bidding farewell to Zenitsu and Itsuki and receiving Jigoro's blessing, I set off with Giyu toward the meeting point.
"Still, with Obanai and me—wielders of derivative styles—we've more than made up for that single absence."
The entire journey was silent. Neither Giyu nor I exchanged a single word.
Which was perfectly fine by me. After being ignored by the world for most of my life, I'd long since grown to prefer silence over small talk. Giyu, who wasn't exactly fond of conversation himself, clearly had no complaints either.
Simply put, with both of us being introverts, there wasn't a single exchange of words.
"Aoyama, greetings!"
I looked up instinctively and found Rengoku beaming at me.
"I trust your travels have been well, Aoyama."
"Yo, Rengoku," I said, raising a hand in greeting. "Congrats on becoming a Hashira. If things weren't so urgent, I'd have brought a gift."
"There's no need for extravagance," Rengoku replied with that blazing smile. "Your presence is more than enough for me."
'Uh… thanks?'
"If you're done with your pleasantries, shut up and sit down."
The words cut through the room like a blade. My eyes drifted to the gathered Hashira, only to meet Sanemi's sharp, impatient glare. His arms were folded, foot tapping, as if every second wasted on small talk grated against his nerves.
"My apologies."
"Hmph, as expected of a low-ranking Slayer."
Sanemi snorted before resuming.
"So now, the only problem is the trapped civilians."
"According to Aoyama," Obanai muttered quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness. "One of these houses hides a safehouse. Inside, civilians are kept like livestock—stored as a food source. The Upper Moon staying here is apparently a picky eater... only consuming those she considers beautiful."
"Well, it is the red light district." I mused, "Beauty and looks are the only things that matter there anyway."
"Exactly," Tengen cut in. "That's why I sent my three wives into the houses Aoyama pointed out. With their infiltration skills—and my muscle mice—it won't take more than a day to track down the safehouse."
When he said three wives, he deliberately glanced at me, smirk widening like he was rubbing it in.
💢
Veins popped on my forehead.
'Fucking bastard, look at him being so smug when two of those three wives were from an arranged marriage.'
I am definetly not jealous.
"Speaking of which," Shinobu cut in smoothly, "according to Aoyama-san's report, this Upper Moon has the ability to inject a lethal poison. Since I don't have a direct sample to analyze, I prepared an all-purpose Wisteria-based antidote."
"Because the poison is tied to their Blood Demon Art, Wisteria should be able to suppress it. One dose lasts about eight hours, which gives us more than enough time to draw the demon out... and finish it."
"Hm, are you sure that is safe for us?" I interrupted
"Hey, dumbass," Sanemi yelled, "Wisteria isn't harmful to humans, or did you even forget that?"
The hostility in his tone was sharp enough to cut, but I didn't flinch.
'That's not my concern.'
He was thinking in terms of the obvious—whether the poison itself would kill us outright. I was thinking about what wasn't being said. The injection wasn't incense. It wasn't perfume or smoke drifting in the air. This was something being forced into the bloodstream, something that would linger for hours.
Eight hours.
That was a hell of a long time for something foreign to remain inside the body. Long enough for side effects. Long enough for unforeseen consequences.
'But, she's a doctor, isn't she?'
My eyes traveled to Shinobu.
She wasn't offended. Her expression hadn't changed in the slightest—serene, calculating, like a scientist watching a reaction in a glass beaker. No matter how much venom Sanemi spat, her presence was steady. That steadiness alone should have been enough to reassure me.
Finally, I exhaled and shut my mouth.
'Forget it, I'm an engineering student, what right do I have to question someone who studied medicine her entire life?'
"Yeah, you're right, that was stupid of me." I said, shaking my head, "Sorry about that."
The words tasted sour in my mouth, but they needed to be said.
If there can exist miracle drugs—like something strong enough to restrain Muzan himself, or concoctions potent enough to heal the Hashira after battles that should've left them crippled or dead—then what's an eight-hour injection, really?
I had to remind myself: This wasn't Earth anymore. The laws of medicine and chemistry here are bent under different principles. Poisons that should've been lethal could become weapons. Herbs that should've been inert were catalysts for miracles.
And besides, this was Shinobu Kocho's creation. The same person who had already safely pumped thirty-seven kilograms of Wisteria into her own body, lived with it, fought with it, and still walked among the strongest of the Hashira.
For a second, Sanemi seemed almost disappointed that I didn't argue back. His fists clenched as if he was itching for me to continue so he could verbally—and maybe physically—tear into me.
Shinobu, however, gave the faintest smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I don't think you are worried about the Wisteria, am I right, Aoyama-San?"
What a terrifying intuition.
'Right, doesn't she hate me?'
I groaned internally. Of course, she was going to try to humiliate me further.
'2 of the current Hashira absolutely despise me, that's great.'
"Hm, eight hours…" I muttered under my breath, rubbing my chin. "That's not a normal injection. If it were just plain liquid, the body would flush it out in minutes."
Obanai glanced at me, irritated. "What are you mumbling about now?"
I ignored him and continued my analysis.
"There are only a few ways this could work. One is if the poison's antidote was suspended in something thick—oil, maybe—so it leaks into the blood little by little instead of all at once. Another possibility is that the medicine is bound to something bigger, like a fatty acid chain, so the body has to slowly break it apart before it becomes active."
I paused, narrowing my eyes. "And if it's really advanced… she might have made the drug inside tiny dissolving beads, so the blood can't absorb everything at once. Each bead would melt over time, releasing the medicine in bursts."
She blinked at my rambling.
"You know quite a bit about medicine," she remarked in mild surprise. "I suppose you really do learn interesting things in school.
As for your concern, the medicine isn't simply floating in your veins. I designed it to bind with body fat, where it's slowly metabolized and released into the bloodstream over time.
I considered making it oil-based, but with severe blood loss, circulation would falter. That means the medicine might stay trapped in the depot and fail to act when needed most. I couldn't risk that."
Simultaneously, the other Hashira thought the same thing.
'''I don't understand'''
"I see," I said, nodding, "I suppose that makes sense."
"What the hell are you guys saying?" Obanai questioned, "Geek out on that stuff later, we have other things to do."
At his words, my mind snapped back to the current situation.
"Right, I forgot, sorry."
"My my, I apologize for getting carried away," Shinobu remarked with a giggle. "Aoyama-San, if you don't mind, would you consider learning how to make poison with me? I can see that you have the knowledge to do so."
"I'll consider it."
"Speaking of Blood Demon Arts," Tengen cut in, his tone growing serious, "Aoyama mentioned that the demons can share vision through each other's eyes. That makes it nearly impossible to strike them down at the same time.
"So, I propose we split the Hashira into teams to corner each demon separately. Once one is decapitated, we move the head far from the body to prevent regeneration. Aoyama's ability to turn our blades red hot will also hinder their healing… though it's unclear how effective that would be against an Upper Moon."
"It probably won't make much difference," I replied bluntly. "Upper Moons can regrow limbs in less than a second. At best, my ability would buy us a few seconds of delay—and in a battle like this, a few seconds might not be enough."
"A few seconds will be plenty," Gyomei replied, "In a battle, a second can be the difference between life and death."
"Aoyama" Sanemi questioned, "Can you provide an accurate assessment on the strength of the two demons so we can split into groups?"
"The female, Daki, isn't particularly strong," I explained. "She only holds the Upper Moon title because of her brother. A single Hashira should be more than enough to handle her. As for Gyutaro… I'd estimate at least three Hashira working together, unless you send Gyomei-sensei. He could manage alone."
"Three Hashira," Tengen murmured, his arms crossed as he leaned back, calculating aloud. "With the addition of Rengoku, our numbers rise to six in total. That gives us flexibility." His eyes swept across the room, lingering on each Hashira for a heartbeat before continuing.
"We could form a strike team of four to overwhelm Gyutaro and Daki. The remaining two can be stationed elsewhere—either to guard civilians, or to stand ready as immediate backup in case the situation shifts. If the demons prove stronger than expected, reinforcement would be instant. If not, at least the people remain safe."
"We should not take Rengoku-san's help in defeating this demon," Gyomei said, his tone as even as ever. "I do not believe he can manage a task of this magnitude."
Rengoku's eyes widened. "What? Why would you say that?"
Obanai didn't even hesitate. "You're too weak." His voice was sharp, dismissive. "You almost died fighting a Lower Moon. If that nearly killed you, then you have no chance against an Upper Moon. Don't kid yourself."
Rengoku stiffened, his fists tightening at his sides. The air grew heavier for a moment, as if everyone in the room waited to see how he would respond.
For a heartbeat, I worried he might explode, that the fire he carried inside would burn its way out in anger. His jaw clenched, his chest rose and fell in sharp rhythm, but no outburst came.
Instead, Rengoku slowly straightened his back. He drew in a breath, and when he spoke, his voice was calm, steady. "I see," he said quietly, almost to himself. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted. The tension in his features softened, replaced by the familiar warmth of his smile.
"Very well," he declared, louder this time, his voice carrying its usual strength. "If I cannot be trusted to face the Upper Moon, then I will dedicate myself fully to protecting the civilians. That is also my duty as a Hashira—and I will not falter in it."
Hearing that made me slump my shoulders in relief.
"Ahaha," Tengen laughed, slapping his knee, "You're flashy! Nice, very nice."
"Thank you, Tengen-san." Rengoku bowed his head politely, the smile still fixed on his face.
Obanai shifted his gaze toward me, his eyes narrowing. "The same goes for you, Aoyama." His voice was cool, edged like his blade. "To be frank, while you were able to fend off Sanemi's strikes for a moment, that doesn't mean much. We still don't feel confident in your strength."
"Is that so?" I replied, unbothered. "Well, you're the Hashira. Do whatever you want."
"Hmph." Sanemi scoffed, leaning back with his arms crossed. "I thought you'd have more fight in you. Guess I was wrong."
"Aoyama-san," Gyomei's calm voice cut through the tension, steady as stone, "please do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. You have great potential. None of us wishes to see it extinguished so early."
Unknown to the others, Giyu flinched—so slight it was almost imperceptible.
"Speaking of fighting, we will need some capable swordsmen to fight," Tengen said. "There is an obi demon guarding the safehouse. Not to mention, we need to kill it before it can kill any of the civilians stored in them."
"As such," Tengen announced, spreading his arms slightly, "Giyu, Obanai, and I will take on Gyutaro. Rengoku and Shinobu will handle Daki. If anything goes wrong, we can have Gyomei ready as backup."
"And me?"
"Aoyama, you..." Tengen hummed, "Stay back for now. We will come to you if our red swords turn back to normal."
"Mhm, I see," I said nodding my head.
"Then, if the plan is settled" Tengen replied "Shall we call Oyakata-Sama to finalize it?"
"No, we shouldn't."
""""""Huh?""""""
All six Hashira turned towards me in confusion.
"What? You unsatisfied?" Obanai replied.
"Hah! I knew you weren't going to be silent." Sanemi barked.
"Yeah, you were right, there's no way I'm going to be silent."
Pondering for a moment, I made up my mind.
"Your plan is terrible." I said, "Frankly, I'm surprised that as Hashira, you couldn't make a better plan."
...
For a moment, no one said anything.
And then
*shing*
"Why don't you say that again?" Sanemi barked, raising his sword to me. " You wanna fight, you brat?"
"I think...that will be wonderful."
Saying so, I slowly got up.
"Martial Union: Sun Breathing."
"Wind Breathing First Form"
~~~~
Hello everyone, author here.
I just started watching LOTM and holy shit, this animation puts Ufotable to shame. Donghuas really are on a next level.
This chapter is mostly filler to pave the way for future chapters. Anyways, the fight with Upper Moon 6 will begin in about 2-3 chapters, and after like 12 or 13 chapters, he's returning back to MHA, so keep your cool, ight? I didn't like this chapter either.
As much as I'd like to skip straight up to another world (which I have already decided), Aoyama's already faster than sound, and his strength and durability are insane(bro slashed an entire house on his first mission in one move). Coupled with his experience and mastery, he's already a Top 10 Hero level while the Sports Festival hasn't even started. If he goes to the world, I've decided, only someone like Prime All Might or AFO could take him on.
While I like making my characters strong, there's no fun if they're so OP that there are no consequences whatsoever, so I'm going to have to progress the MHA plotline quite a bit or raise the stakes a bit.
Also, going to have to start taking romance a bit seriously (I have no idea how to write that ffs)
Since I absolutely HATE anything that doesn't exist in the original media (like some world-ending villain with an instant death quirk that was never shown, or some secret organization, or literally my worst hated trope, a fucking god that comes out of nowhere), any stakes I raise are going to follow the world's rules and logic.
Deku's dad is definitely not going to be some world-renowned weird dragon quirk guy like I've seen in most fanfics.
I honestly thought about "burning" Aoyama's blessing after he mastered Sun Breathing (because again, that shit does not exist in Demon Slayer), but then I refrained. Gods exist in that world, and the blessing would be convenient for their next world.
Also, Im going to have to reread MHA and MHA Vigilantes, the details are kinda blurry for me now.
Enough yapping, cya.