Chapter 11: Demon
A hundred years later, Akira would often recall this very day. Again and again, he would ask himself:
If I had another chance… would I make the same choice?
The question never left him. The answer changed with time.
But this was the day it began.
---
"The location that the Kasugai Crow mentioned should be around here, right?"
Two young Demon Slayer Corps members moved cautiously through the dense forest, boots crunching against damp leaves. Their blades rested at their hips, hands hovering just above the hilts.
"Yeah," the other replied, glancing around warily. "Crow said a demon was spotted nearby. Stay sharp."
Mist clung to the undergrowth, curling around tree roots like ghostly fingers. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, silvering the air. Every shadow felt alive.
The pair scanned the area in silence—until a low, guttural growl drifted from the bushes ahead.
"Hrgh…"
It was followed by a wet, sickening crunch—the unmistakable sound of bones being chewed.
The two exchanged a tense glance. One raised two fingers silently, signaling approach. They crept forward, careful, steady.
The growls grew louder. The crunching more violent.
One of them reached out and parted the brush.
The sight froze them both in place.
A grotesque demon crouched over a mangled corpse, its back hunched, its limbs too long. Blood soaked its claws as it gnawed hungrily, meat still dangling between jagged teeth. Its eyes glowed faintly red in the darkness.
The second it sensed them, its head snapped up. Blood dripped from its chin. It snarled, lips curling, fangs bared like a cornered predator.
"Demon!"
"Wind Breathing, Second Form: Claw-Purifying Wind!"
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
They moved as one, blades gleaming. The demon lunged, claws arcing through the mist—but it was too slow. The twin strikes cut through in perfect synchrony.
The head toppled. The body slumped.
For a heartbeat, the only sound was ragged breathing.
They sheathed their blades, staring grimly at the scene. The corpse beneath the demon was mutilated beyond recognition. Flesh torn, bones splintered.
"…We were too late," one whispered.
Then his eyes widened.
"…Wait. Look at the uniform."
His partner turned, following his gaze. His breath caught.
The shredded clothing was familiar. Too familiar. The insignia was clear even through the blood.
"…He was one of us."
"What?!"
A fallen Demon Slayer.
The Wind Breathing user clenched his fists, jaw trembling. Rage and guilt surged together. "He fought. He must have. But in the end…"
The Water user bent down, fingers brushing the earth. A shattered Nichirin Blade lay among the blood, its edge broken, useless.
"If only we had come sooner," he murmured, voice heavy with blame.
His companion rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't dwell on it. At least we avenged him. At least no one else will—"
Then he stopped.
The Water user's eyes had gone wide, fixed on the demon's corpse.
"…Wait. Why hasn't the body turned to ash?"
The words sent a chill through them both.
"Huh?"
They turned together. He was right.
Normally, a demon's body begins to disintegrate within seconds of decapitation. Skin blistering, bones turning to dust.
But this one remained.
The head had rolled to the Water user's feet. Its eyes, lifeless and glazed, stared upward.
And for a split second—he thought he saw something.
A glimmer.
Not of death. Not of pain.
But amusement.
Mockery.
His heart lurched. Instinct took over. He ripped his sword from its sheath and slashed downward at the head—
The instant his blade touched it, the forest erupted.
CAW! CAW! CAW!
A cacophony of wings exploded around them.
The demon's body dissolved—not into ash, but into a swirling mass of black feathers. Countless crows burst outward, shrieking, their wings battering the air.
The slayers staggered back, eyes wide.
"What the hell…?!"
The crows spiraled into the night sky, shrieking, circling, blotting out the moon.
And then—
They didn't scatter.
They gathered.
One branch. One point. One focus.
The air thickened. The feathers swirled, converging as if pulled by an unseen hand.
And from that chaos, a shape began to emerge.
A tall figure, rising out of the storm of feathers.
Crimson hair spilled down her back like a river of blood. Her eyes glowed scarlet, etched with cryptic patterns that seemed to twist and shift with every blink.
Her presence was suffocating. Beautiful. Terrifying.
She stood proud, poised like a queen gazing down upon ants.
"Only two weaklings?" she muttered, her voice soft, mocking, sharp as glass.
The two slayers froze.
The demon before them was no mindless beast. She radiated intelligence. Power. Purpose.
"Impossible…" one whispered.
"The demon… it's been reborn."
Akira looked down at them from the branch above, eyes glowing. Her expression was calm, disinterested.
"Tch. Of course," she said flatly. "This little ruckus wouldn't draw out a Hashira."
The Wind user gritted his teeth. "Don't mock us!"
Akira tilted her head, gaze sliding over them. "Wind Breathing. Water Breathing. Not even Thunder Breathing?"
Her lips curved into a cold smirk.
"Pathetic."
Her gaze snapped to the Wind user.
And then—he froze.
His body locked, rigid, every muscle stiff. His eyes widened in panic.
"W-What… what's happening?!"
His hand jerked toward his blade. His arms moved—not by his will, but like a puppet pulled by strings.
"Stop!" he shouted. "I can't control my body!"
"Wait!" the Water user cried, rushing forward.
Too late.
The blade slashed downward—straight toward him.
He twisted, barely escaping decapitation—but not the cut. Steel bit through flesh.
His arm severed cleanly.
Blood sprayed into the night.
"AHHHHH!" He collapsed, clutching the stump, screaming in agony.
The Wind user's face twisted in horror. "No! No, no, no! I didn't—"
But his body moved again, jerking forward, sword raised.
"SWISH!"
The blade cut deep into his partner's neck.
The Water user's eyes went wide. His lips trembled, trying to form words. But blood choked them off.
He fell.
Dead.
The Wind user dropped his sword. His arms hung limp. His whole body trembled.
"…What… what did I just do?"
Tears welled in his eyes as he turned slowly toward Akira.
"What… did you do to me?!"
Her smirk widened. Her voice dripped with poison.
"How does it feel?"
She stepped closer, every word slicing like a knife.
"To kill your own friend."
His breath broke into sobs. "You… monster…"
"Don't blame me," Akira said coldly, her crimson eyes glinting.
"You chose to become a Demon Slayer."
The crows above erupted again, their cries echoing into the night.
And the forest, once silent, was filled with the sound of wings.