Zenitsu wouldn't stop whimpering, but at least he was still by my side. The others—Tanjiro and Inosuke—had vanished, swallowed whole by this damn mist. My head was spinning, every sense I had clawing against the cloying scent and the fog that choked the mountain. I shouted their names, voice hoarse, but the silence just mocked me, thick and heavy.
Zenitsu, still a trembling mess, suddenly went rigid. "I… I hear something!" he squeaked, head tilting like a dog. "It's faint, but… I think it's Tanjiro and Inosuke! Over there!" I strained my ears, desperate for any hint of sound, but all I got was the fog's dull roar. This coward's hearing is sharper than mine?Unbelievable. Tanjiro had bragged about Zenitsu's freakish ears before, but I didn't expect them to outclass me. Gritting my teeth, I followed his shaky point anyway.
We stumbled through the mist, the ground shifting under us like it was alive. After what felt like hours, we broke into a clearer patch of mountain air. There they were—Tanjiro and Inosuke, slumped together, roughed up but breathing. Relief slammed into me, and we closed the gap fast.
"What the hell happened to you two?" I demanded, catching my breath.
Tanjiro's face was ashen, eyes distant. Inosuke snorted under his boar mask. "Bunch of losers tried to invade my territory. Lame tricks."
I nodded, the ache in my chest flaring. "Yeah, I got the same crap. My family, acting like nothing happened. Smiling." I shook it off, focusing. "It's the demon's Blood Demon Art. The fog, the scents, those visions—it's all a trap."
Tanjiro frowned, a thoughtful look on his face. "This feels... different from Lower Moon One, Enmu. He had to put us to sleep to trap us in dreams, you know?"
"Wait, hold up," I cut in, blinking at him. "You fought Lower Moon One? When? I just took down a Lower Moon One named Kurayami a few days after Rengoku died. He used some dark, shadowy energy stuff."
Tanjiro's eyes widened. "No, we fought Enmu. That was on the Mugen Train—the mission where Rengoku-san... fell." His voice trailed off, a flicker of pain in his eyes.
I rubbed my temple, piecing it together. "So, maybe after Enmu bit it, this Kurayami guy got bumped up to Lower Moon One? Ranks shift, I guess." I waved off the thought, deciding it wasn't the most pressing matter. "Doesn't matter now, though. We've got a demon to kill. Just remember to breathe shallow—don't let that scent mess with your head again."
We grabbed each other's haori, forming a tight line to stay together, and started moving. The fog was thinning, lifting off the ground like a dying breath. "Demon's running low on power," I said, feeling the change. "Should be easier to track now."
Out of nowhere, Inosuke dropped into a crouch, boar mask tilted like he was sniffing the dirt. What's this lunatic up to? A second later, he shot up, jabbing a finger ahead. "Found it!" he bellowed. "The demon's that way!"
I gaped. "You can sense it?"
Inosuke thumped his chest. "Yeah! I feel its nasty aura!"
I shook my head, a complex mix of amazement and irritation bubbling within me. Tanjiro had his nose, a divining rod for demons and emotions. Zenitsu, despite his endless whining, possessed ears so freakishly sharp he could pinpoint a demon's heartbeat across a mountain. And now Inosuke, this wild boar, had some primal, almost animalistic enemy-radar, a sixth sense for tracking down threats.
Then there was me. I could do it all, sure. My nose was good, my hearing sharp, my senses honed. But none of it was as extraordinary, as masterful, as theirs. I could do everything they could, but none of it as well. The thought settled heavily in my gut, a stark, unwelcome realization — ****
Jack of All Trades, Master of None.
We bolted toward Inosuke's target, the fog peeling back completely. A huge cliff loomed up, and there it was—the demon, perched like a vulture. Its eyes burned red in the gloom—Lower Moon Three. Zenitsu screeched, "Lower Moon Three?! We need Hashira for this!"
"Shut it!" I snapped, glaring. "It's just a Lower Moon Three. We've got this."
The demon sneered, voice dripping with venom. "You think I'm beneath you, weaklings?"
I smirked, leaning into the bluff. "Just so you know, I killed a Lower Moon One and Four not long ago." Okay, Ghost carried me, but it counts. I hoped it'd shake him.
It just laughed, a dry rasp that chilled my bones. "Luck, maybe. Or they were sloppy. You won't get that chance again."
We roared as one, charging—four on one. Piece of cake. But the ground betrayed us, twisting and splitting like it was alive. Not an illusion—real earth, cracking open. We fell, tumbling into separate pits. I slammed into rock, pain exploding in my ribs. "Shit! Didn't expect that!" I staggered up, scanning for a way out, when I saw them—Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke, standing there.
"You guys okay?" I called, relief kicking in. But they moved—fast, swords up, eyes dead. Tanjiro's blade nearly took my head off; I dodged by a hair. "What the hell?!"
Then it clicked. No warmth, no spirit—just hollow shells. "Damn it! They're not real—they're puppets!" I raised my sword, pulse hammering. Looked like I'd have to fight my own team.
To Be Continued…
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Author Here. I have a special message for those who read but don't comment or give power stones. Let me tell you, My friend Ghost will find you and haunt you for the rest your life. Be prepared.