"Hey, Kenko… Have you heard about the Midnight Hunter?"
Inside the serene Wisteria House, a haven for Demon Slayers, two lower-ranking slayers, Amaki and Kenko, sparred halfheartedly. Amaki, his voice a low whisper, leaned in closer.
"The Midnight Hunter? Never heard of him," Kenko replied, dodging a lazy swipe from Amaki's wooden sword.
"What? Do you live under a rock? Everyone's talking about him. He's practically a—"
"Kenko! Amaki! What in the hell are you two blabbering about? Get back to training, now!" an older slayer commanded, his voice sharp with authority.
"Yes, sir!" they both replied, snapping to attention.
The older slayer walked away but couldn't help but ponder their words. He had heard the rumors, too, but had dismissed them as tall tales. "It seems this Midnight Hunter is more of an issue than I thought," he muttered to himself. "Just who is this person?"
In the depths of a snow-filled forest, the moon shone brightly, casting a pale light upon a demon. The demon paced, sniffing the air in frustration. "Where are the women at?" it groaned, kicking a rock. The small stone flew through the air, only to be sliced in half with silent precision.
The demon didn't realize what had happened until the halves fell to the ground with a soft thud.
"What in the world? Did I do that?" it said to itself, a bit surprised.
"Do not be a fool. A weakling demon like you could never accomplish such a thing," a cold voice sounded from behind.
The demon spun around, ready to fight, but saw nothing. It sniffed the air, searching for a scent, but there was only the cold, crisp scent of snow.
"Who goes there! Show yourself at once!" the demon shouted, its voice echoing through the silent trees.
"Are you certain of that? My appearance may prove to be your undoing," the voice whispered, its sound so close it was as if someone was speaking right into the demon's ear.
The demon turned again, eyes wide with panic. Still, no one. How was this person moving so fast? It could only be a slayer or a demon of far greater power.
"Cease your games—"
Shriek…CRACK…Hiss
A flash of movement.
Thud!
The demon felt a searing pain and looked down at its missing arm. Behind it stood a figure, tall and menacing in the moonlight. He wore a long, black haori and a black oni mask.
"Do you approve of my mask?" the man asked, his voice flat. "It reminds me of you monsters."
The demon's eyes darted to the blade in the man's hand. Its hilt had an elegant black and gold design, but the blade itself was a vivid crimson. But it wasn't the blade that truly terrified the demon. It was what the man held in his other hand.
"That's…" the demon stammered, its fear mounting.
"Your arm?" the man finished, tossing the severed limb in front of the demon.
The demon's instinct screamed at it to flee. It turned and ran, leaving its arm behind. The masked man breathed in deeply, putting his right leg forward as he raised his sword, holding it with both hands.
"Crimson Moon Breathing, First Form: Crimson Night."
The blade's crimson hue intensified, and a red light crackled around it. The masked man lunged forward, leaving a trail of scarlet lightning behind him as he gained on the running demon.
"Tch! Persistent son of a bitch!" the demon spat, biting his right hand to form a ball of metal and throwing it at the man.
Clang...
The metal sphere collided with the blade, causing the man to pause for a split second. But with a powerful crackle, the crimson energy shattered the metal ball, and he continued his pursuit.
"You are not as weak as I first believed," the man said to the fleeing demon, his voice now a chilling whisper. "So I shall make this swift."
He aimed his sword and threw it with all his strength.
WOOOSH!
The sword flew through the air with a powerful whistle, striking the demon in the back.
"AARRGH!" the demon shrieked, falling to the ground. Its skin slowly began to bubble and turn a mottled crimson where the blade had pierced it.
"W-What in the name of—" it screamed.
The masked man slowly walked up and pulled the sword out of the demon's back.
"May you suffer in hell."
With a single, final slash, he severed the demon's head.
"Man…that was exhausting," the man muttered to himself, the exhaustion finally hitting him. He collapsed onto the snow, staring up at the rising sun.
He took off his mask, revealing the face of Yagami Yoriko the cold air biting against his skin. Snowflakes melted on his lashes, but his gaze remained sharp, unyielding.
"Pathetic…" he whispered, watching the last embers of the demon's body scatter into the wind. "The Corps calls themselves protectors, yet they let monsters roam free… leaving others to suffer."
His grip tightened on the crimson blade, its glow fading back to steel.
"I'll grow stronger. Stronger than any Hashira, stronger than the Corps itself. And when that day comes…" His voice dropped into a vow, bitter yet resolute. "…I'll build something greater. A new order. One that will bury the Demon Slayer Corps in its own shadow."
He began the long walk back, leaving the blood and death of the forest behind for the blinding light of the Entertainment District.