Days after I had been born, family arrived from all corners of Tokyo, some from further, more rural areas. The last couple to come were rather interesting; they looked rather young, and the man exuded an uncomfortable aura, the woman had a familiar motherly face, despite them not bringing any children.
They were clearly not as well off, but upon arrival, my father stood up, leaving me in the maid's arms as he rushed to hug the man, grasping him tightly, "Brother-in-law, Tanjuro!" If I could gag, I would have, but instead it came out as a sputter. My father embraced the woman too, "My sister, how have you been? Kie, the winter looks to have treated you well this time!" What was this world? Could it be that I'm in that world? Shock filled my system.
Above the excitement, I was filled with trepidation and fear. I heard whispers between the brothers-in-law, talking about how the journey was made difficult by not being able to travel at night in fear of demon attacks. My father was either a weapon hoarder or he was a warrior. I had seen in my first few days in this world, Katanas of many different shapes and ores, wakizashi and more.
Tanjuro and Kie's existence meant that I was surely in a world that was probably the most unsafe to be reborn into as a modern-day person. The demon slayer world, where demons lurked in the night.
Days passed, and Tanjuro and Kie returned to their homes, leaving me a bracelet as their form of gift. With not much to give, it was a prized possession for them, and it hung loose on my baby arms. Heavy Onyx beads adorn it.
Years passed in my mother and father's care, and I learnt over time that my father was what I feared he would be, a demon slayer. He was from a prestigious family; therefore, he had abundant wealth. I grew up in comfort, and I was healthy. By the age of seven, my father had already placed a bokken in my hands.
Time passes, it becomes still for no one but the cursed... 3 years later, one summer evening.
I was out in the streets, walking back, shoulders slumped after my kendo lessons, from a master in another ward of Tojyo, as I re-entered Asakusa, the traffic was coming to an end, and people had begun to disperse. I turned alleys and roads at leisure, going back to my house. It was at that fated turn, when a foul stench entered my nose, and a gut-wrenching screeching sound ensued from the alley I turned into, a man was standing there.
He had western-style clothes, a simple shirt, a suit and trousers, and a white hat. He looked like Mic- my breath stopped, and my heart began to compress against my lungs as the man turned to me, his eyes a shade of red I had never before seen on a human being. I knew then, this was something else, from my memories, this was- surely this was- him.
Kibutsuji Muzan.
Just as I was about to fall backwards, firm hands clasped around my shoulders steadying me, and a gruff and weary man's voice broke out of his mouth, "I am sorry sir, this is my son, he was simply lost," I looked up to see the smiling face of my father, I knew that it was pretense, my fathers heart was shaking as much as mine.
The man, Muzan, looked at us in barely hidden contempt, which some might not have noticed before smiling awkwardly.
"Of course... keep your son safe, the night is dangerous nowadays."
My father nodded before steering me home. Not before the demon could see the bracelet on my arm, and it shook him to the core. Muzan shivered at the memory of THAT man. His name is still engraved in the back of his mind, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
My father shut the doors and walked into his weapon room before bringing out some flowers. At the commotion, my mother and the maids came forward.
"My dear, what is going on?" My mother wrapped me in an embrace as I hyperventilated in fear, "What is wrong with our son?"
My father crushed the flowers, and I suddenly remembered from my past life what they were: Wisteria flowers, the same as the emblem engraved into our front door. My mother paled as she realised what would happen. She left me and ran to the treasury and pulled coins out, handing them in abundance to the maids, before ushering them out of the back door and begging them to go to their homes and not to return until sunrise.
My father found his weapon, and my mother paled even more as she sat on the Tatami mat, pulling me down with her, and as the time struck 4 in the morning, the night still dark, the doors covered in Wisteria paste, and my father sat in front of us, blade sheathed.
He spoke to me once, "Itsu, this I am certain is the last night you will feel my physical presence, live for me, I will protect you with my life's force."
And as the doors flew open and Kibutsuji Muzan entered, his face gnarled, his claws out and teeth bared, my father stood, his haori bellowing in the wind, mind sharp as steel, blade now unsheathed, tinted green, a Nichirin blade.
"Kibutsuji Muzan, why do you enter my abode?"
The words escaped my father's mouth, and the temperature in the room lowered by many a degree. The demon king smiled without an ounce of apprehension, "Demon slayer? Why as such futile questions? Answer this! Give me the boy, let me end him, become a demon, you are strong, you are one of them, aren't you? The Hashira?"
My father never faltered as he brought his sword back in a stance, hair bellowing in the wind as he sank lower into his knees. "Itsuya is my legacy; you cannot have him."
"Your fate is sealed."
<3rd Person POV>
Arashi charged at the demon king, his sword trailing behind him, slowly rising as he whispered in his heart,
"Breath of Shadows - Fifth Form Shadow Echo"
Muzan stepped forward as Arashi became after images, one slash followed by another, then another, as the slayer fell past Muzan, landing on his feet facing the other way. Muzan was slashed all over, but almost as soon as the blade had passed through him, the demon king had regenerated. Muzan turned to see the effects of his own work on the Hashira, who had an arm clutching his abdomen, blood seeping from the wound.
Arashi coughed, and seeing his father injured, Itsuya tried to reach for his bokken, but his mother grabbed him while the demon king was distracted and shoved him into a hidden compartment. Itsu scrabbled against his mother's grip but fell into the compartment. As he rearranged his body in the tight space, he watched as his father fought the last battle he would ever face.
The demon and the Hashira met in sparks, blade on claws as the fight raged on, Itsuya could do nothing to escape his confines, he watched as he saw his father move at speeds he never thought a human could move at, but the demon was toying with Arashi and even the boy hiding knew, even with what Itsu could see was a breathing technique, Arashi was helpless, tears streaming his face as Muzan parried his blade with just his fingers.
The demon king kicked the Hashira in the chest, sending him reeling and crashing into the mansion wall, putting a hole in the house. Muzan turned to Mizuno, "Hmmm, weak, but your resolve is remarkable, as much if not more than your husband's. Tell me where the boy is, become my demon!"
My mother's tears stopped flowing; she stood, walking slowly to Muzan, head lowered in despair.
I did not make a sound as I watched my mother walk to Muzan. I clasped a hand to my mouth as she raised her face to Muzan, the demon king smirked, as my mother stopped before him, "Good choice, you aren't a moron like your hus-"
The demon's voice was cut off as my mother spat in his face, face steeled and hardened, she turned once to look into my eyes, as the demon wiped his face, she mouthed something to me, and I screamed as he clawed my mother's throat out, blood gushing, i screamed and screamed, from the soul, tearing my vocal cords, as I watched the demon pull her head off, and as the demon walked towards my spot, I screamed until I coud not do anymore.
At the last second, he rushed in, the man who raised me, brusied, battered, missing a limb, charging to certain death, Muzan doubled and threw a projectile at me as my father approached, the demon king did not even flinch or turn, stretching his arm out and grabbing my fathers throat mid-charge, lifting him into the air, as he thrashed about, and with one final squeeze, my fathers head popped of his torso and fell at my feet, I escaped the compartment and knelt to touch, my fathers face, tears carvign rivers down my ash covered face.
I felt a massive force hit me as the demon backhanded me across the air, sending me rolling through the house, the force shattering my eardrums. I could not hear, nor could I speak. I heaved as I gasped for air, every breath searing against my torn vocal cords. The exhaustion claimed me as I drifted into unconsciousness, the last thing I remember being the warmth of the morning sun hitting my face through the hole in the wall.
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
The sunrise flooded the room, and he watched as it fell on the boy's unconscious, barely breathing form, a trip wasted, it seemed. He glared at the boy's arm where that bracelet hung, his former enemy's belonging. Another searing memory plagued the demon king, his face, his demeanour; it scared Muzan. Maybe not today, he thought as the sun rose and his skin seared, but, 'I will end you one day.'
Arakawa Itsuya.
And with that, the demon king slipped away before the sun rose, uncovering the deadly consequences of the night.