Kibutsuji Muzan's reprise (sequel to Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Chapter 9: Never too late

"Have you ever heard of Hinokami Kagura before?" Father had asked her.

"No, I haven't," Azami replied, for she hadn't. The dance of the fire god... interesting name. 

"It is an art. However, a deadly art- an art which you must know to defend yourself and kill. It is not easy to learn, I had to struggle with it for months before I could perfect it. But since we do not have much time, I'll you the basics."

Azami did not understand why her father was teaching her a deadly art, but what with her aunt suddenly turning into a dangerous cannibal machine, she did not want to question anything. 

As she noticed her father take position and execute each form of the dance perfectly with poise and grace, Azami realized how great her father was. On the very rare moments she would wake up earlier than usual, she would creep up to the backyard of their house and watch in awe as her father twisted and leapt into the air like a graceful dancer. It never once looked like he was suffering from a severe handicap. She had once even tried dancing like him when she was five, but immediately fell hard on her backside and vowed never to do it again. The sword movements and forms mimicked the dance perfectly. And at every breath he took and every step he would take, the air around Azami gathered and heated up the temperature so much, that Azami could almost see a halo of fire around her father. 

So this is Hinokami Kagura...

And with her own tiny limbs and wooden-stick substitute to a sword, she was like a clown. She managed to imitate the movement perfectly, but did not have the grace or the flourish an experienced fighter had. So she often fell and scraped her knees. At instances, where she cried and felt like giving up, her father never berated her. Instead, he held her lovingly in an embrace for as long as she would stop. Then asked her if she wanted to continue or not. Looking at the sadness and the darkness welled up in her father's once jovial and sparkling eyes, Azami had no heart to say no. 

It was finally late in the night, and Azami had managed to imitate only two out of the thirteen forms perfectly- dance and clear blue sky. That too, with only a wooden dummy for a sword. She lacked any of the power her father had, and any of the agility. In a real fight, she would perish even before her opponent lifted a finger.

Azami sat down by her front porch to catch a breather. She looked at her blistered palms and her aching feet. 

Is Aunt Nezuko going to be fine? She wondered to herself. Is she going to come back? I don't like this at all!

Her father had told her that she may encounter enemies along the way, and though it was of very short notice, she had to learn how to defend herself from any attack. Azami had no faith in herself. She felt like crying, she didn't want to die so fast! She did not want to leave her kind mother and father behind without her. Just imagining the two of them in tears made her tear up. 

"I'm sorry, Azami"

Azami looked up. She found her father sitting next to her, stroking her hair gently, the way she liked it. 

"I don't really know why I put you through all this pressure when you should be playing with your siblings. To be honest..." Father took in a deep breath at this small pause, and then commenced, "I'm afraid. Very afraid."

Azami squinted in confusion. "Afraid of what?"

Father smiled sadly and placed his hand on her cheek. "Of loosing you. And Kanao. And Fumihiro, Kenji, and Rika."

Azami felt a small cry bubbling up her throat, but she suppressed it. Her father rarely expressed any of his sorrow to her. This was as much as he had ever gotten close to opening up to her. And Azami liked it, but at the same time, wanted it to stop.