Kokushibo: The reluctant demon

Chapter 9: Trepidation

Author's note: Hey! If you like this story, please make sure to vote it and share it with your other friends who may like it! Also, if you're free, check out my other stories- Family bonds, A pretty moon, and Kibutsuji Muzan's reprise (Sequel to Demon Slayer, Kimetsu No Yaiba.) Thanks! And enjoy! And please tell me if you think there should be improvements in my writing style as well (just no hateful comments, please!)

--x--

Michikatsu looked about him in dull confusion. The next second after he yelled at his father, at least that was who that man was biologically to Michikatsu, he had bolted away from home. He brought nothing- save for a small flask, another pair of clothes, and the present day's food. He had ripped apart the last pew pages he read and burnt it into ashes in the front yard. As for the ruby, he had spat on it and thrown it into the bushes in front of his ancestral home, hopefully to be picked up by a stray crow or buried among a pile of rabbit faeces. Michikatsu simply could not bear to own anything that had previously touched his father; even if he had sold the ruby to the pawnshop for some money, the money would still have been earned by one of his relics. 

And he was even more jealous and vengeful of his brother. How did he manage to get hold of that magnificent trick? See through people's bodies, did he say? And why didn't Yoriichi teach this to him? To think Yoriichi had been hiding his mother's own death from him. Did he really think Michikatsu hated his mother? Did Yoriichi want Mother all for himself? She was Michikatsu's mother as well, though he rarely visited or talked to her. 

Michikatsu clenched his fists hard at the thought of Yoriichi- he couldn't even imagine the thought of being blood-related to that pipsqueak. 

He presently looked around at his surroundings. He had wandered off from home randomly, not knowing where he was going. Though it was already bright outside, he seldom left his home to explore the outside so Michikatsu had absolutely no bearing of where he was. 

"Where am I?"

Michikatsu turned around in slow circles, carefully inspecting everything of the environment he was in. Tall trees with daunting shadows that stretched far beyond his peripheral vision and enveloped him like the silence of a foreboding night. 

"Ehh, the last time I remembered, it was morning," Michikatsu said to himself, looking up to see that the tree boughs had covered up all signs of daylight. It was almost pitch dark in this forest.

Michikatsu took slow, small, deliberate steps towards what the thought was the front. His leg caught on something and he yelled out loud.

"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"

Michikatsu thumped down onto the floor, grimacing at the sharp pain on his knee. He gently touched it and could feel warm liquid on his fingertips. Great. He was bleeding. 

Michikatsu tried to get up, but he could hear the light rustling of leaves towards his left. Was it him? No, he didn't think so, he heard the sound some distance away from him. Was there someone else in here?

Michikatsu attempted to get up again; this time, slowly and quietly enough to not make a single noise. Again, he heard the soft rustling next to him. This time, Michikatsu swiftly got up to his feet and grabbed the nearest weapon- a large branch from a tree- to defend himself from a possible attack. He held it in the exact position his previous teacher had taught him to- his dominant hand on top and his other hand slightly below. With a large deep breath meant to gather up all the diminishing courage he had in him, Michikatsu approached the sound source.

"Who are you? Come out this instant, and maybe I will be merciful enough to spare you."

"Heh-heh-heh-hehehehehehehehehe!!!" Michikatsu heard a hoarse, soft laugh towards the source. Instantly, Michikatsu's courage drained from him. Everything he ever learnt about sword-fighting, every moment of triumph he ever experienced after perfecting a sword move, had vanished from him. He was a vulnerable, shivering, petrified boy all of a sudden. 

The source of the voice emerged from the bushes nearby. It was too dark for Michikatsu to discern his facial features, but this person's eyes seemed to illuminate the darkness. They were turquoise, a bright shade for eyes. Towards the end of his irises, the colour's shade darkened to an ocean-blue. A very intriguing thing about these eyes were the pupils- long black slits instead of the traditional circular pupils.

"It's always the young ones. So full of courage, determination, sheer stupidity," the intruder continued in his hoarse voice. But this voice was slightly high pitched for a man's voice. Perhaps this man was in his early teens. 

"What do you need from me?" Michikatsu whimpered. "I must warn you that I am exceptionally trained in sword fighting."

The man shifted a bit and appeared to pick something up from the ground. A few clanking sounds were heard, before Michikatsu saw a few sparks and a fire being lit. With the warm glow of the fire, Michikatsu could see the full face of his captor- a young man probably in his teen years with a smooth face, long stringy hair which dangled down his shoulders, who was wearing a dark brown kimono with its hem ripped up.

The man suddenly lunged his hand out at Michikatsu and his stick snapped in two.

"Exceptional at sword fighting you say," his tone mocked Michikatsu evidently.

Michikatsu threw away his stick in frustration and grunted. "I wasn't prepared!"

"Aha!" The man jabbed a finger into the air. The fingernail which adorned the finger was abnormally long and sharp. Michikatsu eyed it with apprehension. "A sign of an amateur! A true swordsman is always prepared! He never lets his guard down." The man began inching towards Michikatsu, who instinctively stepped back.

"Now, if you don't complain, it will all finish in a matter of seconds..."

As the man raised his hand on Michikatsu, he closed his eyes, waiting for death to strike him. He had nothing to live for anymore. He was alone and miserable now. No one would mind if he died. But he waited for a long time, yet death did not come to him. Michikatsu slowly opened his eyes, to see the man's body thud to the ground. His head was separated from his body, and rolled towards Michikatsu's feet. In immense fear, Michikatsu kicked the head away, only to have it land onto someone else's body. 

This other person was tall and thin, with a long sword held in hand. This person was initially facing away from Michikatsu until the head hit this person's body and disintegrated on the spot. The head turned towards him and Michikatsu could see large purple-coloured eyes, a slim nose, and full lips. This was a female. She was cleaning up her sword from what appeared to be blood. She had a pink and green haori on her shoulders and her long, dark-brown hair was braided into three braids- two at her side and one down her back. 

"That's not the way you treat your saviour!"