Not Your Ordinary Demon || A Demon Slayer Fanfiction

Voices From the Past

"Yes, good—no, lower your elbow slightly. Now, strike!"

You throw your weight into one singular swing, the bokken striking angularly against the shoulder of the straw dummy.

"No, not so hard. And… aim slightly upward."

"Here?" you ask quietly, shifting the angle of the bokken so that it aligned closer to the throat. You look up at the man above you, a kind, gentle smile pulling at his lips, eyes squinted slightly with age.

"Perfect, my little sparrow. Now… try again, and pretend that you're using a real sword, have it glide towards its destination. There is no reason for such hasty striking."

Your father had been teaching you the art of swordsmanship since you were fairly small. You were the only child, and great things were expected of you, due to your father's legacy. He was no former hashira, but he was a kinoe, the highest possible rank for a demon slayer. He retired once he'd found out that your mother was pregnant, vowing to stay beside you both so that he could provide you with the father that every child deserved.

You'd expressed your want to become a demon slayer when you'd become 10 years old. He was hesitant—what parent wouldn't be? Demon hunting was, no doubt, an incredibly dangerous job, and he perished the thought of sending his child head-on into something he wasn't sure they could handle. But your persistence eventually got through to him, and he'd decided to train you. His mannerisms were gentle, but if you failed time again to pick up on a technique, he'd become rather stern. But he was never unkind.

You raised the bokken once more, allowing the rod to hang heavy in your palm, light in the fingertips. It slammed against the throat of the dummy, bouncing once or twice against the straw.

"Well done. Try again."

You did as you were told. Raise, slice. Raise, slice. Raise, slice. A methodic movement that ingrained itself into your brain, a practice that'd become muscle memory. You don't think you'd be able to forget it, even if you tried.

You remember the day he passed on vividly. It wasn't grotesque or overly dramatic, but… you'd never forget the words he spoke to you on his deathbed, hand gently running through your hair, caressing your tear-stained cheek.

"I know you'll make me proud, little sparrow. You'll soar above the rest, and you'll always do what's right. Follow your heart…" he had reached down, pressing a finger to your chest, "...and fulfill your duty, even at the cost of your own self. There will always be things greater than even you. Things worth protecting. I know… I know you'll do great things."

He'd passed on only a few hours later that day. An illness that you never learned the name of. It made him frail and cough. But even despite his weakness, he never stopped smiling.

You had wanted to be just like him. You wanted to save people, and you wanted to protect the ones you loved, even if it costed you your own life.

You hadn't realized what such a vow entailed for you so shortly after.

•••

Tanjiro had received his first mission shortly after the two of you had departed. Your own crow hadn't appeared, so you had assumed that the mission included you. That, or it wrote you off as dead after you'd become a demon.

You'd arrived in a large village after quite a bit of walking through the countryside. The crow spoke of young women going missing within the town, all disappearances occurring at night without a trace. Undoubtedly a demon's doing.

A young man was hobbling down the street, two large bruises blooming across his face, one on his cheek and the other just above his eye. He stared into the sky, mouth agape, clearing in distress over… something. But Tanjiro hadn't spoken to him, so neither had you.

As you passed by, you paused, glancing back at Tanjiro, as he had too. You then caught on—whispers, possibly providing a clue to the demon's whereabouts? You blinked, watching as Tanjiro turned around, shouting for the man—named Kazumi—to stop.

The man turned around to face Tanjiro, his expression almost no different than the one from earlier.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear your story!" Tanjiro proposed, determination evident in his voice. He was taking this very seriously.

You suppose that you did too. No, no. You absolutely did. Somebody had to stop this demon… perhaps it'd be the two of you.

•••

Night had fallen not long ago. Tanjiro, after having his face down to the ground for about the entirety of the day, had led himself into an alleyway. You, however, lingered behind. You swore that you'd heard someone. A young woman.

You tossed your bangasa into the alley, then turned, headed into a different direction. You faintly heard Tanjiro calling after you. But only once. He had to know that you knew what you were doing. You were a demon slayer, too, albeit your peculiar circumstance.

"...ey! Hey! You!"

Turning your head, you caught sight of a woman. No, the woman. The source of the voice you'd been hearing. A beautiful floral print kimono pooled at her feet, torn to shreds, her skin exposed. She looked pale, and her dark eyes were wide, scared.

"That demon… he came for me! He killed me!" she shouted at you, waving one of her arms frantically whilst holding up what little of her kimono was left with her other hand. She then pointed back towards the alley where Tanjiro lingered.

"In there! He's there! He's going to eat that poor woman!"

What is she talking about? Killed her? Eat…? What woman? Is she insane? I suppose I get it—I'd be pretty shaken after such a vicious attack.

You moved forward, holding your hands out, but she recoiled, "No, not me! Go save her!"

"Go save her! Go save her! Go save her!"

More and more young women's voices called out to you. You turned your head in every direction that you'd heard them from, catching sight of dozens upon dozens of teenage girls, all wearing torn kimonos and yukatas or nothing at all.

What? Why?

"Please, don't let another one of us fall victim! Save her!"

You shifted and faced the woman from before once again, eyes wide from beneath your mask. You paused, thoughts racing through your head, yet were made silent by Tanjiro screaming for you.

Your attention shifted to the alley he resided in for but a moment, yet the second you looked back, the woman was gone. They were all gone.

Surely they couldn't be that fast?... No. No time to think about it. Do what they said. Save… whatever woman was in danger. You flipped your haori out of the way of your sword, clutching the sheath with one hand and using your sword arm to grip the hilt, kicking dust out from beneath you as you raced ahead.