* f o r t y - t h r e e *

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Crawling was painful.

Well, it wasn't necessarily crawling. It was more crouching and walking at the same time, given the low height of the tunnel. More than a few times you bumped your head on it and cursed it -- not to mention, your back began to hurt.

Is this the pain that an old woman feels? 'Cause my back is definitely feeling it.

Thankfully, the misery didn't last long. A minute in, Tanjiro stopped. You peeked over his shoulder. It was a dead end, but instead of a wall obstructing your way, it was rubble that you assumed had fallen and piled up. As Tanjiro began to clear it, you turned to face the demon, who seemed not at all bothered by the lack of space.

"Is this... my basement? How did you know it was here?" It was all too strange. You frowned, pressing, "and while we're on the subject, why were you hanging around the village in the first place?"

His green eyes flicked away from your hardened gaze. The look in them... You couldn't quite place your finger on it. It was some sort of melancholy -- though if that were the case, what would've caused it?

He interrupted your thoughts by meeting your stare again. "Don't worry. I'm no stalker. I promise to answer all your questions after you get what you're looking for." He tilted his head curiously. "Business comes first, right?"

You conceded, though you could argue that your questions were equally as important. "Fine."

Suspicious ass mofo.

You heard the last of the rubble being pushed away, and felt Tanjiro's hand on your shoulder. "C'mon," he said, pulling you gently towards him. He exited slowly and cautiously, stood up to his full height, and then helped you out the tunnel.

The room, from what you could tell in the dark, was rather petite for a basement. Certainly, it didn't stretch underneath the whole house. The faint, familiar scent of your house had permeated with the scent of the earth. The air was cool and damp.

Something rattled behind you and you whirled. A light from a lantern appeared before you. The demon had lit the flame, illuminating the basement. "Just me. Don't kill me, please and thank you."

Just then, he seemed familiar again, but why?

"Might do it anyways," you replied, and surveyed the rest of the room. Underneath the metal hatch that had melted shut, an old ladder stood against the side of the wall; it led you to wonder just how many times it'd been used while you were out of the house. The room as a whole was more cluttered than you expected it to be — a few chairs and small tables lay strewn about, some of them knocked over on their side.

You gave the demon a pointed look. Did you do this?

He shook his head as if he'd read your thoughts. "The only time I've been here was a long time ago. And... I didn't touch anything."

Tanjiro wasn't paying much attention to his words, for he was busy examining something on the wall. Careful as not to stumble on anything, you made your way over to take a look for yourself.

There were two separate sword wall mounts, carved from wood. Resting upon each was a long knife, and while you wouldn't quite call them antiques, they looked as though they hadn't been used for a long time. Oddly enough, they had no hand-guards, which were used to both protect and give the blade a unique flair. The hilts were slim, slender, and curved back elegantly. In the dim lighting you couldn't tell if the steel was made from Scarlet Crimson Ore.

They were a dual-wield; unlike Inosuke's, however, these were knives, and significantly shorter. Certainly, they were pretty weapons, but... who had used them?

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