Demon Slayer : Heir to the Moon

The soft chirping of birds pulled me from sleep, morning light filtering through the window in gentle golden streaks. I blinked, my gaze settling on Yuki beside me, her arms wrapped around me even in her sleep. My face warmed, a shy flush creeping up despite our years of marriage. We were young, too shy—especially me—to cross certain lines, but her scent, sweet like spring blossoms, always made my heart skip. I brushed a hand over her head, her long hair silky under my fingers. So beautiful, I thought, tracing her peaceful face. Cute as always.

I didn't want to wake her, but the day called. I slipped out of bed, my body still stiff from old wounds, and wandered the Butterfly Mansion's quiet halls. Passing Tanjiro's room, I paused. He'd been unconscious for days, ever since the Red Light District mission went south. An Upper Moon Six had turned the place into a warzone—buildings razed, lives lost. Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira, lost an eye and an arm. A Hashira, torn apart like that. Zenitsu and Inosuke were banged up but recovering. Tanjiro, though, was in a coma. We were all holding our breath, praying he'd wake.

Outside, I spotted Aoi watering plants in the yard. "Where's Shinobu?" I asked.

She didn't look up. "Headquarters. Probably back tomorrow."

My thoughts drifted to Master Junjiro. I hadn't written to him in ages, and I itched to show him how far I'd come.

I was on a rest period, no missions unless it was dire. Honestly, I didn't mind the idea of a fight—I was healed, bored, and the low-rank Slayers were too weak to trust with lives. Demon activity was spiking, and we couldn't let it spiral. I decided to write to Junjiro, grabbing a brush to draft a letter for my Kasugai Crow. Just then, Yuki appeared, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her smile bright.

"Got free time today," I said. "Wanna go out?"

Her face lit up, and she was ready in minutes, practically bouncing with excitement.

The town was alive, buzzing with festival energy—lanterns glowing, stalls overflowing with trinkets. Couples strolled arm in arm, and Yuki, noticing, hugged my arm tight. I smiled, her warmth seeping into me. We wandered into a fair, kids darting around, laughter filling the air. A little girl tripped, scraping her knee, and started crying. Her parents rushed over, her mother scooping her up, soothing her until the tears stopped. Yuki watched, her voice soft. "I want to be a mother."

My face burned. "You're too young for that," I said, my voice catching.

She flushed, embarrassed, and we both laughed it off. We grabbed lunch at a bustling restaurant, the food rich and savory, then headed back to the Butterfly Mansion in the afternoon. Aoi caught me at the gate, holding a list. "Need you to grab a few more things in town."

Back I went. The festival had exploded by dusk, the streets packed, lanterns casting a warm glow. Navigating the crowd was a hassle, but I got what Aoi needed and started home as night fell. The Butterfly Mansion felt oddly still when I returned—no Aoi, no little girls, no Yuki. Zenitsu and Inosuke were snoring in their rooms, oblivious. I checked our room and found a note on the table, Come to the riverside — Yuki.

I froze for a moment, staring at the note on the table. Her neat handwriting was unmistakable, but the words threw me off. The riverside? At night? It was out on the town's edge, quiet, away from the Butterfly Mansion's glow. What's she up to? I grabbed my Nichirin Blade, a faint twinge of curiosity tugging at me. The mansion was too still, lanterns flickering low, but that was probably just the late hour.

I stepped outside, my boots crunching on the dirt path. The festival's warm glow faded behind me, the soft rush of the river growing clearer as I moved. My pace quickened, not out of panic but habit—a Slayer's instinct to stay sharp. Yuki, you better not be pulling some prank. The night was calm, stars glinting above, sharp against the dark sky, like they were waiting for something to unfold.

Then it hit me—a shift in the air, heavy, wrong. A demon.

My grip tightened on my blade, my heart picking up speed. I broke into a run, the riverside's outline taking shape under the moonlight, the water shimmering like a drawn blade.

The world seemed to crumble beneath me. Aoi and the little girls—Naho, Sumi, Kiyo—huddled in the grass, their sobs piercing the quiet. And there, sprawled in the dirt, was Yuki, a massive spear impaling her chest.

Shadow Breathing: Second Form – Ghost Step. I surged forward in a blur, my blade flashing, slicing the spear in two with a sharp crack. I grabbed Yuki, Aoi and the girls, pulling them to a safer spot behind a cluster of rocks, their trembling hands clutching at my sleeves.

I knelt beside Yuki, my hands shaking as I eased the broken spear from her body. Blood soaked her haori, the wound cruelly close to her heart, staining the fabric a deep, sickening red. "What were you doing here?!" I yelled, my voice cracking, raw with panic.

Yuki's eyes fluttered open, weak, her voice barely a whisper. "You said your family celebrated birthdays… under the open sky at night. Today's your birthday, Ryo. We arranged everything for you."

"Idiot," I choked, tears streaming down my face, hot and unrelenting. Her pulse flickered under my fingers, her breaths shallow, fading. "Please, Yuki, don't leave me. Stay still, breathe slow—you'll be okay. I'll get you to safety."

She looked at me, her gaze soft, slipping away. "I love you, Ryo," she whispered, her voice fragile as glass.

"I love you too," I sobbed, my throat burning. "Please, don't go."

A sudden force tore through the air—an attack, sharp and vicious. My blade moved on instinct, slicing it apart like paper, the air hissing in its wake.

Then I saw him. Those eyes, carved with Upper Six, glinting in the moonlight. That face… ICHIRO.

My friend, my brother in all but blood, lost the night my family was slaughtered. Or so I'd thought.

"Ichiro?" I stammered, my mind reeling, the world tilting under me.

He tilted his head, his voice cold, calm, a mockery of the boy I knew. "Ichiro? Sorry, you're mistaken. My name's Kazanami."

But that voice—its lilt, its cadence—was his. He wasn't dead. He'd been turned into a demon. But that doesn't matter now.

"You will pay for hurting Yuki," I yelled.

Kazanami—no, Ichiro—grinned, cruel and sharp, his teeth glinting. "Hurt? She's already dead. Can't you see?"

My gaze dropped to Yuki, her eyes closed, her chest still. Aoi's voice trembled behind me. "She's gone, Ryo. Yuki's dead."

The world blurred, my vision swimming with tears. Why? Everything was perfect—happy, alive. Now this. My hands shook, gripping my blade so hard my knuckles whitened. Rage swallowed me, a fire I'd never felt before. "I don't care if you remember who you were," I roared, tears burning my eyes. "You hurt Yuki. You'll pay for this!"

I didn't care if he was Upper Six. Mercy was gone. Tonight, he'd die.

To Be Continued…

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Author : Anyone else saw this coming? T_T