Demon Slayer : Heir to the Moon

The world shrank to a single, burning point. Ichiro. He had to die, right here, right now. It didn't matter that he was my friend, my brother. He was a demon—the demon who had just killed Yuki. A searing rage consumed me, a fire unlike anything I'd ever felt. But even in that blinding fury, a cold, sharp corner of my mind screamed: the girls. Aoi, Naho, Sumi, Kiyo—they were here, vulnerable, their sobs piercing the night like shards of glass. I wanted to fight freely, to unleash every ounce of my power, but I had to protect them. I needed to clear a path for them to escape this nightmare.

My vision blurred, not with tears, but with a red haze of pure fury. Every muscle in my body coiled, screaming for vengeance. "You don't remember yourself, do you, Ichiro?" I roared, the question tearing from my throat, laced with an agonizing mix of rage and desperate hope.

Before he could answer, I launched forward, a primal scream ripping from my lungs. Shadow Breathing: First Form – Veiled Fang! My blade became a dark streak, aimed not just to cut, but to obliterate. Kazanami—Ichiro—was caught off guard by the sheer, unbridled ferocity. He barely deflected my strike with his spear, the clash sending a jarring shockwave through my arm.

I didn't stop. Shadow Breathing: Third Form – Eclipse Fang! A wide, sweeping arc, fueled by grief, tore through the air, forcing him to leap back, his calm shattered. I pressed the attack, a relentless blur of motion. Shadow Breathing: Fifth Form – Obsidian Rain! My blade was a storm of slashes, driving him away from the girls, each strike carrying the weight of my shattered world.

He snarled, his eyes narrowing, a flicker of surprise in their demonic depths. "I don't know what you're talking about, you lowly bastard!" he spat, his voice laced with venom. He pushed me back with a powerful spear thrust, but I deflected it, my mind a maelstrom of rage and tactics. He's not patient—just like the real Ichiro, always rushing in.

If only he could remember himself, regain control, like Ghost did. I cursed under my breath. I should've asked Ghost how he broke free from Muzan's grasp. But it was too late for regrets.

The chipped blade covered with Ghost's blood was still with me. I could ignite it to call him, but how? And how long would it take? Kazanami wouldn't give me a second to breathe. "Aoi!" I yelled, hurling the blade toward her. "Ignite it by sparking stones together!"

Kazanami ignored my plea, his spear flashing toward the girls with terrifying speed. My vision narrowed. I sliced the spear in half, the blade singing through the air. But he could control it. With a flick of his wrist, the broken pieces flew back to him, his right hand erupting in flames that fused the spear whole again.

How do I beat this? My strategy clicked, break the spear, then strike before he could repair it. A game of speed. But I had to be careful—he was Upper Moon Six, the strongest demon I'd ever faced.

Aoi, tears streaking her face, fumbled with stones, trying to spark a flame. The night was dark, the wind biting, and dew slicked the ground. Why am I always in these impossible situations? I thought bitterly. The girls, terrified but determined, worked frantically. Yuki's lifeless body lay in the dirt, a constant, agonizing reminder. I needed to end this—now.

Dark clouds swirled ominously on the sky.

Kazanami's voice cut through the chaos, a chilling purr. "I just became Upper Moon Six. I want to test my new powers, and you seem strong. But you can't fight freely with those girls here, can you? Let's make a deal, fight me head-on, and I won't hurt them—for now."

I didn't trust a demon's word. My Kasugai Crow had already fled to call for help, but Inosuke and Zenitsu were asleep, oblivious. I had to hold out. Kazanami charged, his spear a blur. Shadow Breathing: Sixth Form – Phantom Strike! I severed both his arms, but they regrew instantly. He snatched his spear and lunged again. Damn it. I needed more speed.

He hadn't attacked the girls yet. Is he keeping his word? I couldn't bet on it. I still needed to protect them. But at this rate, I couldn't have a chance to kill him. Waiting for sunrise was too long, as the night was still young. I couldn't outlast him and fight till dawn while protecting others. I needed to step up.

I used Ghost Step to close the gap, my blade a flurry of Veiled Fang strikes. He backed off, our weapons clashing in a symphony of steel. Attack, deflect, defend—we were locked in a deadly dance. My eyes could barely track his movements. I relied on instinct, on the patterns I'd sparred against a thousand times.

I found an opening, charging my blade with all of my strength, my blade closing in on his neck.

But then fire erupted from his body, a blazing inferno that knocked me back. My haori caught fire, small flames licking the fabric. Wait—this is good. I ripped it off and hurled it toward Aoi. "Use it to ignite the blade!" I shouted.

Then it happened—the worst possible twist. Raindrops fell, cold and relentless, snuffing out the flames mid-air. The sky opened, and the downpour drenched us all. I stared at the smoldering haori, my last hope extinguished.

I think I can declare myself as the unluckiest man alive.

[ Kazanami Image ]

To Be Continued…