Chapter Text
By the time he was thirteen, the illness had started to set in. It would never be as fatal as his father’s, but Kiriya knew then that he wasn’t to live a long life. The second body began to ache and his breath came short, he knew that they’d succeeded a bit too late for him.
The five Hashira before him, plus their strategist, bowed with utmost respect, foreheads to their hands on the floor.
‘Oyakata-sama,’ Tsuyuri Kanao greeted, her voice as lilt as ever, ‘it’s our pleasure to be in your presence.'
After the failure of the Sunrise Countdown, as people had begun to call it, there lived only two former Hashira, and the five Hashira now in front of him. Uzui Tengen, retiring after the defeat of Upper Moon Six, had trained the Thunderstorm Hashira, Agatsuma Zenitsu. Tomioka Giyuu, retiring after losing his arm in the fight against Muzan, had trained their strategist, Kamado Nezuko, in Water Breathing.
While all the Upper Moons had been slain, Kibutsuji Muzan himself had managed to flee before sunrise, after infecting Kamado Tanjirou with enough blood to create a demon of Upper Moon standard with no sense of self. They were lucky Kocho Shinobu had created a spare antidote, which Kanao applied as soon as she could.
It’d been five years since then. Five years since over half of the Corp had been killed, and five years since Muzan’s escape.
The calibre of demon slayers, as his father once feared, truly had dwindled. Hardly anyone was passing the Final Selection, and those that survived often joined the kakushi instead. Many slayers were stuck at lower levels, unable to move higher than tsuchinoto rank. Those that did were killed by the demons Muzan had been creating to succeed the Upper Moons, though his hashira had taken care of them swiftly.
‘Please, rise.’ At once, his hashira raised their heads. Even Hashibira Inosuke, the Beast Hashira, had shown deference to him, despite his unruly nature and attempts to mangle each bit of decorum he learned. ‘Though it saddens me to admit, the illness has started to take hold.’
Grief and denial swept through them.
Shinazugawa Genya, the Fang Hashira, bowed his head once more, eyes shut tight. ‘We apologise, Kiriya-sama. It is our fault that we have yet to kill Muzan.’
‘It has been hundreds of years since Muzan first arose,’ he chided. ‘Thousands of slayers have attempted to slay him, including the first Breath User, and all have failed. It is not your fault.’ He breathed in, hesitant to say. ‘In all honesty, the Sunrise Countdown was the closest to victory we have ever been… and likely ever will be.’
‘Our one chance,’ Nezuko muttered, voice completely human even if she herself was still part-demon, the antidote only working half-way. Ironically, Shinobu’s antidote had worked better on Tanjirou when he had little-to-no humanity. ‘Is that really true? There must be some way…’ But, her voice trailed off.
The Sunrise Countdown truly had been their one chance. While they managed to kill the remaining four Upper Moons, after two had been replaced, Muzan had not been seen since. Only the demons he’d been sending to find the new headquarters.
None of his new hashira had any tsuguko, due to most of the strong slayers dying in the fight against Muzan or retiring due to fear or injury.
They’d been crippled. Indefinitely.
‘All we can do is keep trying. Keep hunting for Muzan. I’m sure there will come a future where Muzan is killed, and demons become a myth of the past.’
That encounter with Muzan would happen a mere handful of months later.
A chance encounter. Genya had been alone, taking care of one of Muzan’s new attempts at recreating an Upper Moon. It was strong, but he’d survived and helped kill Upper One. This new demon was nowhere near as strong as that.
As the fight that killed his big brother.
Yet, the second he did, he felt it. Could taste the blood and rot in the air as the Demon Lord arrived.
‘Your ability to keep going is bordering on desperate,’ Muzan uttered. Genya spun, gun in hand, aiming for the head. A flash, and his hand was gone.
Still affected by the demon he ate, he reeled back, hand regenerating as soon as he was far away enough.
Muzan grinned cruelly. ‘You nuisances keep killing my subjects.’ Nothing more was said, yet Genya heard it still. Instead of having them avoid hashira… Muzan was going to kill them all.
And with the lack of quality with new slayers, the new and stronger demons would have enough time to climb to Upper Moon strength.
Tails burst from Muzan’s back, and Genya managed to bring his tanto up in time to cut through the tails that struck at him. Not enough. Pieces of his arms and torso were cut through, chunks flying and taking time to regenerate.
He managed to grab a flying chunk with his teeth and swallowed it whole.
Ugh. Just like Upper One, it sat awfully with him, and it took all he had to not collapse to his knees and throw up the chunk.
‘So foolish,’ Muzan chided. ‘Few have survived consuming my cells, especially so much.’
He knew that… Knew it was a testament to Tanjirou’s strength that he could survive that amount of blood Muzan poured into him. Knew it was a homage to Nezuko’s will that she managed to survive too and refrain from eating people. Knew it would likely break down his body.
Yet, as his teeth bared and nails sharpened, he knew it was his only chance.
‘Blood Demon Art:’ Muzan paused. Clearly, he had no idea that eating Upper One allowed him to use Blood Demon Arts, ‘Rattan!’
Rattan trees burst from under Muzan, thick branches wrapping around him, keeping him in place. Muzan grunted, then smirked. ‘You think this is enough!?’
Tails sharp and fast, it burst through the rattan tree, breaking him out of its entrapment.
‘Blood Demon Art: Oak!’
In front of him, oak trees flew out, growing instantly and charging at Muzan. Those tails flew, cutting apart the tree as it came. As it happened, Genya raised his gun, letting his flesh assimilate into the nichirin bullets. Though it stung, he pushed through. The second the trees were all diced to tiny bits, he fired. It struck, right into Muzan’s shoulder.
‘Blood Demon Art: Rowan!’
A rowan tree rose within Muzan’s body, separating his body into pieces. Muzan glowered. ‘YOU!’ He screamed, and a sound wave pulsed from his mouth. Genya flew back, back striking a tree and winding him, tearing a scream from his mouth as his arms were torn from his body as a result. They grew back a moment later, just as Muzan freed himself and launched at him.
Thunder roared.
‘GENYA!’
To his utter relief, Zenitsu appeared in a flash, sword striking against Muzan’s chest and sending him flying.
‘The others are on their way,’ Zenitsu declared, eyes hard as he glared at Muzan.
As if summoned, Nezuko soon arrived, blue sword in hand, slits appearing in her eyes, as they always did when she was angry. Following right after her was Tanjirou, then Inosuke, and finally Kanao.
All five hashira, plus their strategist.
‘Interesting,’ Muzan mused. ‘So, we meet again. I’m glad. I can finally kill you all.’
From then on, it was a bloodbath.
Nezuko shouted commands as she battled against the attacks Muzan would send her way. ‘Inosuke! Kanao! Clear nii-chan’s path! Genya, back nii-chan up! Zenitsu, strike when you can!’
Genya stood with her, using his sniping expertise to its fullest potential, refilling his demon modification with the bits Nezuko would cut off when it ran out. At this point, the ground was slowly being covered with bits of his trees, turning to ash after enough time passed.
With his beast breathing and her flower breathing, Inosuke and Kanao took care of all the attacks sent Tanjirou’s way, allowing him to focus only on attacking with his Sun Breathing, while also clearing paths for Genya’s bullets and for Zenitsu to attack with his Thunderstorm Breathing.
‘CHARGE!’ Nezuko yelled, even as she was forced to regenerate when her arm was cut off, and Genya had to take over her cutting while she retrieved her sword again. ‘This is our chance!’
‘IT’S USELESS!’ Muzan yelled back.
Muzan’s hand flew off. It landed in the middle of them.
Tanjirou whipped around. ‘LOOK OUT—!’ But, whatever he was to warn them off was cut off, as Muzan’s other hand penetrated through his back.
Nezuko shrieked. ‘ONII-CHAN!’
‘Get down!’ Zenitsu grabbed who he could, Inosuke and Kanao, running far from the hand as he could. Fearing the worst, Genya grabbed Nezuko and started to run, too.
Then, he knew nothing more, as a bright light eclipsed the hand.
Shyrm… BOOM!
Tanjirou gasped as he fell from Muzan’s fist, far away enough from the impact to only lose a foot.
Muzan glowered down at him. ‘You have failed once again, Kamado Tanjirou.’ He grabbed his head, squeezing.
Pained, he gripped his sword and mustered every bit of strength he had left with a gaping hole in his torso. “Kyoujurou-san… I know how it feels now…"
‘Go to hell,’ he spat, then swung his sword as hard as he could at Muzan’s neck. It barely made it half-way through, weak as he was. ‘No matter when… or how… the time will come… We will… kill you…’ Blood poured from his mouth. ‘Your days are numbered.’
‘There is no number for infinity.’
The hand crushed his head.
…
…
‘I will only allow you to join the Final Selection should you cut this boulder.’
Tanjirou blinked. His body felt light. Lighter.
Before him, Urokodaki Sakonji stood in front of a boulder adorned with red rope. Then, without a word more, he left. Into a forest. A very familiar forest. On Mount Sagiri. A mountain he hadn’t been to in three years, after Urokodaki passed away and he and Giyuu had paid their respects.
Huh? Wasn’t he just in Itabashi? He’d been fighting Muzan with the others and… they all died. Genya with his head cut in half from ear-to-ear, protecting Nezuko who was just human enough to not be able to regenerate her head either, which had been splattered after the attack. Zenitsu, with his body diagonally cut apart, laying atop Kanao, who’d been cut deeply into her chest, and Inosuke, whose neck had barely been attached to his body.
Himself, his body impaled on Muzan’s fist and his head crushed.
Oh. Was he watching his life flash before his eyes? It had happened once before, when he was fighting Rui. But, it felt nothing like it.
No, he wasn’t watching anything.
He walked to the boulder and laid his palm against it. Cold and solid under his touch. This was real.
For a moment, he was reminded of Lower One, and the dream he was forced into. But, this felt nothing like that. That showed him a life he wanted so desperately to live. This happened. This was real.
Breath quickening, he slammed his head against the boulder, letting it reverberate in his skull.
What happened? Was this one of Muzan’s Blood Demon Arts? Maybe Genya’s? But, why this? Why…
Why did he get another chance?
Eyes widening, he recalled Kiriya’s words. That their last real chance was the Sunrise Countdown. Here he was, two years before then, a year before the Final Selections, with a chance to be even stronger for the fight. A chance to save all those they lost.
With that in mind, he breathed in, forcing his heart to even out and his blood to stop rushing so much.
He had to cut this boulder to attend Final Selection. But, before then, he had to get his body up to the state it once was. A year… Yes. He would spend this year training. Mastering Total Concentration Breathing Constant, training his body to get used to Sun Breathing, and for every other breathing he managed to learn over the years.
Taking several steps back, he began to see it. A plan, forming in his mind, of how to improve as efficiently as possible. Once formed, he nodded, and began to Breathe.
As it once did, his ears were ringing and his lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding. But, it would be worth it. He recalled Muichirou once speaking of how he would train to death. Train until he was coughing out blood each day. It was thanks to that and his inherited skills and strength that he became a hashira a mere two months later.
And if his younger senior could do it, so could he.
Sabito observed the new trainee, Makomo by his side.
‘Kamado Tanjirou,’ she mused. ‘I’m not sure we’ll be needed.’
And wasn’t that the truth? It’d been three months since Urokodaki left Tanjirou to cut the boulder. An obvious attempt to prevent him from ever joining the Final Selection, or to make sure he had enough strength to handle the mutated demon.
Since then, while he seemed to be upset at first, it took a mere few minutes for Tanjirou to get over whatever was weighing on his mind. Once in a right, stronger sense of mind, he’d started. With a technique Sabito had never seen before, considering he stayed only on the mountain, waiting for the new students with all the others killed.
He’d been using Total Concentration Breathing all the time. When he was meditating, when he was exercising, when he was practising his katas (along with unfamiliar katas), and even when he was sleeping, though the last one took a while for Tanjirou to successfully do throughout the night.
His training was hard, too. Harder than Urokodaki’s. On day nine, he’d cut down three thick logs and fastened them together with rope, and started training to lift all three at once. He would go into the forest and fight invisible enemies with his sword until he disturbed not even leaves. He’d stand under a waterfall, chanting “nembutsu” over and over again until he could do hours without succumbing to the cold temperatures or pressure. There were often times one of them had to retrieve him after nearly drowning or passing out.
Flexibility training, where he’d run through a number of exercises until he could keep his leg up to his ear and balanced on his other. Endurance training, where he’d deliberately set off the traps further down the mountain and let them strike his body and try not to falter. Every day, he’d put his hands on the boulder and try to move it. To Sabito’s delight, he actually did manage to move it a short distance, but it didn’t seem to be enough for him.
Without fail, he would train each day until he was vomiting, until he was coughing out blood, and still got up to do more.
‘A monster,’ Sabito commented. ‘He’s training to become a monster.’
And he knew that. Because not once had Tanjirou tried to cut the boulder. Even though, with his rapidly increasing strength, he was getting to a point where he could do it in a single strike.
‘Good,’ Makomo said. ‘What better to kill a monster than a monster?’
He chuckled. ‘Though, perhaps “monster” is a bit much for someone with such kind eyes.’
The little nuisance was acting weird.
Kaigaku scowled to himself, watching as Zenitsu pulled on ropes weighed down by three boulders, the ropes themselves rung over a tree. In all honesty, he tried not to even look at him. No matter what Jigoro said, Zenitsu was a pathetic coward who would never be able to master Thunder Breathing. Too feeble, barely able to stand up even for himself.
Yet, somehow, that had changed. He didn’t know how or when, but Zenitsu had stopped whining, stopped running away from training. He didn’t try to escape anymore, instead pouring his all into training. And was it just him, or was he using Total Concentration Breathing all the time now?
Jigoro had been all weepy when he saw it. ‘He’s finally coming into his own,’ he’d said, and Kaigaku had to fight to not throw something.
Most of all, Zenitsu had been acting weird around him. Shooting him looks of distrust, sometimes anger and betrayal, only to then act nicer.
It had only been recently that Kaigaku had finally seen that Zenitsu was acting weirdly all around, after Zenitsu kept bothering him to talk. He hadn’t wanted. He wanted to focus on his own training. He was already a tsuchinoto, but he wouldn’t rise much further if he didn’t at least try to get the first form down. It was just common sense to ignore distractions like Zenitsu.
But, that weakling never stopped.
‘Please!’ he would beg. ‘I just want to talk… Just a bit!’
‘Shut up! Leave me alone!’
‘But—!’
‘I have no business with a snivelling coward like you!’ he yelled back, already throwing a nearby bowl of peaches at his head. To his annoyance, Zenitsu dodge out of each peach heading his way. Since when was he so skillful? Envy furled within him. ‘Get lost.’
‘… I’m not succeeding Thunder Breathing.’
He paused. No longer was it envy in his heart, but wrath. ‘Huh?’ Teeth grit, he marched up to Zenitsu, aggravated even further when he failed to react. ‘What the hell are you saying? Are you making fun of me, huh!?’
‘I can’t succeed it,’ he echoed. ‘I spoke to jii-chan already and—’
‘Don’t call him that!’ he yelled over him.
‘—he’s agreed too.’ That, of course, made him halt, anger freezing with him. ‘My body isn’t suited for Thunder Breathing… I’ve been working on my own style, so… Jii-chan said that he’ll pour all his attention in teaching you the first form.’ He pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. ‘Well, he asked me to teach you, but I said that was impossible ‘cause you don’t like me, so he decided to do it himself. But! That means you’ll be his successor.’ And Zenitsu… smiled. ‘Congratulations, aniki.’
With that said, Zenitsu left him. Left him awestruck and his world shattering to pieces.
All this time, he’d thought Jigoro would have Zenitsu as his successor. Always spending so much time with him, always working on him, always insisting that Zenitsu would become a great slayer…
But, he chose Kaigaku. Over Zenitsu. Zenitsu, who was developing his own style.
The first form… He knew, deep in his heart, that he’d never get to Zenitsu’s mastery of the first form. Never be as fast in iai as he was. But, after years of struggling to get down the first form, Jigoro would be teaching him it personally. Specifically. No distractions. Just him.
Overwhelmed, he took a moment to sit on the porch, watching as Zenitsu went through his new katas, each unfamiliar besides the first. How did he never notice it wasn’t Thunder Breathing he was practising?
‘I take it Zenitsu informed you, already.’ Behind him, Jigoro approached. ‘Come with me. I’ll make sure you’re too exhausted to think until the day comes when you’ve mastered Thunderclap and Flash.’
He nodded. ‘I understand…’
Just what was happening?
Shinobu’s smile was becoming realer by the day. There was one reason for that.
One Tsuyuri Kanao. Her precious tsuguko, who would succeed her dearest older sister, had become more honest too.
Kanao was smiling truly now, and she couldn’t remember the last time Kanao used her coin to make her choices for her. Aoi seemed overjoyed at this too, especially when Kanao started speaking with her and the girls.
Since that day nearly seven months ago, Kanao had been studying medicine under her, something Shinobu was glad to pass down.
She had no idea why Kanao was acting oddly all of a sudden. To an extent, she’d become clingy to Shinobu, staying by her side when she could and oddly hesitant to let go when she left to go to her missions. There was something else odd—Kanao kept acting as though compensating for affected vision. Fumbling to grab things at close reach and her aim off.
Of course, this was all fixed with a month, but it was something of note. Shinobu and Aoi banded together to do a check-up on Kanao’s vision, only to find that nothing was out of sorts. As always, her eyesight was good. More than good, even. Kanao had always had great eyesight, just like Kanae. It was the whole reason Kanae insisted on teaching her Flower Breathing, including the final form.
‘It’s okay,’ Kanao said afterwards. ‘I apologise for worrying you two, but I’m fine.’ In fact, Kanao seemed far more than fine. She was happy. Truly.
So, despite the oddities present in her tsuguko, Shinobu didn’t try to question it.
Because this was the happiest Kanao had been in her life, and she refused to sully it.
Kiriya woke up confused.
He recalled a kasugai crow informing him of the sighting of Muzan. Aoi had come to him personally, grief-stricken, as she explained that all five hashira, as well as Nezuko, had been slaughtered after coming into contact with Muzan.
He remembered going to his bed to cry, Kanata and Kuina just as upset as him, their grief and horror overwhelming them.
To the point that they couldn’t even fight back when Muzan showed up at their front door.
‘Your kasugai crows are ever so helpful,’ he’d said, before killing his sisters before his eyes, then him. He understood, in his final moments, that he was right.
Their last chance was in the Sunrise Countdown. Muzan… won. The Ubuyashiki family had been annihilated, and Muzan would live for thousands of years to come.
Without a doubt, Kiriya had died that night. Bled out slowly from the cut in his neck, a mockery of how slayers decapitated demons.
Yet, he awoke once more. In his old room, and in a body he’d outgrown. Once, he was thirteen. Now, he was seven once more. His wardrobe was full of women’s outfits, like he once wore.
It took a moment. Two.
Then he realised: this was his second chance.
A second chance to take down Muzan once and for all.