(TL NOTE: I experimented with a different editing style.)
Tanjuro Kamado had always dreamed of building a shrine to honor the Fire God.
Though his devotion never wavered, his circumstances did not allow for it. A large family, waning health, and too little coin left the dream unfulfilled. Sometimes, with Roy and Tanjiro in his arms, he would whisper with sorrow that he had failed as a believer. Still, he hoped his sons would inherit both his wish and the courage to one day raise a shelter worthy of the Fire God—a place that would not need grandeur, only strength; not wealth, only dignity.
Now, Tanjiro stood before a shrine that seemed molded from his father's vision. The moss that spread across the stone steps only deepened the impression of quiet resilience. Modest in scale, humble in its setting, and yet serene in spirit, it seemed like a perfect offering.
He shifted the basket strapped to his back and turned to Roy, his expression bright with childlike earnestness.
"Nii-san, let us go in and pray."
Tradition dictated that travelers offer incense when seeking shelter within sacred grounds. Without incense, one was expected at least to bow and give sincere thanks before entering. Such customs mattered deeply to Tanjiro.
Roy, on the other hand, did not believe in gods or demons. His gaze lingered instead on practical details. He tapped the steps with his boot and said, "This is interesting. The snow is heavy all around us, yet none settles here."
Tanjiro considered the words and smiled. "A shrine keeper must be clearing the way. To work so diligently, even at this hour—it speaks of dedication. Perhaps they will even offer us a warm meal tonight."
Roy's lips curled into a cold smile. "We are the meal."
Tanjiro faltered. "What do you—?"
But the words caught in the air. His senses sharpened. His nose twitched. A pungent stench slid down his throat like poison—dry copper, sharp and iron-heavy. The unmistakable smell of blood.
It was faint, but dreadful in its familiarity.
His chest tightened as realization struck him.
A demon.
The fine hairs along Tanjiro's neck bristled. "There is a demon in the shrine."
Roy's eyes flicked toward him, calm and unreadable. Then, without hesitation, he walked up the stone steps. "Come. If we delay too long, the meal will be gone."
Tanjiro clenched his axe, heat rising to his face. "This time, I will protect you, Nii-san."
The steel caught the faint light of the moon as he gripped it tighter. He remembered his fear that night outside the temple, when he had all but cowered. Not this time. He would not drag behind like a trembling child.
Roy stepped to the side, opening the path with a mocking sweep of his hand.
Tanjiro nearly laughed at the absurdity. Or perhaps he would cry. But trapped by his brother's expectations and his own stubborn pride, he steeled his breath and marched forward, heart hammering, legs stiff.
Roy followed at an unhurried pace. His sight, sharpened through Nen, traced the battle waiting within. He already knew the creature—it was infamous in the region, a demon that lured merchants and travelers with the false promise of sanctuary. The disappearances along the roads had its mark.
It was no great power among its kind. Not like Sato Takeichiro, who wielded the Blood Demon Arts. Yet strength was never absolute. With claws sharper than steel and a body that refused to stay broken, this demon could still rule over an entire countryside with fear alone.
From within the shrine, faint noises drifted into the night. "Crunch... crunch..."
They entered.
A broken statue slumped along the shrine's wall, and there sat the demon, crouched in its shadow. Its clawed hands dug with relish into what was left of a merchant. His body leaned lifeless against stone, organs already pulled free. Slivers of intestine dangled from the demon's fangs as it chewed with sickening pleasure.
Its crimson eyes shot toward them. "How discourteous. This is my feast. Interrupting me is quite ungracious, mortal children."
Tanjiro froze. His chest revolted at the sight—it was worse than words could describe. His throat knotted; bile rose like fire. He nearly heaved up the meal he had eaten that morning.
Beside him, Roy's voice cut coldly through his nausea. "Swallow it. Do not waste what Mother worked to prepare."
The demon rose, blood dripping in long ropes from its jaw. "Two visitors? How fortunate. Winter is ever my favorite season—so many wanderers, so much flesh to devour."
Roy's expression revealed nothing but disdain. "You speak far too much." He laid a hand on Tanjiro's back. "Attack."
Caught by surprise, Tanjiro stumbled forward, his voice cracking. "Ah—!"
The axe lifted high but crashed down too slowly.
"Bang!"
The demon's knee struck his chest like a hammer and sent him flying backwards.
White pain split through Tanjiro's ribs. His vision flashed. In that instant, all illusions vanished. He had seen Roy fight before and thought it looked effortless—as though demons could be brought down with mere willpower. Now he understood how wrong he was.
They are not weak. They cannot be fought like men.
He forced his breath into his lungs and staggered to his feet. As the demon lunged, Tanjiro swung instinctively, the axe slashing across its neck.
A spray of blood.
The demon staggered, covering its throat. "You... cut me? With an axe? Impressive."
Its mouth curled into an even darker grin. "But pointless."
Before Tanjiro's eyes the wound drew closed, pulling together like ripped cloth sewn by invisible thread. The blood dried upon the skin, healed as though it had never been.
Exactly like Sato Takeichiro's arm.
Tanjiro's pulse thundered. Unless he severed the head completely, this demon could not be stopped.
He planted his boots and forced his body upright. "Keep fighting," he whispered to himself, though he trembled. "Keep fighting..."
"Swish."
The demon vanished.
His eyes widened—too slow. Hands like shackles seized his throat. In a blink, his back slammed to the ground, his axe pinned between them as the demon's claws pressed closer.
"Fast—too fast, I cannot—" His words choked out, eyes bulging against the pressure.
The demon's breath stank of rot as it leaned in. "No more lucky strikes. This time, I will hear your bones snap."
The world blurred. Pain devoured him. His axe creaked under the force of those monstrous arms. Spots flashed before his eyes.
What do I do?
Should I cry out? Should I call for him?
No—I swore to protect Nii-san. I promised. I cannot... I must not...
But I am about to die. I will die here. I do not want to—
The thought screamed within him. His pride cracked under the truth of terror. His lungs burned. His resolve crumbled to a single desperate scream.
"Nii-san! Save me!"