༄ؘ| CHAPTER THREE: THE KNIVES WE CARRY ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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warning : gore, cursing, and violence.
ONE MOMENT, the world was all but a pit of blistering heat and the doomed cries of inhabitants. And in the next, a storm swallows it whole.
* .˚ · .
A terrifying, army of blades, forged from the wind and sheer force of Shinazugawa Sanemi's swordsmanship, ravaged the marketplace slashing through wood and iron and dirt, slicing the demon's blistering orbs of fire cleanly in half. One moment, the Wind Hashira was on the ground; and the next, found himself high above the night sky, blade drawn, wiry muscles pulled taut, and the destruction from his blow stretching for all to see down below.
A grin pulled at his face. He was Sanemi Shinazugawa. The Wind Hashira, the Demon Corps' second strongest. And he would be damned if he would ever let some filthy demon do the honor of humiliating him and taking his life.
Hiroyoku, the feared, all mighty Hiroyoku, found himself wanting to piss his pants as he stared at the pure bundle of fury that pooled in Sanemi's irises, glowing against the red tint of the demon's flames.
Sanemi dived down at full speed, the wind billowing against the soft white tufts on his head as he bounced from roof top to rooftop, blade poised to strike at the demon. Hiroyoku found himself on the brink of stumbling. With the faintest hint of hesitancy, he let out a roar, the ground quaking and cracking open as Muzan's blood surged through his veins, letting him burst free from the crater.
Dollops of molten gold and iron dripped down onto the ground as Hiroyoku rose to his full height, as tall as two houses. He let out a mocking laugh, clawed hand poised to strike at the descending Hashira. No matter how hard the humans would try, no one was ever a match for him in this gargantuan, lethal form. By the end of the day, they would all turn into charred lumps of flesh anyway.
Sanemi wouldn't take that for an answer.
The hand that was raised so powerfully, dripping with lethal strength and glowing with red hot energy, dropped to the floor; severed from its master.
Sanemi barrelled past in a blur, no soul could see him in the dark, no soul could ever figure out his next move now. His eyes glimmered with rage and twisted thrill as he lurched forward, delivering slashes to the back of the demon's gold-plated legs. Hiroyoku found himself on his knees, disbelief painting his face.
Another fireball manifested in his remaining hand.
Slash.
It was almost as tall as the Wind Hashira as it lay pathetically splattered onto the ground, the half-formed fireball flickering out weakly. Letting out a brief chuckle, Sanemi's toes dug into the dirt as he broke into a full speed, jaw clenching and muscles burning from overuse.
