- Y/n Tsugikuni -

Chapter 4 - Solar Flames -

3rd Person POV Again Yet Again

Shadow danced in the blazing capital.

From the fire and rubble, something moved—slowly at first, then rising like a flame refusing to die.

The shape of a man.

His sword shone through the smoke, engraved in bold kanji: "Destroyer of Demons."
The rubble burns around him as he spirals upward through the inferno, cloak torn, face bruised—but alive.

Limbs scattered. Flesh twisted. Smoke poured from the cracks in Hiro’s armor. And yet, the demon’s head hadn’t fully separated.

Y/n approached, knife drawn—a wisteria-coated blade.
He stabbed it clean into Hiro’s neck.

“You won’t move. You won’t regenerate.”

Silence.

Y/n knelt beside him, the city glowing with chaos behind them.
“…Seventy-six innocent lives. Thirty-two wounded. Three bullets into my partner.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It was tired. Heavy.

“You said this was about revenge. Justice. But all I see is more pain. More bodies.”

Hiro coughed, mangled lungs pushing out a bitter chuckle.
“Heh… But I finally became stronger. Stronger than they ever imagined as a slayer.”

“…You were a Demon Slayer?” Y/n asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

“Was,” Hiro muttered. “I followed the same training. Same breathing. Morning. Noon. Night. I gave it everything.”

His voice wavered. “I practiced harder than any of them. And when demons came for my village, I fought them alone. No backup. No glory.”

His voice cracked.

“Then you showed up. One swing, one save, and they loved you for it.”

Y/n stared in silence.

“They praised you. Not me. I saved them too. But you—you got the cheers. The gratitude. You got the love.”

He gritted his teeth.

“And then—your hypocrisy. You let people die to chase one demon. In that village. I saw it. I was there. You threw away lives like kindling, and they still called you a hero.”

Y/n flinched. His jaw clenched.

“I admired you,” Hiro whispered. “But you stole everything from me. And they’ll never know it.”

Citizens started gathering again—too close. Too curious. Nearby demon slayers rushed to push them back.

Y/n stood. Quiet. Composed.

“Only a sociopath would react to something so small,” Y/n said. “with that kind of rage."

.

.

.

“…You call it rage,” Hiro smirked, blood pooling under him. “I call it commitment.”

But before he could say more, Y/n’s blade moved—swift and final. The head fell.

Silence again.

Y/n flicked the blood off his blade. The battle was over.

His eyes shifted.

His partner.

Beneath a pile of scorched rubble, Silv's pale figure lay still. Blood caked her clothes. Her hand was twisted unnaturally, and her leg bloodied.