Demon King Tanjiro

3: Raise your Swords

As the sun rose over the mountains, its warm glow spread across the sky, illuminating the aftermath of the battle with Muzan Kibutsuji. The slayers stood amidst the rubble, their bodies battered and bruised, but their spirits victorious. For what felt like an eternity, they had fought with all their might, facing impossible odds and overcoming unimaginable obstacles. But now, with the light of dawn upon them, they knew they had emerged triumphant. It was a new day to what seemed to be a new beginning.

"We've done it! We defeated Muzan!" exclaimed the green-eyed slayer, cried out for the hundredth time that day.

These remaining demon slayers had gathered together, still reeling from the finishing battle. Each member had their own tale to tell, but it was the red kimono slayer who recounted his experience.

"It was a close call," he said, his voice calm and detached. "Muzan's claws grazed my shoulder, and I felt the sting of his claw. I knew I had to get out of the way quickly, or he would've finished me. I could escape with my life."

They met his words with nods of agreement and understanding from his companions. They knew all too well the sacrifices they had made and the pain they had endured to get to this moment. The red kimono slayer's stoic demeanor softened as he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of his companions' shared joy.

"I'm just glad we made it out alive," he said, his eyes lighting up with happiness.

For a moment, his icy exterior melted away, and his comrades saw a glimpse of the depth of emotion that lay beneath. It was indeed a joyous day to be told. The kakushi were bandaging their wounds in the background. They couldn't help but share the stories of their battle. They couldn't help feeling a sense of camaraderie. They had been through so much together, and it had all led up to this moment.

The older slayer, with a balding head and a massive scar, let out a deep, hearty laugh. "You think you got it bad?" he said, his voice brimming with good humor. "Let me tell you something, my friend. If my wife! We're here to see me now. She'd never be able to look at me again!"

This prompted the taller, blonde-haired slayer to shout, "You have a wife?!"

The group erupted in laughter, their cackles filling the air and echoing off the damaged buildings around them. But despite the destruction, there was still beauty to be found in the rays of the rising sun.

As the morning dawned, the demon slayers continued to talk and laugh, their spirits high. They had overcome their greatest challenge yet, and they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together. The mood was light and jovial, as they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"This deserves some sake." The red kimono slayer slides his palm against the wooden box he sat from. "Do you think these boxes have some?" insisted the red kimono slayer, tapping onto the box.

"We can try to open them. Do you guys still have your katanas?" asked the green-eyed slayer.

The group fell silent for a moment, each of them mentally checking their weapons, although it was one of them who held their head low. "Uhhh... mine broke," the older slayer finally admitted with a low grimace.

They met his statement with a sudden shift of atmosphere, as the other slayers exchanged worried glances. The taller slayer bents down from his seat to meet with the older slayer's gaze.

"You're going to be in big trouble for that stunt. I give you my deepest apologies," said the taller slayer, his voice laced with concern.

The older slayer sighed, bending back up, crossing his arms, knowing all too well the consequences of breaking a katana. "Oh, I'm sure I'm going to hear that one later. Those swordsmiths are crazy about their prized works of art. I wonder if sometimes they love their katanas more than the safety of its user."