Kny •《Bury Me, My Love》

2. Kneel Before An Alter

(I'm trying to write them all differently,
Hope it makes sense)

Kokushibo - alive.

Damn it. We'll get him next time.

Hantengu - destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus.

We'll need a bigger grave.

Gyutaro | Daki - both destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus.

Douma | Doma - destroyed.

Locked inside a coffin for one thousand years.

That thing can't escape, right?

Kaigaku - destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus.

Gyokko- destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus.

Is this some kind of joke? Get this thing out of here, I'm still eating my lunch.
Now call another servant to clean up this mess.

Kibutsuji Muzan - alive.

I sincerely hope that this one won't train any more demon slayers until the next war.

Or else we'll be fucked. Again.

Nakime - destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus.

Mukago - destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus.

Rokuro - destroyed.

Enmu - destroyed.

Sent to the HR .

Akaza | Hakuji - destroyed.

Sent to the Cocytus... for a record short duration for a slayer.

We should give him some commemorative bagels once he's free to go.

Fucking hell. Someone bring me a coffee. I'm tired of writing punishments all day.

Wait... hey, why is that stupid scribe still writing everything I say? Someone, tell that dumbass to stop.

Fine. I'll go kick that scribe's ass myself.

Why do I have to do everything by myself in this place?
_________________________________________

The sound of deranged laughter filled Hell.

In the middle of nowhere, there was a deep grave.

Out that deep grave crawled a person.

Gripping the dark barren soil, Douma let himself rest for a while, halfway out of the tomb. Despite the thick layer of mud and sweat covering his whole body, the slayer laughed, catching his breath, enjoying the relatively fresh air of Hell.

Pain constantly stung him as his mangled leg was still buried under the dark earth.

Douma didn't care.

He was free.

Given how much time he had spent buried under the dirt until he managed to crawl out, Douma could assume he was indeed dead and did not need to breathe.

Yet, it was still a relief to do so.

His whole body ached. The sweat now made him feel cold, and the mud glued to his skin was starting to get itchy and annoying. The open wound on his leg hurt horribly, and perhaps it was still bleeding, as the dirt made contact with the exposed flesh and nerves.

One of the heavy chains from the coffin got tightly tangled around his remaining foot, and it was starting to hurt, too.

Douma still did not care.