Kny •《Bury Me, My Love》

4. Scoundrel

"She stole my headpiece ... can't have shit in the Underworld."

Douma swiftly limped, holding tight to his improvised crutches, mumbling to himself.

"I bet she's already telling everyone where to start searching for me. I should have taken her as a hostage instead." Making a brief pause, Douma chuckled. "But who would even want her back?"

Reaching Shinobu in her attempt to run away had been easy enough, but deciding what to do with her, then, had been the crux of Douma's dilemma.

He couldn't stand up without some sort of help, not for a decent amount of time, at least.

Walking while carrying - or dragging - another person was above his capacities at the moment. And killing Shinobu, albeit a very tempting idea sometimes, was also out of question for Douma.

Could she even die again? She was his enemy, sure, but she posed no immediate threat anymore.

Douma was a rascal, yes, but not a scoundrel.

He did threaten Shinobu in an attempt to understand more about his current situation, though, and the bluffs apparently worked.

Not that she could provide much information, but the little she managed to tell him was precious knowledge... for someone who had just crawled out of a grave.

The fallen slayer paused again, this time heavily leaning over his crutches, catching his breath.

Those wooden pieces were as sturdy as they were heavy, and although he cursed them for their weight, it was the best aid currently at his disposition.

Before him stood the First Prison - if Shinobu had indeed told him the truth.

The massive white temple was imposing, but also solemn. If the entire Underworld felt like a big graveyard, then the First Prison was like a funeral home: where a corpse would be in before being dispatched to its final resting place.

According to Shinobu, there was a man in there who kept a giant book listing every single dead person and their fate.

She also assured Douma that this person was harmless and quite friendly, and he'd be very happy to receive an unexpected visit while trying to do his job. (Douma was no idiot, though. That person was probably going to be a total bitch to deal with.)

He imagined Shinobu only mentioned the book because she had no idea of how actually interesting - and perhaps even useful - that thing could be for Douma. Interesting enough to make the slayer decide to delay his plans of finding - and getting revenge on - Kanae.

If such a book truly existed... then Douma would have a chance to know what happened to his comrades. And if they were also in Hell, perhaps he could save them.

That thought alone made Douma immediately start moving again. Despite the weight of the crutches and the nearly unbearable pain in his mangled leg, each limping step was full of courage.

A glimmer of hope made him drag himself forward, forward, overpowering the pain and the exhaustion.

At least some of the Hashira had to be still in the living world, right?

The cold, dreadful air of the Underworld felt oh so fresh for a man that had just escaped from a stuffy coffin. Each time it filled his lungs, Douma felt like a renewed man.

He had none of his power left, it seemed, but he was still utterly hellbent on defeating demonic forces. That would have to suffice for his rescue and revenge missions.

"You! Halt!"

Not too far from him now, a single guard near the First Prison half-shouted, half-whispered, as if he was afraid of being heard by someone.