Dancing in the Mist (Demon Slayer / Kimetsu no Yaiba: Tokito Muichiro x OC)

Chapter 7

Muichiro was not one to care for others.

For he who had no past, being around other people who did was a special kind of pain. Every time he heard someone reminisce about their childhood, he would once again be reminded that he had none. To cope the pain, indescribable rage, and pure helplessness he felt each time he tried to remember his past, he threw himself into training.

Each and every day, from dawn until dusk, until his training sword splintered and his blisters bled, Muichiro would be training in the art of the sword. Every move he mastered was a piece of his history that he, memory-less Muichiro, carved out for himself. Every new scar he gained was a memory that he created, not a forgotten version of himself.

Kasumi was someone that he wanted to protect, not the self that was too weak to show himself.

When was it that he started to care about what happened to this strange, airheaded girl? Maybe it was when he first saw her golden-bronze eyes, the haze clouding them similar to the turquoise eyes that stared back at him every morning. Maybe it was when Kasumi first drew her strange fans, her every movement turning into a dance of nichirin blades and demon blood. Maybe it was when she was happily snacking on peaches, the pale pink juice staining her lips and making them glisten under the sunlight.

What he did know, however, was the feeling of his stomach dropping to his feet as he witnessed Momotsuki's sword brush against Kasumi's tan skin, slicing through a few strands of her raven hair. The feeling of desperation that ran through his blood, a feeling that was vaguely familiar to him, powering his mad dash towards the two. The feeling of oxygen rushing through him, invigorating his body, causing his legs to move faster. He just couldn't allow her to die just yet... She still hadn't answered a single one of his questions! Even if she refused to answer every other question, there was still one that he wanted answered no matter what...

Could they... be considered friends?

Just before he could reach the two, however, Momotsuki's sword was already in motion, sweeping in an arc destined to cleave Kasumi's head from her shoulders. Just as metal was about to meet flesh-

Clang!

The sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, shortly followed by the sound of metal slicing through flesh.

"The curtains have risen... and the show has begun," a strangely monotone voice announced, the tense atmosphere cut in half with her words. Wisteria blossoms fluttered through the air as Momotsuki's sword lay broken in half on the ground, his arm a short distance from it. Muichiro straightened from his Mist Breathing stance and turned towards Kasumi, Momotsuki's blood dripping from his blade.

"Kasumi, what the hell were you thin-" he demanded aggressively before stopping abruptly. A nichirin blade hovered mere millimeters away from his neck, its razor-sharp blade slicing through a couple strands of his hair just by touching them.

"Do not get in my way. I spare you only because she is fond of you, but if you hinder me I will show no more mercy. Is this understood, Tokito Muichiro?" Kasumi, or whoever was wearing her skin, growled lowly, her usually warm golden-bronze gaze now darkened, almost pitch black in color.

"....Who are you?" Muichiro questioned, his body tense. Whoever this girl was, she was not the Kasumi he knew for this past week.

"I share the same name as her, yet we are different identities. I am her pain, hatred, sorrow, and fear. She is my hope, happiness, determination, and courage," Kasumi replied, lowering her sword as her left hand lifting up to pull out her nichirin wisteria ornaments. Her ebony hair fell in waves to her hips as she shook out the twisted locks, her hand raking over her forehead to clear away the bangs. A strange nichirin sword was gripped in her right hand, one that Muichiro had not once seen Kasumi brandish. It had no handle nor guard, and as Muichiro watched Kasumi sliced off a long strip of cloth from her kimono and used it as a makeshift handle.

"Kiyomi... have you finally shown your true colors?" Momotsuki asked with a sigh of ecstasy, standing up from where he was crouching and focusing on regenerating his arm.

"'Kiyomi', hm?h You are still as blind as you were three months ago, when "I" last saw you. How pathetic," Kasumi snorted, twirling her katana in a figure-eight before holding it parallel to the ground, tucked behind her left hip. She crouched low to the ground, steadying herself before inhaling deeply. "Dance Breathing, Fifth Form: Death's Pirouette," she stated, pushing herself forward at an impossibly high speed and spinning around in a circle, gathering momentum for a killing blow to Momotsuki's neck. Her hair fanned out around her, blurring her movements yet complimenting the flow of her graceful movements. However, Momotsuki quickly drew out a kodachi and held it in a defensive position.

"Futile," Kasumi murmured, suddenly dropping low to the ground and, keeping her rotating momentum, sliced off both of Momotsuki's legs off from the knees down. He screamed in pain, falling backwards to the floor, and Kasumi stomped on his chest to pin him in place. Her zori shoe crushed his ribcage, the sickening sound of bones cracking and giving away reverberating throughout the still wisteria-filled air. "As expected... a sword much better suits our Breathing Style," Kasumi said with an expression of psychopathic pleasure, her blank tone laced with a sort of joy that only someone addicted to the pain of others could adopt. A drop of Momotsuki's blood had landed on her upper lip, and she casually swiped it off with her thumb. The blood left a streak, however, coloring her lips a deep red.

"Is... that really Kasumi?" Aoi breathed out in horror, her legs paralyzed with fear. She had seen over a dozen demons throughout her time in the Final Selection, and each one was inhumane in their own way. Kasumi as she was now... she scared Aoi to the very core of her being. She didn't look like a Demon Slayer whose mission was to protect humans; she looked like a bloodthirsty warmonger whose only mission was to kill.

"I don't know," Muichiro replied, as he had moved over between Aoi and the demon Momotsuki. The likeliest target for the wounded demon would be these weak humans, so it was Muichiro's duty to make sure that the demon didn't refuel. "She looks the same, but the inside is completely different. At this point, I don't know if she's an ally or a foe."

"She's our friend! No matter how she may act, Kasumi is Kasumi!" Aoi protested.

"We have yet to see..." Muichiro murmured, watching as Kasumi lifted her sword into the air.

"It was fun. Time to die," she said, using both her hands to steady her sword as she positioned it to the left, ready to swipe to the right. "Dance Breathing, Second Form: Butterfly's-" she started before she twisted to the side... seconds before the ground below her exploded with tree roots. Momotsuki giggled as he sat up, his surroundings covered with slithering tree roots. As the three Demon Slayers watched, peach blossoms began to sprout one by one, covering the roots in pale pink flowers.

"Aahh... I didn't want to use this... I wanted to feel Kiyomi's blood flow down my blade, soaking into it... becoming one with me... but I suppose that I'll make do with letting my roots drink your blood," Momotsuki sighed, his legs finally regenerating so he could stand up. "Demon Blood Art: Carnivorous Peach Trees," he chanted, extending a hand towards Kasumi. At his bidding, the multitude of peach tree roots darted towards Kasumi, weaving around in all directions to confuse her.

"Mist Breathing, Fifth Form: Sea of Clouds and Haze," Muichiro stated, appearing between Kasumi and the roots and slashing them to pieces.

"Unnecessarily... but I give you my thanks," Kasumi told him, stepping to his side.

"I'll deal with the roots. You take his head," Muichiro ordered, sinking low to the ground as he prepared for his next move.

"Don't give me orders," Kasumi growled, nonetheless readying her sword in front of her.

"Mist Breathing, Second Form..."

"Dance Breathing, Third Form..."

"Eight-Layered Mist."

"Distant Memory's Refrain."