Solar Blade

Cold Blade

[Name] sat in the room, Nezuko the only company. They should be trying to cut the boulder. Final Selection was coming up around the corner, and it had already been a year. Whenever they saw Tanjiro, they saw how much he was changing. He seemed much stronger, and his strikes were more powerful and quick. Today, they were going to slice that boulder. They were going to make sure it happened. If it didn't, they wouldn't feed themselves until it did.

It was night, and Tanjiro wasn't around. He had still to come down to train. They didn't have long until he'd come down to begin training. They whipped their hair out of their face before walking up to the boulder. The boulder seemed indomitable, and that it could never be cut. They looked at Tanjiro's boulder and found that there were some formidable acts of aggression marked on the stone's mostly untouched surface.

"I won't let this boulder defeat me. Tanjiro managed to make his slashes. If I can just... if I can just focus." [Name] whispers to themselves, They reach for their scabbard, fingers grazing the cold surface. A shiver runs down their spine, but they shake it off. It had gotten increasingly cold, right after the day it had been snatched out of their hands. What was happening to their blade?

"I won't be defeated by a rock. I'll starve if I have to, but I'll not step back until it's split in two!" [Name] exclaimed.

They draw their blade, the steel glinting harshly in the night. The familiar chill of the sword sends a tremor through them, but the resolve burns stronger. [Name]'s eyes narrow menacingly as they bring the sword down. It's not strong enough. "Just a few more tries..."

They bring the sword down again and again. Each strike reverberates through their body, but the boulder remains intact, mocking them. [Name]'s frustration builds as they hold the sword by their side, gazing at the unmarred rock.

"Why can't I do this? Why can't I...?" they think to themselves.

They fall to their knees, the ground rough against their skin, panting heavily as their chests rise and fall in a frantic rhythm. Their eyes fixate on the earth beneath them, each blade of grass and patch of soil a stark reminder of their current state. The weight of self-doubt hangs over them like a suffocating fog, enveloping their thoughts and stifling any glimmer of hope. It crushes them, relentless and heavy, as they grapple with the sting of their own perceived inadequacy, feeling as if they have let themselves down in ways that are both profound and painfully mundane.

They clench their fists tightly into the dirt, the gritty texture providing a visceral connection to the ground and a small measure of grounding amid the storm of emotions swirling within them. The anger within begins to simmer, rising like a tide that threatens to overflow. It churns deep in their gut, a flickering flame fueled by frustration and disappointment. The internal battle rages on as they fight to contain the tumult while also wrestling with the questions that echo relentlessly in their mind: Why can't they measure up? What is standing in their way?

Around them, the world continues to turn, blissfully unaware of the turmoil they are experiencing. With each laboured breath, they feel both the heat of their anger and the chill of their despair, the duality of their existence wrapped in an agonizing embrace. This moment of vulnerability, raw and unfiltered, becomes a crucible—one in which they are not only confronted by their weaknesses but also given a chance to rise up from the ashes of their self-doubt, should they muster the strength to stand once more.

"Child, your blade is at your full disposal, yet you decide not to strike. What's holding you back?" A strange voice echoes through the trees.

Suddenly, a powerful surge of raw emotion wells up within them, a tumultuous blend of rage and deep-seated self-loathing that threatens to consume their very being. It's as if a dam has broken, unleashing a torrent of feelings that have long been suppressed, bubbling up from the depths of their soul. They stand there, the dramatic change in their expression startling, as the once placid mask they wore shatters, revealing the storm brewing inside.

"Enough! I won't let myself be weak!

With a guttural yell that echoes through the silence, they unleash the pent-up frustration and pain that has been festering for far too long. The sound resonates not just in the air but within the very core of their identity—a primal cry that is both a release and a declaration. In that moment, they might as well be a lion awakening from slumber.

As they grip the hilt of the sword tighter, their knuckles whiten under the strain, and they feel the raw power coursing through their veins, surging like a wildfire, igniting every nerve ending with fierce intensity. It's not just a weapon in their hand; it represents their will to fight back against the inner demons that have plagued them for years. The metallic coldness of the blade contrasts sharply with the heat of their emotions, serving as a stark reminder of the battle they are not only waging externally but also within themselves.

Every heartbeat amplifies their resolve, and with each breath, they begin to channel that rage—transforming it into a force of purpose. Their thoughts crystallize amid the chaotic storm; they recall the injustices that have driven them to this brink, the moments of weakness that led to self-disgust. No longer will they allow these feelings to anchor them to despair. Instead, they harness the fire ignited in their chest, transcending the limits of their former self.

"I'm stronger than this! I'm stronger than myself!" [Name] shouted, before raising their blade.

Suddenly, the blade began to glow. What was this? [NAme] could only see a little flicker of light, a fluorescent blue hue seeping onto their sword before the blade sliced through the air like a bolt of lightning, cleaving through the boulder effortlessly. They bring it down relentlessly, five times in rapid succession, each cut splitting the stone into pieces.

The dust in the area has built up, and [Name] waits for it to die down. They clenched their sword, their chest rising up and down as their eyes failed to focus on one thing. Once the dirt had all disappeared, they looked at their rock. It was split, not into two pieces, but ten.

They looked back down at their sword. It wasn't that dull colour that it was earlier. Now, its blade was a light blue, and it was cold. So, the blade had gotten stronger? Or had it been their strength that boosted them? Suddenly, they tensed up before looking around the area. Someone had spoken to them. It was the reason they managed to strike in the first place. The rage that those words invoked.

They quickly ran back up to Urokodaki's home, holding their blade tightly. Now, they had to inform him of their triumph. How would Tanjiro take this?

A/N

I poured my heart and soul into this chapter. Also, I realise that I might not have made the entire thing clear. So, what's happened is that [Name] goes out to cut that boulder. At first, they're like, 'I suck' then DUN DUN DUN mysterious voice is all 'bla bla bla what's holding you back?'. [Name] gets angry at this and suddenly has an immense power boost. They see that their blade has now turned a light blue colour. Also, they outshone Tanjiro. Also, I feel like [Name] turned that boulder into an orange. I mean, bro cut it into 10 pieces!

Taisho Era Secret: The voice that [Name] heard reminds them of someone...