Muzan's Heir | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Fanfiction [Mitsuri Kanroji, OC]

The Descendant of Hojo Tokimune

There lives a boy named Hojo Akira on the summit of a mountain. He possessed blood-red hair and eyes, fair skin and a lean, but muscular body along with a standing 179cm in height — as a son of the great Hojo Tokimune, a retired flame hashira, Akira was trained eloquently in the arts of total concentration breathing from when he had blossomed at the age of 15 — now, he stood at 19 years and a formally entitled demon slayer.

Albeit this young man is only ranked as a kinoto, the second to highest possible ranking in the corps. Anyone else would've strive to reach the position of kinoe or as one of the pillars — but not Akira, he could care less about the organisation itself. All he ever wanted was a chance to avenge his fallen mother, Hojo Amaterasu — she was killed by none other than Kibutsuji Muzan, the demon king.

His mother was a protective, caring, and powerful woman. She acted like a hen would to her chicks, doing anything within her abilities to save those around her, no matter who they were. In fact, that was how Tokimune fell for her, and became that woman's loving husband. They were one in the same.

"You would've made her proud, Akira." Tokimune spoke kindly to his son, who was grieving Amaterasu's grave.

In Loving Memory of

Hojo Amaterasu
Feb 14, 1862
Dec 21, 1889

No matter the person, if it's
someone I care for, I swear I would
fight for them even in death

"You say that, but for the past 13 years..." He argued. "I have yet to find, nor end her killer."

"Kibitsuji?"

"Where do you think he's hiding?"

"No one knows, son — it is why he's notorious; cowering at dawn, and striking when dusk."

"I swear, father: on mom's honor, I will end that demon's reign and free the world of his horror."

Tokimune looked on at his angered successor. Oh, how he wished he could achieve that goal on his own — but, unfortunately, faith has a nasty habit of not fully delivering itself — all suffer the uncanny trait from his family's primogenitor, Hojo Ymir, every last one lost their flame breathing abilities at their 40th day of birth.

He rested his hand gently on Akira's shoulder and notified him that he would already be heading inside their humble mountain abode. It wasn't anything too special, just what you'd normally expect; a small timber home with just enough space to house a family of 3.

"May I ask how long you would be staying?" He asked before closing the doors.

"Not long, my crow told me that there was a demon terrorizing our neighbor village. I merely stopped by to visit you and mom's grave."

"I see." Tokimune turned his head to the beautiful setting sun. "Then, it'd be best if you traverse now. These nights consistently lasts longer during Winter Solstice. I pray for your success, Akira... be safe out there."

It wasn't a second longer when the light faded away and darkness loomed around them. Each and every one of the oil lanterns hanging on the mountain trees lit up simultaneously, making a visibly dirt pathway to appear down towards their village.

To Akira, it was most definitely a sign to start heading off. He stood and dusted himself before hearing many caws in the sky, followed by the shaken voice of the black-feathered bird. "Demon! Demon! Hojo Akira, danger steps afoot, be weary of what's to come, another demon is lurking in your shadows!"

My shadows? Our lead thought to himself. He wondered deeply what his companion might've meant, yet he drew a blank.

"Son, look out!" The father called, but it was too late for a great force launched the boy straight through multiple trees, knocking him out cold.

Feeling immense worry, Tokimune ran over to check Akira's condition. He was glad that his only son was alive, but this great sense of evil has completely towered his previous feeling, making him yellow as the fiery sun. And so, he grabbed Akira's sword and steadied himself in a guard position.

Out the forest comes an incredibly old-looking man, he had excessively long hair that were white as the snow surrounding him, a skin so thin that it could easily be peeled off if one desired; but the noticeable detail were his eyes — for he had none — only hollowed out sockets of where they used to be.

The two conscious beings looked at one another, both not moving an inch, silence filling the void in between them. Then, the old man started walking, slowly; and with his dried up lips, talked. "Your son, he is all I came for. Give him to me and your life shall be spared."

Tokimune breathed in deeply, but failed to produce any sort of fire. He knew he won't be able to face the stranger, he would lose, but what else should a father do? If he couldn't even protect his son, what good of a man is he? So, he readied himself in a defensive form — it was like his mentor taught him, a stance that needn't any kind of breathing techniques, but it provides a solid shielding against heavier or more powerful opponents.

"Do you wish to die?" The old rickety man asked to which Tokimune did not reply. "...Then, so be it."