Disclaimer:
I do not own nor claim all the rights to 鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba | Demon Slayer; all rights are reserved to its respective creator, Koyoharu Gotōge. This is purely a work of fiction; names, characters, businesses, events, localities, and occurrences are all extrapolated from the author's writings and imagination or utilized in a fictitious manner. As such, any direct or indirect references to actual entities, dead or alive, or events do not, in any shape or form, resemble the opinions of the author.
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"..." = Dialogue
'...' = Internal monologues
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Blood.
Sweat.
Death.
Weariness.
It was very early in the morning—somewhere around 4 AM—but the darkness continued to envelop every last vector of the visible Earth. The atmosphere was tense, yet the voices fell silent...
The air was crisp; black ash and brickle grime suffocated our lungs. Lassitude had grown fond of us warriors, with over half of the present individuals lacking the strength to even stand straight. Uniforms begrimed with dirt and blood after days of incessant combat with our foes.
For the entirety of the previous few nights—including this one—we have done nothing but slash our katanas, constantly run to evade from, or pounce and ambush, our enemies. Food and freshwater were either scarce or completely gone, no additional supplies could possibly be procured in this demon-infested mountain to alleviate shortages.
Under these extreme and agonizing conditions, the morale of the cadre of slayers was effectively gone. The will to fight had been lost, and the slayers simply wished that they were home—far away from the suffering and death that surrounded them in this unforgiving forest.
The vicinity was entirely composed of the trees, bushes, and undergrowth. However, unlike the green luster that defines a typical forest, this particular nature seemed more analogous to supernatural characteristics beyond that of a meager woodland.
The shading of the trees was neither vividly vibrant nor a testament to mother nature's wonders; rather, they exuded more of an anemic complexion that emitted barely any fluorescent lighting witnessed during the daytime—the complexion abrogated such traits and instead implemented only a tinge of the original coloring, as a gray coating concurrent with the darkness that was ever so prevalent in this hostile environment induced the evergreen to shift into more of a monochrome tone.
Such a somber spectrum of colors was also replicated into the bushes and undergrowth alike; thus, completely changing the ambiance of what should be a joyous occasion in a forest, to a virulent occasion in a forest.
As the demoralizing spirit engulfed the encampment of slayers, I was only focused on sharpening the edges of my Nichirin blade—this was no time for rest, I had to ascertain whether another wave of enemies was upon us at this very hour.
I, along with seven other trainees, found refuge in a nearby burrow—situated in the circumcenter of four large sycamores—as we elude the pungent and malnourished demons from their voracious grasps.
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