My Instincts Never Lie || Demon Slayer Nezuko

12. Is That All You Can Do?

"Is that all you can do?" The publisher's voice was as slimy as any entitled pig Kyogai had met in decades gone by. "How boring, everything you write is gloomy and sad. Not wonderful, not dreamy, not jaw-dropping. This trash doesn't sell, so do yourself a favour and stop sending us your works." Kyogai's gaze fixed onto his lap as his works fluttered to the ground. Thunder clapped, he cursed the weather for its dull, greyness---like it wanted to mock him too. This was his last hope.

"We don't want t'be associated with shut-ins, maybe if you give these to the pigs they'll find some value innit. Such a waste of such quality paper." The publisher took a whiff of his cigar, chuckling to himself. "You play the drums, no? Why don't you stick to that---ha! Come to think of it, you're probably not good enough to teach someone either."

The publisher's bony fingers flicked the cigar onto the works, taking the leisure of stepping on them too for good measure. The paper crumpled beneath his sole and Kyogai's eyes began to cloud. That would be the last step the publisher would ever take. 'I've tried...' he thought to himself, 'But, why... How dare you...'

"Kyogai." His hands froze at the beckoning of Muzan's voice before the dismembered corpse of his meal. "They say... you can't eat humans anymore. This is disappointing." The demon lord's voice cut like a knife cast in disgust at the pathetic scene. Claw marks tore into the dead man's torso as if a wild beast that starved throughout winter feasted; hastily, his skin still warm and fresh, the muscles half chewed, his organs and face barely recognisable as human.

Beads of sweat rolled down Kyogai's scarred face, the blood of his victim splattered all over his mouth. "No it isn't true!" he protested, shuffling forward on his knees. "Please, I was a fool, just a little longer! Give me more time, my---"

Kyogai cried out in anguish as opening his left eye sent a sharp sting into his head. The world went halfway into a blurry dark red.

"That's enough," said Muzan, eyes narrowed like the blades he so despised, he was coated in a suffocating and sinister air. It was written all over his blank and uncaring stare: what kind of a demon doesn't eat humans? How could he ever welcome a deviant of this level into the ranks of the most prestigious demons in all of Japan? "I'm stripping you of your rank, Kyogai. Never show yourself to me."

With a swoosh of his white silk cape, Muzan vanished and left Kyogai with an immeasurable shame announcing itself to every demon that met his eye with a blatant white 'x' over the red of his retinas. He thought endlessly of the wallowing and the lonesomeness he'd enjoyed as a Kizuki, only to get comfortable in his power. Has he lost touch with the rest of the world already? He thought, too, of the Upper Moons and the tales whispered amongst the lowly demons---their bottomless hunger, their merciless disregard, their ability to devour whole towns before dawn, the gallons of incomparable power running through their veins...

Only one thing planted itself in Kyogai's mind: "To obtain their lord's blood was the ultimate fulfilment." He thrashed at the corpse at his knees, tore a piece of flesh and shoved it in his mouth. It seemed pitiful to him now, to think that he sought it in words and introspection of the world he lived in. What was that all for, if it only brought more disappointment and suffering?

The next night, Kyogai emerged from his mansion and into the terrain of monsters and terror. Rumour was that the newly vacant rank of Upper Moon 6 had already been filled. How quick. Right then his resolve cemented just as a lantern appeared amongst the trees beside him.

"Marechi..."

—

"And, here we go." Nezuko pulled on the edges of the cloth while watching Kiyoshi squint and flinch as it tightened. "How does it feel?"