Aku the Samurai

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

XAKU

Contemplation - ???

_{Mentions: @Dane}

---

Xaku sits in the seiza position with her head bowed. Her uniform is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a simple, black kimono. The sleeves are rolled up, exposing her flawless, pale skin. Blood runs down her arms in thick, crimson rivulets, creating a picture of morbid beauty. Grass shrivels, flowers die, and the ground is dyed black, poisoned by her essence.

“... again.”

Her flesh splits once more, dousing ever more of the ground with her blood. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t flinch. The pain hardly registers as more than just a faint sensation. It isn’t nearly enough.

There are few with the capability to do what is necessary. And yet...

None were able. They were all just–

“Again.”

The cuts are deeper this time. Artery deep, bleeding more. Not enough. Almost enough. Almost–

“Xaku-sama. Your delivery has arrived.”

She stops. Her gaze falls to her arms. The wounds are gone, but the stains are not.

Never enough.

“... Give me a moment.”

She rises to her feet in one fluid motion, uncaring of the mess in the once-pristine garden. Her sleeves fall back to cover her arms, and her gaze turns to the door, flat and betraying nothing of her brutal acts. She casts one final glance at the cube she had been entrusted with, then averts her gaze.

“Enter.”

Akira Suzuha opens the door with a bow, a simple, unadorned box held in her hands.

“Xaku-sama. Chiho-san has sent her latest batch.”

Xaku takes the box, but doesn’t open it. She knows well what it contains, and harming her subordinates is something she would rather avoid.

Normal wisteria, for all its usefulness against normal demons, had little effect on her, so her only option was to outsource. It is fortunate, then, that she has long since been acquainted with the one person capable of growing exactly what she needs.

Just then, a new sound breaks through the atmosphere.

Xaku answers the call smoothly.

“Code Red, report.”

...

The only evidence of Xaku’s thoughts is a slight twitch of her lips.

“... Understood. Stand by for my arrival.”

She hangs up without another word, letting her arm fall to her side. Her musings can wait. There was a problem to be resolved, and once again, it involves that troublesome group.

“Yaguchi-kun.”

The moment her name is mentioned, Yaguchi appears from a shadow, already kneeling in deference.

“Xaku-sama. I am prepared.”

Xaku sheds her kimono, replacing it with her uniform. She takes her cap and fixes it over her hair.

“Squad One. Move Out.”

_{Time to Arrival: 15 minutes.}

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

Reaper

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__________________________________________________________________________________ Kinoe Promotion, Disguised Eyes Initial appearance, no disguise

████ █████████ ████ █████████ _______________________________________________________________________________ A g e: ?? | R a n k: ?? | Bloodtype: δ-ACTX-Ar1(?)/Wisteria | Kiji: Tokochi N/A | Ideal Voice: P e r s o n a l i t y : Perceptive and unwaveringly disciplined, possessed of a strong sense of justice and a no-quit attitude in all her endeavours. Seemingly aloof and dispassionate at first glance, she was cool but not cold, strong but ever restrained, resolute in her actions, yet surprisingly tender-hearted. On the inside, however, she was far less stalwart than people assumed. More than anything, she raised her sword rarely, and only ever against the perceived true wickedness of the world. She was a mystery, not because she had something to hide, but because there was nothing to share. And yet... there always seemed to be an undercurrent of pure loathing in her mannerisms. S h o w a S e c r e t : Read She was never meant to be born. She was never meant to be a hero. She was a scourge that no one wanted. The one thing she was good at was the thing she hated most. She refused to acknowledge that. She was scouted by a Hashira very early and became a Tsuguko, with mixed results. Later, her skills were further acknowledged after she managed to defeat the then Lower Moon Three after a five-hour deathmatch that nearly killed her, if not for a nearly-suicidal move she pulled off at the end, earning her promotion to Kinoe. Then, she was finally seen as worthy of learning her Master’s original technique. And yet, after being broken beyond repair, the Corps was no longer somewhere she could belong. Once, she was even in line to replace her Master, but it wasn't meant to be. K o k u t e n : Once, she wielded a straight-edged Nichirin Wakizashi that was pitch-black with a flash of silver. However, during the slaughter that earned her nickname, the blade was drowned in the blood of her countless victims, leaving it stained a permanent and malevolent red. Every hit from this blade saps its victim's vitality and leaves behind a blooming crimson spider lily. After her death, the sword was never seen again. B r e a t h i n g S t y l e : Moon Breathing (Tsuki no Kokyū | 月つきの呼こ吸きゅう) Reaper Breathing Reaper Breathing (Shinagami no Kokyū | 死神の呼吸 - lit. Breath of the Reaper) A breathing style very loosely derived from Moon Breathing, unique to her alone. It was the antithesis of her ideals, existing for the sole purpose of imposing death with complete impartiality. After renouncing her position within the Demon Slayer Corps and ultimately abandoning her humanity for no reason other than utter apathy, she embraced her true nature and went on a rampage of seemingly mindless destruction, slaughtering humans and demons alike without mercy, sharpening the “soul” of her blade by butchering four hundred and forty-four people within a single night. There, with her blade drenched in the blood of nearly half a thousand extinguished lives, the “White Reaper” was born. Reaper Breathing ignored the self and focused purely on offence, solidified by her unwavering “ideals”. This particular Breathing Style embodied the fact that “All things are equal in death”; therefore, its deadliness never faltered regardless of the nature of its target. Contrary to other Breathing Styles, the various forms of Reaper Breathing possessed no elemental enhancements of any kind. Rather, it was the lack of any such superfluousness that made it so deadly, focused solely on a single, absolute purpose: to ███████████. To cut so perfectly and completely that the body could not even register the damage until it was too late. This Breathing Style does not simply cut; it kills everything it touches. If there were one thing these techniques could be said to represent, it would be only “finality”. This was not simply a Breathing Style, but rather a state of being that required the user to be born █████████████. The core facet of these techniques was swift, precise, and powerful strikes focusing on overwhelmingly quick and offensive attacks, making it incredibly powerful, but almost entirely removing any concept of defence. In short, it was an absurdly fast, unavoidably lethal and near-suicidally careless Breathing Style meant only to kill. Though its sheer speed could allow its user to attack and defend simultaneously from multiple directions, such a thing cut its attack power in half, and was therefore cast aside until it was later refined to remove that weakness. The ultimate goal of Reaper Breathing is not to embody “death” itself, but rather ████████. Reaper Breathing, First Verse: ✧ First Form – Reaper’s Judgement, Guillotine: A quick-draw technique that involves a single, swift and lethal slash meant to behead a target before they can react. Loosely inspired by Iaijutsu, this is the first step required for the usage of all subsequent forms. Even the simple act of drawing a blade can be lethal. ✧ Second Form – Severance Act I-IV: She unleashes multiple near-simultaneous high-speed strikes, creating a field of slashes meant to restrict enemy movements, cutting off most avenues of escape. She can either utilise singular slashes or layer each strike up to four times. ✧ Third Form – Death Marked, Lethal Injection: Several rapid, precise strikes aimed not to kill, but instead to break a target’s skin and inject them with a highly lethal toxin. In order to create a poison effective against both demons and humans, she periodically injects herself with a unique mixture of Wisteria poison and the infamous “Jincan”, created through a process refined over centuries, to essentially turn her own blood into an extremely and uniquely potent toxin. Those afflicted with her blood cannot recover until the poison is purged. ✧ The toxin that is now her blood is deadly to humans and demons alike, and as such, even she is susceptible to it. As a human, she circumvented this almost entirely due to her naturally robust constitution, which granted her a high resistance to toxins, as well as liberal use of Total Concentration Breathing: Constant. The only way to nullify the effects—if only temporarily—is to make her bleed. The Deadly Truth Her blood is a double-edged sword, being a deadly weapon against her enemies as well as significantly cutting down her own physical strength. The longer a fight goes on, and the more she bleeds, the more she recovers. ✧ Fourth Form – Reaper’s Harvest: Four (or more) simultaneous slashes aimed to disable the limbs of a target not through dismemberment, but by precisely severing their arms and legs in such a way that even demons have trouble regenerating. After that, the last strike is used to split the disabled target in twain. For demons, the final strike is generally decapitation. ✧ Fifth Form – Sow: She performs a series of precise slashes that are either purposely withdrawn the moment they make contact with her target or simply do not make contact at all, effectively highlighting their “killing paths”. This is the only Reaper Breathing technique that is not inherently lethal. ✧ Sixth Form – Reap: The continuation of “Sow”; she unleashes layered slashes following the highlighted “killing paths” to achieve maximum lethal potential. ✧ Seventh Form – Danse Macabre: Fast, brutal, and ethereal in its elegance. She flows through a series of movements, unleashing numerous precise, relentless, arcing slashes upon a target with incredible speed, cutting down everything around her. Her movements are so fluid, she appears to be going through the motions of a skilful dance. U n i q u e T r a i t s : Traits ✧ Smell: She possessed an exceptional sense of smell, allowing her to detect demons and even discern intent. ✧ Dial: A technique developed from Total Concentration Breathing in order to alter power output. Suppressing her power created a bottleneck, causing it to build as long as she remained in that state, intentionally weakening herself in return for moments of greater power. This allowed her to surpass her human limits and achieve over 100% of her normal output in short bursts, similar to a Demon Slayer Mark. Unlike a Demon Slayer Mark, however, it did not grant as much of a boost; though, conversely, it also carried no risk of premature death. As a Demon Slayer, this granted her a significant advantage when battling powerful demons and allowed her to briefly take on Upper Moon One, Kokushibo, despite being outmatched. Along with her former Master, she was one of only two practitioners of this technique. ✧ Unique Trait 1/2 – Shinagami’s Vessel: Born into this world with a preternatural and contradictory nature, she was “gifted” with a body perfectly and solely suited for killing, despite her revulsion. Fast, resilient, and above all else, lethal without intent, she was able to exert herself harder and longer than others, as well as assimilate malignant substances to an unnaturally efficient degree, which allowed her to convert her own blood into a deadly toxin. This, rather fortunately, had the side effect of shortening her lifespan significantly. Reaper Breathing was created in an attempt to take control of her nature. ✧ Unique Trait 2/2 – Fatal Detection: A blessing and a curse in one. Since birth, she had always been able to instinctively identify whether or not someone was a killer and to what degree, as well as “see” the paths (weak points) that led to killing something; the larger something was, the more paths it possessed. Her obsessive preference for precision over power was developed to avoid accidentally killing anyone or anything. By concealing her true eyes, she can avoid seeing these “killing paths”. D e m o n S l a y e r M a r k : ??

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Tyler Harven

Scratch

---

The first day went... fine, all things considered. Not perfect, but that was to be expected with a group like this one. They actually did better than a lot of newbies he’d witnessed in action. Now, at least, Tyler had a better idea of how to do his job here. The adjustment period was going to have to be short. There wasn’t much point in wasting time on unnecessary things.

Tyler sighed.

He could really do without people calling him a kid, though. Short though he may be, he was still technically an adult, even if he didn’t exactly look like one. It wasn’t his fault he had a total babyface. He wished he could blame it on that thing, but he knew better than that.

He’d just blame it on his parents instead. Not like they could protest.

Ｈｕｎｇｒｙ．．．

Yeah. That too.

Tyler sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Two months later, and he was still no closer to an answer than he was before. There was only so much time he had to come up with something, and he was still lost. Disappointing, but not surprising in the least. He wasn’t in a rush, even if it was better to come up with something now instead of waiting however long it would take to get back to how he used to be. His current method was unsustainable and absolutely going to backfire on him sooner or later.

There wasn’t a chance that he’d wait for that. He had stuff to do.

But first, breakfast.

... Sigh. He didn't even know if anyone was going to be there.

The breakroom wasn’t empty when Tyler arrived. There were only three other people at the moment. One was Lightning Girl, if he was remembering her name right. The others were...

... what?

Why was there a fentanyl-addict Phenomaman standing in the room? Obviously, it wasn’t the real deal. Disregarding the fact that Phenomaman probably would have recognised him, he knew the guy too well to confuse him with a lookalike. It was almost shocking enough for him to miss the other one.

Hm. Another member of the Phoenix Program, it seemed. Neat. He wouldn't have to go looking for people, then.

He ignored the ceaseless scratching in his head. His co-workers were off-limits. Besides, it wasn’t his problem to judge. Yet.

“Good morning, Lighting Girl.”

After that brief greeting, he turned to the others, Blackstar particularly. He was far too lucid to interact with the Phenomaguy.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tyler, dispatch.”

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Tyler Harven

Wish Therapy

---

“You know, I never thought I’d end up here.”

“What? Lying in a shitty alley?”

“Language. And, no. I meant alive.”

“That’s pretty grim. Are you this bleak all the time?”

“Pretty much. Optimism is overrated. It never really appealed to me. World’s too fried for that.”

“Hm. Ever considered going to therapy?”

“... Nah. Wouldn’t work out.”

“You won’t know unless you try. Who knows? It might even help.”

“I’ll pass, thanks. I have a hard enough time not scaring people who don’t know me. I’d give a therapist a heart attack with what all goes on in my head. Good talk, though.”

“... Good enough to let me go?”

“... Yeah, not happening. You’re a lot braver than you look. Most people would have already pissed themselves by now.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

“TMI. Well, anyway, it’s about time I get going now.”

Tyler stood and brushed his pants off, cracking his neck both ways with a satisfying sigh, the glow of his eyes dimming slightly. The half-naked, dark-haired man hanging from the streetlight swayed slightly in the wind.

“Leaving so soon? I thought we were having a moment there.”

Tyler chose not to acknowledge that last sentence.

“The cops will be here in a few, and I have a job to get to. Good conversationalist or not, you are not gonna make me late on my first day.”

Tyler paused with his back turned. “Oh, and try not to do this offal again. Trust me, it’s not worth it. Find a hobby or something. Ciao.”

The sirens started the moment he stepped out of sight. Hands stuffed into his pockets half-consciously, his eyes began to wander, taking in the sights of the city he was about to leave behind. Grand buildings pierced the sky, filled with bright lights that made him squint and avert his gaze from the blinding semi-skyline. His eyes flickered to the street to his left, watching a junkie puke his guts out onto the pavement, graffiti-covered wall.

Wow, that was some impressive art. Never seen those words used like that before. Too bad whoever made it decided that this was the best use of their talent.

Tyler sighed.

... God, this place was a five-star mess. He was gonna miss it. Just a little, though. He wasn’t one for sentiment, and he didn’t hold as high an opinion of this city as some people did, for whatever reason. But, he had spent quite a bit of time making a name for himself here as a...

On second thought, maybe he wasn’t going to miss it nearly as much as he first thought.

He was certainly not going to miss his “fans”. Those people were absolutely baked in the noggin’, and that wasn’t a statement he made lightly. Seriously, what kind of person sees something like him in action and gets excited about it? No, thank you. He was content to stay well away from that nonsense. He did not need that kind of energy in his life.

Tyler checked his watch.

Three hours left. That was plenty of time.

---

Claremont Arrival

---

Claremont was... different.

That was his first thought. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing by any means. It was refreshing, in a way. He’d gotten way too used to living in DTLA. He was way too used to living in the US in general, actually. Not that he missed home or anything. There was a good reason that the entire place was burned down.

It was a poison that needed to be purged one way or another.

In less dreadful news, there was the SDN building on the map. And, it was all the way over there.

...

...

He had half a mind to just throw caution to the wind and book it, but he wasn’t that stupid. It was tempting, though. It really, really was.

Taking a cab was too much of a hassle right now, so he just started walking. It wasn’t like he’d be late. Shorter legs or not, it wasn’t actually that far off. Well within walking distance, really, just... this type of walking distance was a bit different than he was used to.

Was it too much to ask for a curse to be a little proportional in its effects?

... Of course, it was.

Eventually, Tyler found his way to his destination. His gaze roved over the building for a brief moment before he entered the building and made his way through the corridor. He watched everything, his eyes darting around to take it all in as he walked.

He carried nothing but a bag slung over his shoulder. Usually, he’d carry his things like a normal person. Not anymore.

He pushed a door open and found himself in the middle of... something. Or nothing at all. Most of them were just standing around, but the costumes gave him an idea of what exactly was going on.

“Ah. Hello. I assume you must be the heroes? Nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you all.”

He would have offered a smile, but his face never really cooperated when it came to that.

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Job Application - Monster Boy

Sin Eater
Tyler Harven

“Second verse, same as the first. You can scream now.”

Age: 18 (barely)

Appearance:

Currently standing at 5’3, with a fairly athletic build and a head of perpetually messy blond hair that he’s entirely given up on fixing, Tyler rarely shows any change in his signature bored expression, even in the most intense of moments. He looks younger than he actually is, even discounting the other thing. Tyler doesn’t have a specific style, but his usual attire consists of a long-sleeved cream-coloured shirt, a sleeveless overshirt and dress pants, though his style changes with age. Literally.

Role at SDN: Dispatcher (former Hero)

Background:

Born into a generational occultist family, Tyler was cursed from birth, his soul intrinsically bound to a “malevolent” creature from below. His parents, in their fanatic reverence, permanently altered the course of his life. With an origin like that, it was almost certain that his life would inevitably end up going down a dark path.

Yet, call it fate or simply luck, but the trajectory of his life was shifted by one simple act of stupidity from someone at the wrong place at the right time. All that led to his family’s estate being raided by a collaboration between heroes and the police, with most of his family being either killed or arrested. Tyler, barely out of his infancy at the time, was sent into foster care, where he lived a fairly unremarkable life for years. A precocious child, he showed a high capacity for learning at a young age, though it didn’t help much with finding a family that actually wanted him and wasn’t put off by the “thing” that always followed him.

It wasn’t until he got older that his “powers” manifested in a rather gruesome manner.

The aftermath of that incident presented him with two paths. He chose the third option and decided to have a conversation, coming to a “mutually” beneficial agreement with his counterpart.

Years passed, and he eventually found himself becoming a hero, of a sort, in DTLA. Despite the terrifying appearance of the creature he could become, he was surprisingly well-liked—and feared a pretty healthy amount—since the criminals that he captured rarely, if ever, reoffended.

However, it didn’t take long for things to get complicated. Each time he transformed, he lost time, or rather, he gained it. At first, it was only a day at a time, but the more active he became as a hero, the more those days turned into weeks, then months, and then, finally, years. Now, with the appearance of a boy in his late teens despite being well into adulthood, Tyler temporarily stepped back from the line of duty before he became a minor again.

Fielding a kid would be “bad optics”, so he transferred to Claremont for the foreseeable future, or until he figured out a way to make a better deal.

Hero

Appearance: When not transformed, Tyler generally wore darker clothing with a hoodie and a half-face mask to conceal his identity.

Powers: The Sin Eater, Enhanced Durability

Tyler’s powers allow him to transform into a creature, unfortunately known as the “Sin Eater”. However, it comes with a cost; every time he transforms, he gets younger, and the longer he stays transformed, the more his age regresses. Outside of that, he’s physically pretty much a normal teenager, if one that's pretty skilled at keeping himself alive.

Likes:

• The smell of coffee (but he can’t stand the taste)
• Sugar (reluctantly)
• Gadgetry
• Cooking/Baking

Dislikes:

• People who talk down to him
• His “hero” name — “Sin Eater”? Really?
• The fact that he can’t reach the top shelf anymore
• Positive energy. It still sustains the Sin Eater, but it also tastes like battery acid

Quirks:

• Talks to himself in Latin and Greek when bored
• “Minor” OCD
• Reads dictionaries in various languages for fun (and to learn the language)
• Curses in culinary (or whatever non-curse word that comes to mind first)

Base Stats:
Combat: 1
Vigour: 3
Mobility: 2
Charisma: 3
Intellect: 4

Sin Eater

A beast of ravenous hunger and ethereal grace, the Sin Eater is strong and hardy, capable of phasing through most obstacles and blending into the shadows. Regenerates from most damage, and shrinks when damaged too severely, increasing speed but decreasing strength. Both bipedal and quadrupedal, it can traverse nearly any terrain with ease. It can consume nearly anything, particularly people, in large quantities and store them inside its “stomach” for a period of time. It feeds off the negative energies of those it swallows to sustain itself and then regurgitates them, alive and whole. Though it can’t “speak” in the most general sense, it can mimic the sounds of voices it has heard.

Stats:
Combat: 4
Vigour: 4
Mobility: 2
Charisma: 1
Intellect: 2

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Here's another shapeshifter.

Job Application - Monster Boy

Sin Eater
Tyler Harven

“Second verse, same as the first. You can scream now.”

Age: 18 (barely)

Appearance:

Currently standing at 5’3, with a fairly athletic build and a head of perpetually messy blond hair that he’s entirely given up on fixing, Tyler rarely shows any change in his signature bored expression, even in the most intense of moments. He looks younger than he actually is, even discounting the other thing. Tyler doesn’t have a specific style, but his usual attire consists of a long-sleeved cream-coloured shirt, a sleeveless overshirt and dress pants, though his style changes with age. Literally.

Role at SDN: Dispatcher (former Hero)

Background:

Born into a generational occultist family, Tyler was cursed from birth, his soul intrinsically bound to a “malevolent” creature from below. His parents, in their fanatic reverence, permanently altered the course of his life. With an origin like that, it was almost certain that his life would inevitably end up going down a dark path.

Yet, call it fate or simply luck, but the trajectory of his life was shifted by one simple act of stupidity from someone at the wrong place at the right time. All that led to his family’s estate being raided by a collaboration between heroes and the police, with most of his family being either killed or arrested. Tyler, barely out of his infancy at the time, was sent into foster care, where he lived a fairly unremarkable life for years. A precocious child, he showed a high capacity for learning at a young age, though it didn’t help much with finding a family that actually wanted him and wasn’t put off by the “thing” that always followed him.

It wasn’t until he got older that his “powers” manifested in a rather gruesome manner.

The aftermath of that incident presented him with two paths. He chose the third option and decided to have a conversation, coming to a “mutually” beneficial agreement with his counterpart.

Years passed, and he eventually found himself becoming a hero, of a sort. Despite the terrifying appearance of the creature he could become, he was surprisingly well-liked—and feared a pretty healthy amount—since the criminals that he captured rarely, if ever, reoffended.

However, it didn’t take long for things to get complicated. Each time he transformed, he lost time, or rather, he gained it. At first, it was only a day at a time, but the more active he became as a hero, the more those days turned into weeks, then months, and then, finally, years. Now, with the appearance of a boy in his late teens despite being well into adulthood, Tyler temporarily stepped back from the line of duty before he became a minor again.

Fielding a kid would be “bad optics”, so he transferred to Claremont for the foreseeable future, or until he figured out a way to make a better deal.

Hero

Appearance: When not transformed, Tyler generally wore darker clothing with a hoodie and a half-face mask to conceal his identity.

Powers: The Sin Eater, Enhanced Durability

Tyler’s powers allow him to transform into a creature, unfortunately known as the “Sin Eater”. However, it comes with a cost; every time he transforms, he gets younger, and the longer he stays transformed, the more his age regresses. Outside of that, he’s physically pretty much a normal teenager, if one that's pretty skilled at keeping himself alive.

Likes:

• The smell of coffee (but he can’t stand the taste)
• Sugar (reluctantly)
• Gadgetry
• Cooking/Baking

Dislikes:

• People who talk down to him
• His “hero” name — “Sin Eater”? Really?
• The fact that he can’t reach the top shelf anymore
• Positive energy. It still sustains the Sin Eater, but it also tastes like battery acid

Quirks:

• Talks to himself in Latin and Greek when bored
• “Minor” OCD
• Reads dictionaries in various languages for fun (and to learn the language)
• Curses in culinary

Base Stats:
Combat: 1
Vigour: 3
Mobility: 2
Charisma: 3
Intellect: 4

Sin Eater

A beast of ravenous hunger and ethereal grace, the Sin Eater is strong and hardy, capable of phasing through most obstacles and blending into the shadows. Regenerates from most damage, and shrinks when damaged too severely, increasing speed but decreasing strength. Both bipedal and quadrupedal, it can traverse nearly any terrain with ease. It can consume nearly anything, particularly people, in large quantities and store them inside its “stomach” for a period of time. It feeds off the negative energies of those it swallows to sustain itself and then regurgitates them, alive and whole. Though it can’t “speak” in the most general sense, it can mimic the sounds of voices it has heard.

Stats:
Combat: 4
Vigour: 4
Mobility: 2
Charisma: 1
Intellect: 2

⤫ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 ⤬

Ｔｈｅ Ａｎｇｅｌｕｓ

^{Numeratio Regressiva}

---

^{Morning - The Rookery, New York City
[Everyone]}

---

Number Twelve’s eyes were wide as she watched the recordings.

She murmured a prayer under her breath for the fallen, praising their sacrifice. Her murmurs paused as the rest of the briefing continued, and her eyes snapped towards the bishop, her gaze intense yet void of emotion.

... Four stolen artefacts.

Four. Stolen. Artefacts.

They stole four of His gifts.

This could not stand.

Twelve didn’t react visibly, but the air around her seemed to thin, making it difficult for anyone around her to breathe.

More specifically, it made it difficult for Elise to breathe, considering she was, unfortunately, the only person who didn’t have the luxury of avoiding the tiny nun like she carried the goddamn plague.

A strangely apt description, her dying brain helpfully supplied. Since when did she start using words like apt? Since her brain started running out of oxygen, probably. Or she was just being overly dramatic. Both were equally valid options.

“Twelve. Simmer down.”

Elise’s voice was a harsh whisper that snapped the fuming number out of her episode.

Number Twelve blinked and tilted her head at her handler.

“Hm? Miss Müller? Is something wrong?”

Everything, Elise wanted to say. She did not.

“Nothing. Just... focus, please.”

Eventually, the briefing reached its end and missions were given out to the gathered numbers.

Twelve clasped her hands together, the beatific smile on her face utterly at odds with her next words.

“Of course! I will make sure to slaughter the heretic and bring you their heart, Your Excellency!”

Elise’s facepalm was audible.

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

XAKU

A Restless Night - Seikishi Bar

_{Mentions: @Dane @Randomguy @King Kindred}

---

Xaku’s eyes fall upon Yaguchi’s body for only a moment before her gaze rises to meet Miyuki’s. It isn’t an angry look, per se, just cold.

Hm.

She doesn’t even register the pain from her formerly broken arm.

... Foolish.

“... Flexor carpi. Right quadriceps femoris. Third rib, right. Seventh rib, left. Achilles tendon, right. Left bicep brachii.”

She doesn’t elaborate. She simply raises an arm and splays her fingers.

Blood Demon Art: Eviscerate – .3 millimetres.

Six clean cuts appear on Miyuki’s body, mirroring Xaku’s words perfectly. She continues listing as she approaches Miyuki and her leg gives out, her tone clinical and detached, as if she were merely a scientist observing a particularly boring specimen.

“Right pectoralis minor.”

Another cut.

“Left pectoralis major.”

Another.

“Left deltoid.”

Then another.

“Platisma, right.”

And another.

Not a single wound is fatal.

“... right cheek.”

One final cut.

Xaku stops in front of Miyuki, looking down at her with a cold crimson gaze.

“Look at me, child.”

She takes a knee and grabs Miyuki by her chin, forcing the Slayer to meet her eyes. Her thumb brushes against the gash on her cheek almost tenderly. Her voice lowers as her gaze bores into Miyuki’s, seeming to pierce into her very being.

“You are not strong. You are not brave. Your sentiment will only get you killed. You are a foolish girl who only lives because I allow it. And you will die the moment I will it... Do you understand what I am saying, Soyama-san?”

Xaku doesn’t wait for an answer. She releases Miyuki’s face and stands, turning her gaze onto Mamushi.

“The nearest hospital is 4.3 kilometres west. Since you were so willing to stand with her, you may take her.”

With that, she turns away from them both, dismissing their existences without a second thought.

“Now... is there anyone else who wishes to throw their life away?”

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

XAKU

A Restless Night - Seikishi Bar

_{Mentions: @The Jest @Randomguy @King Kindred}

---

Good grief...

Xaku had sensed Gekido before, but his presence was of no consequence then. Now, however, his decision to make himself involved, for reasons she does not care for, is of consequence.

For a moment, Xaku remains silent. Contemplating.

Not an answer, of course. That part isn’t even worth a second’s consideration. She simply contemplates the intelligence of the one known as Gekido to ask such things of her as if she were simply one of his “colleagues”. Were she any other demon, she might have been willing to at least humour the man. Unfortunately for him, that was one of many things Xaku now lacked.

“... I refuse.”

Her answer is soft, final.

Two simple words.

She doesn’t wait for a response, turning her back to Gekido and facing Tenko once more, raising a pair of handcuffs from her waist. Her attention remains entirely on the Demon Slayer even as she continues speaking to her fellow demon.

“Letting a problem run loose simply due to a larger one also existing is inefficient.”

Xaku doesn't react immediately after she takes in Tenko’s words. “... Surrendering is the correct choice. However, Thompson-san, I must correct a misunderstanding.”

She walks towards Tenko and flicks a single finger, a superfluous motion with no true effect that anyone could see.

A few delicate strands of Tenko's hair fall to the ground, severed by an unseen force. It was an attack that was never going to hit. It was never meant to.

It was simply a demonstration of how meaningless her death would be, of how utterly worthless her existence was to the being before her. If Xaku truly wished to take her life, she wouldn't need something as useless as permission. That was only a privilege of the strong.

“Something like your head... holds no value here. You do not possess the strength to make it so.”

Xaku pauses briefly in her approach, turning her crimson gaze upon the third ranked Demon Lord. There is no anger in her eyes, no annoyance.

“And you, Gekido-san. Do not presume to command me. Even half of me... is still worth more than you.”

With that said, Xaku inclines her head just slightly, listening.

“Yaguchi-kun.”

A shadow moves, and a woman appears from the darkness, hair as black as night. She approaches Xaku wordlessly and takes the handcuffs from her and proceeds to go to cuff the unresisting Demon Slayer.

“Now, then... you.”

She turns to Himari.

“I suggest you leave.”

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

XAKU

A Restless Night - Torigoya Onsen

_{Mentions: @Dane @Randomguy}

---

Xaku does not waste her energy on things such as anger. Disappointment, sure. Perhaps even a modicum of annoyance, but never something as intense as anger. Such meaningless emotions were long cast aside even before she had become a demon.

That will not change.

However... there is only so disappointed one can possibly get before there is nothing left to hope for.

The altercation at the onsen was one thing; there was no significant damage done. But to fire a weapon in a public area? When she is present, no less? Along with the fact that apparently a Hashira was responsible for a mass shooting just a scant few hours ago, that implied a pattern she is not fond of.

It seems as if her presence hasn’t quite had an effect on the criminal populous yet.

It’s about time she rectified that.

Human or Demon. All are subject to the law, and if they believed they weren’t? If they believed they were somehow exempt?

Well, she is more than capable of proving them wrong.

She arrives at the scene before anyone else, of course. Even as ‘fragile’ as she is now, there were still few who could outpace her. She had, of course, heard one of Muragarasu’s familiars on her way to the location of the gunshot, an observation she filed away for the moment. It was irrelevant to the situation at hand.

The Demon Slayer with the firearm is within her sight and has long since been within her range. Killing her would be easy, effortless. She would never even know an attack was forthcoming.

That thought never even crosses Xaku’s mind.

Rend.

The attack isn’t spoken into being, it simply is. Before Tenko’s slash can even hit Mamushi, her sword is blocked by seemingly nothing. The only indication of another attack is the faint trench carved into the pavement. Nevertheless, the recoil from having her weapon deflected is brutal, even for a Demon Slayer. Disinclined as Xaku is from spilling blood in these streets without reason, she will not hesitate if her hands are forced.

She lands between the Demon Slayer and the demon she had just attacked.

“That is enough, Demon Slayer Thompson-san. I suggest you come quietly.”

This was not Xaku, the demon. This was Xaku, Police Chief of Osaka, and she would not offer another warning to a lawbreaker.

Either Tenko would surrender without resistance, or her blood would paint the streets first.