there would be no servant of religious existence to usher him into some peaceful, patient land. there would be no reaper to carve his neck thus force his knees to buckle in atonement for that heavy weight of sins. if such creatures and fantasies did exist, he would surely know by now. he would have met them; buddha, satan, any. all. delivering him from the mortal realm into the immortal after world. to another life, free of pain. free of blood. but no such day came.
spirale was not hell. hell was something he could create, he could conjure. muzan had imagined how hell might look for some time, for the owner of those earrings. for tanjiro. for the demon slayers. pain beyond belief, for there was no real pleasure in a quick and simple death. a decaying, endless torture was far better. skin pulled at the speed of a bandage from a wound. agonisingly slow to draw every last scream ripping from the deepest crevice of the throat.
chimes tinkled upon the wind. charms made in an effort to ward the demons away fluttered, the ink of their prayers long since dried. for a moment, it seemed the protective spells of the cotes ward was working. not a creature moved nor spluttered. not a abnormal soul crept in the dying light of the paper chouchin lining the walkways. only the few scattered humans moved on their journey home, closing the last of the stall windows down and sealing the kiosk bars with padlocks for the night.
no, there was no need for god in this world. this was just another side of the same coin after all, muzan noted as he wandered past the charms and broke into the sacred grounds. though the trinkets were arranged purely for halloween festivities, he still eyed the dancing scraps of scroll with disdain. these pathetic spells had no use, no hope at all, against the master of his own fate. against he, the original demon.
a voice caught his attention, but instead of hiding muzan listened. the familiarity caught upon the wind. he could never doubt himself, never able to question what his own ears had overheard, but that voice.. it seemed impossible. however, the sight of those earrings as the owner of such a voice soon came into view, appearing beaten from his day of work and dragging his feet through the well-lit street.
anger seethed and boiled beneath his skin. veins protruded from his scalp; eyes wide with an intense fury so vile that were he human he might have vomited. tanjiro. he was to blame. this weakness. this vulnerability !! he had done something. twisted something. but it did not matter. here, he could finally crush his skull as a human might crack an egg. destroy this pathetic vermin of a demon slayer in one easy swoop. rips those arms from the socket and watch him DIE. reason was fast abandoning him to make way for pure rage. almost shaking from it, muzan walked out before the very object of his frustrations and rolled his head high, peering down at the boy with nought but murderous and foul intent embedded deep within his plum gaze.
“ YOU… “ fangs bared he seemed almost manic, but he remained back from lunging immediately at the boy. he paced slowly as if approaching from the back of his prey, but there was no mistaking that the other had clearly seen who it was that blocked his path. “ I CAN KILL YOU HERE AND NOW… TAN~JIRO ! “ ——— @solisbreath ✘
arduous is the life he had always led no matter where. so to wish for that to change upon entering a new world made little to no sense—— wishful thinking at its best. hard work is something those calloused hands of his never denied, and so, just like in his past, he would accept odd jobs here and there; anything to make sure he and nezuko could have some spending money.
it is yet another day of work finally coming to an end, and all he has in mind is coming back home to his dear sister— who should be awake by now. being here allowed the boy to be a little more carefree despite the demons he’s faced coming back one by one; they all seemed to have regrets and a glint of hope within this new place. and who wouldn’t once free of a certain demon’s unforgiving grip?
as if mere thoughts could conjure one’s presence, tanjiro hears him. weariness evaporates from his body, reaching for the wooden sword he has on his person at all times. muzan... when did he get here? and why would he be here? there’s no redeeming him... there’s no forgiveness for such vile being.
at the sight of personified cruelty, the youth can’t help but see red.the causer of all of his misery and of many other, the root of evil. ivories clenched, grinding in such painful manner he tasted blood.
‘ you piece of shit. ’ his voice, usually a soothing and welcoming tone, sounded more like a warning. violence, an emotion so alien to him, seeped through his words with ease, it promised vengeance. ‘ ...i’ll put you down. you hear me? muzan... ’
always such an advocate for sympathy, it’s alarming how the boy had none to spare as he drew his sword.
TOTAL CONCENTRATION BREATHING—
‘ I’LL KILL YOU, ’ closing the taunting distance between them, tanjiro comes up with his sword aimed at the other’s neck. ‘ EVEN IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO !! ’
