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[zafill]

Demon slayer pt.2

DEMON SLAYER PT.2 

WARNINGS!!: self-harm, fights, bad thoughts.

pt.1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The air was thick with the scent of pine and the lingering warmth of a setting sun. Five years had passed since Kagaya Ubuyashiki had taken me in, and in those years, I had changed. I was no longer the scared, broken child who had been dragged across the cold ground by a mother who wished she had never given birth to me. That girl was gone, buried beneath layers of strength and determination that I had forged with my own hands. 

In the beginning, the other recruits had received guidance, training, and instruction from seasoned Demon Slayers. But not me. I had always been different, set apart by my past and the darkness that still clung to me. I had learned early on that if I wanted to survive, I would have to rely on myself. And so, I trained alone. 

Every morning, before the sun had even risen, I would leave the camp and head deep into the forest. There, in the silence of the early hours, I taught myself the ways of the blade. My katana became my closest companion, its cold steel an extension of my will. I learned to move with precision, to strike with speed, and to endure pain with a stoicism that came naturally after years of suffering. 

The forest became my teacher, the rustling leaves and the calls of distant birds my only company. I would practice for hours, my body moving through the forms I had observed the other trainees perform.  

When I wasn’t practicing my swordsmanship, I was honing my physical strength—running, climbing, pushing my body to its absolute limits. I knew that I had to be stronger, faster, and more resilient than anyone else if I was going to make it as a Demon Slayer 

One day, as the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, I was deep in my routine. I had just completed a particularly grueling series of strikes against a makeshift wooden dummy when I sensed a presence behind me. Startled, I whirled around, my katana raised defensively, only to find Kagaya Ubuyashiki standing a short distance away. 

His appearance took me by surprise. His hair, a cascade of dark waves, framed a face that was both gentle and severe. His eyes, or rather, the one eye that was still unclouded, observed me with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. The other eye was obscured by a faint, purplish mass, a sign of the blindness that was slowly creeping across his vision. He was not yet fully blind, but the signs were there, a reminder of the burden he carried as the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. 

“Master Ubuyashiki,” I breathed, lowering my sword and bowing respectfully. I hadn’t expected him to come so far into the forest, much less during my training. 

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that held both warmth and sadness. “You’ve grown much, (Y/N). Your dedication is evident in every movement you make.” 

I felt a flush of pride at his words but quickly suppressed it, focusing instead on the humility I had learned to adopt. “Thank you, Master. I’ve been training hard.” Kagaya nodded, his expression shifting slightly, as if he was about to share something important. “Your progress has not gone unnoticed, and I am pleased to see how far you’ve come on your own.  

But I have another reason for coming here today, (Y/N). We have a new member joining the Demon Slayer Corps, and I wanted you to be among the first to know.” 

A new member? My curiosity piqued as I wondered who this person might be and why Kagaya had chosen to share this news with me personally. 

“His name is Gyomei Himejima,” Kagaya continued, his voice filled with a quiet respect. “He is a man of great strength and even greater compassion. Though blind, his senses are extraordinarily sharp, and he has a deep connection with the world around him. He possesses an unmatched inner strength that I believe will be invaluable to our cause.” 

I listened intently, intrigued by this new addition to the Corps. A blind man with such strength and presence—it was both surprising and inspiring. I wondered what kind of person Gyomei must be to earn Kagaya’s high praise. 

But as Kagaya continued to speak, a knot of unease began to form in my chest. “Gyomei has faced many challenges in his life,” Kagaya went on, “but he has emerged from them with a heart full of kindness and a spirit unbreakable by the hardships he’s endured. I believe that the two of you could learn much from each other.” 

His words were meant to reassure me, to make me feel a sense of camaraderie with this new member, but instead, they stirred something dark and unwelcome inside me—an emotion I hadn't expected to feel: jealousy. 

Kagaya had always been a guiding light in my life, the closest thing I had to a father. He had taken me in when I was lost, nurtured my potential, and given me a purpose. I was the first person he had "adopted" into this strange, new family of Demon Slayers, and in many ways, I had come to think of him as mine alone. The idea of someone else stepping into that space, especially someone as remarkable as Gyomei, made me feel threatened. 

I tried to suppress the bitterness rising in my throat, but it was difficult. Kagaya had always been kind and supportive, never showing favoritism, yet the thought of sharing his attention and approval with someone else made me irrationally hostile. I didn’t want to feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. It was as though this new member, despite having done nothing wrong, was somehow encroaching on the bond I had so carefully built with Kagaya. 

"Master," I began hesitantly, trying to keep my voice steady, "are you sure... are you sure we need someone like him? I mean, with his blindness and everything, won’t he be at a disadvantage?" 

Kagaya’s expression softened, as if he could see right through my facade, recognizing the fear and insecurity I was trying so hard to hide. “(Y/N),” he said gently, “Gyomei’s blindness is not a weakness. If anything, it has made him stronger, more attuned to the world in ways we might never understand. But I can see that you’re worried.” 

As Kagaya continued speaking, my irritation grew, feeding on the sense of encroachment that Gyomei's arrival represented. The calm demeanor I had worked so hard to cultivate began to fray, replaced by a surge of anger and resentment I couldn't quite control. My hands clenched into fists, and I struggled to keep my voice steady. 

“Master,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended, “I appreciate your confidence in this Gyomei Himejima, but I don't see why we need to bring in someone new right now. We’ve been managing fine on our own, haven’t we?” 

Kagaya’s smile faltered slightly, his gentle gaze assessing me with a mixture of concern and sadness. “(Y/N), it is not just about our current capabilities. Gyomei possesses unique qualities that will be invaluable to our mission. His strength is not diminished by his blindness; rather, it has been shaped by it.” 

I could feel my pulse quickening, the anger bubbling up despite my efforts to suppress it. “But why does he have to come here now? Why can't we just stick to what we know? Adding someone new... it’s disruptive. I’ve worked so hard to prove myself here, and now it feels like it’s all being undermined.” 

Kagaya’s eyes softened with understanding, but his expression remained steady. “(Y/N), it’s natural to feel apprehensive about change, especially when it feels like it threatens what you’ve worked so hard to build. But remember, the strength of the Corps comes from our unity, from our ability to accept and support each other. Gyomei is not here to diminish your place but to enhance our collective strength.” 

My jaw tightened, and I struggled to maintain control over my emotions. “I just— I don’t want to feel like I’m being replaced or overlooked. I’ve worked so hard for this, and it feels like now I have to compete with someone who is being praised for qualities I don’t understand.” Kagaya's gaze grew more intense, though his voice remained calm and reassuring. “(Y/N), you are a part of the Ubuyashiki family. You are like a daughter to me. Your place here is not in jeopardy. No one can replace you or diminish the importance of what you’ve accomplished. You are needed, just as much as ever.” 

Despite his heartfelt words, I felt a storm of frustration brewing inside me. The notion of being told I was needed, while comforting, seemed insufficient in the face of my growing insecurity. I felt as though Kagaya’s assurances could not bridge the gap between what I had come to believe and the reality he was presenting. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” I said, my voice thick with frustration. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but it’s hard to just accept that everything will stay the same. It feels like everything I’ve worked for is being overshadowed by someone who hasn’t even proven himself yet.” 

Kagaya’s expression did not waver. He stepped closer, his voice carrying a gentle firmness. “(Y/N), I know this is difficult. Change often is. But your value is not determined by how you compare to others. It is inherent in who you are and what you’ve done. You have a unique place in this family, and no one, not even Gyomei, can take that away from you.” 

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Years had passed, and with each new addition to the Demon Slayer Corps, my sense of displacement and hostility grew. The family I once thought was my own had expanded beyond recognition, and with every new face, I felt a little more like an outsider in the world I had fought so hard to be a part of. 

When Gyomei Himejima joined, his presence had been intimidating but not unwelcome. He was a reminder of the change Kagaya had spoken of, the new dynamic I had to adapt to. I had grudgingly accepted him, though it took time for me to see his value. The same could not be said for every new member that followed. 

Tengen Uzui, with his flamboyant demeanor and larger-than-life personality, seemed to clash with everything I valued. His bravado grated on me, and I struggled to understand his place in our ranks. His presence felt like an intrusion into a space that was already crowded with my insecurities. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa arrived with a fierce intensity that mirrored my own frustrations. His abrasive nature and fierce attitude seemed to resonate with my own feelings of anger and resentment. It was as if his presence was a reflection of my own hostility, magnified. 

Kyojuro Rengoku brought a fiery passion that was undeniably inspiring but also made me feel inadequate. His unwavering optimism and dedication seemed to cast a shadow on my own struggles. I felt a growing sense of competition, a fear that I would never measure up to his bright, burning spirit. 

Giyu Tomioka, stoic and reserved, was a calming presence but also a constant reminder of the expectations I struggled to meet. His quiet strength was both reassuring and intimidating, a contrast to my own volatile emotions. 

Mitsuri Kanroji arrived with a warmth and kindness that was difficult to reconcile with my own growing bitterness. Her gentle demeanor and unyielding support seemed to highlight my own struggles to connect with the others. 

Obanai Iguro’s strict discipline and unwavering commitment to the Corps served as a constant reminder of the standards I felt I was failing to meet. His dedication, though admirable, only deepened my own insecurities. 

Muichiro Tokito, with his enigmatic and detached nature, was a mystery I struggled to understand. His aloofness felt like a barrier to the camaraderie I longed for, and his presence seemed to accentuate my own sense of alienation. 

Despite my efforts to push past my feelings of resentment, I found it increasingly difficult to accept the growing number of members. The constant influx of new faces only heightened my sense of isolation, making it harder for me to find my place within the expanding Corps. 

Tengen Uzui was hard to ignore—everything about him was larger than life. From the flamboyant way he dressed to the booming voice that seemed to command attention wherever he went. He was always at the center of everything, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. For someone like me, who had spent so much time in quiet solitude, his presence was overwhelming. 

One afternoon, as I was practicing alone in a secluded part of the forest, I heard the unmistakable sound of his voice cutting through the air. Even before he came into view, I could feel the vibrations of his footsteps, heavy and deliberate. My sensitive ears twitched in irritation. 

"(Y/N)!" he called out, his tone bright and enthusiastic as he approached. "Why are you always hiding away in the shadows? Come join us, we’re all family, you know!" 

I grimaced, trying to focus on the movements of my sword rather than the intrusive sound of his voice. Tengen wasn’t someone you could easily ignore, though. He strolled right up to me, his presence impossible to overlook. 

“I’m not hiding,” I replied curtly, keeping my eyes on the blade in my hands. “I’m training.” 

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made my ears ring. “Training alone is fine and all, but it’s no fun if you never get to show off what you’ve learned. You should come spar with us sometime—let’s see what you’ve got.” 

His words were friendly, even encouraging, but to me, they felt like a challenge. The thought of sparring with someone like Tengen, with all his bravado and flair, made my stomach twist. It wasn’t that I feared losing; it was the idea of being under his scrutiny, of having to endure his overbearing energy. 

“I prefer to train by myself,” I said, trying to keep my tone polite but firm. 

Tengen tilted his head, his expression curious. “You know, you’re way too serious for your own good. Lighten up a little! We’re all here to support each other, not compete. What’s the point of being so isolated?” I narrowed my eyes at Tengen’s remark, a spark of annoyance flaring up. His relentless optimism and insistence on camaraderie grated on my nerves. “Maybe some of us don’t need to be surrounded by people to feel validated,” I shot back, my voice carrying a sharp edge. “Not everyone thrives on being the center of attention.” 

Tengen raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my snarky tone. But instead of backing off, he smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re just too cool for the rest of us, huh? Or maybe you’re just worried you won’t measure up?” He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.  

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be part of the Ubuyashiki family, you don’t really look the part.” 

That was the last straw. 

The blood rushed to my face, and before I could stop myself, I exploded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shouted, my voice shaking with fury. “You think because I don’t look like them, I don’t belong? I’ve fought for my place here every single day! I’ve bled for it! And you—” I jabbed a finger toward his chest, “you have no idea what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anywhere! You with your perfect family, your perfect everything!” 

Tengen’s playful expression faltered as he realized he’d struck a nerve, but I wasn’t done. 

“You have no idea what it’s like to be taken in out of pity, to constantly feel like you have to prove you’re worth the space you take up! So don’t you dare stand there and question my place in this family just because I don’t fit your picture of what it should look like!” My voice rose with each word, the frustration and pain I had kept buried for so long finally erupting in a torrent of emotion. "You think it's easy, don't you? Being surrounded by people who were born into this, who have families and histories that tie them to this cause? You think I haven't noticed how everyone looks at me, how they wonder why Kagaya chose someone like me?" 

I was dimly aware of others gathering around, drawn by the commotion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw familiar faces—Gyomei, Sanemi, Mitsuri, and the others—watching with various degrees of surprise and concern. But I couldn’t stop now, not when all the hurt and anger I had bottled up for so long was finally spilling out. 

“And you, Tengen,” I continued, my voice cracking as I fought to keep the tears at bay, “you with your flashy demeanor and your perfect life, you stand there and judge me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be constantly reminded that you don’t belong? To know that every time you walk into a room, people are wondering why you’re even here?” 

Tengen, who had been so confident and carefree just moments before, looked stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The others looked just as shocked, their eyes wide as they listened to me unleash years of pent-up frustration and insecurity. 

“I’ve fought tooth and nail to be where I am,” I went on, my voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve trained alone, bled alone, cried alone, all because I didn’t want to be a burden. I’ve seen how the rest of you bond, how you look out for each other, and I’ve never once felt like I was truly part of that. And now—now you’re telling me I don’t even look like I belong?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stared at Tengen, daring him to say something, anything. The weight of everyone’s eyes on me only made the tension more unbearable, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. 

Finally, Tengen took a step back, his face serious and his voice low. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just… I was just trying to understand.” 

But I wasn’t done. The presence of the other Hashira, the ones who had unknowingly made me feel like an outsider, only fueled the fire inside me. “Understand?” I scoffed bitterly. “You can’t understand. None of you can. You all have your places, your roles, your families. But me? I’m just the stray Kagaya took in. The one who doesn’t fit, no matter how hard I try.” My voice trembled as I continued, the words tumbling out like a dam that had finally burst. “You think you know pain? You think you understand what it’s like to be unwanted?” I could feel the tears welling up, but I refused to let them fall. I needed them to hear this, to understand why I could never just fit in like the rest of them. 

“My father… my so-called father, wasn’t even really mine,” I spat, the bitterness seeping into my tone. “He was a drunk who hated the sight of me because I wasn’t his. My mother—she had me with some man she hooked up with, and when my father found out, he made my life a living hell. He couldn’t stand to look at me, to touch me. And when I tried to reach out, to be a part of their lives, do you know what they did?” 

I held up my hands, the scars still faintly visible from where the boiling water had seared my skin so many years ago. “They poured boiling water over my hands. They told me I was filthy, disgusting, that I didn’t deserve to touch them. They wanted to destroy me, to break me, and they almost did. But I survived. I survived all of it, and for what?” 

The others were silent, their expressions a mix of shock and horror as they listened to the ugly truth of my past. But I couldn’t stop now, not when everything I had buried for so long was finally coming to the surface. 

“My real father didn’t want me either,” I continued, my voice cracking. “I found him once, and he looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was a mistake he wished he could erase. And my mother, she was no better. She sold me to Kagaya for 5000 yen, like I was just some piece of trash she needed to get rid of.” 

My chest heaved with the effort of holding back my sobs, but I forced myself to keep going. “So don’t stand there and tell me I belong here, or that you understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be cast aside by everyone who was supposed to love you, to have to fight every day just to prove you’re worth something. Kagaya… he saved me, but even now, I feel like I’m just that unwanted child he took in out of pity.” 

I finally let the tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer. “I’ve been fighting my whole life, not just against demons, but against this feeling that I’ll never be enough. That no matter what I do, I’ll always be the girl who wasn’t wanted, who didn’t belong.” 

The weight of my confession hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. The Hashira stood there, their faces pale with the realization of just how deep my wounds ran. They had seen me as strong, maybe even intimidating, but now they saw the broken pieces beneath the surface. 

“Maybe… maybe I don’t belong here,” I whispered, the words barely audible as I finally let the despair take hold. “Maybe I never did.” 

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The warm glow of lanterns filled the dining hall of the Ubuyashiki estate, casting a soft light on the low table where Kagaya and Amane Ubuyashiki sat, waiting for the evening meal to be served. The gentle hum of conversation from their children filled the room, but there was an undercurrent of unease that neither Kagaya nor Amane could ignore. 

Kagaya’s usually serene expression was tinged with concern as he glanced at the empty space at the table. “(Y/N) hasn’t arrived yet,” he murmured, his voice gentle but laced with worry. “She’s never this late.” 

Amane nodded, her eyes reflecting the same concern. “It’s unusual for her to miss dinner. She’s always been so diligent about joining us, no matter how intense her training.” 

Their children, who had been quietly conversing among themselves, began to notice the absence of their elder sister. One of the younger girls, a delicate child with soft, dark hair, looked up at her parents with wide, innocent eyes. “Where’s big sister?” she asked, her voice small and worried. “Is she okay?” 

Kagaya reached out to gently pat his daughter’s head, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’s fine, my dear. Perhaps she’s still out training and lost track of time.” 

But even as he spoke the words, a sense of unease settled over him. (Y/N) had always been a pillar of strength within their family, someone who, despite her struggles, had always made an effort to be there for her younger siblings. Her absence now felt like a dark cloud over what was usually a peaceful evening. 

Amane rose from her seat, smoothing her kimono as she did. “I’ll go check on her,” she said softly Amane was halfway to the door when Mitsuri Kanroji burst into the dining hall, her usually serene expression now marked by a flurry of worry and urgency. “I’m so sorry for interrupting,” she began breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from running. “But something’s happening, and I thought you should know right away.” 

Kagaya and Amane exchanged a glance, their concern deepening. “What is it, Mitsuri?” Kagaya asked, his voice steady but laced with apprehension. 

Mitsuri’s eyes were wide with alarm. “(Y/N) and Tengen… they’re fighting. It’s not just a verbal argument. It’s a full-on hand-to-hand fight. They’re outside, and it looks like it’s getting out of control.” 

The room fell silent as Kagaya’s face hardened with determination. He stood abruptly, the calm demeanor he usually projected replaced by a stern urgency. “Amane, stay with the children,” he instructed. “I’ll handle this.” 

Amane nodded, her face pale but resolute. “Please, be careful.” 

Kagaya and Mitsuri hurried outside, the cool evening air hitting their faces as they made their way toward the training grounds. The sounds of grunts and the clash of limbs grew louder, guiding them to the scene of the confrontation. As Kagaya and Mitsuri approached the training grounds, the sounds of the fight grew louder, their urgency pushing them faster. They rounded a corner to find (Y/N) and Tengen locked in a fierce struggle, their movements a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and defensive maneuvers. 

Tengen was clearly showing signs of exhaustion, his breathing ragged and his stance unsteady. His speed, which had been his advantage, was faltering under the relentless assault from (Y/N). Despite his agility, he was struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of (Y/N)’s assault. 

(Y/N) was equally battered, her face streaked with sweat and dirt, her breathing heavy but determined. Her eyes were focused, each strike driven by a mix of anger and frustration. Her movements were fierce and precise, each punch and kick a testament to her inner turmoil. 

Kagaya stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!” His tone was commanding, carrying the weight of authority that both combatants could not ignore. 

For a moment, both (Y/N) and Tengen paused, their bodies freezing mid-action as they turned toward Kagaya. The intensity of their fight still lingered in the air, but the immediate clash of fists and feet ceased. 

Kagaya’s eyes softened with a blend of concern and disappointment as he took in the sight before him. “This is not the way to resolve your conflicts,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. “We are a family, and families support one another, even in times of disagreement.” 

Tengen, breathing heavily and visibly wounded, looked down, his face flushed with both anger and regret. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to push her so far.” 

(Y/N) stood there, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. Her anger had dissipated, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that was difficult to hide. She looked at Kagaya, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. As Kagaya called out to (Y/N), trying to bridge the gap that had formed, she ignored him, her steps quick and purposeful. The weight of the confrontation, combined with the emotional strain she had been carrying, propelled her forward with an urgency that left no room for pause. 

Her room was her sanctuary, a place where she could hide from the eyes of others and the expectations placed upon her. She rushed through the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest, and threw open the door with a force that made it slam against the wall. 

Inside, she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her hands as the tears she had fought so hard to contain finally spilled forth. The raw vulnerability that had been exposed during the fight now gave way to an overwhelming sense of despair. She had always prided herself on her strength, but in that moment, she felt utterly defeated. 

As the tears streamed down (Y/N)’s face, the weight of her own anguish became unbearable. Her room, once a refuge, now felt like a prison, enclosing her in her darkest thoughts. She buried her face in her hands, the raw emotion making her shoulders shake with each sob. 

In her desperation, (Y/N) reached for a pot she kept hidden in the corner of her room. It was a vessel she had used in the past to punish herself—a cruel reminder of the torment she had endured. She filled it with water from the small kettle she kept on a low flame and watched as it began to heat. The steam rising from it seemed almost to mock her, a cruel echo of the suffering she had faced. 

The minutes ticked by painfully slow, each one amplifying her internal struggle. Finally, she lifted the pot, her hands trembling with both anger and fear. The boiling water sloshed ominously, a dark promise of the pain she was about to inflict upon herself. 

She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The old scars of her past—her mother’s harsh punishment, her father’s neglect—flared up in her mind. The boiling water was more than just a tool of self-harm; it was a symbol of everything she wished to escape but felt unable to. 

In a moment of bleak determination, (Y/N) held the pot over her hands. The thought of finally ridding herself of the hands that had once been subjected to such cruelty was almost seductive. Yet, a part of her clung to the hope that there might still be a way out of the darkness that had consumed her. Her grip tightened on the pot, the steam curling around her hands and face as she wrestled with the decision. The weight of her past pressed down on her with unbearable force, and in her mind, the boiling water symbolized a final escape from the relentless torment of her memories. 

With a shuddering breath, (Y/N) tilted the pot, and the searing hot water cascaded over her hands. The immediate pain was intense, a white-hot agony that sent sharp cries escaping her lips. The sensation of the scalding water was like a cruel echo of the suffering she had felt throughout her life. 

As the water flowed, the agony became a paradoxical release—a physical manifestation of the emotional pain she had struggled to articulate. The searing heat burned not just her flesh but also her heart, giving a fleeting, tangible form to the suffering she had been grappling with in silence. 

The burning sensation intensified, and (Y/N) gasped, her eyes widening in shock and torment. She dropped the pot, the remaining water splashing onto the floor, leaving her hands red and blistered. The pain was blinding, almost overwhelming, but in its brutal clarity, it forced her to confront the depth of her self-destructive desperation. 

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pt.3? anyone??

[zafill]

HELP ME FINISH THE DEMON SLAYER PT.2 STORY if you cant pick 2. pick 1 from above and coment the other

[zafill]

Demon Slayer

warning: abuse. neglect. child-abuse words: 1.678 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

9 hours. It took my mother 9 hours to give birth to me. I was breached or, as people say it ‘’born legs first’ the year is 1891, we didn't have prober medical equipment. Since my parents were poor, they didn’t have the money for a doctor, nor a child. My parents also didn't want a child. I was an accident. My parents agreed that when I was born, they would give me away. Sell me to some random person. 

But they didn’t. Not straight away. When I was born, I had (H/C). Like, really (H/C). My mother doesn’t have (H/C), she has white hair, and my father has black hair. 

As I grew, it became evident that I was a constant reminder of their unwanted responsibility. My mother, resentful and overwhelmed, resorted to harsh words and neglect. My father, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, was hardly present in my life. 

At the tender age of seven, I learned the truth about my origins. My parents had never intended to keep me. I was merely a burden they couldn't afford, a mistake they wished to erase. The revelation left me feeling adrift, like a ship without a compass, searching for purpose and belonging in a world that seemed determined to cast me aside. 

When I was 8, I tried so hard to make my parents proud, but whatever I did seemed to make them angry. One wrong move and they would explode. Sometimes, they made me watch them eat dinner, and didn't let me eat any.  

Sometimes, they wouldn't even let me sleep in my bed. But that wasn't as bad as the other punishments. The worst one is when they would put boiling water over my hands. They only did this when I touched them. They would say ‘’you are filthy! You are disgusting, you must never touch me again!’’ The reason for the Boling water was in hopes my hands would fall off. Or become numb so I couldn't move them.  

When I was 9. My mother was in the kitchen, making lunch, I was trying to explain to my mother that I wanted attention, as I had just fallen on the ground and my knee was bleeding. Nut I didn't even get my words out before she swung at me. I managed to get out of the way. My reflexes had always been really good. But she did manage to cut me on my lip.  

The sting of my mother's blow seared through me, both physically and emotionally. As I stumbled backward, clutching my bleeding lip, a rush of anger and defiance surged within me. How could a mother, the one person who was supposed to nurture and protect, inflict such pain without a second thought? 

Fueled by a mixture of adrenaline and desperation, I refused to cower in submission. With trembling hands, I wiped away the blood trickling down my chin, my gaze locking with my mother's cold, indifferent eyes. In that moment, something within me shifted. 

"No more," I whispered, my voice trembling with a newfound resolve. "I won't be your punching bag anymore. I won't let you break me." 

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my defiance. For the first time in my young life, I dared to stand up to the oppressive force that had held me captive for so long. The fire of rebellion burned bright within me, igniting a spark of courage that refused to be extinguished. 

As my mother stood frozen, her hand still poised in midair, I turned on my heel and fled from the suffocating confines of our home. Blood mingled with tears on my cheeks as I stumbled into the unforgiving embrace of the outside world. 

I did end up walking back home. Not without consciences... no food for a week, no bed. And No sunlight. Those were some of the darkest days I had ever experienced. 

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, the cold seeped into my bones, and the absence of sunlight cast a shadow over my already heavy heart. I wandered the streets, a mere ghost of a child, desperately seeking solace from the harsh reality that had become my life. 

With each passing moment, the echoes of my mother's cruelty reverberated within me. The pain in my lip served as a constant reminder of the violence I had endured. Yet, a newfound sense of strength and determination burned within me, refusing to be extinguished. When the week finally ended, I had my first meal. Though it was cold. It was so nice to have something in my stomach. 

When I was 10, my father found out my mother had an affair with another man. He understood now. I was not his, the man my mother had an affair with was also a (Y/H/C) head. This information only seemed to make the hatred my father felt for me became even bigger.  

He became more abusive, not only to me. But also, to my mother. In the end. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I ran away. I ran into the city, in hopes of finding someone who would care for me. Someone who would take me home. The town was called ‘’the red light district’’  

In the red light district, there were a lot of...naked Woman. The red light district was known as the ‘’prostitute land’ since there were so many people selling themself, just for a bit of cash. As i was walking down the streets. I saw a man asking everyone he came across ‘’Have you seen a woman named Solji (L/N)?’’ Solji was my mother's name. 

I walk up to him, gently tugging at his Haori to get his attention. When he looked down at me, he was confused. Why would a child want to talk to him? ‘’Solji is my mother’ I said to him. He looked shocked. Thats when I realized he had the same hair color as me. ‘’Are you, my dad?’’ ‘’HELL NO!’’ he yelled. ‘’I DONT WANT A KID WITH SOME WOMAN I SLEPT WITH ONCE!’’ Everyone's eyes were on us. I felt so embarrassed. I started to cry.  

He yanked his arm away from me. Before storming off. I was so destructed. I've just met my real Father and he also doesn’t want me. I keep doing something wrong. Why will nobody take care of me?   When I walked home. My mother was outside. I just knew she had a beating for me. ‘’WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?’’ she yelled at me. My eardrums felt like they were going to burst ‘’i-ive been at the city...’’  ‘’You are such a disgrace.’’ I know my mother was harsh. But I didn't expect her to say that straight to my face. 

  My mother's words cut through me like a knife, and the weight of her disappointment hung heavily in the air. I could feel her anger radiating, suffocating any hope that had dared to linger in my heart. As she advanced towards me, the shadows cast by the dimly lit street seemed to dance with malice, mirroring the turbulence within our fractured relationship. 

Without warning, her hand lashed out, striking my cheek with a force that sent me sprawling to the ground. The sting of her slap echoed in the still night, a painful punctuation to her harsh words. I dared not look up, keeping my eyes fixed on the cold, unforgiving pavement. 

"You think you can just wander off whenever you please?" she seethed, her voice a venomous hiss. "You're nothing but a burden, a constant reminder of the mistake I made. I should have given you away when I had the chance." 

Her words pierced through me, reopening old wounds and pouring salt into the fresh ones from the recent encounter with my supposed father. I felt the familiar burn of tears, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. 

In the midst of her tirade, a flicker of defiance ignited within me. Rising to my feet, I locked eyes with her, determined not to cower beneath the weight of her disdain. 

"I may be a disgrace to you, but I won't let your words define me," I declared, my voice trembling but resolute. "I'll find my own path, one that doesn't lead me through the darkness you've created."    ‘’YOU BRAT!’’ she yelled, as she pulled my ear. ‘’YOU WOULD BE LUCKY IF ANYONE WANTED YOU! A MISTAKE!’’  

Her grip on my ear was merciless, sending a jolt of pain shooting through me. I bit back a cry, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. With every ounce of strength, I could muster, I wrenched myself free from her grasp, the taste of blood filling my mouth from where I had bitten my lip to suppress the pain. 

I tried to stop her, but with all the neglect, and being underweight, I had no chance. She dragged me across the cold earthy ground. I don't know how long she dragged me. But when she finally stopped. She threw me Infront of someone's feet. ‘’5000 yen for her.’’ she explained ‘’very well then’’ the mysterious man replied and handed her the money. And then she walked away 

I looked up to see a man with short black hair and pale skin. He had some kind of purple mass on his forehead. ‘’what's your name young one?’’ he asked me with a smile ‘’(Y/N)... (Y/N) (L/N)’’ I replied. I've always been taught to be respectful to everyone. Even if they give you a weird feeling. ‘’My name is kagaya ubuyashiki. I'm the leader of a foundation called the ‘’Demon Slayers’’ 

If I may. I would like you to join us when you are of the right age... how old are you know (Y/N)?’’ he asked. ‘’I'm 10’’ I replied with a small voice. I wasn't sure if he heard me. ‘’then we should start now. I'll have someone teach you, my child.’’  ‘’Welcome to the world of demons’’  ---------------------------------------------------------------------- tell me if you all want a pt.2 (update: pt2 is in the working)