Demon Slayer: Taking Care Of Tanjuro's Wife And Daughter

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The night was dark and endless, its shadows swallowing the jagged silhouette of the mountains. A lone figure moved through the desolation, their steps deliberate and unhurried. Occasionally, they stopped, their gaze sweeping over the terrain with quiet intensity.

The wind blew gently at first, teasing the brim of the figure's wide hat. Strands of midnight-black hair slipped free, revealing a face so pale it seemed carved from marble. Crimson eyes, vivid and piercing, glowed faintly in the gloom, their gaze unfathomable.

Suddenly, the wind howled, a sharp contrast to the stillness moments before. Kibutsuji Muzan halted, his elegant form motionless against the turbulent backdrop. He hadn't planned to come here tonight, but something had forced his hand.

Recently, a string of his subordinates—vile creatures who served to safeguard his plans—had been eradicated in the surrounding area. Their sudden disappearance piqued his interest, their loss an inconvenience he could not ignore.

In the distance, a shadow darted through the darkness, moving with frantic urgency. The figure leaped from the mountainside, landing in a crouch before Muzan. Its twisted form was grotesque yet awe-inspiring, every movement dripping with reverence for the man before it.

The creature's body was a collage of unnatural hues—its skin pale white, its lips tinged with sickly green, and its eyes a startling yellow. Purple fins jutted from its head, and where one might expect a mouth, there was only a gaping void. Eyes adorned its forehead and mouth, mismatched and unsettling, while tiny, spindly arms sprouted from various parts of its distorted frame.

This was Gyokko, the Upper Moon Five of the Twelve Kizuki. His grotesque visage reflected the creativity of his blood demon art, and his loyalty to Muzan was absolute.

"Master," Gyokko rasped, his voice thick with admiration as he knelt on one knee.

Muzan did not acknowledge him immediately. His crimson eyes remained fixed on the horizon, taking in the bleak nightscape. The darkness enveloped everything, casting the world in a monochrome abyss.

The sun...

He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen it. That warm, golden light was a distant memory, one he could scarcely imagine now. The thought filled him with longing—a longing tinged with bitterness.

Once, sunlight had been a simple, thoughtless luxury. Now, it was a curse, a force that could burn his flesh to ash in mere moments. Muzan raised his head, staring at the pale moon as it hung in the void. Its cold light offered no comfort, only a reminder of the warmth he could never have again.

"Did you find it?" Muzan's voice was soft, almost wistful, though an edge of steel lurked beneath the words.

Gyokko trembled, his many eyes quivering under his master's gaze. "I regret to inform you, Master, that the blue spider lily has not yet been found."

Silence followed his words, the weight of his failure pressing heavy in the air. Muzan lowered his gaze from the heavens to meet Gyokko's trembling form. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in the air grew oppressive, as if the very night itself feared his wrath.

Gyokko scrambled to speak, desperate to redeem himself. "But I assure you, Master, I will not rest until I uncover it! My efforts will double, and I will—"

"Enough," Muzan interrupted, his voice calm but laced with authority that brooked no argument. "Your words are meaningless without results. The blue spider lily is the key to my perfection. Your failure to retrieve it delays my plans."

Gyokko's head lowered further, his grotesque hands pressed into the ground. "Forgive me, Master. I will not fail you again."

Gyokko lowered his head, shame spreading across his grotesque face. The creature's many eyes darted nervously, his hunched posture betraying the dread that gnawed at him.

"It really... disappoints me," Kibutsuji Muzan said coldly, his crimson eyes narrowing with unspoken rage.

Disappointment was not an unfamiliar feeling to Muzan. For over a thousand years, his subordinates had failed him time and again, their incompetence a source of endless frustration. Yet, even after so long, the sharp sting of anger flared anew.

In a single, fluid motion, Muzan stepped forward and reached out. His pale, elegant fingers clamped around Gyokko's throat with deadly precision.

The pressure increased gradually, and Gyokko's face flushed a deep crimson as he gasped for air. A bit more force, and his neck would surely snap.

But even in the grip of death, Gyokko's admiration for Muzan did not falter. His yellow eyes sparkled with a twisted kind of reverence. "It would be... an honor to die at your hands, Master."

Muzan's expression did not change. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled Gyokko backward. The demon's body crashed into the ground, the force of the impact leaving a massive crater in the earth.

A moment passed in silence, broken only by the sound of labored breathing. Gyokko, battered and bloodied, struggled to rise from the pit. He crawled on all fours, dragging himself to Muzan's feet like a loyal dog.

"Gyokko, you disappoint me," Muzan said, his tone eerily calm. "For over a hundred year, I have tasked you with a simple objective. Yet, here we are, and you still fail to deliver results."

"Master..." Gyokko's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and desperation. Then, summoning every ounce of confidence he could muster, he added, "The blue spider lily must be nearby. I'm certain of it."

Muzan's gaze shifted to the dark mountains surrounding them. His tone turned cold. "You've spent over forty years searching this area, haven't you? In forty years, even if you'd reduced this mountain to rubble, you should have found something."

Gyokko hesitated, then stammered, "It's here, my lord. I am certain of it. Please, trust me just once more."

A heavy silence fell as Muzan considered the demon's plea. Finally, he nodded. "I will trust you one last time."

"Thank you, Master. Thank you!" Gyokko's grotesque features twisted into an expression of ecstatic relief. Then, as if suddenly recalling something, he added, "A few days ago, a demon slayer came to this area."

Muzan's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "A Demon Slayer? Here?"

Gyokko bowed his head lower. "Yes, Master. It was one of the lesser demons nearby—one who couldn't resist his instincts and feasted on a hunter's family. That drew the Slayer's attention. But worry not, Master, I dealt with them personally. There will be no further interference."

Muzan didn't respond immediately. His thoughts lingered on the flower. The Demon Slayer Corps was of little consequence to him—mere insects that buzzed around the edges of his plans. Yet there was one among them, one who haunted him even now.

The memory of a blazing sword, a blade like the sun itself, burned in his mind. Muzan had never forgotten the sheer terror of that strike, the way it seared through him as though the heavens themselves had descended to judge him.

That man—Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

Even after hundreds of years, Muzan felt the lingering shadow of that sword. Though Yoriichi was long dead, the aura of his strength still reached across time, twisting Muzan's dreams into nightmares.

"Gyokko," Muzan said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "There is a family nearby with rare blood, is there not?"

"Yes, Master," Gyokko replied quickly. "I can lead you to their home. You can rest there if you wish."

Muzan cast a sidelong glance at Gyokko, his expression unreadable. "Lead the way."

Gyokko scrambled to his feet, his excitement palpable. "Yes, my lord!"

The pair moved swiftly through the night, and soon, a small house nestled in the mountains came into view.

"This is the place, Master," Gyokko said, his voice trembling with anticipation. "But the man who resides here… He has an unusual presence. Dangerous."

Muzan ignored him and stepped forward, kicking the door open with little effort. The house was eerily silent. Room by room, they searched, only to find nothing but empty spaces.

Gyokko's confidence wavered as sweat dripped down his grotesque form. "Where are they? Where is the family?"

His panic grew, his voice rising to a frantic growl as he searched the last room. "Where are they?!"

Muzan suddenly stepped back, his movements sharp and uncharacteristically cautious. Gyokko froze, confusion etched across his face.

"What's wrong, Master?"

Muzan's crimson eyes flickered with something rarely seen: unease. "A familiar presence lingers here... a power like the sun."

Gyokko's many eyes widened, but before he could speak, Muzan retreated to a distance. For a moment, neither moved, the air between them heavy with tension. Muzan's gaze darted to the house, his lips curling into a thin, displeased line.

"Search this place again," Muzan ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Gyokko obeyed, scouring the house with frantic precision. When he returned, his expression was filled with confusion. "There's no one here, Master. I've checked thoroughly."

Muzan re-entered the house, his sharp senses picking up a faint trace of a scent he could never forget. He inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening.

"It's him," Muzan muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "The scent of that man's Breath lingers here."

He turned to Gyokko, his crimson eyes blazing with fury. "Find out who lived here. I want every trace of them erased."

"Yes, Master!" Gyokko said, bowing low.

Muzan's voice dropped to a venomous whisper, the words heavy with malice. "Nothing of his legacy can remain. Not a memory, not a trace. Erase it all."

The night deepened as Gyokko scrambled to carry out his orders, leaving Muzan alone with his thoughts. Though centuries had passed, the shadow of Yoriichi Tsugikuni loomed as large as ever, a reminder of the one enemy Muzan could never truly escape.

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