NOVEL WEB Chapter 2: Dancing with Flames
A/N: I planned to abandon it but... a promise is a promise right?
BEFORE YOU START READING.
Please check out the previous chapter. I have rewritten it and hope I made it more enjoyable. Tell me, what you think, please.
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After saving the remains of the village and helping people out of the debris, Yoriichi did his best to offer words of comfort. He gazed sadly at the place that had once been lively, now reduced to ruins. Though the immediate danger had passed, the villagers who looked at him in awe, calling him a great hero, failed to see the man beneath—one who felt hopeless and burdened by the weight of loss.
Their gratitude was genuine, but it offered Yoriichi little solace. He felt the sting of inadequacy; rebuilding a village was a task he had never undertaken, and the unfamiliar structures overwhelmed him. They were different from what he was familiar with.
After a time, he left the scene to wander under the moon, still hanging high in the sky. One of the survivors had told him that this village was not the only one plagued by demons. There were many others that had been attacked that night. Driven by a sense of duty, Yoriichi pressed on, determined to ensure the safety of every last soul.
Unfortunately, he often arrived too late, only able to find a few women and children, and occasionally injured men who had fought valiantly against the demons but were left in a half-dead state.
Each time he encountered a demon, the swordsman dispatched them mercilessly before moving on to the next village. His body felt strong and resilient; as long as he persisted, his strength would not falter.
Arrive, kill, move on.
This repetitive cycle became his existence, a mindless action driven by an unyielding purpose.
To the villagers who were still alive, the demons began to fall one by one. The figure responsible was too fast to be seen, akin to a rush of wind, their movements blurring into a haze. It seemed as if all evil perished in an instant.
Yoriichi stood over the demons' disappearing corpses, his sword dripping with their blood. The village was burning, but he had stopped the slaughter.
A memory from his childhood surfaced, pulling at his heart.
This was the reason Yoriichi never stopped, not even for a moment.
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In his mind, Yoriichi pictured a younger version of himself. He remembered the first time he picked up a sword, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear. He had never intended to hurt anyone; it was merely a test of skill against their instructor. Yet, as he stood victorious, he caught sight of Michikatsu watching from a distance, his expression a tumult of emotions.
When Young Yoriichi effortlessly defeated their sword instructor, each swing of his wooden sword filled with a grace that seemed almost divine. Upon seeing the defeated man, he pursed his lips at the pain he caused somebody. But when he turned to seek his brother's guidance, he was met with a look of pain and confusion on Michikatsu's face.
It had taken many years for Yoriichi to figure out why his older brother changed his attitude towards him.
The truth was apparent from the start. For years, Michikatsu had been praised for his skill and potential. He trained relentlessly, pouring every ounce of effort into honing his abilities, yet no matter how hard he tried, he could never quite measure up to the effortless brilliance of his younger brother. How must he have felt?
That time, as Yoriichi dispatched the instructor, Michikatsu felt a mix of shock and disbelief alongside a gnawing sense of inferiority.
"Why?" Michikatsu's thoughts echoed in Yoriichi's mind, frustration bubbling within him. "Why must my brother shine so brightly while I struggle in his shadow?" Yoriichi had unknowingly pushed him away.
Yoriichi disliked fighting, whether in front of Michikatsu, or anyone. The thought of causing his brother pain weighed heavily on his heart. He longed to stand by his brother's side but felt an overwhelming sense of guilt every time he wielded a sword. He hated that.
It was the time when the two brothers became distant.
He glanced down at the wooden sword in Michikatsu's hand, the instrument of battle. If fighting meant causing others pain, he vowed to never fight again. From that day forward, a deep sadness welled within Yoriichi every time he saw a sword.
When news of demon attacks reached his ears, Yoriichi felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Aware of his unnatural strength, he took up his sword, transforming into the first Demon Slayer to slay so effectively. He created the Breathing Techniques in order for humanity to wield and push back demons. He fought tirelessly, seeking to restore beauty to a world tainted by darkness.
Yoriichi thought that was his destined task. He felt that was his destined task. But the vow he made has been broken.
Yet, even with his unparalleled power, he arrived too late to save people. The devastation haunted him as he stood amidst the burning buildings, having only managed to sever the head of a demon. The aftermath of his failure weighed heavily on his heart. Michikatsu looked at him with something indescribable, something that scared Yoriichi.
For a time, Michikatsu joined the Demon Slayer Corps, learning alongside Yoriichi and imparting knowledge to the younger generations. But soon, he vanished, leaving Yoriichi alone in his heartache and confusion.
With the setting sun behind Michikatsu's back, Yoriichi recalled the last time he saw his brother's human face. The image was seared into his mind, a bittersweet memory that pained him to the core.
One day Yoriichi would meet his brother again. Not as a human. But as a demon.
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Yoriichi took a stance, the air around him thickening with an intense vibrancy. The flames ignited with the heat of the sun, stirring to life as he counted the demons before him.
Sun Breathing: Ninth Form—Sun Halo Dragon Head Dance!
A magnificent dragon of fire burst forth from his blade, roaring to life as it consumed the hellish monsters before him, each flicker of flame embodying his wrath and determination.
So focused was he on maintaining the rhythm of his movements that Yoriichi remained unaware of the mystical aura radiating around him.
Unknown to him, since that fateful night, people in the north began to speak of an undefeated warrior who commanded fire to slay demons and protect lives. Rumors spread of his resilience. The Swordsman who had never known an injury, never faltered in his steps as he swung his blade.
Undefeated figure. Immortal Swordsman. The Fire God.
The one who ensured the villagers' safety from the clutches of evil.
The Fire God danced amidst the spirals of flames, dispatching his foes with ease.
A single innocent voice started it all.
"Pray to the Fire God."
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As dawn broke, Yoriichi wandered through the verdant embrace of the unfamiliar forest. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting a patchwork of golden light upon the forest floor. He paused occasionally, mesmerized by the vibrant colors and scents of the flora surrounding him.
Towering trees, unlike any he had seen in Japan, stood sentinel with their broad, leafy canopies. Their bark was rugged and gnarled, adorned with creeping vines and bursts of colorful flowers that painted the landscape with hues of violet, orange, and deep crimson.
Every step brought a new wonder—a profusion of blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, while the distant chirping of exotic birds filled the air with a melody that spoke of life and vitality.
The rush of a small stream nearby drew his attention. Its crystal-clear waters sparkled under the sunlight, inviting him to rest for a moment. Yoriichi knelt beside the stream, cupping his hands to drink from its cool flow, the refreshing liquid revitalizing him.
Yet, as he continued along the winding path, he couldn't shake the feeling of disorientation. This place was a far cry from his own, a country where even the air felt different. With every turn, the lush wilderness seemed to grow denser, and the trail became less distinct. Soon enough, he realized he had strayed from the familiar path and was completely lost.
A twinge of anxiety prickled at the edges of his mind, but he shook it off as he spotted a wooden post standing crookedly beside the path. Intrigued, he approached it, hoping for guidance.
Much to his dismay, the post bore unfamiliar symbols and characters, each stroke and curve a complete enigma. The names etched there seemed like riddles, teasing him with the promise of direction he could not decipher.
A light sigh escaped his lips. Despite his previous encounters with the villagers, where communication flowed easily, he found himself utterly alone in a sea of indecipherable text.
How ironic, he thought with a hint of amusement tinged with melancholy. After all my battles, I've met my match in the written word.
With a blank look, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his predicament. A master swordsman lost in a world of letters. Truly what a sight, he mused, shaking his head.
Yoriichi leaned against the post, his shoulders sagging slightly as he considered his options. The urge to study the unknown nature before he battled with the nagging sense of helplessness. His appearance in this place still was considered his duty.
However, until he obtains the information of where possible demons lay, there is nothing he can do.
Perhaps I should just follow the stream for now. Surely it leads to someone who can help me.
With a newfound resolve, he pushed away from the post and resumed his journey, allowing the sound of the flowing water to guide him. Each step forward, though uncertain, was filled with the oath of his task, no matter how daunting the challenge of understanding this unknown land might be.
As Yoriichi continued, a series of stifled cries reached his ears, piercing the tranquility of the forest. His mind raced, recalling the horrors of the previous night. The devastation, the suffering, the lives lost.
The cries of people.
In an instant, the weight of those memories sharpened his focus. His entire demeanor hardened, transforming him into a blur of motion as he darted through the trees, a shadow that weaved effortlessly between the trunks.
He burst through the final line of foliage and into a sun-drenched meadow, the landscape opened before him in a breathtaking panorama.
However, the beauty of the moment was shattered by the sight. Some kind of estate stood proudly in the distance, a stark contrast to its wooded surroundings, yet it was the gruesome scene unfolding nearby that drew his attention.
There, on the ground, lay a young girl, bleeding and bruised, surrounded by monstrous, hulking figures that loomed menacingly over her. Their misshapen forms twisted and contorted into ugly visages, the light of day flickering ominously off their jagged and irregular demonic features.
Whether these creatures were demons or not mattered little to Yoriichi; he felt a fierce urgency surge through him. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his spot, moving with such speed it appeared as if he had teleported.
With the sun's rays glinting off his blade, Yoriichi reappeared in the sky.
Sun Breathing: Second Form—Clear Blue Sky.
His swing unleashed a powerful slash that sliced through the air with blinding fire. The first of the demons fell in two, its gurgling cries swallowed by his body falling apart into ash.
In a fluid motion, Yoriichi spun on his heel, the momentum of his previous strike fueling his next.
Sun Breathing: First Form—Dance. Yoriichi rotated his body, the blade tracing a fiery arc as he connected with another of the monsters, the heat radiating off his weapon igniting the very air around him. The creature turned into a cloud of ash, leaving nothing but a scorched mark fleeting wind.
He moved like a dancer through the chaos, each step calculated and elegant, yet remained lethal. The remaining demons, thrown off by his swift and graceful movements, hesitated for a moment. Yoriichi seized the opportunity, focusing all his energy on his next strike.
Sun Breathing: Eight Form—Sunflower Thrust. He leaped into the air, the world spinning around him as he descended like a comet, his sword poised to strike with unyielding force.
The impact of his blade met another demon with a thunderous crash, severing its head cleanly from its body. As the two halves crumpled to the ground, Yoriichi landed softly, his feet barely making a sound upon the earth.
With the field now clear of immediate threats, Yoriichi turned his attention to the final beast, which had retreated slightly, its eyes wide with apprehension.
The nichirin sword burst into flames once again, the air shimmering around the blade as Yoriichi pushed forward, his blade carving through the air. In one swift motion, he dispatched the last creature, leaving only silence in its wake.
He stood amidst the place now clear of demon stain, the beautiful place contrasting starkly with the brutality of the battle he had just fought. His chest heaved as he concentrated his breathing technique, the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
The young girl on the ground stirred slightly, pain evident across her features, yet great relief flickered in her eyes as she gazed upon her savior.
Yoriichi sheathed his blade, a sense of fulfillment washing over him. He had been thrust into yet another fight, but this time, he had succeeded, saving a small part of the girl's world, even if by a little. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that there were still more dangers lurking in the shadows.
His bad premotion had come true as the girl opened her mouth to speak, a rasping mumble coming out of her throat.
"P-please! Save my father before it's too late!"
"Where is he?"
"On the second floor! Please! Please!" Tears welled in her eyes
"I see. Don't enter the house for now. Stay here. If any demon shows up, I shall keep watch—but if that happens, scream with all your might."
With that part over, Yoriichi turned to the building, a sense of hurry propelling him toward the estate. He didn't waste time on the lower floor; instead, he took a deep breath, gathering his strength. With a powerful leap, Yoriichi soared several meters into the air, landing on the second-floor balcony.
Inside, the scene was grim. He spotted a man, blood seeping from his wounds, slumped weakly against the wall. In front of him knelt a demon, its figure more human than the creatures Yoriichi had just slayed. This demon bore a more humanoid form, with elegant clothing now marred by a pale face, and prominent horns that curled from its forehead.
"What a human here? This place was supposed to be unobstructed," The demon said, its voice smooth and not giving anything to the point he was about to devour the man.
It seemed unfazed by Yoriichi's sudden presence, an empty smile curving on its lips. "Well, I don't know how you got here that fast, but you shall tell me this later when I torture it out of you."
The demon's demeanor was almost mocking, like a predator amused by the appearance of an unsuspecting prey. It hardly regarded Yoriichi as a threat, treating him like a mere insect that could be crushed at simple thought.
With a flick of its wrist, sharp bone fragments sprouted from its body, transforming into deadly projectiles that hurtled toward Yoriichi. The air crackled with tension as the shards sliced through the space between them, flashing menacingly in the light of the windows. Yoriichi's instincts kicked in as he moved away, merely dodging and weaving through the deadly rain of bones. He responded in kind to the assault, cleaving through several of the projectiles with a swift move of his blade.
That's when the blade ignited in flames, causing the demon to be surprised for the first time.
"That's weird… What kind of human are you?" The demon growled, its eyes narrowing with suspicion. "I don't sense any power from you. Answer me."
Yoriichi had no answer to that question, his expression calm and heavy.
The demon glared at the human, whose face remained calm and unconcerned, even in the face of impending, painful death.
It continued, studying him with a growing sense of unease. "Every creature bears a mark that identifies and confirms its presence in the world, yet you have nothing."
Tension filled the air, the demon's arrogance beginning to waver as it realized the strange anomaly standing before it.
Yoriichi felt the heat of the sun warming his back, waiting to be unleashed.
As the demon prepared to attack again, Yoriichi's mind sharpened, every muscle tensing as he realized the importance of the battle ending now.
With a swift movement, the demon launched a barrage of sharp bone shards from its body, each one whistling through the air like a deadly needle. The human somehow managed to deflect them all, his movements fluid as he defended through the projectiles.
"It's impossible!" The demon snarled, frustration growing in its voice as it unleashed more bone projectiles, hoping to pierce the unyielding human before it. There is no way the reality before him could be true. Yet, the swordsman remained a blur, his crimson blade cutting through everything the demon threw in desperation.
In one decisive moment, Yoriichi focused on breathing, calling upon the Sun Breathing technique. The air around him crackled with intensity as he inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of the sun surge through his veins.
Sun Breathing: Third Form—Raging Sun.
With a single leap, he closed the distance between them, his sword swung horizontally. Time seemed to slow as he descended upon the demon, the flames swirling around him and incarnating any defense prepared, illuminating the darkened room. The demon's eyes widened in disbelief as it realized the futility of its efforts.
As Yoriichi brought his blade down with breathtaking speed, the demon's frantic attempts to defend itself were rendered meaningless. The sharp edge of his sword sliced through the air, and in an instant, the demon's head fell, rolling away as its body collapsed to the ground, already turning into ash.
With the battle won, Yoriichi stood amidst the ruined room, the sun casting its rays through the windows, illuminating his path forward. His eyes focused on the still-bleeding man whose eyes were broad open.
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