Chapter Text
They were going to die, this was it. Their final resting place until the sun came up and burned their bodies away. Inosuke’s body would probably be eaten. Maybe by a boar like he wears? No, a bear would be more likely…
A loud thud made Zenitsu scream in fear and cover his ears, the tears he just finished shedding brimming at the edges of his eyes again. He did his best to not jump, and stayed in the fetal position he was in, clutching his legs tightly, and hiding behind the well placed tree.
Seriously, not only was Inosuke’s first mission against a demon that had a Blood Demon Art, unlike any of them who didn’t have one, it was one that could manifest boulders and hurl them at them.
“Water Breathing; First Form: Water Surface Slash!”
Zenitsu dared to peek his head out of the safety that the trunk of the tree provided. He could see Tanjiro slashing the large rock with his small steel sword. It looked impossible, it looked crazy, it looked like a pathetic attempt to break the boulder, and yet it did. Tanjiro’s sword cleanly went through the earth, cutting it smoothly as if it were bamboo. The two pieces Tanjiro made lost the momentum the demon provided and fell flatly to the earth.
Tanjiro turned, not to speak to him, but to the footsteps Zenitsu could hear coming his way. The soft delicate foot work, the closest thing to being silent to his ears, could only be-
“One!” Tanjiro cried out, “Here comes another!”
One ran past Zenitsu’s cowering form and pulled out her sword from its sheath. Zenitsu could hear her inhale and take a strong breath, and above her he could make out the sounds of rocks crackling together, forcefully being put together and molded into each other. One jumped into the air and created an arc with the movement of her blade.
“Flower Breathing; Fourth Form: Crimson Hanagoromo.”
Just like Tanjiro had, One had done the impossible, making the small, feeble looking sword cut through solid rock with ease and broke the boulder into two. With shaking, hesitant hands, Zenitsu clutched the sheath on his waist and stared at it.
Why did he have a sword? Why was he here? Why was he at that Final Selection?
He was a coward. He must have been like this before becoming a demon. He had super strength, super speed, he could regenerate any wound that wasn’t to his neck by nichirin blade or inflicted from sunlight. Yet he spent so much time in fear.
He wanted to help them, he really did! Inosuke, Genya, Tanjiro, One and even precious Nezuko were out there dealing with that demon and his dumb rocks, out there trying to atone for their sins, trying to make the world a slightly better place. Yet he couldn’t even muster the will to unsheath his damn blade.
It was so easy to excuse away, he didn’t even remember how to use it! He had tried asking One, the only other demon in his predicament to not have any memories of training, how she was able to naturally use her katana so effectively.
(“I just did it.” One smiled at him. A smile that did not make Zenitsu feel any better.
“R-really? Nothing?” Zenitsu frowned, eyeing her sword. “Not a spark of a memory or an ‘ah-ha!’ moment?”
One shook her head. “I still have no memories.” She held out her hand in front of him and clutched her fist. “My body seems to remember things. I tense up when I have to make a decision and I don’t know why. I know how to braid Nezuko’s hair and I don’t know why. And I can use Flower Breathing and don’t know why.” One looked Zenitsu directly at him. Her head tilted slightly and her slitted eyes softened, it was the closest he’s seen her make an expression that looked real. “Are you sure you aren’t the same?”)
Of course he wasn’t the same. He couldn’t even find it in him to use the damn thing, yet as a human he somehow either convinced himself or a trainer that he was prepared for Final Selection. A stupid decision, whoever made it.
“I got him! I got him!” Inosuke hollered, running past all three of them, the two blades in his hands that were now serrated after him and One took rocks to them to change their shape, giving them a saw-like appearance. “I’m the demon slayer, I get to kill him!”
One and Tanjiro, ever loyal and devoted to their Boss’s word, obliged the boy and both took a step back, yet kept their blades clasped in their hands, not even loosening their grip.
The demon, whose skin was grey, horns poking out of his head, fangs sharp and poking out of his mouth, breathed hitched. It was loud enough that Zenitsu was sure even Tanjiro and One picked up on it. He lifted his hand into the air and over it another boulder started to form.
“Get away! Get away from me!” the demon cried out before launching the large piece of earth at Inosuke.
“Beast Breathing; Fourth Fang: Slice ‘n’ Dice!”
Inosuke’s wild movements took his two blades in multiple directions delivering several slashes to the hard rock. Unlike Tanjiro and One, whose techniques only broke the boulders into two, Inosuke’s left them into several much smaller pieces. Letting him keep his momentum forward toward the demon.
The demon put his hands in front of his face and cried out. “N-no! Stay back! Stop!”
“Beast Breathing; Third Fang: Devour!”
Unlike his past attacks, this time Inosuke kept his sword together, letting them work in unison. The two together moved forward, the jagged edges of the blades hit the neck of the demon before the demon could react. Just like with the boulders, the blades went through with ease, as if it was cutting something softer than a demon’s neck.
The head separated from the demon’s body and before it even hit the ground, the head and torso both burned into ash, leaving no remnants behind. No proof that this man eating demon existed.
Inosuke turned to his minions and Zenitsu could hear the muscles move on his face, he was smiling under that boar mask. “Did you guys see that?! I killed it so fast!”
Tanjiro beamed at him, “That was amazing, Boss!”
One also offered a small smile. “Good job, Boss.”
Inosuke turned his direction to Zenitsu, and the boy tensed. He didn’t do anything in that fight. They weren’t near but he heard Nezuko and Genya attack other flying boulders as well. There was a group of traveling merchants in the area, they did their best to make sure they didn’t get hurt or get suspicious enough to investigate what was going on.
Useless. He was useless, he tried to speak up, to defend himself. To explain he didn’t remember how to fight, but a lump of his throat kept him from speaking. He couldn’t even justify himself. How pathetic, fitting for a demon like him.
“You gonna keep crotching behind the tree or what, Four?”
The words worked like a spell on him, and suddenly Zenitsu was up on his feet. “S-sorry, Boss,” was all he could let out.
Sorry for still hiding. Sorry for not helping. Sorry for being a coward.
“You got good hearing, right Four?”
“Y-yeah…I do.”
“You hear Three, Five, and Six anywhere?”
That’s all he wanted to know? What about his pathetic performance on their very first mission? Zenitsu didn’t have the courage to speak his thoughts, instead he pointed downhill. “They’re down there. I hear them getting closer. They probably noticed no more rocks being thrown and realized you killed the demon…”
Inosuke bolted in that direction, not waiting a moment for Zenitsu to say anything else. He could hear him crying out for his other three minions while he was left to sit in his self-hatred.
Tanjiro’s hand on his shoulder was a nice distraction from it. His eyes were soft and he was frowning with concern. “You alright, Zenitsu? You smell sad and…disgusted?”
“I’m fine, Tanjiro…” Because he was. He didn’t get hurt in the slightest, and he used no energy, meaning he saved his appetite compared to the rest. The rest who risked snapping with hunger to slay other demons. Still, he should say something. They were stuck together, the lot of them. Friendships relied on open communication, right? Maybe, even as a human he doubted he had many if he was the coward he believed. “I just wish I could have helped more.”
“You don’t know how to fight,” One smiled, walking up beside them. “It’s to be expected.”
“We can teach you if you like!” Tanjiro suggested.
The thought of losing his excuse to not fight terrified him, but guilt of not helping was worse. He should take the offer, even if his very being was telling him don’t you stupid idiot we’re going to die if you do! Zenitsu looked over to One, “I already asked One before. You sure instincts can teach?”
“I remember my training. So we-I can teach you.” Tanjiro's eyes were darting next to him. He sounded like he was lying, hiding something. But there wasn’t anything there.
One stared at Tanjiro, face blank as always. Zenitsu focused his hearing on her. Her face did not give away what she could possibly be thinking, but after seeing her panic back at Mount Fujikanase he realized her body still gave insights. Her muscles tensed, her lips forcefully pressed together, her feet pressed harder into the ground.
Oh, she wanted to correct Tanjiro on something, but couldn't make herself say anything.
He didn’t want to spark an incident like what happened on Mount Fujikanase, even though none of them were sure what exactly caused it, so asking One to speak up was not an option. But he also couldn’t question Tanjiro’s offer without reason. Not to mention it would probably hurt his feelings. He couldn’t do that to him. It’d be like kicking a puppy. A sad demon puppy.
Instead he turned to One, “S-since we’re both the same with no memories of our training…” he started. If he couldn’t directly ask One for her thoughts, he’d have to pry them out another way. “What would you suggest as a starting point? Do you think the fundamentals or somewhere else…?”
“Breathing.”
Zenitsu narrowed his eyes. “...Breathing?”
One nodded.
Tanjiro perked up. “Oh yea! Total Concretation Breathing! That is a good place to start, One.”
“So you do know how to do it.”
“Of course!” he nodded. “I used it when I was doing my Water Breathing technique.”
“Why aren’t you doing it all the time?” One asked innocently.
Tanjiro froze, and a pained look crossed his face. Oh no if Tanjiro is reacting that way then how bad was what One suggested? Was he going to die from this training?!
He pushed through his panic and focused on how Tanjiro breathed. He already listened to One earlier so it couldn’t be hard to compare, and now that he listened to both, he did notice they were different. One’s breathing had more of an oomf to it. More air in each breath. Did that help with their swordskills?
Zenitsu felt panic rise in his chest. The expression on Tanjiro’s face still on his mind. “Can we start somewhere else?”
One didn’t say anything. She just blinked.
That was somehow more terrifying than saying no.
“The hell you three doing?!” They turned to see Genya shouting, a flash of annoyance on his face. “Are you just twiddling your thumbs? We need to leave.”
Inosuke was carrying a sleeping Nezuko, Dongurimaru was racing behind him on foot. The bird would rather walk with its tiny legs than be carried by a demon - Nezuko withstanding, and honestly Zenitsu couldn’t blame the bird for that choice.
Tanjiro looked up at the sky, gauging the moon’s position. “We still have a few hours before sunlight. What’s the rush?”
Genya didn’t slow down, he grabbed One’s wrist and continued walking hoping Zenitsu and Tanjiro would naturally follow. “I had thought we would be safe from this given that Boss here is only a mizunoto and the demons he’s assigned are weak-”
“-a weak demon that I could kill in my sleep! I deserve to cut stronger demons!”
“But that stupid rock demon ended up causing large damage to the surrounding area.”
“Did anyone get hurt?” Tanjiro asked.
“That’s the issue!” Genya snapped, but Zenitsu could tell by his voice, he wasn’t snapping at them, but from the stress of whatever this situation is. “Whenever a demon causes a mess, the Corp sends in the kakushi. To assess damages and help those that are hurt.”
“But I’m not hurt at all!” Inosuke huffed. “I could take another demon right now!”
“And that’s all good so we can shake them off but we -the demons you keep around- need to mov-”
Firm footprints pressing into soil grabbed Zenitsu’s attention. A familiar clank of steel. Someone was reaching for a sword.
“You all! What you doing? Where’s the demon causing the damage we got reports of?!”
The group collectively turned their heads.
A slayer was standing before them.
Murata didn’t know why he was assigned kakushi protection. They were supposed to show up after all the demons were slain, once the danger was no longer present.
The Corp in the past few weeks had been doing odd things with missions and assignments. Keeping them in group missions. Having their kasugai crows remain close when they usually stayed back during missions.
Rumors have been spreading around the lower level slayers, something happened at the past Final Selection. The Hashira wouldn’t spill what it was, and no one in the Corp was that stupid or value their lives that little to go up and directly ask one of them what they knew.
So Murata did what he did best, didn’t question what was going on and followed his orders, going on ahead of the kakushi and making sure the demon was truly slain.
Within the group of six kids in front of him, only one was wearing a demon slayer uniform, well probably was. Shirtless without the standard jacket but those were fabric of hakama they wore. Weird ass kid, only wearing half his uniform and a boar head. Seriously, wearing that around and people might think he’s the demon.
Shivering slightly at the thought of running into an unidentified demon, he turned his attention to the other kids, they didn’t look as creepy as the boar kid.
The most obvious thing was the fact they were all swordsmen. Sheaths all tied to their waist, minus the girl being carried by the boar. The boy with the mask and the girl with the hairclip were putting their swords back into them. The fight must have just ended then. But why were non-slayers involved? It wasn’t against Corp rules, no one would say no to extra help, but it was unwise since most did not have training or weapons to help a slayer.
Another glance at the two made him blink, digging into his memories. That butterfly clip, it looked a bit similar to the one Lady Kocho wore, same for her little helpers too. He wasn’t aware one of them had made it to the field. Was that why they were here, to offer first aid?
The boy’s mask, now that he got a clearer look at it, brought back memories. Of his Final Selection, of the boy who sacrificed himself to save everyone else in their class, of the boy whose mask broke and fell unconscious for the entire exam but would later become a Hashira.
Murata lowered his sword. That signature styled mask, and the slightly damaged blue kimono, must have meant one thing. “Oh! You’re one of Urokodaki’s latest students, huh?”
The boy looked nervous, his eyes darting back and forth between his little group of friends. Heh, he must be nervous meeting a higher ranking demon slayer for the first time, seeing how this boy was most likely still in training. A different boy wearing a purple yakata -the scar on his face kinda reminded him of the Wind Hashira, hopefully this boy wasn’t as scary as him- elbowed the student, a clear sign for him to speak up.
“Y-yes? He taught me Water Breathing…”
Murata straightened his posture. “I use Water Breathing as well.” It would be good for this kid to have a role model. Seeing how Tomioka was always busy, he would be the next best thing for an aspiring Water Breather. “If you have any questions feel free to ask.”
The group seemed hesitant, and they all stood there awkwardly in silence. Were they waiting for something to happen?
Finally the blond, now that hair color that was the strangest thing about this group besides the boar kid, spoke up. “Is…that all you have to say?...To us?” He gestured to four of them specifically. Himself, Urokodaki’s student, Kocho’s girl, and scarface.
“...Well not to you four, but,” Murata then pointed to the boar kid, “I got questions about those two.”
The boar kid, who this entire time was holding his kasugai crow in his hand, well more like keeping his hand over the bird’s face, preventing it from speaking. There was only one logical reasoning for that. He wanted the bird to not snitch on him, a common thing amongst slayers. Those birds loved to rat on their slayers at the first sign of breaking any Corp rule. Underage drinking, spending their money at the Entertainment District, doing missions not assigned to them. Those damn tattletales.
“Why are you dragging non-slayers into combat? Who are you anyways?”
“I’m Inosuke Hashibira!” the young slayer boasted proudly. “These are my minions, they help me fight.”
Okay, weird way to refer to your friends.
“Your rank?” This kid shouldn’t be sending non-slayers into higher rank missions.
“My hands are full,” he grumbled. One hand was holding up the sleeping girl, and the other was still preventing his crow from talking. That means he couldn’t show his hand and the rank imprinted on it. “This was my first mission! So whatever that means.”
Murata froze. “...You’re the latest Final Selection survivor?”
“Sure am!”
Oh, everyone was gonna be so jealous of him when they found out he met the latest hot gossip within the Corp. The rumors of what happened at that Final Selection have ranged from the kids being turned into demons, one of the Twelve Kizuki showing up, all the way to Kibutsuji himself causing the low survival rate this time around.
He shouldn’t go asking right away what happened right? He might not spill all the beans. Keep the details to himself that he wouldn’t tell a stranger. No, he should build a good relationship with the kid, and once he gets comfortable, Hashibira would give him all the juicy intel about what happened.
Murata coughed, hoping to keep his eagerness hidden. “I-If you’re starting out, I guess that it makes sense to have some help, as long as they can fend for themselves.”
“Well, duh.” Hashibira responded, like what he said was asinine. “I wouldn’t have weak minions with me.”
The urge to snap at the kid, younger and lower rank than him, was barely held back. If he wanted the intel he had to appear not like he had a stick up his ass. Even if this kid was making that extremely difficult.
“What about the one you’re holding?” he decided to pivot. “Why is she sleeping? Did she get hurt? Also…what’s with the muzzle on her face?”
Everyone in the small group turned to look at the sleeping girl. She seemed to be the youngest out of all of them. It could be that she was just exhausted and needed sleep, but his duty to make sure no one got hurt came first, even if that meant scolding the boy and not getting the details on the Final Selection.
“She’s not hurt!” Urokodaki’s student said immediately. “She’s my sister and she helps us!”
Murata scanned the girl’s form. “I don’t see a sword on her…how does she defend herself then?”
“She’s, uh, really fast.”
“And she doesn’t get involved in combat?” Staying around and helping with first aid like one of Kocho’s girls was one thing, but fighting was another.
“She hasn’t yet…”
That’s unfortunately probably the best answer he was going to get. You can’t predict that some slimy demon goes and attacks the defenseless young girl.
“And her wearing a muzzle…?”
Her brother didn’t have an answer this time, in fact he seemed rather scared to answer. So Hashibira spoke up instead.
“She bites.”
“Nezuko does not bite people!” Her brother.
“You take that back!” The blond.
“Are you serious?!” Scarface.
With how embarrassed they seem to be acting, that must be it. The poor Water Breather probably wanted to make a good impression and not get in trouble with the Corp before he took his examination.
Murata still took a step back. The girl was asleep and looked harmless but he didn’t want to risk getting bitten. He did that enough while fighting demons.
“Okay,” time to actually do his job, “are any of you hurt? And did you successfully defeat the demon?”
He got the run down from the group, who still seemed hesitant - excluding Hashibira - to look and respond to him, they may not be slayers but he wasn’t going to rat them out to anyone. The demon who had a Blood Demon Art that could create large rocks out of thin air. None of them were hurt and it was Hashibira as the only demon slayer present who beheaded the demon. There were some traveling merchants in the area who survived thanks to their efforts but might need to be checked on.
“Sounds good.” Murata spoke, committing the information given to memory to relay back to the kakushi. “Where are you heading after this, Hashibira?”
The boar boy shrugged. “I dunno, haven’t gotten my next mission.”
Murata blinked. “Your crow should have gone back to headquarters while you were doing this job.”
Inosuke raised the muzzled bird up. “Its wing is broken.”
“Already?!” Crow’s getting hurt wasn’t uncommon but that seemed record fast.
“It pissed me off earlier, so I broke it.”
Murata looked at the bird. Then to Hashibira. Back to the bird. Back to the boar boy.
And then he laughed.
That’s why the bird was kept from speaking! It would have told him that its slayer broke Corp rules and attacked a fellow Corp member, which the crows were considered to be. Ah well, served one of those tattletales right.
“Damn, Hashibira! With this and Final Selection, you’re gonna be the talk of the Corp!”
Still without a bird, the kid wouldn’t be able to do his job. “I just got assigned a mission to do after this job is done. You can have it instead if you want.”
That made Hashibira jump and reply back with elation. “Really?!”
“Yea, I can just tell my crow I wasn’t feeling this one, and they can give me a new one. You’re not supposed to do too much, but I’ll make an exception for you.” And the chance that Hashibira would be so grateful he’d consider Murata a friend he could tell secrets to.
He gave Hashibira the details. The next mission was located in Tokyo, specifically Asakusa. There were demon sightings over there, no descriptions of their appearance or any Blood Demon Arts. But the kakushi that reported it to the Corp did not feel an overpowering bloodlust, so these demons must be pretty weak. A perfect mission for a rookie like him. And a perfect mission to throw off his plate, he was awful at picking out demons if it wasn’t obvious, and in a place as big as Asakusa he would have been on the mission for weeks with no progress.
“Good luck on that mission!” Murata smiled at the children. “I’m Murata, by the way, once your crow is healed up, try to reach out to me! I’ll gladly be your guiding ropes to the Corp.”
Scarface seemed unamused with his offer, damn he really was giving off Wind Hashira vibes, but the rest seemed grateful for his offer. Maybe Kocho’s girl didn’t? Her face remained neutral but she probably knew the most about the Corp so he shouldn’t be too surprised about her not caring for his offer.
Urokodaki’s student bowed. “Thank you so much, Murata!”
Inosuke didn’t bow, and yes that did piss Murata off, but he supposed with the sleeping girl on his back he could excuse the lack of respect to his superior this time. Seriously if this kid didn’t spill something to him by the end of all of this…
“Take care!” He waved as he went in the direction that those merchants were supposed to be. Asakusa was in the other direction so they went their separate ways.
They weren’t quiet at all. Seriously why were they shouting about moving quickly before the sun came up, if anything they should be happy when demons couldn’t be out anymore.
Giving his mission to Hashibira was fine and all in the moment, but Murata really should have thought what kind of mission he would be given next as a result.
God, he hated when he had to interact with the Hashira. Absolutely terrifying, all of them, though Tomioka might be an exception. And to work with the oldest and longest standing one, oh should have gotten Hashibira to explain what happened, with now a chance he might die.
He carefully spotted the Stone Hashira, the man he was sent to support on this upcoming mission, from behind the peach tree. His kasugai crow had let Murata know that the Stone Hashira was traveling, seeing different trainers, and offering them condolences for the loss of their students in Final Selection.
Murata noticed the yellow sword next to the old man, presumably trainer, and realized he must be a Thunder Breather. Cleaning the old thing which reminded him of his slayer days and then now being told that one of his students died.
He could hear the old man sob from here. “I…I-” he struggled to get out. “I sent that boy to his death. I dragged him to Final Selection, even when he begged to go home. Oh, Zenitsu…”
Himejima rubbed his beads together, silent tears falling down his face. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Kuwajima.”
The Thunder Breathing trainer did nothing to respond but collapse on the ground, his crying continued as an answer.
Murata did not know what to do in this situation. Comforting others wasn’t something uncommon in the Corp, consoling people who lost loved ones to demons was basically the second part of the job. But he should not be here, he had no relationship to either and their emotions seemed high. It was best practice to give space to the mourners.
So he sat behind the peach tree, ignoring that his legs were cramping up. It was annoying but he refused to groan in pain and become louder than the sobs coming from the old man.
Apparently that wasn’t enough, as while he was quietly stretching one of his legs, hoping to get the blood moving again, Himejima had come up to him. Man, while sitting down, the large Stone Hashira looked even more intimidating.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Murata jumped and covered his mouth and the scream that was sure to have come out of it. When he finally trusted himself to not be loud with his response he let out, “A-Ah, Stone Hashira! I-I’ve been assigned to help you with an upcoming mission!”
Himejima nodded, but turned to the old man, Kuwajima. “Very well. But I would like to wait until Kuwajima is in better spirits. Helping those who lost someone in the past Final Selection…it’s the least I can do to atone.”
He wasn’t sure what Himejima meant by atone, and Murata valued his life too much to ask that, so instead he went with the easy route to take this conversation. Agreement. “Yea…it’s crazy to think all candidates but Hashibira were killed so viciously….”
Himejima rubbed his beads together and hummed. “So news has spread about the incident among the lower ranks of the Corp?”
“Only rumors and stuff over who actually attacked the candidates.” Murata answered, trying to not stammer. Sometimes the upper ranks of the Corp don’t like rumors being spread around. “I just met Hashibira on my last mission.”
“You met the boy?” The Stone Hashira seemed surprised. “How was he? What can you tell me about him?”
Oh wow, intel on Hashibira was already paying off. “He’s rude to his superiors,” he started with a bitter mutter, but continued without the bite. “Hyperactive, seems impatient. But overall, he seems like a good kid. Him and his in-training friends.”
Himejima’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“He had a group of in-training slayers with him. They had nichirin swords but no uniforms, so they haven’t passed the exam yet.” Murata answered nervously. Afterall, that wasn’t against the rules. Reckless yes, but helping a slayer is helping a slayer.
“If some trainers are letting their students participate in demon slaying before passing, I must know who and have them reconsider their training methods. What are those children’s names? What Breathing Techniques did they know?”
Murata felt his heart drop. “I…didn’t ask.” He could feel Himejima’s disappointment in the air so he quickly stammered. “B-but I do know where one came from! U-Urokodaki! He’s a Water Breathing trainer.”
The soft clicks of a wooden leg and cane made both Murata and Himejima turn to the Thunder Breathing trainer. “That’s not right…Urokodaki sent me a letter earlier. His student has passed on and let me know mine had as well. Himejima over here provided the details.”
Murata felt his face fall. “I, uh, I thought those weird warding masks were a staple of his. At least they were during my exam…”
Kuwajima did not respond to that, neither did Himejima. He must have led them to another dead end with his information so he tried again. “Uh, one had a butterfly pin! A lot like the Insect Hashira’s! Maybe she knows something…?”
Himejima frowned and spoke low. “...That cannot be right. Shinobu had let me know about her loss. That girl is dead.”
“B-but I just saw her, not two days ago,” Murata squeaked out. “Did she pass in that time?”
Himejima’s grasp on his beads loosened, his frame shrunk, his frown deepened. He must have come to realize something, and whatever it was broke something within him.
“Can you provide a description for each of Hashibira’s friends?” Himejima asked, his voice tight.
Not wanting to upset a Hashira, at least more than he already has, Murata stammered out. “U-uh…The girl had a butterfly pin in a side ponytail wearing a pink kimono. Urokodaki’s student had his signature warding mask and a blue kimono. Another boy had a huge scar on his face and he was wearing a purple yukata. Then there was a blond boy with a yellow haori! O-oh, and Urokodaki’s student’s little sister. I didn’t get a good look at her besides that she wore a muzzle.”
Kuwajima’s eyes widened and he stumbled over to Murata, gripping his uniform tight. “Boy…are you being honest? That you saw a young boy with yellow hair? Was that haori he was wearing yellow with white spots?”
“Y-yes!” Murata panicked from the sudden overwhelming contact. “That’s what he was wearing!”
Himejima clapped his hands together and Murata felt his blood go cold. He was surprised his legs hadn’t failed him and that he was still standing. All this pressure from Hashira, both current and former, was too much. Maybe knowing all this information on Hashibira wasn’t worth it after all.
“Murata, answer me. Where is Hashibira going next?”