A Little Inconvenience

[Hello, Hello! Your author here once more to announce my huge facepalm - I messed up the timeline for this fanfic thanks to Hand Demon. Of course, you may ask... What did that little goofy, lovely, and handful guy do? Well, stating the literal date when the show really began... and I did not even notice.

Turns out he mentioned being captured 47 years ago during the Keio era, which was from 1865 to 1868. Doing the math puts that around 1912 to 1915, plus another year for the events before as the story begins around the Entertainment District arc. Yeah... And like an idiot, I had been setting my whole story in the 1920s! When I thought about trying to fix it, I realized that would be way more trouble than it's worth.

So I thought... How about we ignore those years, and say that the whole Demon Slayer AU-(Alternative Universe)'s story slipped some years? It'll make more sense logically if I set the story a few years after WWI because then the characters can travel between countries easier, without any conflicts. Later on in the story, as I finish the Entertainment District Arc, I'm gonna focus on demon problems in Europe. So that's the hand-wavey explanation I'm going with! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.]

Shigeo glanced anxiously at the hulking figure beside him, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the worn leather handle of his school satchel. The dull crest of his institution was emblazoned across its surface, a reminder of the normalcy his life had held just days before. Now, trepidation filled his youthful features as he hesitated, licking his lips before beginning to speak in a timid tone, "Umm...Is this re-"

Before the question had fully left his lips, the giant cut him off with a quick "Yes!" The word was spoken in an assured tone that betrayed no doubt. His companion strode confidently onward down the sun-dappled sidewalk, the large umbrella held aloft sheltering them both from the golden morning light that Shigeo would have preferred to feel warm upon his skin.

The youth stopped in his tracks, turning to face the gigantic figure beside him with unconcealed discomfort written across his expression. "Did you not specify that you would observe my family from afar and only intervene directly when absolutely necessary?", he implored, shifting the weight of his satchel upon his shoulder. "It is rather strange and awkward to have someone accompany me to school at my age..."

The giant took three more thudding steps before stopping and lowering the umbrella slightly as he glanced down at the boy. "To be honest, our duties have not truly begun. The Demon King still does not know that my Master yet lives." His deep voice rumbled with an unspoken threat.

"However," he continued, "my Master cares deeply for the safety of your family. He is rather overprotective at times, so I cannot go against his wishes."

"Or?" Shigeo glanced up at him, curiosity and trepidation warring in his eyes.

"Or..." The giant shook his head, a grim smile quirking the corner of his mouth, "Well, that would be rather nasty, for sure." he mused not knowing if he would go against such an important order, he would be killed instantly.

The giant chose not to elaborate further, not wishing to alarm or distress the youth. Instead, they continued their walk in tense silence for a long moment before he provided a further context in a measured yet earnest tone.

Shigeo quickened his steps to arrive at the man's side once more. "Also, it would raise too much suspicion if I only watched you from afar. People may think the worst, assuming the worst of intentions. The authorities may even intervene... You know, only trouble."

"And you cannot just, you know, use your demonic powers to... Uhm... Become one with the shadow and observe me like that?" Shigeo's cheeks flushed once more at his foolish assumption.

Jiacheng paused and turned to look at the youth, disappointment, and disbelief wrinkling his imposing features. The boy, who had shown wisdom just hours before, had just uttered something beyond foolish.

In a solemn tone, Jiacheng replied "We are demons, boy, not magicians. Not every demon possesses such powers... but there may be one or two who can. I do not know."

Shigeo's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his foolish assumption. "O-Oh..." he stammered. "Well, how could I know that? I'm not a demon..." his voice trailed off awkwardly.

Jiacheng paused, considering the youth for a long moment before responding. A slight smile quirked the corners of his mouth as he spoke in an amused tone. "True, you are no demon. And yet your question reveals a cunning mind of one... You already figured out we possess powers beyond those of men, Blood Demon Arts... How very intriguing?"

"Blood Demon... What?" Shigeo blinked in confusion.

"Oh, well, maybe not." The giant chuckled a low rumble that caused the hairs on the back of the boy's neck to stand on end.

"Could you at least tell me what are, if you are already teasing with it?"

The giant being towers over the young boy, his very presence exuding an ancient and ominous aura. His low chuckle rumbles forth from the depths of his massive form, a throaty sound that sends a chill down the boy's spine.

"You ask of the Blood Demon Arts," he begins, his words slow and sonorous. "Know then that they are mysterious and frightening powers wielded by my kind."

"The Blood Demon Arts draw their strength from the vital essence of living creatures - their blood. With each fresh draught of scarlet fluid consumed, the arts are nourished and grow ever stronger." The Jiacheng's eyes glow faintly with an inner flame as he speaks of the gruesome rituals. "Mastery of the shadows is one type of a Blood Demon Art. Transformation of flesh and form, manipulation of the mind, manipulation of the elements - all are within the grasp of those who drink deeply from..."

Jiacheng abruptly broke off, realizing his words may have gone too far. Meeting Shigeo's eyes, he saw a tired look there.

"Sorry, bad habit," Jiacheng mumbled apologetically.

"I figured," Shigeo replied, his expression weary. He had suspected Jiacheng's nature held powers beyond humanity, though hearing them spoken of so directly was unsettling. Thinking that they were not attacked by one Demon already, that might wielded such power was almost a miracle. Maybe they also consider that they shouldn't attack homes in busy towns like theirs.

"Hey," Shigeo exclaimed, "Could you tell me what is your Blood Demon Art, Jiacheng-san? It made me curious..."

Jiacheng looked at Shigeo with a serious look. "There's an old saying, 'Never ask a woman her age, a man his salary...and a demon his Blood Demon Art.'"

Shigeo blinked in confusion and tiredness. "I've never heard that."

"Of course, I just made the last part up."

Shigeo spoke again in a flat, lifeless drone. "I mean the whole saying sounds unfamiliar."

An awkward chasm of silence yawned open as Jiacheng's eyes became round circles of panic and his face transformed into a featureless oval, any semblance of countenance vaporizing in an instant.

"Ah..." Jiacheng emitted a strained squeak. "Maybe it would be best-"

"No, I don't think this could be any better now," Shigeo intoned in a lifeless monotone that carried an air of finality. Almost fake tears appeared in his eyes. He held his hand to his chest and shook his head sadly, as he overly dramatized this scene.

"Oh my, you are way worse than Eudokia, she at least hears me out before saying such rude things..." He sniffed loudly and wiped a tear from his cheek.

Shigeo looked on in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as the demon hammed up the dramatics, and not only him but the people around them. He also considered, how could this man even kill someone. He's so pious, silly, and a great guy with some mischief on the inside even though his features on the outside say the other. He... almost began to trust Jiacheng.

But then suddenly Jiacheng sniffed the air, and Shigeo saw a dark change come over his face. Mirth fled from his expression, banished in an instant, as solemn seriousness took its place. His eyes narrowed and scanned the crowd, landing on some unseen figure that made his jaw clench and brows furrow.

Where before Jiacheng had seemed carefree and jovial, he now seemed dangerous, his powerful physique taking on a grim aura of menace. Although he had not moved an inch, Shigeo could almost feel the coiled tension radiating from his still form, like a viper ready to strike.

Jiacheng spoke, his voice was low and grim. "Shigeo-kun, if you don't mind... Could you go alone from now on? I have unfinished business." His eyes never left that distant figure in the crowd, and Shigeo knew that whoever had drawn Jiacheng's wrath was in mortal peril.

In a heartbeat, the harmless jester had become a deadly harbinger of doom. Though still outwardly calm, Jiacheng now seemed barely contained violence given form, his good humor stripped away to reveal the demon within.

Shigeo watched him go with troubled thoughts. This dual nature of Jiacheng's - gleeful trickster one moment, vengeful monster the next - unsettled him deeply.

"I-" Before he could say anything Jiacheng cut him short.

"GO," Jiacheng growled. Without any second thought, Shigeo quickened his steps, leaving Jiacheng behind under the shadows of the umbrella. Doubt and confusion swirled within Shigeo's mind as he hurried away from Jiacheng.

"What was this?" he thought to himself. Jiacheng's sudden change from silly revelry to grim purpose left Shigeo reeling.

"Who was the figure in the crowd that had aroused such wrath?" Shigeo wondered. "An enemy...but do demons even have enemies? Jiacheng seemed immensely powerful - there's no way a man could fight such a being on equal terms. Then what could it be? Another demon perhaps?"

A cold chill ran down Shigeo's spine at the thought. If Jiacheng's target was indeed another demon, the ensuing confrontation could be catastrophic. Demonic powers clashing in a crowded street - the carnage would be unimaginable.

"That might be very bad...no, really bad," Shigeo thought, a sense of dread permeating his mind.

The more he considered it, the more likely it seemed that only another demon would warrant such a grim reaction from Jiacheng, considering a giant umbrella is enough to make them walk under the sun, that suppose to kill them.

It is a bit whacky and stupid, isn't it?

As Shigeo hurried away, doubts and confusion swirled within him. Then, suddenly, a realization dawned that lifted his heart: if Jiacheng could zero in on one individual in that crowded street, then perhaps he could help Shigeo find his lost sister.

Hope surged through him, bright and jagged - a ray of light piercing the gloom. Yes, with Jiacheng's keen senses and powerful abilities, finding Shigeo's long-missing sister, Mitsuri might finally be possible.

He stopped in his tracks, doubt and hesitation gripping him. Yet Shigeo hesitated. Though desperate for answers, should he really seek help from demonic beings? Well... The answer was obvious.

No- I mean...

For years he had searched in vain for any trace of his sister, yet now a being of ancient power walked the same earth. A way to solve the mystery that had haunted him for so long lay perhaps within reach. Should he turn back and ask for Jiacheng's aid? No, it could wait. If he waited for one and a half-year, he could wait until evening. He might help... or at least, he hoped so.

If Hidemasa truly wants to make sure their family will be safe. Then it will be necessary... or that's what Shigeo wants to be? Maybe her sister is perfectly fine, furthermore, safer knowing that she is away from home, where that said Muzan would search for them.

But then doubt crept in again. If Hidemasa truly wanted to ensure their family's safety, enlisting Jiacheng's aid would be necessary...or so Shigeo told himself. Yet what if Mitsuri was perfectly fine, even safer away from home where Muzan would search after them?

The more Shigeo pondered, the more troubled he became. Jiacheng's mercurial nature unsettled him - might his powers do more harm than good? And could Shigeo be sure Mitsuri truly needed finding or was he acting out of his own longing rather than her best interests?

These knotted, troubling questions plagued Shigeo as he walked on without Jiacheng, wondering now if keeping Mitsuri's location unknown might protect her best of all. For some mysteries, once uncovered, could never be made right again.

However before he could continue thinking again, his shoulder was grabbed by an unknown individual. "Hey," he said with a serious voice. Shigeo slowly turned his head in a near-automatic response, his nerves have become somewhat immune to such minor surprises after all he had witnessed recently.

Behind him stood a man in his early to mid-twenties with brown unkempt hair. The man wore a black haori adorned by white squares and black kimono made of sturdy material that hinted at a uniform of sorts. The pants, crafted from a sturdy cloth like cotton, reached down to the ankles.

"Perhaps from the military?" Shigeo's sharp eyes carefully studied the young man's attire. "No... The uniform looks way different, even though they have many similarities," he then fully turned to the man whose expression did not change the slightest.

"Mind if I ask a question?" the man said in a demanding tone. Shigeo carefully observed the minute details of the stranger's clothing as well as his attitude. Though he would rather not answer, the man's demanding tone and impolite demeanor made it clear that he would not walk away until he got some sort of response. Against his better judgment, Shigeo decided to answer his rude inquiry, if only to make him go away.

"You know that was rather sudden... and impolite," Shigeo said, unable to mask the slight irritation in his tone. "But alright... I can hear your question," he said with feigned nonchalance, though a hint of annoyance still colored his words.

The stranger wasted no time, barking out his query with equal brusqueness: "Do you know that man who was with you? The one with the umbrella."

Shigeo detected the impatient urgency poorly concealed in the stranger's voice, an eagerness bordering on impudence. The vague implication of familiarity did little to improve Shigeo's view of the uncouth man's comportment. Still, one thing was certain: he meant Jiacheng. Could this be the one...?

He replied in an evasive yet truthful manner, "We only just met."

Unsatisfied, the stranger pressed further. "What did you talk about?"

Shigeo began, "I do not believe that is any of your--"

The stranger interrupted rudely, his demanding tone taking on an edge of irritation. "What," he said sharply, "did you talk about?"

Shigeo knew that if he mentioned anything about Blood Demon Arts and Demons, he would be instantly branded as insane and locked up in an asylum... also it seems that this is kinda secretive information, so he shouldn't even spit it out. Thus, he decided to be even more evasive this time and carefully replied, "Just general small talk, nothing too significant. He wanted some guidance around here."

Somewhat placated but still doubtful, the stranger offered a perfunctory bow. "Thank you for your help. My apologies for interrupting you!"

He then turned around and went the opposite way. This was a rather strange conversation for sure.

x-x-x

The man's cheeks as he strode purposefully into the bustling Tokyo crowd, his dark haori billowing slightly behind him. Years of training allowed him to maintain an outward calm despite the turmoil within. His fingers twitched unconsciously towards the hilt of his katana, hid under clothing wrapped around under his haori, itching to draw the blade and seek out his quarry.

His eyes scanned the throngs of people, searching for any sign of the two he sought. "Where is he and where is his woman companion?" he thought bitterly. "The fools actually believe they can walk these streets in broad daylight without being noticed, even in a city as large as Tokyo." Anger and disdain colored his thoughts. "Niigata, perhaps. But Tokyo? They truly have a death wish. And it seems they are searching for something... What could it be?"

Surely they knew they could not evade him forever. He would hunt them to the ends of the earth, running them to the ground like the prey they were.

The weight of the katana in his calloused hands was reassuringly familiar as the slayer stalked through the bustling Azabu's street. His gaze swept over the oblivious crowds, searching for any clue that would lead him to his prey. Merchants hawked their wares and rickshaw drivers called out for business, but their noises faded into the background. His senses were focused, vigilant for any sign of the rogue demon he hunted throughout the country.

A flash of movement caught his eye - there, in the narrow alleyway across the boulevard. Though the alley was crowded with carts and pedestrians, it led into a maze of shadowy backstreets where his quarry likely lurked, hoping to evade justice in the darkness.

The slayer cut a purposeful path through the crowds, his stride betraying his determination. As he entered the confines of the alley, the clamor of the city muted behind him. Refuse and filth littered the ground, clinging to his sandals, but he ignored the foul stench and pressed on into the shadows. His prey was near; he could feel it. His calloused hands tightened on the woven hilt of his katana, flexing in anticipation.

His soft footsteps echoed through the darkness as he stalked down one narrow street after another, senses tingling. The disreputable denizens of the backstreets shied away from his intimidating figure, muttering warnings to each other in hushed tones.

Finally, he spotted a familiar silhouette - an enormous man lurking in a pool of darkness, clutching a folded umbrella in one massive fist. A black greatcoat hung from his bulky shoulders and a fedora obscured his crude features.

The slayer's grip tightened around the hilt of his hid katana, drawing the weapon smoothly from its scabbard. The polished steel sang as it cleared the sheath, throwing distorted reflections of the alley walls onto the enemy before him. But where the blade should have glowed silver, an eerie green light seeped from within the metal, bathing the slayer's immense form in its ghostly radiance.

"This ends here," he said, dripping with loathing as he spoke. "Demon!" Every muscle in his body tensed as he slid one foot back and sank into a fighting stance, leveling his glowing blade at the monster's head. "Where's the other one? I suppose you are partners?"

The demon remained silent, massive form unmoving inside the greatcoat. Then, with exaggerated slowness, it tipped the wide brim of its fedora upward, revealing dark brown eyes that gleamed with cruelty and intelligence.

"You shouldn't have followed us... little annoyance," the demon rasped in a grave voice as if words pained it.

The man's eyes narrowed as he listened to the demon's words. He could feel the tension in the air, the palpable sense of danger that hung heavy around them. But he did not waver, his grip on his blade firm and unyielding.

The demon's eyes flickered with tiredness as it continued to speak. "Now, I have to watch out to not stain my clothes," it sneered, its tone mocking yet monotone. "They were quite expensive, you know."

The man's patience was wearing thin, and he demanded once more, "Answer my question!"

The demon regarded him with a cool detachment as if it were considering his request. "Even if I answered," it rasped, "what would a dead man do with that?"

The man's eyes narrowed, and he bristled with anger at the demon's insinuation. "Tch, I'll show you!" he declared, his voice ringing with determination.

With a swift, fluid motion, the man lunged forward, his blade flashing in the dim light. His movements were quick and precise as if he had been trained for years to wield a sword with deadly accuracy.

As he closed in on the demon, he inhaled a large amount of air, his mind focused solely on the task at hand. His sword was poised to strike, and he was determined to end this battle once and for all. But to his surprise, the demon stood there motionless, as if it couldn't process the slayer's incredible speed, which only made him more cocky.

"Wind Breathing: First Form-" Before he could finish his silly calling out, the Demon threw his fedora hat at him and disappeared with a blink. The Slayer was confused until, he appeared right in front of him, with another blink.

In the next instant, the demon launched its attack. Its movements were fluid and graceful, reminiscent of the Xingyiquan fighting style. The man was caught off guard, his sword still hanging in mid-air as the demon's attack landed.

The demon's fist connected with the man's chest with incredible force, knocking the breath out of him and sending him tumbling backward. The man's sword clattered to the ground as he struggled to regain his footing, but the demon was already upon him.

"W-What? H-How is he that fast... He doesn't even in his demon form..." The slayer thought to himself, as a spat of salvia left his mouth.

Jiacheng's movements were lightning-fast, as he delivered a series of blows that left the man reeling. The demon's fists blurred as he struck with deadly accuracy, each blow landing with bone-crunching force, perfectly aimed at the lethal points of the human body.

Despite his training and experience, the man was no match for the demon's speed and skill. In a matter of seconds, he was lying on the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his bruised and battered body. Jiacheng with a stylish manner caught his fedora hat and placed it on his head. The demon regarded him with a cool detachment as if the battle were little more than a minor inconvenience.

The man labored to draw breath, his body aching from the vicious onslaught of the demon. He glared up at Jiacheng, his eyes a tempest of anger and terror, uncertain of the fiend's true intent.

Fury surged within the man, and he spat out a venomous curse. "F...Fuck you!"

Jiacheng's visage remained impassive and aloof as he responded, "You ought to have ceased your journey at Takasaki, young one. Now, I am compelled to extract information from you by force."

A frigid chill, colder than the tomb, seeped into the man's very marrow as the horrifying realization dawned upon him: this demon had been tracking him all along. He had unwittingly wandered into the predator's snare, oblivious to the fact that he was being observed, assessed, and deemed worthy prey with each footfall. He was supposed to be the hunter, and yet here he was, shattered and sprawled at the feet of this abomination.

"Y-You knew?" he stammered, disbelief heavy in his voice.

"Of course," Jiacheng replied nonchalantly. "By merely attuning myself to the cadence of your heartbeat and the intensity of your breath, I could effortlessly discern who possessed both strength and skill. And once I discovered you, your unique scent was indelible in my mind. You even caught sight of me on the train... I could sense the heat of your loathing boring into me, a searing fire in your eyes." With that, he seized the slayer's hair and hoisted him up to meet his cold gaze. "Now, will you enlighten me?"

Spittle flew from the slayer's mouth, aimed at Jiacheng, an act he did not appreciate in the slightest.

Jiacheng's voice was ice. "Should I interpret that as your response?"

The slayer spat back, "Take it as you wish, I don't talk!"

Gripping the slayer's hair tightly, Jiacheng drew back his fist and slammed it into the man's jaw with brute force. The slayer's head snapped back in a spray of blood as his lip split open.

Jiacheng hauled the wounded man closer. "I will break every bone, tear every ligament until you have no choice but to speak," his tone was quiet yet promised immense violence.

The slayer glared up at the demon through one swollen eye. "Go to hell," he spat.

An evil smile curled Jiacheng's lips. "Oh I will, but you, my friend," he said softly. "You will be the one descending into that pit today." Jiacheng's smile widened. "Oh, also, could you tell me a good tourist attraction...if I'm already here, I should enjoy it to the fullest." His tone was mocking, and patronizing.

The slayer was nonplussed. "W-What?" he stammered.

"Talk already, little annoyance," his voice was quiet, full of menace. The slayer looked at him with despair, he know he couldn't do anything against such a foe, and as such, his only hope was to have someone turn on the corner and stop him... if somebody would be able to.

x-x-x