46. Tokito Muichiro

The sun rose over the Swordsmith Village, casting a warm, golden glow over the hidden valley.

The siblings were walking around the village looking for the secret weapon Mitsuri had told them about. Hana walked slowly, her eyes half-closed. She had been dragged out of bed by her brother, and her mind was still foggy with sleep. Beside her, Tanjiro was full of energy.

"I wonder what this weapon Kanroji-san talked about is!" Tanjiro said, his eyes bright with curiosity. He looked at Hana, hoping for a spark of excitement, but she only offered a faint hmmm in response. "Is it a hidden sword? Is it buried underground? It’s like a treasure hunt, Hana! I’m so excited!"

"We need to find Haganezuka-san first," Tanjiro reminded her, though his focus shifted quickly. "But... hmm?" Tanjiro stopped mid-stride. His nose twitched, his head tilting as he caught a scent on the wind.

Hana followed his gaze toward a distant clearing stood a young boy wearing the hyottoko mask. He was trembling. Standing over him was a teenager with long, jet-black hair that faded into a striking turquoise at the tips.

"That’s a Hashira," Tanjiro whispered. "What did Shinobu-san call him? Ah, yes. The Mist Hashira, Muichiro Tokito."

The two in the clearing were locked in a heated exchange. The young smith, was clutching something tightly behind his back, his small frame shaking with a mix of terror and defiance.

"GO AWAY!" Kotetsu screamed, his voice cracking. "I’M NOT HANDING MY KEY OVER, NO MATTER WHAT! AND I DEFINITELY AIN’T TEACHING YOU HOW TO USE IT!"

Tanjiro’s brow furrowed with concern. "What’s happening? Are they arguing over a key?"

"It looks like it," Hana replied, her eyes narrowing as she observed them. "And it doesn’t look like a fair fight.

Before they could reach the clearing to intervene, Muichiro’s hand moved in a blur.  He slapped Kotetsu across the face. The force was enough to spin the boy around, and with a flick of his hand, the Hashira knocked the child toward the dirt.

"HEEEEEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Tanjiro yelled.

Hana and Tanjiro sprinted forward, their boots kicking up dust. Tanjiro reached them first, lunging out to grab Muichiro’s wrist just as the Hashira raised his hand to strike again. Tanjiro gripped the arm with all his strength, bracing his feet, expecting to pull the boy back.

But Muichiro didn’t budge. He stood as still as a stone statue, not even bothered by the siblings sudden interference.

He's not even flinching! Tanjiro thought, his teeth gritting. I’m pulling with everything I have.

Muichiro slowly turned his head. His eyes were dull and vacant. He looked at Tanjiro, then shifted his gaze toward Hana, who had stepped up beside them.

"Your voice is so annoying..." Muichiro said, his voice monotone and devoid of any emotion. "Who are you?"

He doesn't remember us, Hana thought shaking her head. Even though we've met before at the headquarters...

"Why are you hurting thim?" Hana asked, stepping between the Hashira and the fallen Kotetsu. "He’s from this village. You’re supposed to be protecting people, not assaulting them."

"Let go of—" Tanjiro started, but his words were cut off as he realized with a that despite the Mist Hashira’s small frame, his physical power was overwhelming. He has thinner arms, and he’s smaller than me... but this strength is terrifying!

"You let go." Muichiro said. With a movement so fast neither of them could track it, Muichiro’s leg snapped up. He kicked Tanjiro squarely in the chest, and he was sent tumbling back through the dirt, gasping for air.

Hana’s eyes widened. She moved to support Tanjiro.

"You’re weak," Muichiro remarked, bored. "I’m surprised you even managed to get into the Demon Slayer Corps. You lack the basic capacity to understand your surroundings."

His eyes then shifted, landing on the wooden box strapped to Tanjiro’s back. "Hmm? That box feels strange. Do I sense a demon? What’s in there? Is that–"

He reached out toward the latch, his fingers inches away from Nezuko’s box.
Before he could touch the box, Hana stepped forward and slapped his hand away with a sharp thwack. She stood tall, shielding the box with her
own body, glaring at the Hashira.

"Don't touch that," she spat, her voice low and dangerous.

Muichiro blinked, momentarily distracted by her defiance. Hana reached down, pulling Kotetsu up by his shoulders and moving him several feet away to safety.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, checking the boy for injuries.

"Hey! Get off me!" Kotetsu squirmed, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

"You don't look so good, take care of yourself." Hana said, trying to steady his shaking hands.

"Go away!" Kotetsu flailed his arms, but he was shaking so hard he could barely stand. He clutched the key to his chest as if it were his very soul. "I’m not handing this key over to anyone. Not even under torture! It belongs to my family, and besides... it is gonna break very soon! If it's used one more time, it's over!"

Muichiro sighed, looking profoundly bored by the emotional display. "Have you ever been under torture? Not even adults can endure it, so it’s impossible for you. It seems like you’re just a dumb kid who doesn’t know his place."

Hana turned to look at the Hashira in utter disbelief. The coldness in his words was sharper than any blade. "Stop it!He’s just a child!"

Muichiro ignored her entirely, his eyes fixed on Kotetsu. "And so what if it breaks? Just make another. You know, in all this time that you’ve been grumbling and mumbling and wasting my breath, do you know how many people have died?"

He stepped closer, his presence looming over the boy despite his own short stature. "That’s what happens when you get in the way of a Hashira. Your time and a Hashira’s time have completely different values. If you used your head just a little, you’d understand. Swordsmiths can’t fight. They can’t save someone’s life directly. They only have the ability to make weapons. So come on... the key. Know your place in life, and act accordingly. Because you aren’t a baby."

Muichiro held out his hand, palm up, waiting for the key. Kotetsu trembled so violently that the mask on his face rattled. He gripped the back of Hana’s haori, hiding his face behind her shoulder.

Tanjiro, having regained his breath, stepped up again. He moved between Hana and the Hashira, and with a firm movement, he slapped Muichiro’s hand away from the young swordsmith.

"This... this just... doesn't sit right with me!" Tanjiro shouted, his voice echoing through the clearing. "I'm not exactly sure why you're so angry, but I know this is wrong! What about consideration? You can't just forget to be considerate here! That's just cruel!"

Muichiro looked at Tanjiro with a tilted head. "Am I cruel? You... you're correct. But even if you're not wrong, it doesn't matter."

Tanjiro didn't back down. "Swordsmiths have a very important and crucial job! They possess amazing skills that are essential to us! Because frankly, if they don't forge swords for us, we can't do anything at all, right? Swordsmen and swordsmiths need each other to function properly. They both fight the same fight! We fight every day, albeit in different places. They fight at the forge so we can fight in the field!"

Tanjiro went on, about the relation between those who wield the blades and those who pour their souls into the steel. He spoke of the respect deserved by the village, of the craftsmanship that kept them alive, and of the heart required to be a slayer.

Hana nodded along, her heart swelling with pride for Tanjiro. He always knew how to say what was right, even when facing someone as formidable as a Hashira.

For a moment, Muichiro was silent. He looked down at the ground, his long bangs obscuring his eyes.

"Sorry," Muichiro said.

Hana let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. He understands, she thought. He’s apologizing. He realized he was being too harsh and he’s ready to back away and not bother the child anymore.

But then, Muichiro looked up. The vacancy in his eyes hadn't changed.
"I don't have time for this pointless conversation," Muichiro muttered.

Hana’s eyes widened. The shift in the air was instantaneous. Faster than a strike of lightning, before Tanjiro could even finish his next sentence, Muichiro’s hand moved. He delivered a precise, powerful blow to Tanjiro’s stomach. The boy gasped, his eyes rolling back as his consciousness flickered out, and he slumped toward the ground.

"Hey—!" Hana started, moving towards Tanjiro.

She saw Muichiro’s hand rising again, this time directed toward her. She didn't hesitate. She threw her arm up, bracing for the impact, and successfully blocked his initial strike. She felt a painful blow in arm, but she held her ground.

"Leave us alone!" she snapped.

Then, he disappeared.

It wasn't that he ran away, he simply vanished from her line of sight. Hana spun in a circle, her eyes darting between the trees and the shadows. The clearing was silent. There was no sound of footsteps, no rustle of leaves.

Did he leave? she wondered, looking around.

She started to turn back toward the unconscious Tanjiro and the terrified Kotetsu, but a sudden, presence appeared directly behind her. She didn't even have time to draw a breath, let alone move.

A sharp, heavy strike landed on the back of her neck...Hana’s knees buckled, and as her face met the cool grass, the world went completely black.