Demon Slayer: Guardian of the Forest

Shinichi clutched his chest as a suffocating sensation surged through his throat, making it hard to breathe. It felt as though something was violently churning inside his chest. The sound of his heart pounding reverberated in his ears, drowning out all other noise. 

Veins bulged across his face, neck, and forehead as he braced himself with one hand on the ground and the other gripping his shirt collar, gasping for air. By his side, the little shiba inu, Enji, whimpered anxiously, circling his master in distress.

"You... what… have you done!?" Shinichi rasped, his voice strained from the effort of breathing.

Across the room, the elderly Moriki patriarch remained calm, his demeanor unshaken as he began to recount a story.

"Over four centuries ago, the demon slayers pioneered the art of Breathing Techniques. These techniques allowed warriors to channel incredible power, enabling them to defeat countless demons. In those early days, many brilliant swordsmen emerged, each devising unique techniques that became legacies in their own right.

The Breath of the Forest, which has been passed down through generations of my family, was born during that golden age. Yet, centuries later, I am now the last living practitioner of this art. Today, I want to share the tale of the ancestor who created the Breath of the Forest."

The old man's eyes glistened with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he reflected on the tale he was about to share—a tale that had been etched into his soul since his youth.

On the floor across from him, Shinichi struggled to focus. The suffocating sensation eased, replaced by an overwhelming fatigue that spread through his body.

"Initially, our ancestor was no hero," the elder continued, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "In fact, he was a prodigal son—a hedonist with no sense of direction or responsibility. But upon coming of age, he transformed into a man of unparalleled determination. Within a single year, he amassed a fortune and revitalized our once-failing family, elevating the Moriki clan to prominence in Kyoto.

It was during this time that he learned of the existence of demons. Faced with the horrors they inflicted upon humanity, he abandoned his privileged life and dedicated himself to becoming a swordsman. Within a year, he developed the Breath of the Forest, a technique unlike any other."

A flicker of pride lit the elder's face before it dimmed, replaced by a deep sadness.

"However, at the height of his achievements, disaster struck. On a snowy night, our ancestor vanished without a trace while hunting demons. When he finally returned to the family… he was no longer human."

"What?" Shinichi's fatigue lifted momentarily as his crimson eyes widened. "He… became a demon?"

The elder nodded solemnly. "Yes. The pride of the Moriki clan, our brilliant forebear, had succumbed to darkness and turned into a demon. That night, he massacred nearly every member of our family, sparing only two of his own children who managed to hide in a cellar.

Our family teetered on the brink of extinction. Yet, years later, the ancestor returned. But this time… he didn't come to kill. Instead, over the course of a year, he passed down the Breath of the Forest to his surviving descendants. And then, one fateful night, he took up his Nichirin Blade and ended his life, declaring it an act of atonement for his sins."

The elder unsheathed a blade with a verdant hue, its surface gleaming faintly. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air as he revealed the family heirloom.

Across from him, Shinichi stared in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that? A demon passed down a breathing technique to his children? That's absurd—it sounds like some story out of a novel!"

Yet deep within, Shinichi couldn't shake a strange unease. A fleeting vision flashed in his mind—a figure cloaked in green, their presence both haunting and familiar. "That figure… Could it be him? No! That's impossible! This whole story is ridiculous!"

The elder made no effort to argue further, giving Shinichi time to process.

At that moment, a soft knock echoed through the room. The young woman, Chie Luikawa, entered carrying a tray laden with dorayaki and a steaming pot of tea. The sweet aroma of the treats wafted into the air as she carefully set them on the table.

Chie, ever considerate, had also brought a small dish of fragrant meat rice for Enji, who barked happily before digging into the meal with gusto. Unable to resist the fluffy pup's charm, Chie reached out and gave his head a gentle pat, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Have some tea, young man," the elder said, raising his own cup. With a calm sip, he set the cup back on the tray.

Still distracted by his thoughts, Shinichi picked up a cup without thinking and took a sip.

The tea was slightly bitter, with a faint hint of sourness—an unpleasant taste that made him grimace. "Ugh, this is awful…" he muttered. But then he froze, his crimson eyes widening as realization hit.

He hadn't spit it out.

He stared at the empty cup in his hands, bewildered. I… drank it? He touched his throat, his disbelief mounting. It's been so long— He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been able to consume anything other than human flesh.

For a moment, the joy of regaining a semblance of humanity overwhelmed him. Seizing the pot, he guzzled the tea greedily, ignoring its bitter taste. When the last drop was gone, he wiped his mouth and exclaimed, "What kind of tea is this?"

The elder's serene smile returned as he answered, "This is wisteria tea. For demons, wisteria is a highly toxic substance. In fact, at a certain concentration, it can kill weaker demons outright."

The cup slipped from Shinichi's hands, clattering onto the floor. His face, flushed with excitement moments ago, now paled.

"Wisteria tea?" he echoed in disbelief.