Chapter 13: The Thunder Hashira's Fall

Chapter 13: The Thunder Hashira's Fall

A figure sprinted frantically along a narrow mountain trail.

Clad in a yellow haori, it was none other than Mingzhu, the Thunder Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps.

His face was marked with deep anxiety. Just yesterday, he lost contact with a disciple he'd sent to a village to investigate demonic activity. That kind of silence was never a good sign—it could only mean one thing: his disciple had likely been slain by a demon.

Unwilling to accept the truth, yet left with no other choice, Mingzhu pushed his injured body to its limits, determined to reach the town as fast as possible. Despite the pain from a leg injury he'd recently sustained, he endured a day and night of relentless travel.

By the time he reached the town, his body was nearly at its limit—drenched in sweat, chest heaving, and legs like lead.

He braced himself with both hands on his knees and looked up at the scene ahead. The town was ablaze with lights and liveliness—shops open on either side, people in elegant kimonos bustling about, laughter echoing in the air.

Under normal circumstances, it would be a beautiful and joyous sight.

But tonight, in Mingzhu's eyes, the town looked like a monster—its mouth wide open, waiting to consume him whole.

He gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on his Nichirin Blade, and stepped forward.

No sooner had he entered the town than a clear, familiar voice rang out like lightning in the silent night.

"Master!"

The voice stopped him in his tracks. He froze, heart hammering, and turned sharply.

There, not far away, stood his disciple, Raikou, staring directly at him.

Relief and joy surged through Mingzhu—only to vanish a second later.

Before he could call out, a wave of people surged through the street like a flood, engulfing Raikou and sweeping him away from sight.

Mingzhu's eyes widened in horror. "Raikou!" he shouted, plunging into the crowd.

He darted left and right, shoving his way through the throng. After what felt like an eternity, he caught a glimpse of Raikou again—standing still, eyes locked onto him.

But just as Mingzhu stepped forward in joy, Raikou vanished once more, dissolving into the shadows like a ghost.

A terrible sense of dread settled over Mingzhu's heart.

Even so, he refused to give up. Driven by hope, he followed the path Raikou might have taken.

He ran without rest until he reached an abandoned street, where not a single soul could be seen.

The cold night wind howled like a beast, ripping at his clothes and making them flap like ghostly whispers. The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing and hurried steps.

Then, that voice came again—soft, ghostly, chilling.

"Master…"

The sound was so close he could feel the breath behind it.

"Raikou? Where are you!?" Mingzhu shouted, eyes scanning the darkness, his heart pounding.

No reply—only shadows.

Suddenly, a faint light flickered ahead.

His heart raced. He narrowed his eyes and saw Raikou's figure emerging slowly from the dark.

"Master," Raikou said with a gentle smile. "You finally made it."

But the moment of peace shattered.

Raikou's smile twisted into something grotesque. His flesh began to rot and fall away, the stench of decay thick in the air. His eyeballs dropped with a sickening plop, bursting like overripe fruit. One of his arms turned skeletal—flesh dripping with blood.

He raised that horrifying hand and stepped forward, whispering:

"Master… why did you come so late? It hurts… Stay with me…"

Before Mingzhu's eyes, his disciple collapsed into a puddle of pus and rot.

Even as a seasoned Hashira, Mingzhu trembled. This nightmare was beyond anything he had faced.

Then—

"How foolish of you, Mingzhu."

He turned slowly, and a figure stood behind him.

A red-haired young man in a black kimono. His face—unchanged from before—was unmistakable.

Akira.

Once Mingzhu's disciple. Now—clearly—a demon.

She smiled coldly, "Did you like the little gift I prepared for you?"

Mingzhu's eyes blazed with fury. "Akira! It's you! You… became a demon!"

His voice cracked with rage. "You killed Raikou! I'll cut you down myself!"

"Thunder Breathing, Fifth Form: Heat Lightning!"

Akira raised a hand.

"Blood Demon Art: Blood Crow!"

A blood-red crow burst forth from his palm, wings spread like a storm, diving toward Mingzhu.

But with a thunderous flash, Mingzhu cut it down midair.

Seizing the moment, he surged forward, striking with relentless Thunder Breathing techniques.

Akira felt a pressure unlike anything he'd experienced—not even from other Demon Slayers. The strength of a Hashira was real.

He split into countless crows, encircling Mingzhu, taunting.

Mingzhu growled, "You and Raikou—master and student—both chose the path of demons. I should've never let you live."

Akira's voice echoed from all directions, "You think your blade has meaning? That you could ever make me surrender?"

"I know this much," Mingzhu spat. "When someone loses both brother and apprentice to the darkness, how can he keep living with pride?"

"And you—didn't you have a younger brother? What happened to him? Did you eat him too?"

Silence.

Then—

A pair of glowing red eyes blazed in front of him. Pure rage.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Mingzhu smirked inwardly. He had baited Akira into blind fury.

But before he could strike—

His body locked in place.

What?!

Why can't I move?!

Akira stepped forward and drove a finger straight into Mingzhu's eye.

Mingzhu screamed as searing pain exploded through his skull—Akira's fingers burrowing into his brain.

"You were the weakest of the Hashira," Akira said calmly. "Killing you brings no pride. But… since you were the beginning of everything, I'll start with you."

Mingzhu, shaking, gasped, "If my death convinces you…"

"That no longer matters," Akira said, voice eerily serene.

He gripped tightly—

And with a sickening rip, tore Mingzhu's head from his shoulders.

SPLASH!

A fountain of blood erupted into the night.

Akira looked down at the head in his hands, expression unreadable.

"Chitose," he whispered, "this is the first one."