11

The tramp's skin was cleaved into like butter, in a grim moment, her entire arm was split in two, the hand half now in the possession of Hayara, whilst her now stump of a remaining limb spurt with crimson blood at all angles, like it was a deviant fountain. The tramp attempted to scream but her mouth was quickly covered by the free hand of Ichinose, who had dropped his sword to account for the separated hand that he had to hold onto. Such cold logic of his quickly collapsed as he heard the tramp begin to whimper in muffled pain as her cold breath circled around the young man's palm as it looked for paths to escape out of her mouth, sending chills like a network up into his spine.

Her scared and helpless eyes reflected against Hayara's own gaze, locking into a perfect eye contact, this broke him down, he dropped the arm, it splattered with blood, some spraying onto him, but it didn't matter, the initial slice had already sent puddles worth of blood onto his ruined outfit.

He embraced the tramp as tightly and as warmly as he could, uncovering her mouth to do so, but she did not scream, she was too weak to do so, only faint whispers emanated weakly from out of her stained lips.

"It hurts..." The wisp of a voice strikes hard against Hayara's heart.

Ichinose's pupils darted around, bloodshot, the whites of his eyes were ebbed, replaced with deep crimsons from the stress of the situation, though there was no one else present in the alley, including Sukuna, who'd darted off somewhere unknown.

"It hurts so much." She manages through even fainter breaths.

The young man plants his face deep into the dirty and bloodied blankets the woman was covered in, using it as a means to weep into, he began repeating a trembling set of words over and over.

"I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." His voice wavered and bent under the will of sadness as he released his tears into the dying corpse of the tramp, as if the water from them would be able to substitute the draining of blood from her body at a rapid rate. The stench of blood, dirt and a mix of other pungent smells hit him as he buried his face deeper to weep even more intensely, muffled whines erupted from the blankets as his embrace tightened around the body of the woman who began to grow limp. Her breathing slowing to a dreaded stop.

"I see you... poking your head out of the veil... as playful as ever... my little boy." She gains a half state of lucidity as her final words are muttered out of her cracked lips.

A deep coldness sets itself in the place of sorrow as Hayara is now holding onto nothing but a corpse, yet he still clutches it tightly, holding out some hope for her to come back to life. A wail escapes resoundingly from his clenched teeth as he raises his head from out of the blanketed corpse.

He gains a cluster of panicked thoughts as his brain is suddenly spiked with the need to bring her back from death, or else he is irredeemable, a murderer, a sinner, damned. In his flurry of panic he swiftly grabs the separate arm, his limbs shaking violently with emotion as he did so, perhaps any emotion, his pupils dilated and stretched as his mood was a rollercoaster of sorrow and numb, as if his existence itself was split into two states, which was what he had done to that woman's arm.

Kintsugi is a patient process of mending. An artform where broken pottery is repaired.

Hayara begins to smash the arm against the stub that was exposed, still squirting with a calmed stream of fresh blood. In his turmoil, he believed that he could stitch up the woman, Kintsugi could, of course it could.

He continued to ram the disjoined arm into the body of the dead woman, though after a couple of seconds, the impact of both causing some disfigurement to both the body of the tramp and the arm, so he decided to stop, instead basking in the awfulness of the situation. He'd recollect himself, dripping with blood and on his knees. Peering down at the now slightly mangled corpse in front of him for the last time, a mother. He got up, his face reddened by the prominent marks of crying, as well as drying blood from the corpse he had buried his face into. And with a separate arm, which he covered with his cloth, he walked.

His steps would carry him over to his sword, as he looked at it, he reflected on the ridiculous statement that there were broken pieces of psyche that he apparently left behind whenever he walked, maybe this sword could represent one of them. He picked it up, seeming to assure himself that a piece of his destroyed spirit had returned with it. He still had his strength and sword, one of which had come to him only recently.

As he began to walk off, he noticed a pile of something on a barrel just laid out strangely. It was a pair of clothes, clean, white, superb.

"You certainly spoil me, don't you." Hayara huffed with a deep introspection as he took off his bloodied and torn clothes, dumping them on the floor below him without focusing on it. And in turn, replaced them with the snug fitting clean attire, he almost looked like a respectable western gentleman, in a slim white shirt and encompassing black vest to compliment, all the rage in this decade. It was as though he hadn't just brutally murdered and lain with the body of a tramp.

In his new set of clothes, he stepped calmly over to the wall of the alley, which was just the structure of a house. He clenched his fist, his blood bubbling as veins popped out from underneath his skin, a burst of cursed energy surged forwards and coated the knuckles of his fist intensely as he carried that with all the frustration he could muster into the wall in front of him. Splinters of wood erupted from out of the depression sparked by the impact of his punch. The wall sunk completely inwards, caving in and creating a large hole which a person could easily fit through. This was him venting his rage at the situation, it actually worked a charm, placating him substantially.

A man stared, gobsmacked through the hole at Hayara, it appeared that he was getting ready for work. Ichinose blinked, before quickly rushing away with the concealed arm and sword wrapped tightly in cloth.

"I'm sorry." He repeated softly once again under his breath, this was directed towards both the woman laying in the alley, and the man whose house he had half destroyed out of frustration.

The rats began to return to the alleyway in order to feast on the fresh food that was left for them.

...

Hidemi Oye sat up content in his bed, it had shifted into dusk already, and various gloomy but still present lights pierced through the windows of the estate, casting an illusory sight of colour onto each of the sick and injured, it was rather beautiful.

The reason why he was sat up in satisfaction was that he was getting discharged in a few minutes, the attendants have confirmed his condition to be completely stable, he was even able to walk about on his leg earlier with little problems except the odd pain.

The Insect Hashira's newly found presence in the room set these satisfactions into disarray, instead reforming into a sense of deep anticipation but also dread at what news was to come, it was definitely in relation to Hayara.

Come on Hayara, I know you'll pull through and appear behind her at any second, just injured. He hoped endlessly as she approached.

However, her deep eyes were not filled with a sense of pity, nor happiness, it was an odd expression, for a Hashira to have such a face when looking at him, it could mean nothing good. It was the gaze of suspicion peppered in with small amounts of contempt.

Hidemi instinctively swallowed his spit as he listened to the Hashira begin speaking.

"Hayara Ichinose is wanted by us and the police for multiple crimes, including murder, we need you to provide information and do something for us, this is in relation to the entire Corps, so you must accept, or else be placed as his accomplice."

Hayara and murder doesn't fit together in the same sentence, not at all, the man couldn't even find the toilet to go piss at night, let alone do anything of such magnitude, nor was it probably even on his mind... He inwardly confirmed.

"Are you sure it's Hayara who did this?" Shinobu nodded swiftly after Hidemi queried to confirm, which was going to send him into an even longer reverie, however his thoughts were interrupted by the words of the Hashira.

"He is likely receiving help from a lower moon, many people have died in the pairs wake, this is a serious matter impacting both innocent lives and the demon slayer corps, so you will help us." Shinobu said without hesitation, there was not any sense of choice in this, it was an order. One from a Hashira, Hidemi's body shuddered at this, closing his eyes for a moment. I will doubt every accusation thrown towards you, so don't let me down, don't turn out to be a rotten killer, you fucking idiot, I will find you and know the truth thereafter. He nodded as he internalised his goal.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Hidemi asked, scratching his head.

"We want you to act as a lure for him, in order for a Hashira who will be with you to successfully capture him and kill the demon accompanying him." Shinobu coldly disclosed.

Shit, Hayara is in trouble. Oye swore inwardly.

"Sounds perfectly acceptable." He nodded in understanding.

...

The dimming of the sun had already brought its paleness to Hayara's surroundings as he trudged nearly aimlessly forward, though he had some recollection of the location of the hotel from here. The gentlemanly vest and shirt had brought no attention to him as he passed the thinning and extravagantly dressed crowds of near central Tokyo.

Rushing forwards into the slums, his physical prowess allowed him to carry his steps extremely quickly, darting into the slums where he found the familiar but dreadful sight of the humble inn. Once again tramps shuddered in mounds of blankets along the sides of the street as he walked forwards, he tried not to look at them, else he would weep for what he had done.

"Evilness begets evil." He spouted silently and solemnly amongst his own thoughts as he carried his weight easily through the second floor window of the room, landing softly on the wooden floor, sticking to the objective of the jump much more smoothly this time.

His eyebrow would reflexively raise itself as he scanned the room, it was completely empty, devoid of Sukuna.

I was right, he does go out to enact things of his own volition, though, I wonder what horrors could arise from such a thing... Ichinose shuddered as he thought about it.

He sat down, noticing the appearance of a relatively small metal box, it had lines over the top of it, and was ornately decorated, it seemed expensive, it's black shiny surface illuminating it's worth even further. In his time as a demon slayer, he had become accustomed to many modern things roaming around the city of Tokyo on various missions.

Though he still hazarded a guess.

It must be a gas cooker, as far as I can tell, guess it is expensive after all. He nodded to confirm himself mentally.

"Ah.. that means." He went silent for a moment, choosing to sit cross legged on the wooden floor, before carefully uncovering the disjoined limb from the cloth, laying it on top of it to prevent the staining of blood on the floor.

"He wishes me to cook it, of course." How could he forget, cannibalism.

His sword rested by his shoulder, it was a very vibrant red colour from all the dry blood that flaked off of it. He was incredibly tired, but he still had a task to complete, so he fidgeted with the mechanisms of the small gas cooker for a while, before getting a flame finally.

He laid the arm flat on the cooker's platform, it began to sizzle as soon as it made contact, producing an oddly tantalising scent as steam smothered the room gradually.

"I need to pay that man a visit next Sunday." He sat cross legged in front of the cooking meat, sighing longingly.

...

Sukuna's legs carried him brutishly up the hill, the air shook around him as if the very elements shrunk back in terror at his presence as he ascended up the vertical slope at break neck speeds.

His monstrous appearance gazed around, the normal person would just see a blur if they were moving this fast, however his four pupils accurately tracked his surroundings, insects, animals, all of which were comprehended by him as they scampered off at his approach.

He quickly reached the zenith of the highest hill, overlooking a brightly lit sea of resplendent glows in the near distance. The wind blew calmly through the open patches of grass that smothered each large hill around Sukuna, each individual blade swung like hair on someone's head.

"So that's how it is." The King of Curses sight veered downwards, more towards the ground, then upwards at the sky, his brown hair swept gently back by the gust as well.

"This world is not as simple as I imagined." He grinned softly as he pointed downwards.

"An attractive force, something is down there." He spoke.

"A repelling force, something is up there." He also stated.

"There's a deep sense of conflict, is this the reason for my coming here?" He scratched his chin.

"How enticing either way." Sukuna shook his head and chuckled, before descending back down the hill.