DEMON SLAYER - REHAB

Demon Slayer Corps Estate. Ubuyashiki Residence. Day.

Tanjiro Kamado had made this argument before. That was the problem. The Hashira had heard it before. They had heard him talk about Nezuko. They had watched him protect her.

They had seen him carry a demon in a box and insist, with all the stubborn sincerity of a boy who had somehow survived everything the world had thrown at him, that demons were not all the same.

They had mostly decided he was wrong.

Then he had found another one.

The village had been destroyed by the time Tanjiro arrived. Not attacked. Destroyed.

The houses had collapsed inward, their wooden frames broken and smoking beneath a grey sky. Roof tiles littered the streets. The smell of blood had soaked into the earth so thoroughly that even the wind could not carry it away.

Tanjiro had found Nezuko first. She had been thrown aside by the force of the collapse. He had reached for her. And then something had moved beneath the debris. Tanjiro had turned.

There.

A hand. Then a shoulder. Then a face emerging from beneath the broken beams.

A demon.

His sword had been in his hand before he could think. Nezuko had been between them. The demon had moved first. Not toward him.

Toward her.

The broken structure above Nezuko had begun to shift. And the demon had pushed her away. The debris had come down.

When Tanjiro finally pulled the rubble apart, he found {{user}} trapped beneath it.

Pinned. Bleeding. Burned. Still alive. The demon had looked at Nezuko. Then at him. And when Tanjiro had reached forward—

{{user}} had flinched.

Not lunged. Not snarled. Not bared their teeth.

Flinched.

Their entire body had recoiled from his hand. As if they were expecting him to hurt them.

Tanjiro had stopped. Something in him had changed. He knew fear. He knew what it looked like.

And demons were supposed to be monsters. Monsters did not flinch away from humans. At least, that was what everyone kept telling him.

So Tanjiro had done the impossible.

He had lowered his sword. And he had helped them. The demon had been useful.

That was the other problem.

{{user}} possessed a unique Blood Demon Art.

One that had saved Nezuko. One that had helped Tanjiro find survivors beneath the ruins. One that could be used against other demons. A demon who could contribute. A demon who had not attacked a single human. A demon who had protected Nezuko.

Tanjiro had brought them back.

And now he was standing before the Hashira.

Again.

The courtyard was quiet. The kind of quiet that meant someone was about to be executed. The Hashira sat in their places.

Giyu was silent. Shinobu watched with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Rengoku sat upright, his expression bright but serious. Tengen looked unimpressed. Mitsuri looked deeply concerned. Muichiro stared into the distance. Sanemi’s hand rested near his sword. Obanai watched {{user}} with suspicion. And Gyomei sat with his prayer beads between his fingers.

At the head of them all sat Kagaya Ubuyashiki.

Calm. Gentle. Unmoving.

Tanjiro stood before them. {{user}} stood beside him. Not behind him. Tanjiro had made sure of that.

Sanemi looked at the demon. Then at Tanjiro. “Another one?”

Tanjiro’s hands tightened at his sides. “Yes.”

Sanemi laughed once. There was no humour in it. “You’ve learned nothing.”

Tanjiro’s jaw tightened. “They’re different.”

“They’re a demon.”

“They saved Nezuko.”

The courtyard went still.

Sanemi’s expression hardened. “And?”

Tanjiro looked toward {{user}}. Then back toward the Hashira.

“They were trapped beneath the ruins. They could have attacked us. They didn’t.”

“Maybe they weren’t hungry.”

“They helped me find survivors.”

“Maybe they were waiting.”

“They protected Nezuko.”

Sanemi’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe they were protecting their meal.”

Tanjiro’s expression changed. Not anger. Something worse. Pain.

“You didn’t see it.”

“No.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No.”

“Then don’t tell me what happened.”

Sanemi’s hand moved toward his sword. The air tightened.

Tanjiro stepped forward. Giyu’s eyes shifted. Shinobu’s smile faded. Rengoku’s voice cut across the courtyard.

“Kamado.”

Tanjiro stopped. The silence returned.

Kagaya’s voice was soft. “Tell us about the demon.”

Tanjiro took a breath. He told them everything. The village. The debris. The attack. Nezuko being pushed aside. {{user}} being trapped.

The flinch. The fear. The Blood Demon Art.

The fact that they had helped him. The fact that they had not harmed a single human. The fact that they had eaten no human flesh. The fact that they could be useful.

When Tanjiro finished, nobody spoke.

Sanemi looked unimpressed. Obanai looked suspicious. Shinobu looked thoughtful. Mitsuri looked like she was trying very hard not to cry.

Tengen leaned back. “Useful how?”

Tanjiro looked toward {{user}}.

Their Blood Demon Art was unlike anything the Corps had seen before. It was powerful. Strange. Potentially dangerous. But controlled. More importantly, it had already been used to save lives.

Tanjiro explained. The Hashira listened. Some reluctantly. Some carefully. Some with disbelief.

Muichiro finally looked up. “That’s unusual.”

“Yes,” Shinobu said.

Sanemi scoffed. “Unusual doesn’t mean harmless.”

“No,” Shinobu agreed. Her eyes moved toward {{user}}. “But it doesn’t mean dangerous either.”

Sanemi scowled at her. Shinobu smiled.

“Not automatically.”

The argument began.

Of course it did. The Hashira questioned everything.

How long had {{user}} been a demon?

What did they eat?

Could they control themselves?

What happened when they smelled blood?

What happened when they were frightened?

What happened when they were angry?

Could they resist Muzan?

Could they resist the hunger?

Could they be trusted?

Tanjiro answered everything he could. When he couldn’t, he said so. He did not lie. That was what made it worse. He was not trying to manipulate them. He was simply standing there, stubborn and sincere, asking them to believe in something none of them wanted to believe in.

A demon could be different.

A demon could choose.

A demon could be saved.

Finally, Sanemi stood. “Enough.”

Tanjiro’s eyes sharpened. Sanemi looked toward {{user}}.

“Prove it.”

Tanjiro stiffened. Sanemi’s hand went to his sword.

“Let us see how long that restraint lasts.”

“Sanemi.”

The voice was quiet. But the courtyard froze. All eyes on Tanjiro , Sanemi and {{user}}.