Cids2
Tenba's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Shadow Breathing? I've never heard of such a style."
"That's the point," Cid replied, allowing a hint of smugness to creep into his voice. "The most effective shadows are those that remain unseen."
Before Tenba could press further, Nero bounded over, inserting herself between them with imperial presumption.
"Praetor! Your imperial bedding has been arranged," she announced, hooking her arm through Cid's possessively. "You must rest to maintain your magnificent strength!"
Tenba's eyebrows rose at the strange terminology, but he simply shook his head and walked away.
"You shouldn't interrupt when I'm establishing our cover story," Cid murmured as Nero dragged him toward the camp.
"Nonsense! He was clearly intimidated by your magnificence," Nero declared confidently. "Besides, Florence says we should maintain proximity during rest periods to minimize tether strain."
The "bedding" Nero had arranged turned out to be a circle of blankets with Cid's positioned in the center. Florence was already organizing medical supplies, while Frieren sat cross-legged in quiet meditation. Kiss-Shot lounged on her blanket with feline grace, pointedly ignoring everyone, though her eyes tracked Cid's movements.
"I've arranged the optimal sleeping formation," Florence informed Cid without looking up from her task. "Proximity should alleviate tether discomfort while maintaining tactical defensive positions."
"How romantic," Lucoa chuckled, patting the space next to her invitingly. "Come sit by me, Cid. I've been wanting to ask about these 'Shadow Techniques' you've apparently invented."
Cid hesitated, aware of how the other women immediately tensed at Lucoa's invitation. Even Frieren opened one eye to observe his response.
"I should check the perimeter first," he deflected, attempting to escape the suddenly charged atmosphere.
"Already done," Kiss-Shot countered smoothly. "The demon slayers have established an adequate watch rotation, though their patterns are predictably rigid."
"Then I should—"
"Sit," all five women commanded in unison, with varying degrees of intensity.
Cid sat.
To his surprise, rather than competing for his position, they all shifted closer, forming a tighter circle around him. It felt less like a harem squabble and more like... a council of war.
"This Shadow Breathing," Florence began analytically. "Is it real, or another element of your narrative?"
Cid hesitated. The truth was, he had no idea what had happened during his fight with Lower Moon Five. It had been instinct, desperation, and perhaps a healthy dose of luck.
"Both," he admitted quietly. "I've been developing the concept in theory, but that was the first time I'd successfully executed it in combat."
"Fascinating," Frieren murmured. "Your belief in this technique may have actually manifested it."
"What do you mean?" Cid asked.
"In my world," the former elf mage explained, "certain magical philosophies held that belief itself could shape reality. The boundary between imagination and manifestation is more permeable than most realize."
"Are you suggesting his make-believe actually worked?" Kiss-Shot asked incredulously.
"Not exactly," Frieren replied, her ancient eyes studying Cid with scholarly interest. "But genuine conviction, combined with proper physical technique and the right psychological state, can produce remarkable results."
"Like a placebo effect?" Florence suggested.
"More like... a focused intention," Frieren clarified. "In the absence of our supernatural abilities, we must consider alternative power sources. Belief may be one such source."
"The Shadow Master creating Shadow Techniques through the power of shadow belief," Lucoa summarized with an amused smile. "There's a certain poetic symmetry to it."
"Mock if you wish," Nero declared, "but I saw what the Praetor accomplished. Whether shadow, belief, or divine favor, the result speaks for itself."
"We need to develop this further," Florence stated, her tactical mind already working. "If Cid can replicate the technique, we should all learn it. Shared combat methodology would enhance our unit effectiveness."
Cid looked around at these extraordinary women—former goddesses, immortals, and legends—now earnestly discussing how to adapt his childhood fantasy into a legitimate fighting style.
"I'll teach you what I know," he promised, feeling a strange mixture of pride, embarrassment, and determination. "But first, we need to survive this meeting with Lord Ubuyashiki."
"One challenge at a time," Lucoa agreed, patting his hand. "For now, rest. Tomorrow will bring its own adventures."
As they settled into their sleeping positions, Cid found himself at the center of a circle of former divinities, each maintaining a respectful distance while still remaining within the tether's comfortable range. Just as he was drifting off, he felt a small, warm hand slip into his. Opening one eye, he saw Frieren beside him, her eyes closed but a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
He squeezed her hand gently, and her lips curved in a small, secretive smile.
From his other side, he felt another hand seeking his—Nero's, her imperial boldness undeterred by darkness. Before he could react, a third hand reached across to rest lightly on his chest—Lucoa's, her touch gentle but unmistakably possessive.
"If you're all quite finished," Kiss-Shot's dry voice came from beyond Nero, "some of us are trying to sleep without participating in this ridiculous display of affection."
"Jealousy is unbecoming," Nero whispered loudly.
"I am not jealous," Kiss-Shot hissed. "I am annoyed."
"Elevated heart rate suggests emotional arousal consistent with jealousy," Florence observed clinically from her position near Cid's feet.
"I will end you," Kiss-Shot threatened.
"Impossible in your current diminished state," Florence replied calmly. "Additionally, our tethered condition makes harming any one of us counterproductive."
"Ladies," Cid interrupted, "perhaps we should all just... sleep?"
A chorus of reluctant agreements followed, though none of the hands touching him withdrew. Cid stared up at the stars, wondering how his life had become so complicated.
And why, despite the complications, he felt more alive than ever before.
Chapter 6: The Butterfly's Wings
The Butterfly Estate appeared over the horizon on the afternoon of the third day—a sprawling compound of traditional Japanese buildings nestled against a mountainside, surrounded by gardens of breathtaking beauty. Butterflies flitted among flowering trees, their wings catching the sunlight in iridescent flashes.
"It's beautiful," Frieren breathed, her ancient eyes wide with genuine wonder.
"A residence worthy of an emperor," Nero agreed, nodding approvingly.
Tenba led them along a winding path toward the main building, where several figures waited on the veranda. As they approached, Cid recognized the distinctive uniforms and swords of high-ranking Demon Slayers—Hashira, the elite warriors of the Corps.
"Remember our story," he murmured to his companions. "We are the Shadow Garden, an independent group seeking alliance with the Corps."
"Relax," Lucoa whispered, her hand brushing his briefly. "We've been lying about who we are for centuries. This is nothing new."
Somehow, that wasn't entirely reassuring.
The meeting that followed was nothing like what Cid had expected. Instead of an interrogation or a display of power, they were welcomed with formal courtesy and led to a beautifully appointed room where tea was served by attendants in butterfly-patterned kimonos.
Lord Kagaya Ubuyashiki, leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, was a surprise in himself—a thin, serene man with bandaged eyes and a gentle smile that belied the power he wielded. He sat at the head of the room, flanked by two Hashira—a severe-looking woman with insect hairpins and a mountain of a man whose massive frame seemed at odds with his careful, precise movements.
"Welcome to the Butterfly Estate," Lord Ubuyashiki greeted them, his voice soft but carrying. "I am most interested in meeting the Shadow Garden that has caused such a stir."
Cid stepped forward, bowing formally. "We are honored by your invitation, Lord Ubuyashiki. I am Cid Kagenou, and these are my companions—"
"Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade," the vampire queen interrupted, introducing herself with regal poise.
"Florence Nightingale," the combat nurse followed crisply.
"Frieren," the elf mage offered simply, with a respectful inclination of her head.
"Nero Claudius!" the former emperor declared with unnecessary volume. "Fifth Emperor of—" she caught herself just in time, "—the Fifth Division of the Shadow Garden!"
"And I'm Lucoa," the former goddess concluded with a lazy smile. "Pleasure to meet you."
Lord Ubuyashiki's smile widened slightly. "What a fascinating group you've assembled, Master Kagenou. Each with such... unique presence."
Cid felt a chill run down his spine. Despite his blindness, Lord Ubuyashiki gave the distinct impression of seeing straight through their carefully constructed facade.
"Unique is one word for it," the female Hashira remarked dryly. "Suspicious is another. No formal training, no Nichirin blades, yet they defeated Lower Moon Five. Explain that."
"Shinobu," Lord Ubuyashiki chided gently. "Our guests deserve courtesy."
"The Insect Hashira asks a fair question," Cid acknowledged, drawing on every ounce of his practiced Shadow Garden persona. "We have trained differently from the Corps, focusing on Shadow Breathing—a style that harnesses darkness itself as a weapon."
"Shadow Breathing?" the male Hashira rumbled, interest evident in his deep voice. "I've studied all known Breathing Styles. This one is unfamiliar."
"As intended, Gyomei Himejima, Stone Hashira," Cid replied, recalling the man's name from whispered legends. "The Shadow Garden operates beyond conventional knowledge. Until recently, we preferred to remain... unseen."
A tense silence followed, broken unexpectedly by Lord Ubuyashiki's soft laughter.
"How refreshing," he said, his bandaged face turned toward Cid with eerie precision. "In a world of deception, your particular brand of truth is quite illuminating."
Cid froze, uncertain how to respond. Was the Corps leader calling him out as a fraud, or...?
"You wonder if I see through you," Lord Ubuyashiki continued, as if reading Cid's thoughts. "Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't. What matters is not where you came from, but where you are going. And right now, we share a destination—Muzan Kibutsuji's destruction."
The tension in the room shifted subtly. No longer accusatory, but evaluating.
"You and your companions demonstrated remarkable skill against Lower Moon Five," Lord Ubuyashiki acknowledged. "Such talent should not be wasted. I propose a partnership—the Shadow Garden working alongside the Demon Slayer Corps, while maintaining your... independence."
It was more than Cid could have hoped for—official sanction without direct oversight. The perfect cover for his improvised group.
"However," Shinobu interjected, her sweet voice at odds with her sharp gaze, "we would require a demonstration of this 'Shadow Breathing' before formalizing any arrangement."
"A reasonable request," Florence agreed before Cid could respond. "Combat demonstration would provide objective assessment criteria."
"Then it's settled," Lord Ubuyashiki concluded. "Tomorrow at dawn, Master Kagenou will demonstrate Shadow Breathing against one of our Hashira."
Cid felt the blood drain from his face. Demonstrate? Against a Hashira? His single successful use of "Shadow Breathing" had been a desperate fluke against a demon. To replicate it on demand, against one of the Corps' elite warriors...
"The Praetor accepts your challenge!" Nero declared confidently, completely misreading Cid's horrified silence.
"Excellent," Shinobu smiled, the expression never reaching her eyes. "I volunteer as his opponent."
As they were escorted to guest quarters, Cid maintained his composed facade through sheer force of will. Only when the doors closed behind them did he let panic surface.
"What have you done?" he hissed at Nero. "I can't fight a Hashira! I don't even know how I defeated that demon!"
"Of course you do," Nero replied, utterly unfazed by his distress. "You used your Shadow Breathing!"
"That wasn't real! It was just something I made up on the spot!"
"And yet it worked," Frieren observed quietly, settling gracefully on a cushion. "Which supports my theory about belief manifesting reality."
"Theory won't help when I'm being skewered by the Insect Hashira tomorrow!"
"Perhaps not," Kiss-Shot interjected, examining her nails with feigned indifference. "But we might."
Cid paused. "What do you mean?"
"The tether," Florence explained, already diagramming something on a scrap of paper. "Our spiritual connection appears to allow energy transfer under certain conditions. During the village battle, when you executed your technique, I detected a momentary surge in the connection."
"You think... you all somehow powered my attack?" Cid asked incredulously.
"Not consciously," Frieren clarified. "But in moments of extreme need, the tether seems to facilitate energy flow. If we could replicate those conditions..."
"We could channel our strength to you," Lucoa finished, her usual playfulness giving way to thoughtful consideration. "Not our lost powers, but our life force, our... essence."
"Absolutely not," Cid refused immediately. "I won't risk draining you just to maintain some ridiculous facade."
"It's not about the facade," Kiss-Shot surprised him by saying, her crimson eyes unexpectedly serious. "It's about survival. If we fail this test, we lose the Corps' protection. Out there, alone, with demons hunting us and our powers gone..." She left the thought unfinished.
"Kiss-Shot is correct," Florence agreed. "Strategic alliance provides optimal survival conditions. The risk is acceptable."
"For once, I agree with both the vampire and the nurse," Nero declared. "We shall pour our imperial essence into you, Praetor! Victory is assured!"
Cid looked from one face to another, seeing determination in each. Even Frieren, normally so reserved, nodded firmly.
"We're in this together," Lucoa reminded him gently. "Whether by cosmic accident or fate, we're bound to you. Let us help."
Something shifted in Cid's chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with the tether and everything to do with the five extraordinary women who had, somehow, become his companions in this bizarre adventure.
"Alright," he conceded. "But we need to practice. I can't go in blind tomorrow."
What followed was an intensive night of experimentation, with each woman attempting to consciously channel energy through the tether. Progress was frustratingly slow, with only minor success—a faint glow around Cid's blade when Frieren concentrated particularly hard, a slight increase in his reaction speed when Florence focused her tactical mind on the connection.
By midnight, exhaustion had claimed them all, and they collapsed onto the provided futons with little of their usual jockeying for position. Cid lay awake long after the others had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling in quiet desperation.
"Can't sleep?" Lucoa's soft voice came from beside him.
"How can I?" he whispered back. "Tomorrow I fight a Hashira with a technique I barely understand, relying on a spiritual connection none of us can control."
Lucoa shifted closer, her warmth a comfort in the cool night. "You know, in my many centuries as a deity, I learned something about power."
"What's that?"
"It's rarely about how much you have," she murmured, her mismatched eyes gleaming in the darkness. "It's about how well you use what you've got."
"That's not very helpful right now," Cid sighed.
"Isn't it?" she challenged gently. "You've spent years pretending to be this Shadow Master, right? Creating techniques, imagining battles, playing out scenarios in your head?"
"Yes, but that was—"
"Practice," she interrupted. "All those hours spent in fantasy were training your mind, conditioning your body to respond to certain thoughts and movements. When you faced that demon, your body remembered what your mind had rehearsed thousands of times."
Cid blinked, considering this perspective. "You think my childish roleplaying actually prepared me for real combat?"
"I think," Lucoa said carefully, "that the universe works in stranger ways than most realize. And sometimes, the line between imagination and reality is thinner than we believe."
From Cid's other side came Frieren's soft voice: "She's right. In ancient elven magic, visualization was considered half the spell. The mind shapes reality before reality manifests."
"Are you all awake?" Cid whispered.
"Your anxiety is broadcasting through the tether," Kiss-Shot complained from further away. "It's like trying to sleep next to a terrified rabbit."
"Comparing the Praetor to a rabbit is disrespectful," Nero mumbled sleepily.
"Elevated heart rate, insomnia, cognitive spiraling—classic pre-combat stress response," Florence diagnosed from her position. "Treatment recommendation: confidence building and reality orientation."
"In other words," Lucoa translated, snuggling closer against Cid's side, "believe in yourself. We do."
"Why?" Cid asked, genuinely bewildered. "I'm just... me. You're all ancient, powerful beings. Why would you believe in someone like me?"
A moment of silence followed, then Frieren's small hand found his in the darkness.
"Because you believed in yourself enough to face a Lower Moon demon to protect us," she said simply. "Even knowing what you were, what you weren't, you still fought."
"And won," Kiss-Shot added grudgingly.
"The Praetor's courage is without question!" Nero declared.
"Your psychological profile indicates exceptional adaptability and resourcefulness," Florence noted, managing to make even a compliment sound clinical.
"Plus," Lucoa added with a hint of mischief in her voice, "you're the only one we've got. So you'd better not disappoint us tomorrow."
Cid lay there, surrounded by former goddesses and immortals who had somehow, impossibly, placed their faith in him. It was terrifying, humbling, and... strangely motivating.
"I won't," he promised, and was surprised to find he meant it.
Dawn arrived too quickly, painting the Butterfly Estate in gentle gold light as Cid stood in the central courtyard, facing Shinobu Kocho. The Insect Hashira was even more intimidating in the morning light—petite but radiating lethal precision, her butterfly-hilted sword held with casual mastery.
"The rules are simple," Gyomei Himejima announced, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the courtyard. "Demonstrate your Shadow Breathing technique. If it proves effective, the alliance stands."
Cid nodded, painfully aware of his companions watching from the edge of the courtyard. They had positioned themselves at equal distances around the perimeter, forming a perfect pentagon with him at the center.
"Begin when ready," Shinobu smiled, the expression pleasant but her eyes coldly analytical.
Cid took a deep breath, centering himself. He recalled Lucoa's words from the night before: all those years of fantasy had been training. His body knew the movements, even if his mind doubted.
"Shadow Breathing," he announced, dropping into the stance he had practiced thousands of times in private. "First Form."
He had never bothered naming his imaginary techniques before—they had been for his entertainment alone. But now, with his life and his companions' futures hanging in the balance, the name came to him with surprising clarity.
"Phantom Presence."
Shinobu moved with blinding speed, her blade a flash of silver in the morning light. Cid reacted on instinct, his body flowing through movements he had rehearsed countless times in his imagination.
To his shock—and clearly to Shinobu's as well—her blade met nothing but air. Cid had shifted, not dodging conventionally, but moving as if he were slightly out of phase with reality itself.
"Interesting," Shinobu murmured, adjusting her stance. "But evasion alone is not a technique."
She attacked again, this time with a complex series of thrusts designed to cover all possible evasion angles. Cid felt his heart rate spike, knew he couldn't avoid them all—
And then he felt it. A surge of energy through the tether, starting from the direction where Frieren stood. Not much, just a whisper of power, but enough to sharpen his senses, to see the pattern in Shinobu's movements.
"Shadow Breathing, Second Form," he spoke, the words coming from some deep well of certainty he hadn't known he possessed. "Eclipse Step."
His body moved in a pattern that seemed to flow around Shinobu's attacks like water around stone. Another pulse through the tether—from Florence this time—brought tactical clarity, showing him not just where Shinobu was, but where she would be.
The Insect Hashira's eyes narrowed, her attacks accelerating to blinding speed. "Impressive evasion, but where is your offense? Shadow Breathing seems remarkably passive."
The taunt struck home. Cid had always imagined his shadow techniques as devastatingly powerful, not mere defensive maneuvers. Pride prickled, and with it came another surge through the tether—Nero's contribution, a burst of imperial confidence.
"Shadow Breathing, Third Form," Cid announced, suddenly shifting from retreat to advance. "Darkstar Convergence."
His blade, ordinary steel rather than Nichirin, nevertheless left trails of darkness in the air as he executed a complex series of strikes. They weren't as fast as Shinobu's, but they came from angles she didn't expect, forcing her to adjust her stance repeatedly.
A fourth pulse through the tether, unmistakably Kiss-Shot's—predatory, precise, and proud. It heightened Cid's awareness of Shinobu's smallest vulnerabilities, the microsecond openings in her perfect defense.
"Shadow Breathing, Fourth Form," he continued, voice steady despite his racing heart. "Void Puncture."
His blade darted forward in a single, perfect thrust that somehow seemed to bend around Shinobu's parry, stopping a hair's breadth from her neck.
The courtyard fell silent. Shinobu's eyes were wide with genuine surprise for the first time since they'd met.
Then came the final pulse through the tether—Lucoa's contribution, chaotic and creative, inspiring a flourish Cid would never have attempted otherwise. He spun his blade in an elaborate pattern before sheathing it with theatrical precision.
"Shadow Breathing," he concluded, meeting Shinobu's startled gaze with newfound confidence. "Complete."
For a moment, nobody moved. Then Gyomei Himejima's deep laugh broke the silence.
"Most impressive, Master Kagenou," the Stone Hashira rumbled. "Your Shadow Breathing is indeed unique."
Shinobu stepped back, sheathing her own blade with a complex mixture of emotions crossing her face. "I've never seen movements quite like that," she admitted. "Not Water, not Wind, not any established style. You've truly created something... new."
From the veranda, Lord Ubuyashiki's gentle voice carried across the courtyard. "The alliance is approved. The Shadow Garden will work alongside the Demon Slayer Corps, maintaining your independence while sharing our common goal."
Cid bowed formally, hiding his disbelief behind the gesture. He had done it. They had done it. The impossible gambit had succeeded.
As he straightened, he felt a momentary weakness in his knees—the energy channeled through the tether had cost him more than he'd realized. But before he could stumble, his companions were there, surrounding him with subtle support that looked like celebration to outside observers.
"Well done, Praetor!" Nero exclaimed, grabbing his arm ostensibly in excitement but actually providing essential balance.
"Adequate performance," Kiss-Shot remarked coolly, though her eyes held something that might have been approval.
"Physiological stress indicators present," Florence noted, her hand discreetly checking his pulse under the guise of a congratulatory touch. "Rest required."
Frieren said nothing, but her ancient eyes held quiet pride as she slipped a small herb into his hand—something to restore energy, he guessed.
Lucoa's approach was the least subtle—she simply hugged him, her generous assets pressing against him in a way that made several nearby Demon Slayers turn away in embarrassment.
"I knew you could do it," she whispered in his ear. "My little Shadow Master."
As they were led back to their quarters for rest before formal introductions to the Corps, Cid reflected on what had just happened. He had performed techniques he'd only ever imagined, powered by the combined essence of five former divinities who had, somehow, placed their trust in him.
His childish Shadow Garden fantasy was becoming real in ways he'd never anticipated. And as he looked at the five extraordinary women now bound to him by fate and choice, he realized that the reality might be even more amazing than the fantasy had ever been.
Chapter 7: Bonds Forged in Moonlight
The formal integration of the Shadow Garden into the Demon Slayer Corps' structure proved surprisingly seamless. Lord Ubuyashiki, demonstrating the foresight that had made him such an effective leader, provided them with a small compound on the Butterfly Estate grounds—close enough for coordination but separate enough to maintain their "independence."
"He's testing us," Kiss-Shot observed as they explored their new quarters. "Giving us enough rope to either hang ourselves or prove our worth."
"A sound strategic approach," Florence agreed, already transforming one room into a makeshift infirmary. "Controlled observation in a secure environment."
The compound was traditional Japanese architecture—a main house with several rooms arranged around a central courtyard, and a smaller building that might have once been servants' quarters. Cherry trees bloomed along one side, their petals occasionally drifting through open windows.
"It's beautiful," Frieren said softly, gazing at the garden with genuine appreciation. In her thousand years, she had seen countless wonders, but there was something about this peaceful space that touched even her ancient heart.
"A residence worthy of the Shadow Garden!" Nero declared, immediately claiming the largest room as her "imperial chamber." No one bothered to argue—they had all learned that Nero's territorial declarations were largely ceremonial and she would inevitably end up sleeping wherever Cid was anyway.
Their first week at the Butterfly Estate fell into a surprising routine. Mornings were spent training with various Corps members, learning the organizational structure and protocols. Afternoons were dedicated to developing their "Shadow Breathing" techniques, which had gone from complete fiction to emerging reality through sheer necessity.
Evenings found them gathered in their courtyard, sharing the day's observations over meals that improved dramatically once Lucoa discovered a talent for Japanese cooking.
"How did you learn to make food like this?" Cid asked one evening, savoring a perfectly prepared fish dish.
Lucoa shrugged, the movement doing interesting things to her generous assets. "When you've lived as long as I have, you pick up lots of skills. I spent a century in a region similar to this one... though the humans there worshipped me with chocolate rather than fish."
"I could lead cooking lessons for everyone," she offered, looking around at the others. "It would be a useful skill for all of us, now that we need to eat regularly."
"Pass," Kiss-Shot replied immediately. "I refuse to engage in menial labor."
"Cooking is an art, not labor," Nero protested. "Even emperors should understand the creation of sustenance! I shall participate in these lessons!"
"Medical benefits to proper nutrition preparation knowledge," Florence noted thoughtfully. "I will observe these sessions."
Frieren simply nodded her acceptance, while Cid watched the interaction with amusement. These small moments of normalcy amid their extraordinary circumstances had become unexpectedly precious to him.
The peaceful routine was broken on the eighth day, when Shinobu Kocho appeared at their compound shortly after dawn.
"A demon attack has been reported in a village three days' journey from here," she informed them, her sweet voice at odds with the gravity of her news. "Lord Ubuyashiki believes this would be an excellent first mission for the Shadow Garden."
Cid exchanged glances with his companions. They had been training intensively, but were they ready for a real mission?
"Details?" Florence requested practically.
"Reports indicate multiple demons, possibly coordinated," Shinobu replied. "The village is remote, primarily farmers and craftspeople. A Corps advance team was dispatched but has not reported back."
"Missing advance team suggests significant threat level," Florence assessed. "Potentially beyond Lower Moon rank."
"That's the assessment," Shinobu agreed. "Which is why Lord Ubuyashiki believes this is an appropriate test for your... unique abilities."
The implication was clear—this mission was too dangerous for regular Corps members but perfect for disposable allies of uncertain loyalty.
"We accept," Cid declared before any of his companions could respond. He recognized the test for what it was—succeed, and their position with the Corps would be secured. Fail...
"Excellent," Shinobu smiled, the expression never reaching her eyes. "You leave at noon. Supplies will be provided."
After she departed, the compound erupted into activity. Florence inventoried medical supplies while Kiss-Shot and Nero engaged in last-minute weapon training in the courtyard. Frieren quietly prepared herbal remedies that might prove useful, and Lucoa packed food with surprising efficiency.
Cid found himself momentarily alone, watching his companions prepare with a mixture of pride and concern. They had adapted remarkably well to their diminished state, but they were about to face unknown dangers with only a fraction of their former powers.
"Nervous?" Lucoa's voice came from behind him, her uncanny ability to appear silently still intact despite her loss of divinity.
"Concerned," Cid corrected, not bothering to deny his apprehension. "This feels like a setup."
"Of course it is," Lucoa agreed cheerfully. "The question is whether it's a setup for us to fail or to succeed. Lord Ubuyashiki strikes me as the kind of leader who tests people's true nature rather than their claims."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm, "that this might be less about proving our fighting skills and more about revealing our character."
Cid considered this perspective. "You think he's testing whether we'll actually try to save the villagers, not just defeat the demons?"
"Exactly," Lucoa nodded. "Any warrior can kill monsters. He wants to know if we'll protect humans."
The insight stayed with Cid as they departed at noon, each now equipped with proper Nichirin blades provided by the Corps. The swords were standard issue rather than customized, but they were infinitely better than the makeshift weapons they'd been using.
The journey to the village was largely uneventful for the first two days, though Cid noticed how his companions had naturally formed a protective formation around him during travel. Florence and Frieren scouted ahead, their acute observational skills making them ideal for detecting potential threats. Kiss-Shot and Nero flanked him on either side, while Lucoa brought up the rear, her seemingly casual demeanor belied by her constant awareness.
They had become a team without consciously trying—five extraordinary women and one ordinary young man, bound by invisible threads of fate and growing affection.
On the evening of the second day, as they made camp in a small clearing, Cid found the courage to ask the question that had been bothering him since their arrival in this world.
"Do you resent it?" he asked quietly as they sat around the fire. "Being bound to me? Losing your powers?"
A moment of silence followed, broken unexpectedly by Kiss-Shot.
"Initially? Absolutely," she admitted, the firelight reflecting in her crimson eyes. "I was Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade, the most powerful vampire to ever exist. Being reduced to a near-human form and tethered to a mortal was... unthinkable."
"And now?" Cid pressed gently.
Kiss-Shot's lips curved in a small, reluctant smile. "Now... it's not entirely unbearable. There's a certain freedom in limitation, I'm finding. When you can do anything, nothing has value. When everything costs effort..." She trailed off, looking almost surprised at her own philosophical turn.
"I have lived for over a thousand years," Frieren continued softly. "In all that time, I rarely formed connections. The lifespan difference between elves and humans made it... painful. Now, experiencing life at a human pace, with human limitations..." She looked around at the group. "There is a richness to it I had forgotten."
"War was my purpose," Florence stated matter-of-factly. "Healing amid destruction, preserving life in death's domain. This mission is not so different. The scale has changed, but the essence remains."
"I miss my empire," Nero admitted with uncharacteristic quietness. "The glory, the adoration, the grand spectacle of Rome. But..." she brightened, gesturing expansively, "I am creating a new empire here! With new subjects and new conquests!"
"She means friends and experiences," Lucoa translated with a gentle laugh. "Nero has always expressed affection through possession."
"And you?" Cid asked, turning to the former dragon goddess. "Do you resent this bond?"
Lucoa's mismatched eyes studied him thoughtfully. "I was cast out of my divine position for a transgression involving my sister and too much pulque—what you might call alcohol. I've been wandering worlds ever since. Being grounded in one place, with one purpose and..." she glanced around at the others, "one family, however unconventional? It's not entirely unwelcome."
Cid felt a warmth spreading through his chest that
Cid felt a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the fire. These extraordinary women—former goddesses, immortals, and legends—had found something valuable in their diminished state and their bond with him.
"I never expected any of this," he admitted quietly. "I was just playing at being a shadow master, creating fantasies to make my ordinary life feel more significant. And now—"
"And now you actually are one," Lucoa finished with a gentle smile. "Funny how the universe works, isn't it?"
Their contemplative moment was interrupted by Florence's practical voice. "We should establish watch rotations. Hostile territory requires vigilance."
They arranged shifts in pairs, with Cid paired with Frieren for the first watch. As the others settled down to rest, Cid found himself sitting beside the ancient elf in companionable silence, watching the stars emerge.
"Your world's stars are different from mine," Frieren observed softly, her green eyes reflecting the pinpoints of light. "Yet somehow familiar."
"How so?"
"The patterns may vary, but stars serve the same purpose in all worlds," she explained. "Light in darkness, navigation points, reminders that even in the deepest night, we're not truly alone."
Cid glanced at her profile, struck by the melancholy beauty of her expression. "Did you often feel alone? Even living for a thousand years?"
"Especially living for a thousand years," Frieren replied. "Watching human companions age and die, again and again. Eventually, it seemed easier not to form attachments at all."
Almost unconsciously, her small hand found his in the darkness. "This bond between us—it's frightening, but also... liberating. For the first time in centuries, I don't have to worry about outliving those I care for."
Before Cid could respond, a rustling in the underbrush brought them both to alertness. He reached for his new Nichirin blade, but Frieren's hand on his arm stopped him.
"Wait," she whispered. "Look."
From the bushes emerged not a demon, but a small fox, its russet fur silvered by moonlight. It regarded them with intelligent eyes before disappearing back into the forest.
"Just a forest resident," Cid sighed, relaxing his grip on his sword.
"In my world, foxes were considered messengers between realms," Frieren said thoughtfully. "Perhaps this one is welcoming us to its territory."
The rest of their watch passed without incident, though Cid was acutely aware of Frieren's hand remaining in his, her delicate fingers occasionally tightening when night sounds startled her. Despite her ancient wisdom, she seemed almost childlike in her reactions to this new world's wilderness.
When the time came to wake Kiss-Shot and Nero for the next shift, Cid reluctantly released Frieren's hand. As they approached the sleeping forms of their companions, however, they discovered a rather compromising situation.
Kiss-Shot and Nero, who normally maintained a prickly rivalry, had somehow ended up cuddled against each other in sleep. Nero's arm was thrown possessively across the vampire queen's waist, while Kiss-Shot's face was nestled against the former emperor's neck in a position that, had she still been a vampire, would have been rather alarming.
"Should we...?" Cid whispered, uncertain how to proceed without causing embarrassment.
"Let me," Frieren murmured with unexpected mischief in her voice. She leaned down and softly said, "Your Imperial Majesty, the vampire appears to be claiming Roman territory."
The effect was instantaneous. Both women jerked awake, took one look at their position, and scrambled away from each other with expressions of horror.
"This proves nothing!" Kiss-Shot declared, smoothing her hair with dignity despite the flush coloring her pale cheeks.
"The empire was merely providing warmth to a frost-blooded subject," Nero insisted, equally flustered.
"Of course," Frieren agreed solemnly, though her eyes danced with amusement. "Your watch begins now. Try not to... conquer each other's territory while on duty."
As Cid and Frieren retreated to their own sleeping spots, leaving the mortified pair to their watch, he heard Nero's indignant whisper: "The elf is developing a sense of humor. This is your fault, vampire!"
"How is it my fault that your imperial cuddling tendencies know no bounds?" Kiss-Shot hissed back.
Cid settled onto his bedroll, a smile tugging at his lips as the bickering continued in hushed tones. Beside him, Frieren's shoulders shook with silent laughter.
"They're more alike than either would admit," she whispered. "Both ruled through sheer force of will, both lost everything, both refuse to show vulnerability except in sleep."
"And both would rather die than admit they find comfort in each other's company," Cid added, earning another soft laugh from Frieren.
They fell asleep to the oddly soothing sound of imperial and vampiric grumbling, the bond between all of them growing stronger even in these small, human moments.
Chapter 8: The Village of Shadows
Dawn broke grim and overcast on the third day of their journey. Low clouds hung heavy over the forest, casting everything in muted grays that seemed ominously appropriate as they approached their destination.
"I don't like this weather," Kiss-Shot remarked, her crimson eyes scanning the sky. "In my experience, demons prefer days like this—enough cloud cover to move about with minimal discomfort."
"Meteorological conditions optimal for demon activity," Florence agreed, checking her medical supplies for the third time that morning. "Tactical advantage compromised."
They reached the crest of a hill by mid-morning, bringing the village into view below. Unlike the fiery destruction they had encountered at the scene of their first demon battle, this village appeared eerily intact—and completely still. No smoke rose from cookfires, no farmers worked the surrounding fields, no children played in the central square.
"It's too quiet," Cid murmured, a chill running down his spine despite the muggy air.
"Yes," Frieren agreed softly. "The silence has weight to it. Like a held breath."
"We should proceed with caution," Florence advised. "Standard reconnaissance pattern."
"Agreed," Kiss-Shot nodded. "But we stay together. The tether's range is our maximum separation."
They descended toward the village in tense silence, each gripping their Nichirin blade with varying degrees of familiarity. Despite their training, only Cid and Kiss-Shot showed true comfort with their weapons—Cid from years of practicing with ordinary swords, and Kiss-Shot from centuries of combat experience.
The village's main street was deserted, doors hanging open on empty houses, abandoned tools lying where they had been dropped. No bodies, no blood, no signs of struggle—just a complete absence of life.
"Where is everyone?" Nero wondered aloud, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.
"Two possibilities," Florence analyzed clinically. "Complete evacuation or complete consumption. The former is preferable but unlikely given the remote location and lack of warning."
"They're here," Lucoa said suddenly, her mismatched eyes focused on something the others couldn't see. "All around us. Watching."
"Demons?" Cid asked, instinctively moving into a defensive stance.
"No," Lucoa shook her head slightly. "Humans. Hiding. Afraid."
Cid had learned not to question Lucoa's perceptions. Though she had lost her divine powers, her awareness far exceeded normal human limitations.
"Villagers!" he called out, keeping his voice steady and non-threatening. "We're from the Demon Slayer Corps. We're here to help."
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then a small sound drew their attention to a nearby house—a child's whimper, quickly hushed by an adult.
Florence moved toward the sound with deliberate, non-threatening steps. "Medical assistance available," she announced in her crisp, professional manner. "Identify injuries for treatment prioritization."
Slowly, hesitantly, a woman appeared in the doorway, clutching a small boy to her chest. Her eyes were wide with terror, darting between the six strangers with obvious distrust.
"Are they gone?" she whispered. "The night-walkers?"
"We've encountered no demons since entering the village," Florence replied honestly. "But our assessment is incomplete. Information required."
The woman seemed bewildered by Florence's clinical manner, but desperation overcame caution. "They came three nights ago," she explained, her voice shaking. "Took half the village before we realized what was happening. We've been hiding ever since—they come back each night, taking more..."
"The Corps sent an advance team," Cid said. "Did they reach you?"
The woman's expression crumpled. "They arrived yesterday morning. Went hunting for the demons' nest in the old mine. None returned."
As if her words had broken a spell, more villagers began to emerge from hiding places—from root cellars and attics, from spaces behind false walls and beneath floorboards. Their faces were hollow with hunger and fear, many bearing minor injuries from their desperate escape attempts.
Florence immediately took charge of treating the wounded, with Frieren assisting by applying her knowledge of herbal remedies. Nero, to everyone's surprise, proved remarkably good with the frightened children, entertaining them with heavily edited tales of "imperial adventures."
Cid, Kiss-Shot, and Lucoa gathered more information about the demons, piecing together a disturbing pattern.
"They're organized," Kiss-Shot concluded grimly. "Methodical. This isn't random feeding—they're harvesting."
"For what purpose?" Cid wondered.
"Nothing good," Lucoa replied, her usually cheerful demeanor subdued. "In my experience, when predators develop systematic hunting patterns, it means they're working toward something larger."
The old mine the villager had mentioned lay a mile outside the village, embedded in a hillside overlooking a small river. As the day wore on and Florence stabilized the injured villagers, the group gathered to formulate a plan.
"We know several things," Cid summarized. "Multiple demons, organized behavior, using the mine as a base. The Corps advance team was likely ambushed inside."
"Frontal assault inadvisable," Florence stated. "Underground environment negates numerical advantage and creates chokepoints."
"These demons aren't acting alone," Frieren observed quietly. "Such coordination suggests a leader, someone intelligent enough to develop strategy."
"A Lower Moon, at minimum," Kiss-Shot agreed. "Possibly higher."
"So what do we do?" Nero demanded impatiently. "We can't just wait for nightfall when they'll attack again!"
"We don't," Cid decided, a plan forming in his mind. "We go in before dusk, but not all together. We use the tether to our advantage."
"Explain," Florence requested, her tactical mind engaged.
"The mine has multiple ventilation shafts according to the villagers," Cid continued. "Small, but navigable. I'll enter through one of those, while the rest of you create a diversion at the main entrance."
"Absolutely not," Kiss-Shot refused immediately. "The tether's range—"
"Is approximately thirty paces," Cid acknowledged. "Which means if you position yourselves correctly around the hillside, you can cover most of the mine interior without separation strain."
"Geometric distribution," Florence nodded, understanding. "A pentagonal formation with calculated distances could theoretically maintain tether integrity while allowing central agent infiltration."
"It's risky," Lucoa cautioned, though her eyes showed approval. "If the mine layout doesn't match our expectations, you could end up beyond the tether's range."
"That's why I need to go," Cid explained. "If anyone gets caught beyond range, it should be me. I'm the only one without centuries of combat experience to fall back on."
"Unacceptable," Kiss-Shot declared flatly. "If anyone should take the central risk position, it should be me. My combat reflexes remain superior even in this diminished form."
"No," Frieren disagreed softly but firmly. "Cid's plan has merit. The demons will expect a frontal assault—they won't be watching for a single infiltrator."
"Besides," Lucoa added with a hint of her usual mischief, "our Shadow Master should live up to his title, don't you think? Sneaking through dark passages is entirely on-brand."
Despite further protests from Kiss-Shot and Nero, the plan was eventually agreed upon. They would position themselves around the hillside near different ventilation shafts, creating a pentagram pattern with precisely calculated distances. Florence, ever practical, measured and marked exact positions to ensure the tether's integrity would be maintained.
As the afternoon waned toward evening, Cid prepared for his infiltration. He wore the darkest clothing available, with his Nichirin blade wrapped in cloth to prevent light reflection. The basics of Shadow Breathing techniques, which had started as pure fantasy but grown into something tangible through necessity and practice, would hopefully serve him in the literal shadows of the mine.
Before he departed, each of his companions approached him privately.
Florence was first, handing him a small packet of medicinal powders. "For emergency treatment," she explained clinically. "Apply to wounds directly to prevent infection and promote coagulation."
"Thank you," Cid replied, touched by her practical concern.
Nero was next, surprisingly solemn as she pressed something into his palm—a small bronze coin bearing the profile of a Roman emperor. "Imperial luck," she explained, her usual bombast subdued. "It has guided me through many battles. It will do the same for you, Praetor."
Frieren approached silently, offering a tiny vial of glowing liquid. "Distilled moonlight," she said in response to his questioning look. "A technique from my world that translates here. It will provide light only you can see, for a short time."
Kiss-Shot's contribution was characteristically direct. She grasped his shoulders firmly, her crimson eyes boring into his. "Do not die," she commanded. "I refuse to be tethered to a corpse."
Despite her harsh words, her hands lingered on his shoulders a moment longer than necessary, and Cid recognized the concern beneath her pride.
Lucoa was last, and least subtle. She simply pulled him into a crushing embrace, her generous assets nearly suffocating him before she released him with a wink. "Something to fight to come back to," she teased, though her mismatched eyes held genuine worry.
As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, Cid found himself crawling through a narrow ventilation shaft, the distant presence of his five companions like warm points of light in his awareness. The tether between them had grown more perceptible with time and proximity, allowing a vague sense of direction and emotional state even when not in direct line of sight.
The shaft opened into an abandoned section of the mine, dimly lit by phosphorescent fungi growing along the damp walls. Cid moved silently through the tunnels, drawing on every ounce of his self-taught stealth techniques.
The first sign of demonic presence came in the form of scratches along the walls—not random marks, but deliberate patterns that Cid recognized with a chill as ritualistic symbols. He'd seen similar markings in Demon Slayer Corps documents, associated with blood ceremonies and sacrificial rites.
The tunnel gradually widened, the fungi growing thicker and casting an eerie blue-green light that made shadows dance with each subtle movement of air. Ahead, Cid could hear voices—inhuman in their timbre but speaking with disturbing intelligence.
"The harvest proceeds as planned," one voice rasped. "Another night should provide sufficient quantity."
"Lord Muzan will be pleased," another replied, higher and more frantic. "We'll be rewarded, won't we? Promoted? More blood?"
"Silence, fool," the first voice snapped. "Speak his name again and I'll feed you to the prisoners."
Cid edged closer, pressing himself against the wall as he approached a larger chamber. What he saw inside froze his blood.
The cavern was enormous, its ceiling lost in darkness above. In the center stood an elaborate stone altar, carved with the same symbols that marked the tunnel walls. Around it, cages fashioned from bone and sinew held dozens of villagers, their eyes vacant with terror or glazed in death.
Five demons moved about the chamber with purpose—four lesser ones attending to a central figure whose presence dominated the space. This was no ordinary demon but a being of terrible power, its body twisted into an approximation of humanity that somehow made it more disturbing than outright monstrosity.
"Upper Moon Seven," Cid breathed in horrified recognition. Not a Lower Moon as they had feared, but one of Muzan's elite—far beyond what new Demon Slayers should ever face.
He needed to retreat, to warn the others. This was no battle they could win—not yet, not with their limited experience and power.
But as he began to back away, one of the lesser demons suddenly froze, its nostrils flaring.
"Human," it hissed, turning with unnatural speed toward Cid's hiding place. "I smell human blood!"
In that moment, Cid realized the diversion outside hadn't yet begun—he was alone, discovered, with an Upper Moon demon and its servants between him and escape.
The world seemed to slow as adrenaline flooded his system. Years of fantasy, months of training, and the desperate need to protect both himself and his companions crystallized into perfect clarity.
"Shadow Breathing," he whispered, drawing his Nichirin blade in a single fluid motion. "Phantom Presence."
As the lesser demon lunged toward him, Cid moved—not with supernatural speed, but with the perfect economy of motion he had practiced thousands of times in his imagination. The demon's claws passed through empty air as Cid seemed to shift like a shadow in peripheral vision.
"What is this?" the demon snarled in confusion. "Where—"
"Here," Cid answered, his blade flashing as it severed the demon's head in a single strike. As the body crumbled to ash, the other demons turned toward the disturbance, their faces contorted with rage and surprise.
"A Demon Slayer," Upper Moon Seven observed, its voice unnervingly calm. "Alone and untested, by the smell of you. How... disappointing."
The remaining three lesser demons circled Cid, their movements coordinated and predatory. He maintained his stance, blade held in the unique position he had developed for his fictional Shadow Breathing style—now his only hope for survival.
"I'm not alone," Cid replied, drawing on every ounce of confidence he could muster. As if in response to his words, an explosion rocked the mine entrance, sending tremors through the cavern. The diversion had begun, right on schedule.
"Find the others!" Upper Moon Seven commanded two of the lesser demons. "Bring me their heads!"
As the demons raced toward the entrance, Cid knew he had to act. He couldn't let them reach his companions, who were positioned for diversion, not direct combat with multiple demons.
"Shadow Breathing, Second Form," he called out, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "Eclipse Step."
He moved like liquid darkness, flowing past the remaining lesser demon with such fluid precision that it couldn't track his movement. His blade found its neck in passing, another demon reduced to ash before it could even register the attack.
Upper Moon Seven's eyes narrowed with genuine interest. "Shadow Breathing? I've existed for three centuries and never encountered this style." It smiled, the expression terrible on its inhuman face. "How fascinating. I shall enjoy adding it to my collection after I consume you."
The demon moved with shocking speed, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Cid barely managed to deflect its first strike, the force of the blow sending him skidding backward.
"You have technique," the demon acknowledged, "but you lack power. Without it, technique is merely an elaborate way to die."
It attacked again, a flurry of strikes that Cid could only partially deflect. Pain blossomed across his shoulder and side as the demon's claws found flesh, drawing first blood.
In that moment of pain, Cid felt something unexpected—a surge of energy through the tether, starting from where he knew Kiss-Shot was positioned outside. Not her full power, but a whisper of her ancient strength, flowing into him like liquid fire.
"Wrong," Cid gasped through gritted teeth. "I don't lack power. I share it."
Another pulse through the tether—Florence this time, her tactical precision sharpening his senses, allowing him to see patterns in the demon's movements that would have been invisible before.
"Shadow Breathing, Third Form," he announced, stance shifting as four more energy pulses flowed through the tether in rapid succession—Frieren's ancient wisdom, Nero's imperial confidence, Lucoa's chaotic creativity, and finally, a second pulse from Kiss-Shot, stronger than before.
"Darkstar Convergence!"
His blade became a blur of motion, not with supernatural speed but with perfect precision, each strike building on the last in a complex pattern that the demon, for all its power and experience, couldn't quite predict.
Upper Moon Seven hissed in pain as the Nichirin blade scored a deep cut across its chest. "Impossible," it snarled. "You're just a human!"
"No," Cid corrected, maintaining the flow of his technique as energy continued to pulse through the tether. "I'm the Shadow Master. And you're in my domain now."
The demon's expression contorted with rage as it unleashed its true power—a Blood Demon Art that filled the cavern with writhing shadows that solidified into deadly spikes.
"Control shadows?" it mocked. "I am the darkness itself! Your pathetic 'Shadow Breathing' is nothing compared to my power!"
The shadow spikes converged on Cid from all directions, too many to dodge, too solid to deflect. In that moment of certain death, he felt the tether between him and his companions pulse with unprecedented strength—all five of them channeling everything they had, beyond what should have been possible in their diminished state.
"Shadow Breathing, Final Form," Cid whispered, the words coming from some deep well of certainty he hadn't known he possessed. "Void Eclipse."
The world seemed to hold its breath. The shadow spikes froze mid-air, trembling as if caught between conflicting forces. Then, impossibly, they began to turn, rotating slowly until they faced not Cid, but their creator.
"What?" Upper Moon Seven gasped in genuine shock. "How are you—"
"Shadows obey their master," Cid replied, though he was as surprised as the demon by what was happening. "And here, that's me."
With a thought, he sent the shadow spikes hurtling back toward the demon. They struck with devastating force, pinning Upper Moon Seven to the cavern wall like a butterfly on display.
Cid approached the immobilized demon, his Nichirin blade gleaming in the phosphorescent light. "This is for the villagers," he said quietly, raising his sword for the killing blow.
"Wait!" the demon shrieked, its arrogance replaced by terror. "You don't understand what's happening! Lord Muzan is preparing something—something big! These sacrifices, the blood rituals—they're just the beginning!"
Cid hesitated, blade poised. "The beginning of what?"
The demon's mouth twisted in a desperate smile. "The end of the Demon Slayer Corps. Lord Muzan has found a way to break the curse of the sun. Soon, nothing will stop us. Nothing!"
Before Cid could demand more information, a rumbling shook the cavern—the sound of battle drawing closer. The diversion was becoming a full-scale assault.
"Your friends won't survive," Upper Moon Seven taunted, sensing Cid's concern. "I sent my strongest servants to greet them. Even now, they're being torn apart."
Rage flashed through Cid, hot and unfamiliar. Without conscious thought, he swung his blade, severing the demon's head in a single clean stroke. As Upper Moon Seven dissolved into ash, Cid was already running toward the entrance, toward his companions, toward the strange family that had formed around him through cosmic chance.
The scene that greeted him as he emerged into the main tunnel was both horrifying and awe-inspiring. His five companions stood in a perfect pentagram formation, back to back, facing not just the two lesser demons that had been sent after them, but what appeared to be a dozen more that had been hidden elsewhere in the mine complex.
What should have been a slaughter was instead a standoff. Despite their diminished powers, the five former divinities moved with coordinated precision that made them far more effective than individual fighters.
Kiss-Shot fought with feral grace, her former vampire reflexes allowing her to predict and counter demonic attacks with contemptuous ease. Florence applied her medical knowledge in reverse, targeting vulnerable anatomy with surgical precision. Frieren moved like a dancer, her thousand years of observation allowing her to read attack patterns before they fully formed. Nero fought with imperial flair, her natural charisma somehow extending to her bladework, drawing attention and creating openings for the others. And Lucoa seemed to be everywhere at once, her chaotic fighting style perfectly complementing the more structured approaches of her companions.
The tether that bound them allowed instantaneous coordination without the need for verbal communication—a synchronized dance of five extraordinary women against inhuman monsters.
As Cid joined the battle, sliding into position at the center of their formation, he felt the tether strengthen further, the six of them now moving as a single entity with multiple blades.
"Upper Moon Seven?" Kiss-Shot asked tersely, decapitating a demon without looking.
"Eliminated," Cid confirmed, falling into rhythm with their coordinated attacks. "But there's more. These demons were conducting blood rituals, trying to help Muzan overcome his weakness to sunlight."
"Problematic," Florence assessed, driving her blade through a demon's eye with clinical detachment. "Strategic implications severe if successful."
"We can discuss implications after we survive," Frieren suggested calmly, her blade finding another demon's neck with deceptive gentleness.
"Agreed!" Nero exclaimed, her fighting style all flamboyant flourishes that somehow resulted in lethal precision. "Glory now, strategy later!"
"Speaking of survival," Lucoa called out, her mismatched eyes fixed on the cavern ceiling, "we might want to consider a tactical retreat. This place is becoming structurally unsound."
She was right—their battle had weakened support beams, and the earlier explosion had compromised key structural elements. The entire mine was groaning ominously, dust and small rocks already raining down.
"Retreat pattern delta," Florence commanded, and without further discussion, they began moving as one toward the exit, maintaining their formation while covering each other's vulnerabilities.
They emerged from the mine moments before the entrance collapsed in a thunderous roar of falling rock and timber. As dust billowed out into the twilight air, Cid found himself standing on the hillside, surrounded by his companions—dirty, bloodied, but triumphant.
"We need to check the villagers," Florence stated immediately, ever the medic. "Confirm no demon infiltration during our absence."
"And report to the Corps," Frieren added softly. "This information about Muzan's plans is critical."
As they made their way back toward the village, Cid felt a curious lightness despite the gravity of what they'd discovered. They had faced an Upper Moon demon—one of Muzan's elite—and survived. More than survived, they had won.
His childhood fantasy of being a shadow master had somehow, impossibly, become reality. Not through supernatural power or divine intervention, but through the combined strength of six individuals bound together by fate and growing affection.
"You know," Lucoa said thoughtfully as they walked, "in some cultures, defeating a powerful enemy together is considered a form of marriage ceremony."
"What?" Cid sputtered, while Kiss-Shot and Nero made simultaneous sounds of outrage.
"Just an observation," Lucoa continued innocently, though her eyes danced with mischief. "Though I must say, if we are metaphorically married now, our honeymoon is leaving something to be desired."
"We are not married," Kiss-Shot stated flatly. "Defeating enemies together is simply practical combat alliance."
"Indeed!" Nero agreed vehemently. "If anyone were to marry the Praetor, it would clearly be me, as I am of imperial rank!"
"Marriage requires medical compatibility assessment and psychological evaluation," Florence noted clinically. "Neither of which has occurred."
Only Frieren remained quiet, though a small smile played at the corners of her lips as she walked beside Cid.
"What are you thinking?" he asked her softly, falling back slightly from the others.
"That in a thousand years," she replied, her ancient eyes warm with something that might have been happiness, "I never expected to find a family like this. Loud, chaotic, and entirely wonderful."
Cid looked ahead at the four women arguing about the theoretical parameters of their non-existent marriage, and found himself smiling despite the dangers they had faced and those still to come.
"Neither did I," he admitted. "But I wouldn't trade it for all the shadow powers in the world."
From the way Frieren's hand found his as they walked, he suspected she felt exactly the same.
Chapter 9: Ripples Across Water
News of their victory over Upper Moon Seven spread through the Demon Slayer Corps with the speed and intensity of wildfire. By the time they returned to the Butterfly Estate a week later, the six of them had acquired a new title beyond "Moonlight Company" or even "Shadow Garden."
"The Hexagon," Shinobu Kocho informed them as they reported to Lord Ubuyashiki, her sweet voice laced with a respect that hadn't been there before. "That's what they're calling you now. Six points of a perfect shape, each essential to its structure."
Lord Ubuyashiki received their report with grave attention, particularly the information about Muzan's apparent efforts to overcome his vulnerability to sunlight.
"This confirms certain suspicions we have held," the blind leader said solemnly. "Muzan has been unusually active recently, his demons more coordinated in their attacks. You have provided valuable intelligence at great risk to yourselves."
He turned his bandaged face toward Cid with eerie precision. "Particularly you, Master Kagenou. Engaging an Upper Moon alone was either supreme courage or supreme foolishness."
"A bit of both," Cid admitted honestly, earning a soft chuckle from the Corps leader.
"The best warriors often balance on that line," Lord Ubuyashiki observed. "In recognition of your service, I am officially designating the Shadow Garden as a special division within the Corps structure. You will report directly to me, operating independently but with full Corps resources at your disposal."
It was more than Cid could have hoped for—official status but with the freedom to maintain their unique approach and the privacy to conceal their otherworldly origins.
"Furthermore," Lord Ubuyashiki continued, "given the unique nature of your Shadow Breathing technique, I believe specialized Nichirin blades are warranted. Haganezuka will forge weapons suited to your particular style."
Shinobu's eyes widened slightly at this pronouncement. Haganezuka was the Corps' master swordsmith, known for his brilliance, reclusiveness, and extremely selective choice of projects.
"We are honored," Cid bowed formally, genuinely moved by the recognition.
As they left the audience with Lord Ubuyashiki, their new status was immediately apparent in the way other Demon Slayers regarded them—with a mixture of respect, curiosity, and in some cases, open awe.
"This is appropriate tribute!" Nero declared, basking in the attention. "The glory of the Shadow Garden spreads!"
"It's problematic," Kiss-Shot countered, her crimson eyes narrowed at a group of young slayers who were staring at them with undisguised admiration. "Fame makes us targets, both for demons and for unwanted scrutiny."
"Fame also provides strategic advantages," Florence pointed out pragmatically. "Resource access, information flow, operational autonomy."
"And private baths," Lucoa added cheerfully. "I heard special divisions get their own bathing facilities rather than using the common ones."
This particular benefit caught everyone's attention, given their previous awkward experiences with bathing logistics. The tether that bound them necessitated proximity at all times, which had led to several compromising situations in public bathhouses.
Their compound had indeed been upgraded during their absence, with not only private bathing facilities but expanded living quarters, a dedicated training area, and a small medical room outfitted to Florence's exacting specifications.
That evening, as they settled into their improved accommodations, Cid found himself alone in the central courtyard, practicing Shadow Breathing forms under the light of a full moon. The techniques that had begun as pure fantasy had evolved into something real and effective, a unique style born of desperation and belief.
"Your form has improved," Frieren's quiet voice came from behind him. The former elf mage moved silently even without her powers, a habit from centuries of life.
"Thanks to all of you," Cid acknowledged, sheathing his practice blade. "I still don't fully understand how the tether works during combat, how it lets me channel your strength."
Frieren considered this, her ancient eyes reflective in the moonlight. "In my world, there was a theory about souls—that they aren't as separate as we believe. That under certain conditions, the boundaries between them can become... permeable."
"You think that's what's happening with us? Our souls are blending?"
"Not blending," Frieren clarified, "but harmonizing. Like instruments in an orchestra, each maintaining its unique sound while contributing to a greater whole."
Before Cid could respond, a splash and subsequent squeal from the direction of the bathhouse interrupted their conversation.
"The imperial posterior deserves respect!" Nero's indignant voice carried clearly into the night. "Remove your vampiric hands at once!"
"I was merely preventing you from slipping," Kiss-Shot's dry voice replied. "Next time I'll let you fall."
"The bath appears adequate for our needs," Florence's clinical assessment followed. "Water temperature optimal for muscle relaxation and circulation improvement."
"It would be more optimal with company," Lucoa's suggestive tone was unmistakable. "Cid must be finishing his training about now. Perhaps we should invite him to join us?"
Cid felt heat rise to his face as Frieren laughed softly