The morning sun filtered through the dense foliage as Bell walked with a relaxed stride towards the mountainside where Mitsuri had told him the ancient weapon lay hidden. He couldn't shake the lingering smile that tugged at his lips; thoughts of the previous evening, the warmth in Mitsuri's laughter, and the faint blush on her cheeks danced in his mind. Bell enjoyed being around her—it was more than just friendship. Maybe, when the time was right, he would turn those lingering glances into something more.
As he approached the clearing where the training ground lay, he noticed Tanjiro locked in an intense duel with an ancient, towering mechanical doll that wielded six arms, each gripping a katana. The doll, known as Yoriichi Type Zero, moved with astonishing precision, each swing of its bladed arms creating a blur of lethal steel arcs in the air. Despite its ancient design, the doll's movements were relentless, attacking with a practiced and deadly rhythm that made it a fierce opponent even for a Demon Slayer. Tanjiro, panting heavily, parried and dodged with determination, his breaths ragged but his spirit unyielding.
Bell watched with quiet admiration. The boy's skill had grown considerably since they'd met, and his dedication to his craft was as fierce as his will to protect his friends. When Tanjiro stepped back, exhausted, he met Bell's eyes and grinned through his heavy breaths. "It's incredible… but it feels like I'm only scratching the surface of what I could learn."
Bell chuckled and approached the small boy who held the key to the doll. "Mind if I give it a go?" he asked, casting a playful look toward the key-holder.
The boy hesitated, clutching the key tightly. "You're strong, but… at max level, it could… break." His voice trailed off, eyeing Bell uncertainly.
Bell leaned in, his grin widening. "Then set it at max," he said, voice low and brimming with confidence. "I'd hate to break it at anything less."
The boy finally relented, inserting the key and twisting it, and with a series of audible clicks, the doll shifted, each of its joints resetting to a higher level of tension, the hum of hidden mechanisms rising in pitch. The Type Zero now stood at full strength, its six katana poised and gleaming in the morning light.
Bell took a deep breath, his demeanor shifting from playful to focused as he adjusted his stance. In an instant, he drew his blade, his eyes honing in on the doll's form as if dissecting every possible angle of attack. Then, without a word, he vanished from sight in a blur of movement. The only sound was the faint rustle of grass as Bell reappeared on the other side of the doll, his sword already sheathed.
Tanjiro and the boy with the key could only gape as a line appeared through the doll's center, and the top half slid silently from the lower half. A second later, the upper half of the doll vaporized, scattering into particles like dust carried by the breeze.
"What… kind of technique was that?" Tanjiro muttered in awe, eyes wide.
Bell glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "Just a little move I picked up." He moved toward the remains of the doll, which lay in splinters around them, and as he sifted through the rubble, his fingers brushed against the cold steel of an ancient katana, still housed within its scabbard.
Tanjiro reached for it, drawing the sword slowly. Despite its undeniable historical significance, the blade was covered in a thick layer of rust, the years having taken their toll. "It's… so old," he murmured, disappointed.
Just then, Tanjiro's fiery-tempered blacksmith, Haganezuka, appeared, his face alight with anticipation. The boy and Tanjiro tried to hold onto the sword, but with swift, almost indignant movements, the smith whisked it away, hugging it protectively. Bell chuckled at their reactions, mirth filling his eyes as he observed Tanjiro's reverence for the ancient relic.
Turning to Tanjiro, Bell offered some words of advice. "This doll—its movements were modeled after the Sun Breathing Technique. You should keep practicing it. With enough work, you'll catch up to the others like Giyuu or Rengoku." He watched as Tanjiro's expression shifted from curiosity to fierce determination. The young slayer had idols to honor, mentors to prove himself worthy of, and Bell could see that he was on the right path.
As the day wound down and evening crept over the village, Tanjiro joined the Mist Hashira, Muichiro Tokito, near the edge of a small garden. Nezuko, always quick to find a moment of fun, darted around, dragging a delighted Tanjiro into a lively game of chase. Muichiro looked on with a small, rare smile, his normally serene expression softened by the siblings' laughter.
But as they played, an eerie creak sounded from the open doorway, freezing the moment in an instant. A shadowed figure shuffled into view, gaunt and withered, with a menacing aura that filled the room with suffocating dread. Tanjiro's gaze sharpened, and before anyone could react, his blade flashed as he sprang forward, decapitating the demon in one clean stroke. He straightened, breathing heavily, eyes locked onto where the demon's head had landed.
"Not bad," Muichiro murmured, a note of approval in his voice. But Tanjiro's eyes remained locked on the fallen demon.
"Don't let your guard down yet, Tokito-san," he said, his voice strained with warning. "This demon… it won't die so easily."
As if to confirm his words, the decapitated demon's body convulsed, splitting apart with sickening sounds. From the crumbling remains emerged two new demons, each bearing a younger, more monstrous appearance than the last. Their auras pulsed with an intense malevolence, filling the room with a suffocating sense of chaos. One, with eyes blazing like hellfire, released a low snarl, while the other, smirking cruelly, conjured swirling wind with each movement.
The two demons didn't hesitate. The fiery-eyed one lunged at Tanjiro, claws gleaming, and though Tanjiro managed to evade, he struggled to keep up with the creature's relentless speed and ferocity. Muichiro barely had time to react as the wind demon flicked his hand, unleashing a gust that sent him flying, crashing through walls and scattering debris in his wake.
Bell arrived, sword drawn, his six eyes narrowing as he took in the monstrous forms before him. He charged, meeting the fiery-eyed demon head-on, their blades clashing with a deafening clang. Sparks erupted as they pushed against each other, Bell's unyielding strength matching the demon's ferocity. Each strike was a test of skill, both refusing to yield as they battled with lethal precision.
Tanjiro, fighting with newfound intensity, dodged a flurry of attacks from the wind demon, narrowly avoiding each swipe of its clawed hands. His breaths came in sharp bursts as he held his ground, determination blazing in his eyes. The demon's wind blast tore through the air, and Tanjiro barely escaped, staggering back as the demon snarled in frustration.
Bell moved with unmatched fluidity, his strikes precise and devastating, forcing the fiery demon back with each attack. But even as the demon staggered under Bell's unrelenting assault, he seemed to grow stronger, the flames in his eyes intensifying with a cruel grin.
"Tanjiro!" Bell shouted, locking eyes with the younger slayer. "Get everyone back and take Nezuko with you! These demons… they're stronger than they look."
But as Tanjiro turned to call out to Muichiro, the wind demon hurled him into the air with a mighty gust, his voice ringing with twisted glee as he watched the young slayer struggle.
The moment was frantic, the battlefield lit by the flickering glow of demon blood arts and the clang of steel against claw. And in that charged air, as the demons closed in, Bell gripped his sword tighter, his eyes blazing with fierce resolve as he faced down the twin threats before him, the night far from over and the true fight only just beginning.
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