Chapter 1

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So now I guess it's time for the information. Let's get on with it then.

Name:
(Y/N) Ackerman

Age:
13

Appearance:
If you read this before I rewrote everything then I'm sorry to say that your privileges have been revoked! (Y/N) stands at 5'2, has black hair at shoulder length which is usually tied up into a bun. His facial features are very soft and can be seen as feminine, taking after his mother rather than his father. (Ima justify myself real hard, it's because the Ackerman genes are stronger and his mother is the Ackerman. Plus I want there to be a scene where a demon mocks his looks before dying immediately. I dunno why I just do)

Personality:
(Y/N) is very stoic, usually speaks monotone and short sentences because he likes getting straight to the point. He'll die for the people that he loves, and has an indomitable will to protect them. He values human life very highly. Oh yea, he's also left handed. (This is only cause I'm left handed.)

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"Yes, let's go," I said as we walked into town.

Through the middle of the cosy town, we tread, each step accompanied by warm greetings directed at Tanjiro.

Tanjiro, a universally adored figure. Meanwhile I was just the guy who accompanied him.

But truth be told, I didn't mind. The spotlight wasn't my scene. I wasn't drawn to attention; it simply didn't suit me.

"Hey there, Tanjiro," an elderly woman greeted while sweeping her front yard. A warm smile adorned her face. "You two came down from the mountain in this weather? Impressive."

"We've got a reason, ma'am," Tanjiro replied, his smile carrying a touch of his signature optimism. "Can't risk anyone else catching a cold."

"Remember to take care of yourself too," I remarked, my tone serious and even.

"Come on, (Y/N), this weather's nothing for me," Tanjiro replied with a light chuckle. "And we've got work to do."

Turning back to the woman standing by her house, he continued, "Speaking of which, you got enough charcoal?"

In a short span, a man's voice cut through the air, "Hey, Tanjiro! Got any charcoal left? Oh, and thanks for fixing my door the other day!"

"Absolutely!" Tanjiro responded with enthusiasm.

"I could use some too!"

"Same here!"

Then, a sudden cry pierced through the surrounding sounds, causing us to pivot on our heels.

"T-Tanjiro!" The cry was desperate, filled with urgency.

Tanjiro spun around, and I mirrored the action, our attention now on a young boy. His face bore bruises and blood, his appearance marked by evident distress.

"Tanjiro, please, help me," the boy pleaded, his hands cupping a cloth with trembling desperation.

"Slow down, take a breath," Tanjiro soothed, "What's going on?"

"I've been accused of breaking this plate!" The boy's voice trembled. "But it wasn't me, Tanjiro, I swear!"

"No problem, let's sort this out," Tanjiro reassured, his demeanour calming and confident.

The onlookers waited with anticipation.

With a focused expression, Tanjiro raised the plate to his nose and took a deep inhalation.

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