Demon Tamer

Chapter 1: Repetition

You sat there, on your throne in the dark room. Below you were demons' bodies, grabbing up for you weakly as you starved them. You simply smiled. Their heads hung from chains, waiting for you to feed them, begging in fact, as their groans were heard from where they hung. Not that you listened too much, it was more a disturbance than anything you enjoyed. A demon approached you, walking over the bodies and trying not to have their yukata grabbed and ripped off by bodies trying for her position. She approached your throne with a scroll and bowed, "i-it's night time... ma'am." She whispered as you took the scroll and opened it.

As every story was, it began with an adventure. You knew as much, as yet your whole life, you wanted to just settle down with your demon slaves. Still, being a Demon Slayer produced its income. The lack of demons in your area was substantial evidence that you made good work of the things. And truly, you did. You would kill some, then behead others with your other sword - the sword you first used to practise sword fighting well over 10 years ago -. Those bodies would be led back to your basement where you'd kick them to the pile. The head hung up so you could see what you killed. At first, many demons didn't believe you were out there, creating the throne of demons. But as they kept coming and disappearing, you grew your pile and they grew more aware. Somewhere in your pile was a lower moon. The old lower moon 6. His body was buried under countless bodies above him of lower class demons. You would sometimes walk down the rows and rows of demon heads, berating each and every one. They hated it, of course - being put in such a terrible state by a woman no older than 26.

Demons' thoughts changed as you recalled it, picking a few heads one night and finding their bodies. You carried them out of the cellar and into the doorway. They looked hopeful as you grabbed the chains around their necks and watched them heal again. The moment they did, they bowed to your feet above more bodies. They were weak and frail. You gave each one of them three drops of your blood. A marechi, that's what you were, so they took the three drops and grew back to what they were last, powerful demons. One jumped you, and died with ease as you swiped across its neck with your nichirin blade. The others waited compliantly. You gripped their chains and took them to the rest of your house, and then, outside. Where the moon shone down against the dirt paths and you had flower beds of different purple flowers and lilies to simply tease the thought that below it was a dark room of wisteria, with bodies scrambling to find their heads while you had gone. To no avail as the pollen worked its magic on the hyperventilating demons, having them collapse at one deep inhale. You pointed to the six demons at their knees, "your kind keeps underestimating me, so I want you to go out there, and spread my name. Tell them. And if you dare run into me again after this, you will have truly died. This is your second chance to wreak the agony you want to give others. But remember, if I see you after this... when I have let you free... I won't be so kind as to toss you in the cellar with the rest of them." You ordered and watched as each left. You went back to your basement and smiled at the sighed of two rotting bodies from the wisteria intake. You picked up the rotting things with ease and tossed them out into the open to blindly roam around and wait for the sun to rise and kiss their skin lovingly with the nostalgic embrace of death.

The letter before you, though you assumed it was from Ubuyashiki, was from someone else. Someone who signed off with M.Kibu. You raised an eyebrow at your servant. The only demon from the messenger excursion to return to your place. In a desperate need to die as she had nothing left of herself, you let her live in misery, as your personal servant. She looked at the name, you had never met a demon who could write. So he was worth your time. As you went into your main home with the letter, there the man sat, at your table, looking at the plants outside. He smiled at the sight of you, red eyes, black, somewhat greasy looking hair and a terribly pale complexion. You'd never seen him before. He wore a haori under western clothes. So he was a rich demon for the Meiji Era. And he was playing it off rather well as your demon servant shuddered at the sight of the man and excused herself. You were left alone with the man who sat in your kitchen area.