FORMER THUNDER HASHIRA'S DOJO – EVENING(9 DAYS BEFORE PRESENT)
THIRD PERSON POV
A soft breeze rustled the wind chimes that hung at the edge of the worn-out dojo, whispering through the quiet hills surrounding it.
The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the cracked stone path.
Alex stood before the wooden gate. He hadn't come here lightly.
He knew the pain that lingered within these walls.
Jigoro Kuwajima—once revered as the Thunder Hashira—had been teetering on the edge of despair.
His first and most promising disciple had fallen, corrupted by the hands of Doma, the twisted Upper Moon demon.
The boy had not only turned but murdered his fellow slayers during what was supposed to be a routine scouting mission.
Jigoro blamed himself.
And now, the old man planned to take his own life... to atone through seppuku.
Alex wouldn't allow it.
To him, the sacrifice was unnecessary. Muzan was going to die—sooner or later. Throwing a life away now would serve no purpose. It would be a noble gesture, yes, but ultimately in vain.
While it did ignite a willpower in Zenitsu, push him beyond his fear, and give him something to stand for—it left him lonelier than ever.
The price of motivation… was heartbreak.
He took a breath and released his tension with a slow exhale.
As he raised his hand—
Knock, knock.
The old wooden door creaked open after a few moments. A young teen peeked through, his wary eyes scanning Alex with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Bruises marred his face—faint but visible, like fading ink stains on paper.
"Hello, mister," the boy said, offering a small, polite bow. "What brings you here?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. Damn, even the kids in this world are more polite than I ever was... He straightened his back.
"Hey. I'm here to speak with the former Thunder Hashira—Jigoro-san—from the Demon Slayer Corps. It's urgent."
The boy blinked, visibly taken aback, but before he could respond, a thunderous voice echoed from deeper within the dojo.
"Who is it, Kirito?!"
The old man's voice rang with the strength of a warrior, even if his body had grown small and hunched with age.
Moments later, Jigoro Kuwajima himself appeared at the doorway.
He was short, with spiky white hair and thick brows pulled tight with suspicion.
His eyes, though aged, still held the fire of a swordsman.
"Who are you?" he barked.
Alex stood firm. "My name is Alex. I've come on behalf of the Demon Slayer Corp. Kagaya-san has sent me personally."
"I'm here to deliver his message—you are forbidden from committing seppuku because of your disciple's actions."
Jigoro's face contorted, eyes wide with disbelief. His fists trembled at his sides.
"Do you even understand what you're saying?!" he growled, voice cracking with grief and rage.
"My disciple—my own student—became a demon! He betrayed our corps and slaughtered his comrades! Do you think I can live with that shame!?"
Kirito stood frozen beside him, glancing back and forth between the two. His eyes widened as he recognized the name Alex—the man who had slain Upper Moon Three.
Stories of that battle had spread like wildfire. To meet the man behind them in the flesh was awe-inspiring.
But Alex didn't flinch under the elder's fury. He held his ground, tone calm but firm.
"Think about your other son, ossan," Alex said softly. "Zenitsu. He's still here. He still needs you."
Jigoro's eyes quivered.
His hands—calloused from decades of swordsmanship—trembled as he took a step back. His breath hitched.
"Zenitsu…" he whispered. "You don't understand. That boy is... he's my pride and joy. My brightest light. That's why I have to do this. So that no one can ever say he trained under a man who raised a demon…"
Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, and his voice cracked like old wood.
Alex's voice softened but grew resolute.
"You don't need to do this, old man. Zenitsu will slay the traitor himself. He'll clear your name with his own sword or you can yourself do that. The final battle is right around the corner. After that, the corps will disband. This nightmare will be over."
He stepped forward, kneeling slightly to match the old man's gaze.
"Don't leave him behind to carry this weight alone."
For a long moment, silence fell.
Jigoro inhaled sharply. A ragged, tired breath escaped him like steam from an old kettle. The tears didn't fall, but his eyes glistened in the fading light.
"…Huff… you've got some nerve," he muttered, then gave Alex a small, almost grudging nod. "Very well. For Zenitsu's sake, I'll listen."
He turned around, the weight on his back seeming to lighten, even if just a little.
"Come in. Let's talk."
He gestured with a stiff hand. "Anyone who's slain an Upper Moon alone deserves at least one conversation."
Alex followed him into the dojo, the wooden floor creaking beneath their steps.
Kirito shut the door behind them, still looking at Alex like he was watching a mythical beast walk through his living room.
The heated debate between the old man and Alex had dragged on long past sunset.
The once-golden skies had darkened into deep indigo, and the quiet hum of cicadas filled the silence between each volley of philosophical arguments.
Jigoro slammed his palm on the floor. "You talk like you know everything, kid!"
Alex scoffed, leaning back with crossed arms. "No, I talk like someone who doesn't want you to die a meaningless death"
Kirito, seated in the corner with wide eyes and a cold glass of water in his trembling hands, didn't dare blink.
It wasn't every day you saw an Upper Moon Slayer verbally sparring with a former Hashira about life, death, and personal pride.
Eventually, silence settled.
Jigoro took the water Kirito brought and gulped it down, his throat bobbing with each audible swallow.
"Oi, gaki…" the old man muttered, wiping his mouth. "…You're not bad."
The words hung in the air like an unexpected truce flag.
Alex smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment. Even if you almost bit my head off five times."
Jigoro snorted and looked out the window at the moonlight. "Hmph. You're still annoying."
Alex stood up, cracking his neck. "Well, since I'm done annoying you, how about this—come with me to the Demon Slayer Corps. I have a feeling the last battle is approaching. We'll need every sword that can still cut."
Jigoro remained silent for a moment, stroking his mustache in thought. His eyes gleamed not with despair now, but curiosity—hope, perhaps.
"…Alright. I'll come," he finally said, a grin curling beneath his white mustache. "Let's see just how far that kid Zenitsu has come."
Alex chuckled under his breath. Sorry, Zenitsu. I may have saved your old man's life… but I might've just doomed you back to extra training.
````````````````````````````
DEMON SLAYER CORPS – TEMPORARY CAFETERIA
ALEX'S POV (7 day before present)NIGHT
The cafeteria was lively with the clatter of trays and the hum of exhausted Demon Slayers swapping stories. The smell of freshly made rice and grilled meat filled the air.
I sat on the edge table, enjoying my tea and pretending not to eavesdrop—well, not too obviously—on Zenitsu and Tanjiro.
"Tanjiro," Zenitsu mumbled between mouthfuls of rice, "have you seen Inosuke? I haven't seen that boar-headed maniac since yesterday."
Tanjiro, who was nursing a swollen eye and several bruises courtesy of my clone's 'gentle correction training,' shook his head. "I haven't. Maybe he's still in the simulation space?"
Honestly, Zenitsu thought how lucky he was. No one wanted to be his personal teacher, so he got spared from one-on-one torment and instead followed the universal hell regime I set up. He hadn't realized yet… but he'd just raised a flag.
And then…
"Oy, kid!" barked a familiar, gruff voice from the cafeteria entrance.
Zenitsu froze mid-chew. He blinked slowly, like a man experiencing déjà vu. He dismissed it.
No… no way. That voice can't be—"Didn't you hear me? I'm calling you."The voice was now right behind him.
Zenitsu turned."EEEHHH!?!?! M-M-MASTER?!"
He practically jumped out of his skin, his tray flying into the air like a startled pigeon.
Jigoro stood behind him, arms crossed, looking as fearsome as ever.
"Do I have to ask you where I should be, brat?" Jigoro said with a raised brow. "You call this training? Hmph. Come with me."
He grabbed Zenitsu by the back of his collar like a misbehaving puppy.
"Wai—Master! I was eating! At least let me finish my pickled radish!" Zenitsu whimpered as he was dragged away.
Jigoro glanced over at me as he passed, then pointed to a girl handing out food—Cara, who was currently balancing five trays with the ease of a seasoned warrior mom.
"Do I follow that girl to the training space?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, she'll show you the way."
"Oi, understood." He strode off, carrying a flailing Zenitsu-like luggage.
Tanjiro, still chewing thoughtfully, turned to me. "Who was that?"
"Zenitsu's teacher," I replied, eyes wandering around. Now… where's Shinobu? I haven't seen her for a whole day and I already miss her sarcastic death threats.
Then—
"Oh? Who were you looking for?"
A sweet voice, coated in honey but laced with unmistakable irritation, echoed from directly behind me.
I stiffened. Slowly, like a man caught red-handed, I turned around.
Cara stood there with her arms crossed and a dangerous smile. "Is it that girl you're looking for?"
Oh no. I'm in danger.
Tanjiro took one look at my face and silently, masterfully, disappeared like smoke in the wind.
Traitor.
"Come with me," I said softly, not commanding—just… asking.
Cara's eyes narrowed. She didn't say anything, but the way she spun on her heel and stomped forward told me one thing: I had about thirty seconds before I got slapped, stabbed, or shunned.
Possibly all three.
I followed her out of the bustling cafeteria into the quiet night air. The moon hung low, casting silver light on the courtyard, where fireflies danced lazily between the trees. It should've been peaceful.
It wasn't.
Cara stopped near one of the training dummies, arms still crossed, her face unreadable. That was worse than shouting. I'd take demon claws or a pissed-off Inosuke over silent fury any day.
"You've got ten seconds," she said without turning. "Before I assume you're about to say something stupid and leave."
My heart thumped once. Loud. Heavy. Alright, let's do this.
"I know you're mad," I began, stepping closer, "and you have every right to be. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't forget about you either."
She let out a bitter chuckle. "Didn't forget, huh? So proposing to Shinobu before even talking to me about how you felt—that's your way of remembering?"
Okay. Yeah. That one stung. But I deserved it.
"I wasn't thinking straight. I acted on impulse with Shinobu… she just—" I stopped, taking a breath, then looked her in the eyes. "—She just beat me to it well yeah she ambushed me. You and I never really talked about 'us.' I didn't think I had the right to assume anything."
Cara turned slowly, the anger in her eyes now mixed with something else. Pain. Uncertainty. Hope?
"Then what are we, Alex?" the first time she called her Alex without any honorific.
Her voice cracked, just slightly.
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us, not daring to break eye contact.
"You're… important to me. More than you realize," I said, my voice steady but quiet, almost swallowed by the wind.
"You've been with me through everything—from the chaos of Marvel to this world. The missions, the simulations… watching my back when no one else did. Dragging me out when I pushed too far when I was ready to break."
Cara blinked, startled. Her lips parted ever so slightly, but no words came out.
I took a breath. I needed to say this before the moment slipped away—or before I chickened out.
"I like you, Cara. I know this isn't the best time—hell, I might be awful at picking my moments. I don't want you to be mad at me forever."
I stepped closer, slowly placing my hand against her cheek. Her skin was warm—so warm it made my fingers tremble. How it is warm? She really crafted the body carefully.
Cara's arms fell to her sides, the tension slowly melting from her shoulders.
"…Do you really mean it?" she asked, softly. The strong, fierce woman I knew sounded uncertain, like a girl on the edge of hope.
I nodded, eyes locked on hers. "I'm saying I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be honest with you. I like you, Cara. I care about you. I'm… kind of an idiot, sure, but even I know I'd be lost without you."
The world around us held its breath. Not a single leaf stirred. The silence was stretched taut like a drawn bowstring.
And then…
Cara blinked rapidly, her calm and composed demeanor flickering—like a machine overheating from emotional overload. Her cheeks flared red. A small spark seemed to leap from her eyes as her knees wobbled. Then—
Thunk.
She fainted.
"Wha—Cara?!"
I caught her just in time, her body collapsing into my arms like she was an overloaded CPU forced to shut down. Her head rested against my shoulder, her breath steady but soft. For a moment, I panicked, checking my watch nervously—then sighed in relief.
"She's… unconscious," I muttered, chuckling under my breath. "Yep. Classic emotional system overload."
I gazed down at her peaceful face, brushing a few strands of hair away before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"I really short-circuited, huh?" I whispered fondly.
And then, because fate has a twisted sense of timing—
"Ahh, it's really great that you've reconciled with her."
That voice.
That sweet, familiar, dangerously perceptive voice.
I didn't even need to look.
"…She was eyeing me like I stole you," Shinobu said, her tone lilting with amusement.
I sighed dramatically. "Yeah, it was nerve-wracking. Please, next time, give me a warning if I've unknowingly walked into romantic landmines. Silent treatment terrifies me more than anything."
I adjusted Cara in my arms, holding her like a sleeping princess, and began walking toward the Butterfly Estate—my temporary home and now, apparently, love triangle headquarters.
"Well," Shinobu said with a teasing glint in her eyes, "now you've got me and her. So, when exactly are you planning to explain the third one? What was her name again… Jean, right?"
I froze mid-step.
"…Did you both plan this?" I asked, turning slowly, my expression somewhere between disbelief and a man who just realized he walked into a trap with no escape route. Because without them talking to each other shinobu won't be able to know about Jean
Shinobu chuckled behind her sleeve. "Well… she asked me. Then we both agreed it would be more fun this way."
And with that, she took off down the path, laughter trailing behind her like perfume in the moonlight.
I stared after her, dumbfounded. Then shook my head with a helpless grin.
"They played me," I muttered, walking toward the estate with an unconscious girl in my arms and another waiting ahead, both of them sharing notes.
But honestly?
I wouldn't have it any other way.
```````````````````````````````````
Author's Note:
Hey everyone! Just a heads-up—
The fight against Demons will be wrapped up in next 6 chapters, and the final battle arc itself will include arc itself will conclude around Chapter 15, 16, 17 , 18 and 19.
I know it's intense, but I don't want to drag things out unnecessarily. The story needs to keep moving forward—especially with other anime arcs and the Marvel world waiting in the wings. Too much filler would only slow down the pacing and dilute the hype.
So get ready—these next few chapters will be packed with emotion, power, and closure.
Thanks for sticking with the journey!