I'm not Muzan Kibutsuji!

Chapter 2: Training in the wind

Yurei promised to train Masaru, but he never said it was going to be easy. He supposed he should have expected more than just sword training, considering the weird wind that came from the man's sword, he didn't expect to be thrown into a tornado, but apparently that was "the usual'' his master did for him.

After getting used to it, he began working on other fun activities, like making him use fans instead of swords "to get used to the wind" and, of course, making him go to high-up places filled with wind so he could feel the thrill of the wind.

Masaru wondered if the old man had gone senile when he started making him remember phrases that sounded like they had come right out of a fantasy novel, but then again, he was training to slay demons because he looked like Muzan's secret love child and everyone and their master was coming to kill him.

As he trained, the sword he used became less heavy, and he became used to traveling like the wind. It was strange, the reality he knew was shattered, gone. Man-eating demons were real, and he would be hunted by them, and the slayers who killed them would probably think he was also Muzan. Yet, Masaru's life had gotten better with the old man. He had food, a roof over his head, and a mentor who, although seemed hesitant, didn't mind his unsettling nature or his strange looks.

It was nice, in a sense. He trained for months, until he no longer felt exhausted after running several miles and could hold a real sword without problem. It was unreal to him, that he could bend the wind to his will through forms taught to him by his master. Masaru couldn't help but feel empowered, knowing that he could finally help people, despite apparently looking like Muzan.

Speaking of which, his hair had grown over the last several months, stopping a little longer then his shoulders. He had tried to put it up once it started growing, but Yurei firmly denied that notion because he looked more like Muzan, and he really couldn't do that if he hoped to not die going to final selection.

After all, it was only a few days away, now.

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Hayato Yurei had done something stupid. He knew he was getting older, his bones creaked and his eyesight was starting to fail. The man prided himself on his teaching skills, even though he never became a hashira, he taught Sanemi Shinazugawa, the current wind hashira, and he had many successful students. The man was considered harsh in his teaching, but caring towards his students.

He knew this, and yet, he was risking it all for Masaru. The boy, just barely 15, was not someone who you'd expect to want to become a demon slayer. He didn't have any real exposure to demons. The boy acted like an average teen boy. He was a good kid, at least in Yurei's eyes, but his eyes... his eyes and hair and general features were the reason why he knew he had to train the boy.

Masaru had an undeniable resemblence to Muzan Kibutsuji, the king of demons. Yurei had only met the man once, as a young slayer. The man had killed everyone on the mission except him and a young girl, who barely survived playing dead. He had escaped the man's grasp the same way, but he could never forget those eyes. The color of red was burned into his brain, a constant reminder of the suffering he went through.

When he saw the boy the first time, his heart stopped. He didn't think as he drew his sword, and only after his old body caught up to him did he realize that the boy wasn't Muzan. His eyes and hair were the same shade, but his face was bathed in kindness and worry, something he was sure that monster couldn't feel.

He had taken the boy under his wing, because once he saw Masaru's face, he knew this boy would be shunned from the world, and probably already had been. The boy learned quickly, and had a lot of heart. He was a bit childish, but after hearing why he was wandering the plains at night, Yurei thought he deserved to be a kid.

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Yurei knew, he knew he was getting too attached to the kid. Final selection was a brutal trial, and he had lost several children to the thing. He knew it was necessary, but he still worried about the kid as he ate breakfast in front of him.

It was the day before selection, and he had given the boy good directions. The Wisteria-covered area where the selection took place was about a day's walk from Yurei's house, and he would have to leave after breakfast to make it with a good amount of breaks.

As hard as he has trained this boy, he was no master of breathing or running, and would need to stop and take breaks.

"Sensei." Masaru addressed him formally, as they ate the meal together. His hair was tied in a very loose pony-tail, since he wore it as such as he slept. He was smiling grimly, knowing the danger ahead.

"Masaru." Yurei responded, looking at the boy he had trained for the last several months.

Those was the only words exchanged as they ate. There was an understanding silence between the two as the cleaned up the food, and Masaru prepared to go. He changed into his clothing, and put the blade he had been using for the past few months in its sheath, ready to leave.

As Masaru walked away, waving back to his master, Yurei whispered to himself, knowing the boy wouldn't hear.

"I'm proud of you, Masaru."