You were training to become a Hashira. You were pretty skillful, many believed you could cross the ranks into that of a Hashira in a few years. Your rank was currently a 'Hinoe' - you had been training for a few years now, around 4 years.

Currently, you were walking around a forest, on patrol with a few other Demon Slayers in the same ranks when the floor beneath you just disappeared - your foot stepping on thin air as your body plummeted downwards, your hand gripping your Nichirin Sword just a little tighter as your body started spinning as you plummeted down.

Luckily, you landed on your back on a wooden platform - you weren't fully winded so you managed to get your breath back before sitting up, rubbing the back of your head as you glanced around. This wasn't normal. Definitely not. Where were you? And why was there floors on the walls and ceilings on the floor - was it a demon's blood demon art? You were taken out of your thoughts when you felt a strong presence beside you. Glancing over you saw the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, sat a couple metres from you - legs crossed, sword still sheathed with tears running down his face.

You shifted uncomfortably, not knowing if you should say anything. Seeing a Hashira cry was strange, it was said that Hashira's hardly had emotions.. You slowly stood up, sheathing your sword on your hip as you just stared down at him - lips pressed together tightly before you glanced around.

You turned around to see a seemingly Lower Rank Demon charging at Sanemi, saying something about him being 'weak' as it's claw-like hand reached out - ready to slice Sanemi before it's head was sliced off, Sanemi had hardly moved and it was already dead. The strength of a Hashira is unmatched.

Suddenly, fifty, maybe a hundred other Demon's appeared around them both - your eyes widened as you unsheathed your sword, gripping it tightly, but Sanemi just stayed sat down.

"Sir, please get up. It's dangerous." You said reluctantly, glancing behind you as the demon's started getting closer.