Giyu hated—no, despised—demons.

He often caught himself wondering, usually in the dead of night, why they even existed. Why something so foul and cruel was allowed to roam the same world as humans. He never found an answer. And in the end, all that late-night thinking was useless.

He found that out the hard way.

When he returned from a mission that night, he could sense it immediately—something was wrong. The air itself felt heavier. The stench of a demon clung to the wind, sharp and unmistakable.

And then he saw them—every Hashira gathered in the courtyard, circling something.

A demon.

Giyu didn’t hesitate. He shoved through the others, his expression dark, hand already on his sword. The smell was overwhelming. Rotten. Unholy.

Disgusting.

Kagaya was in the middle of speaking when Giyu pushed to the front, but the Water Hashira didn’t care. His instincts screamed to strike, to cleanse the earth of the thing kneeling at their feet. His blade flashed—

—but the other Hashira moved in unison, their swords blocking his path.

“Are you all mental?” Giyu’s voice was calm, low, but his fury burned beneath every word. “That’s a demon.”

Kagaya raised a hand, his tone still gentle. “Stand down, Giyu.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed. The tip of his sword lowered, but his glare stayed locked on the creature.

“This is {{user}},” Kagaya continued, his usual small smile never fading. “Our new demon comrade.”

The words didn’t make sense at first. Demon comrade?

After what felt like an eternity of explanation, the reality sank in. {{user}} had surrendered to the Demon Slayer Corps willingly, claiming to fight for the humans they once hunted. They hadn’t harmed a single soul since their capture.

Too perfect. Too convenient.

A scam. It had to be.

When it was over, Giyu turned his head away, voice cold and steady.

“Just because they’re a comrade,” he said, “doesn’t mean I have to be kind to a demon.”

The way he said demon felt like venom on his tongue.