i devoured the manga in the span of three days, and i know nothing else except that i love the tsugikuni twins, and that they should have been allowed to pet dogs. this is not quite that. i say daemon fusion because i have taken liberties with those mechanics (daemons being called guardians in this story) but even if things arent quite accurate, i had fun!

The demon tilted his head back, and Himejima felt the tension release as he seemed to give in. He kept his guard up, but the demon didn't move to attack or execute a desperate feint. Instead, he let himself fall.

The demon's creature howled and tore itself from the ground, ripping its wings free of the swords that had pinned it to the ground. Himejima's bear bristled, but stilled at his hand, and they watched as the beast dragged its bleeding body to its master. Red poured from the gaping gash that Tokitou had made in its chest and from the ruined wings sagging at its back, and it seemed to take no notice, screaming incessantly at the crumbling body of the First Moon.

"–tsu! –katsu! Michikatsu!" it cried.

The creature's body dripped away. Scales sloughed off in segments and the odd, misshapen wings that had been the bane of their battle slipped off like an ill-fitting coat. The dozens of blinking eyes melted away into water and trickled down its cheeks, a miasma burning away the leathery skin of its mask, giving way to something with sable fur and a long, sad face.

"Inupei," croaked the First Moon, almost inaudibly. The top of his head had blown away into dust, and his torn robes sagged into the hollow space at his sides, where his arms had been.

When humans became demons, they needed all their energy for the transformation, so they absorbed their guardians into themselves and mutated together, creating the horrific, tragic creatures that roamed the night. There had never been an incident in which a demon and guardian became separate entities.

"Inupei," repeated the First Moon. "Inupei, I see Yoriichi. I am never rid of him, Inupei, why could I never rid myself of him? Why can I not forget his face?"

The guardian, because that was the only thing it could have been, leaned forward and rested its forehead against the demon's chest. Stripped out of hiding, its true form was revealed: a wolfish snout, a slender, deep-chested body enfolded in dense black fur. Its thick tail was half-gone.

"I have never seen anything else," sighed the guardian. "We were reaching for the unequalled sun."

"I wanted to be him," the demon whispered. "I know." said the guardian.

Shinazugawa kneeled on the floor in a pool of blood, hugging his brother, his weasel shrieking by his side. He made a heartbroken, guttural noise and Genya stopped breathing, stopped existing. Tokitou lay sprawled on the floor, young and so very dead; for Genya, there was nothing left, his body having crumbled into dust. His ashes mingled with those of his badger's, but there was no comfort in that. There was no comfort in any of the tragedy here. Himejima let the tears he had held in during the battle slip over his cheek. The black dog whined softly.

"I have killed my own descendant," murmured the demon. "I have thrown my humanity away. And yet, I could never reach you, Yoriichi. No one could touch you, Yoriichi."

"Michikatsu," said the guardian softly. "What have you done?" It laid down beside him, thin, fragile limbs resting gently on purple cloth.

"Nothing," breathed the ashes of Tsugikuni Michikatsu. "I have done nothing of worth." With that, the last of his remains were swept away in the breeze. His guardian wept and dissolved into dust.

Then, the only thing left of the both of them were the blood-stained robes and the cleaved halves of a bamboo flute, spilled under the pale light of the moon.

borzois are regal, independent, intelligent and reserved. dogs are sometimes symbols of envy, as well as loyalty. this combines into the quiet Inupei, who possesses somewhat of an inferiority complex that Michikatsu does not seem to acknowledge in himself.