glad·i·o·lus
/ˌɡladēˈōləs/

An Old World plant of the iris family, with sword-shaped leaves and spikes of brightly colored flowers, a symbol of Remembrance.

🍂🍂🍂

Makomo wakes to a wet nose sniffing at her head.

Her eyes snap open at the sensation, staring straight into the brown eyes of a gray fox. It meets her gaze, unblinking, before stepping back and sitting neatly behind her. She stands slowly, surprised to feel her arms and legs intact, the sensation of them being ripped off her body like a ragdoll is still fresh in her mind. She checks her body for any other wounds, but not even the smallest of scratches remain on her flesh.

Her sword is also missing, the sheath no longer wrapped around her obi. She already misses its comforting weight. She feels airy, as if she's floating, the back of her mind seems as if it's stuffed full of feathers— The weight is far more comforting than it should be.

The clearing she stands in is surrounded by clusters of trees, their trunks strain towards the sky and cast looming blue shadows. A breeze rustles some leaves, knocking them off of thin branches, but she doesn't feel the chill of the wind as it passes. The emptiness startles her.

Makomo stares at her hands, fingers calloused from her years of sword training.

She's dead, isn't she?

The realization doesn't startle her so much as the thought that she let the Hand Demon win.

Death has never bothered her, a Demon Slayer's job is dangerous at best and fatal at worst. She knew that. She accepted that.

But— Urokodaki-san.

She lets out a muffled noise—something between and keen and a choked sob—and swipes angrily at her eyes. Willing the fall of her tears away.

She should have won, if not for herself than for sensei. He should never have lost another child. She should have been able to walk home proudly, bruised and battered, and hug him upon her return. They would have eaten a large feast. He would have been so proud.

She should never have died.

Behind her, the fox lets out something like a grunt. She turns around to face it, still rubbing her eyes.

The fox watches her boredly, its stare never wavering from her small form. It's an odd-looking thing, the fur on its neck sticks out haphazardly and there's a discoloration on its coat that starts just above its forehead and leads under its eye. But it seems tame, and she remembers legends of kitsune, intelligent fox spirits that mess with humans periodically, and the more this fox watches her, the more curious she gets.

"Hello," She mutters, bowing slightly. Its ear flicks in what she thinks is contempt, brown eyes narrowing minutely at her before it swivels its face and stares at something behind her, lips lifting to let out a low growl.

It's all the warning she gets before a hand lands squarely on her shoulder, she whips around, reaching for her sword, but her hand closes around empty air instead.

She's face to face with the shining brown eyes of a boy, his head so close that their noses touch.

"Congratulations," He says, grinning, "You're dead!"

She gapes as the boy steps back, a fox mask rests squarely on his head, twin red markings painted across porcelain cheeks.

"That's not how you're supposed to welcome her, idiot," a voice behind her says, she jumps, startled, and whips her head around.

The fox is no longer there, instead in its place is another boy, his spiky hair juts out behind his own mask, which harbors the same markings the tod had before.

"I'm just trying to be funny, nii-san," The first boy juts out his lower lip in a rather cute display of petulance, "You're so serious all the time!"

The second boy tilts his head forward and intakes a sharp breath for what would undoubtedly be a biting retort, but Makomo interrupts them swiftly.

"Excuse me," she murmurs, "What do you mean I'm dead?"

The first boy smiles again, "Right, right! We should introduce ourselves, my name is Shoji, and this is my twin brother, Kiyoshi!"

Kiyoshi takes off his mask and shakes out his hair, and she's met with an identical set of eyes as his brother, they're a light brown, like the color of the honeycombs Urokodaki-sensei would bring her after a hard day of training. "I apologize for my brothers... crudeness," He says, gripping his brother's hair and pushing him into a bow before following suit, "we're new at greeting people."

Makomo waves her arms dismissively, "no need to apologize! I would just like an explanation, is all."

Shoji perks up at this, shaking off his brother's hand, "well, it's pretty simple! You fought the Hand Demon, right?" She nods, but Shoji is already back to rambling, "He killed us too, and the others! All eleven of us, or, well I guess you make twelve."

She already knew this, these were the other eleven students the demon had been gleefully bragging about. "So is this just the afterlife? Are there other spirits here as well?"

"That's the problem," Kiyoshi spits, venom dripping with every word, "this isn't supposed to be the afterlife, we can't pass on, and it's all because of the damn demon."

Shoji grips the edge of his faded yukata in tight fists, glaring at a pebble on the ground, "we're waiting for someone strong enough whose able to kill it. But the more people that try and fail, the stronger it gets."

"We love Urokodaki-sensei," Kiyoshi says, the affectionate words juxtaposed by his angry snarl, "We can't leave until that demon gets justice."

Makomo blinks, and then breaks into a small smile, "I'm glad," she says, "that you are all still loyal to our sensei."

Shoji blinks at her, his face burning in an indignant flush, "Of course! We'll never betray sensei! No matter what that Hand Demon says!"

Kiyoshi nods once, jaw clenched before he turns around and starts walking towards the trees.

"We should go meet the others, yeah?"

A/N:
Thanks for reading. Shorter AN this time. may make a list of character names to make it easier for readers. I thank all votes and comments. (next chapter may take a while)