First

People always talk about the first, the first tree, the first painter, the first wheel. As if being the first is such a great thing. I sit in the classroom, listening to my fellow students talk about how being the first, number one, is all that matters in life.

No one seems to remember the first of us.

I don’t think anyone even knows her name.

What matters, what is important

Is that she passed on her powers through the ages

From mothers and daughters, sister to sister

Down the matriarchal lines...

To me

However...

For me

Failure is not an option

Even if it means I must kill

The one person I’ve ever loved

I’m not the first. I’m not the first of anything....

I’m a middle child in a family of seven.

I was the third brunette, and not even in the running for blonde.

And unless my sister Tabitha shapes up. . .

I'm going to be the last Demon Slayer. . .

Ever