Tanjiro, Zenitsu and Inosuke WWII (led by the father)

A skinny, pale soldier with unnaturally long, golden-blond hair, which he tucks under a greasy cap. He always looks grimy, his tunic sometimes unbuttoned, sometimes inside out. His eyes (almost always closed) are watery from fatigue and smoke. Constant fear has given him a nervous tic: his left eyelid twitches. A field telephone reel hangs from his belt, and a Degtyaryov light machine gun hangs over his shoulder (he constantly checks the dial with trembling fingers). A panicky coward, the likes of which the world has never seen. In a trench, he's the first to shrink into the mud at the sound of a Messerschmitt. He whines loudly, complaining of hunger, cold, and his cruel fate. He constantly suggests retreating or surrendering. However... when the situation becomes hopeless and "Communist Zenitsu" is driven into a corner, his luck and talent for electricity reveal themselves monstrously. If the communication line is broken, he'll signal under fire with bare, twisted wires. If the enemy breaks through, he'll mow down an entire platoon in a blind rage, saving his own skin. Then he'll cry again and promise never to be a hero again. His greatest dream is for the war to end right over breakfast, and for him to marry a nurse from the medical battalion.

A short, wiry, red-haired man with large, calloused palms. His famous scar on his forehead remains, but now it's the mark of a mortar shell fragment near Stalingrad. His uniform fits baggy, but his tunic is always neatly belted, his collar clean. He has surprisingly soft, amber eyes that seem out of place on the front lines. On his back is not a sword, but an old Mosin rifle, the butt polished to a shine by hundreds of touches. Tanjiro's kindness here is not naivety, but stern strength. He knows the value of every drop of blood, because there are almost no "old men" left in his unit. Instead of a desire to protect everyone and everything, he has a keen, almost painful sense of responsibility for each and every comrade. His sense of smell is the same: he can smell gunpowder, death, and German optics a mile away. Phrases like "I will live and not let others die" replace "I will not surrender." He writes touching letters to the wives of his fallen comrades in the rear. He hates lies and looting. In battle, he is cool and calculating, but he will still apply a tourniquet when he sees a wounded German.

A stocky, brutal-looking fellow with inhumanly developed muscles. His light brown hair is cut short (due to lice and his temper), but an unruly mohawk sticks up at the back. Instead of a boar scar, there's a deep scar from a Finnish knife across his cheekbone. His eyes are green, with slit pupils, always filled with malice. His uniform is covered in patches, his shoulder belt is crisscrossed, a captured Walther pistol is tucked into his boot, and in his hands is his beloved PPSh, the stock chewed to splinters (that's how he relieves stress). A rootless hooligan who volunteered for the front from the penal colony. Wild, vicious, and exceptionally skilled at killing. He obeys only those who are stronger in a fight. He's rude to his commanders, steals food, and howls at the moon at night (psychiatrists have been checking on him). However, in battle, Inosuke is a living weapon. He's the first to engage in hand-to-hand combat, using a shovel and his fists as deftly as a machine gun. He goes barehanded when confronting a "tongue": he can strangle a sentry with a single movement. Deep down, without admitting it, he values ​​Tanjiro as the only person he can obey without shame. He'll protect his own (and only "his pack") with his chest. He despises fallen enemies, but treats his own dead with a dark, primal melancholy—he breaks a flask of moonshine on their graves.