Shinobu's internal warning, unfortunately, didn't register with the girl in question.
For someone like Mitsuri —who had always felt insecure—being praised as both beautiful and adorable by someone she just met was enough to make her feel over the moon.
"Ryuji-san really is a wonderful person!"
She cheerfully grabbed onto Ryuji's arm and bounced in place, her ample chest rubbing against his arm in a way that was extremely pleasant. And what surprised Ryuji even more was how solid her body felt—this strength didn't seem human.
In that instant, he realized something important.
Mitsuri was nothing like Shinobu. This girl was the sturdy, powerful type!
That realization made the smile on his face grow a few degrees more genuine—prompting another eye-roll of disdain from Mai.
As for Tengen, his reaction aligned more with Shinobu's, but he didn't find anything wrong with Ryuji's behavior. In his eyes, Ryuji was both powerful and kind, not the type to do anything suspicious.
Still...
"Isn't she being a little too enthusiastic?"
Watching Kanroji bounce excitedly while clinging to Ryuji's arm, Tengen felt she might be a bit too hyper.
But Ryuji didn't see it that way. This kind of liveliness might have been seen as improper in the strict and rule-heavy Taisho era, but for a modern man like him, it wasn't a big deal.
Sure, clinging to a man and giggling might seem unladylike, but girls with bright and bubbly personalities like hers did exist—and were considered cute these days.
Eventually, under everyone's gazes, Mitsuri began to feel a bit embarrassed. Her face flushed, and she quickly bowed her head to Ryuji in apology.
The moment she bent over, that sweet and fragrant valley formed instantly—soft and full, swaying with every little movement.
The snow-white lines overlapped and intertwined, forming tempting curves and depths.Those pure white, sacred peaks were impossible to ignore—but Ryuji's eyes were instead drawn to the tips of those swaying peaks and the deep ravine nestled between them.
The black fabric holding them in only made their swaying rhythm more mesmerizing—like a hypnotic pendulum. And beneath them, a narrow but inviting passageway seemed to stretch out.
It looked flat, even accessible—but he knew that once those peaks returned to their original position, that seemingly open path would be crushed shut, blocking out even the sky.
A path… one couldn't help but want to explore.
"Sorry, I got a little too excited..."
Mitsuri wiggled nervously, regretting her impulsiveness.
"It's fine. Honestly, I think it's refreshing."
Although there were many girls who loved to be lively among the girls he had met, it was still rare to find a girl who was as cheerful and unrestrained as Mitsuri.
Ryuji gave her a warm smile. Although there were many girls who loved to be lively among the girls he had met, it was still rare to find a girl who was as cheerful and unrestrained as Mitsuri.
Toph didn't count. That little gremlin was on a whole different level of hyper.
"Right? Right?! I totally agree! Everyone's been way too gloomy lately!"
Mitsuri became excited again, beaming at Ryuji. It was the first time someone had agreed with her so openly. She happily bounced in place again, waving her arms with joy.
"Exactly. As long as it doesn't interfere with what needs to be done, being happy and cheerful is always a good thing."
Ryuji chuckled at her exuberance. She really was adorable. On impulse, he raised his hand—and the two of them high-fived midair.
And for the first time, he looked at her face—not her chest. He looked looked at her happy smile and subconsciously cheered.
"Yay!"
"Yay!"
Mitsuri echoed his cheer, her eyes sparkling with surprise. She'd assumed Ryuji was the serious, dependable big-brother type—tall, broad-shouldered, with a calm presence. She never expected him to be so carefree, so willing to just enjoy the moment with her.
"Ryuji-san really is a great person!"
She exclaimed happily, then tugged on his sleeve and started pulling him toward the city.
"I'm treating you to sakura mochi!"
With a burst of strength—clearly not aware of her own power—she practically dragged him toward the gates. And Ryuji didn't resist, letting her pull him along.
But just as he was about to let himself be swept away by the momentum…
He remembered something.
Rengoku's entire squad had died.
He gently stopped Mitsuri and knocked her pink head with a soft flick.
"Let's take care of business first."
Mitsuri looked back at him with a pout—not because it hurt, but because the gesture felt like being scolded for being silly.
Then she turned toward the stretcher, and saw…
Rengoku Kyojuro, alone.
Her smile vanished instantly. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Everyone… they…"
She already knew. In these increasingly perilous times, members of the Demon Slayer Corps rarely made it back from missions. Still, seeing Rengoku—once so proud and fierce—returned like this, without his squad…
The joy of reunion turned to silent grief.
"Yeah. We were a step too late."
Ryuji said quietly. He hated tragic moments like this, but it was what it was—those people were gone.
The mood at the gate grew heavy.
And then…
Rengoku's body, until now unmoving, suddenly stirred. His hand flailed weakly, and with a sudden gasp, he sat up on the stretcher.
"Ugh… everyone!"
The fiery, passionate man sat up with a jolt, his eyes searching for the familiar faces of his comrades. But upon seeing the solemn expression on Tengen's face and the silence of those around him, realization struck almost instantly.
"...They're all… dead?"
He lowered his head. His weakened body immediately wavered, a wave of dizziness crashing over him just as confusion and disorientation clouded his thoughts. And when his blurred vision finally focused on the unfamiliar man standing among them—Ryuji—his mind grew even more hazy.
"Just rest, Rengoku. It's over now."
Tengen gently pressed Rengoku back down onto the stretcher. He understood exactly what Rengoku was feeling. They had all tasted this pain again and again in recent days.
Had Ryuji not appeared like a miracle from the Gods, Tengen doubted he could have even reached Rengoku in time. All the soldiers they'd brought would've died. It wouldn't have ended with just one squad member losing the ability to wield a blade and being forced to live as a farmer...
Dragonfire wasn't omnipotent, after all.
If not for Ryuji, the Demon Slayer Corps would've lost two Hashira in a single battle. And future extermination missions would've required countless more lives to resolve.
Those things they fought? They were far beyond what ordinary flames could burn.
"So… everyone…"
Even now, Rengoku clung to a sliver of hope. But Tengen knew—this was not the time for false comfort.
"They've all gone to the place they were meant to go."
Rengoku didn't say another word. He felt the crushing weight of powerlessness once again. Covering his face with his arm, he let silent tears fall.
He despised himself for surviving. Why him, the one who had stayed behind to cover their retreat?
If he had ordered someone else to stay and held the rear himself,
Would they have lasted long enough to be rescued too?
He spiraled into self-blame, hatred for his own weakness gnawing at his soul. But amidst the despair, he still remembered one thing:
"Was it you who defeated that monster? Thank you… thank you, Tengen!"
Though his mind remained clouded, Rengoku clearly remembered the despair he'd felt facing that creature.
They had just set up camp when the monster appeared. Just looking at it made his body stir with lust—this instinctual, uncontrollable desire to mate, as though his will were no longer his own.
Only through pain could he awaken his mind, and then he had launched into battle.
At first, his Flame Breathing techniques pushed the monster back. He was hopeful.
But when he landed his strongest slash, fire roaring and blade flashing…
He was horrified to discover—it did nothing. His flames and sword couldn't even scratch it.
What followed was a massacre.
The monster's body sprayed a strange fluid. Wherever the liquid touched the ground, parasitic worms erupted—And when his comrades were bitten, they mutated into squirming abominations… and exploded.
After the explosion, their slime coated everything, and the corrosive liquid turned any survivor into more worm-creatures.
Many of his comrades never even had the will to fight. Their minds were clouded with primal urges. All they could think about was… reproduction.
Only the sheer brutality of the scene snapped some out of it—and only then did they begin to resist.
But Rengoku knew—they could never win.
So he had ordered his comrades to run, while he held the line. He didn't know how long he could last, but even a few moments might buy someone a chance.
But even that… had failed.
The monster broke his Nichirin Blade. And then—
Darkness.
He only woke up again when it dragged him onto an altar, flayed his skin, removed his organs—preparing for some kind of horrific ritual.
As he hovered between life and death, he heard it—
Tengen's furious roar.
"I'm sorry… but it wasn't me who defeated that monster. It was Ryuji, who's recently joined the Demon Slayer Corps… Honestly, I owe him my life too."
Tengen's voice was complicated, filled with respect and a trace of guilt.
Before he could say more, Rengoku began struggling to rise from the stretcher.
"I must thank my savior!"
He twisted and strained, determined to express his gratitude. Ryuji had avenged his fallen comrades. To Rengoku, that made him a hero—an honored benefactor.
Not thanking him immediately? That would be no different from being a beast without morals.
"Lie back down and stay still."
Shinobu stepped in.
With practiced efficiency, she struck a pressure point on Rengoku's neck, instantly knocking the Flame Hashira unconscious again.
"An injured man should behave like one."
Her tone was stern, but her eyes—filled with sympathy and sorrow—told another story.
She understood that feeling. That helpless rage. That torment of being too weak to save anyone.
She had lived it too.
Ryuji looked at the slowly collapsing Rengoku and the sympathetic expression on Shinobu's face, and couldn't help but shake his head.
Mai, who was standing nearby, felt a bit puzzled in the heavy atmosphere. She didn't understand why Ryuji would shake his head at a time like this. So, she straightforwardly asked:
"Why are you shaking your head?"
"I was just thinking… these people really don't feel like the Japanese I know. Their sense of morality is astonishing."
Ryuji replied softly.
Mai, herself Japanese, instantly bristled. She stomped hard on his foot, clearly offended. Just as she turned to walk away, curiosity got the better of her.
"And what kind of Japanese people do you have in mind?"
"Baka. Banzai. Shinda shinda da. And 'hana girl', seppuku, gekokujou, constant bowing and apologizing, never admitting fault, opposing defeat but not the war, conglomerates ruling everything, all that fake politeness while ignoring what manners are truly for."
Mai's chest puffed up sharply in anger—but then slowly deflated.
"...As infuriating as that is, I… I can't even argue with you."
She was sulking now. Deeply upset.
Because while what he said was painful, it was also undeniably true.
The sins of the past shouldn't be passed down to descendants, that's true.But pretending nothing ever happened, that's the real disgrace.
If you can't even acknowledge your own history… How can you ever expect forgiveness—or prevent revenge?
Burying your head in the sand and saying "it's over" doesn't erase anything. If you refuse to admit fault, then don't expect others to hold back when it comes time to settle scores.
"It's normal, really. No one likes hearing bad things about their country—unless they've already given up on being part of it. But…"
Ryuji glanced at Mai, whose fierce sense of justice had been silenced, then at the sorrowful expressions of the Demon Slayer members.
But he didn't say the final thing that lingered on the tip of his tongue.
"But what?"
Mai looked up at him, still curious.
"It's nothing."
Ryuji gave her a carefree smile.
He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't about to tell Mai that—
'It's just that… in Japanese literature and stories, the people are always portrayed as so morally upright. As champions of justice and discipline. And you all go out of your way to portray yourselves that way.'
If he said something like that… He might lose the chance to enjoy watching Mai's bouncing assets.
Besides—
Mai wasn't one of those "Japanese people" he was talking about.
She belonged to the realm of fictional "ideal Japanese"—a completely different species.
~~~~~~~~~~
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