"Tanako! Take that basket of clean towels to the east wing on the second floor!"
"Got it!"
In the back courtyard of Kyogoku House, Kamado Tanjiro briskly lifted the bamboo basket and ran up the stairs with light steps.
The servant's uniform he wore was faded from countless washes, yet still clean. The heavy makeup on his face had long been ruined by sweat, revealing his natural red hair and gentle features beneath.
Over the past few days working as a servant in Kyogoku House, he had proven himself hardworking and attentive.
He rose before dawn to sweep the courtyard, helped the kitchen chop firewood and carry water at noon, and even volunteered to tidy up the rooms in the evening.
Even the sharp-tongued madam had softened toward him. Though she still grumbled that he was "too plain-looking," she now gave him an extra bowl of rice at mealtime.
"Tanako, you're cleaning Lady Warabihime's room today," whispered the maid in charge of task assignments, her tone full of unease. "Be careful not to upset her. She's got a nasty temper. The last servant who broke her hairpin got tossed into the river."
Tanjiro stiffened slightly but nodded. "I'll be careful."
Carrying a bucket and a rag, he walked to Warabihime's room and slid the door open.
A faint, sickly-sweet stench hit his nose immediately—one he recognized all too well.
It was the scent of a demon.
The smell was thick—far stronger than any he had ever encountered before—its sweetness clinging beneath the perfume that filled the air. Anyone else would have missed it, but Tanjiro's heightened senses caught it instantly.
His muscles tensed. His grip on the rag tightened as his eyes darted across the room.
The furniture was neatly arranged, the bedding smooth, but near the window, a vase had toppled over, petals scattered across the floor—it must have fallen only moments ago.
He crouched to clean it up, but the sharp sound of wooden sandals echoed from the corridor.
A cold, commanding voice followed. "What's going on in my room? Can't you see the vase is on the floor? Do you have eyes or not?!"
Tanjiro looked up to see a woman in a crimson kimono stepping into the room.
Her black hair was styled in a complex bun, her makeup flawless—but her eyes, sharp and poisonous, glared at him with visible disgust.
This was Kyogoku House's top oiran—Warabihime.
"I—I'm sorry! I just came in! I was about to pick it up!"
Tanjiro straightened up quickly, bowing his head. He'd barely entered the room five minutes ago—there was no way he could've caused the mess.
"Just came in?"
Warabihime sneered, stepping forward to grab a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back.
"Don't lie to me! A lowly servant like you dares slack off in my room? Do you have a death wish?"
Pain shot through Tanjiro's scalp, but he gritted his teeth and insisted, "I really just walked in. The vase must have fallen before—"
"Still talking back?!"
Her fury exploded. She raised her hand, ready to slap him.
"Lady Warabihime, please, don't!"
A nearby maid rushed in, kneeling down in panic.
"She's new and doesn't know the rules yet. Please forgive her! I'll help her clean up right now so it won't delay your preparations for your guest tonight!"
A few more maids and servants gathered by the doorway but didn't dare to interfere. They only watched with fear in their eyes—everyone knew Warabihime's cruelty. Those who angered her never fared well.
"New or not, who cares?"
Warabihime released his hair only to kick him hard in the stomach.
"Can't even keep my room tidy? Then you're better off dead!"
Tanjiro stumbled backward from the impact, tumbling down the stairs. His head struck the steps hard, and darkness swallowed his vision.
He faintly heard the madam's voice nearby, pleading, "Lady Warabihime, please calm down! The esteemed guest will be here soon. For my sake, let's not cause a scene..."
Then came Warabihime's falsely sweet voice. "Ah, you're right. I lost my temper. Guests come first. I'll go prepare now."
And then—nothing. The world went black.
…
"Miss Koinatsu, I can't seem to get this note right. Could you show me again?"
In Tokito House's brothel, Tomioka Giyu sat before a koto, fingers poised on the strings, his expression calm and focused.
He wore a soft lavender kimono, his long hair loosely tied behind his head, showing his smooth forehead.
For several days now, the oiran Koinatsu had been patiently teaching him to play music, play board games, and even how to hold a fan gracefully.
Koinatsu was around twenty years old—gentle in manner, kind to everyone around her. Even to "new girls" like Giyu, she showed no hint of disdain.
She approached him quietly from behind, gently placing her hands over his to guide his fingers. "Press lighter here," she murmured. "The sound should come from your fingertips, not your wrist."
Her voice was soft, carrying a faint scent of perfume.
"You learn fast," she said with a small smile. "Faster than any girl I've taught before."
Giyu's ears turned faintly red as he pulled his hand back and began playing again. He wasn't learning this to "debut" as a courtesan—his goal was to blend in more naturally and observe Koinatsu's behavior.
After several days of quiet watching, he was certain. Koinatsu was human—an ordinary woman with not a trace of demonic aura on her.
According to their arrangement, the team exchanged updates each day through Uzui's muscle mice.
Tanjiro would, every evening, hide a note reading "All clear, no signs of demons" under the rice jar in the kitchen.
Tō would leave a mark by the back door of Ogimoto House.
Giyu, for his part, wrote reports for Uzui and sent them through a muscle mouse courier.
But tonight, even after the time entered 8 pm, there was still no sign of Tanjiro's message.
A chill sank into Giyu's chest. Tanjiro was never late—let alone silent. Something had happened.
Excusing himself with a polite "I'll step out for a moment," Giyu left the room and headed to the back courtyard.
He whistled softly.
From a small hole in the wall, a brown-furred muscle mouse scurried out—it was Uzui's messenger.
Giyu quickly pulled a slip of paper from his sleeve and wrote:
"Tanjiro missing—suspected attack.
Notify Uzui and Tō.
We move at midnight.
Bring my Nichirin Sword to the old pagoda tree behind Kyogoku House."
The mouse bit down on the message and disappeared into the darkness.
Returning to his room, Giyu began to change. He had hidden his deep-blue haori and trousers inside a false panel in the wardrobe days ago.
Now, he stripped off the lavender kimono and swiftly donned his uniform, tying his long hair into a high ponytail.
The moment he met his own eyes in the mirror, the warmth vanished from them—replaced by sharp resolve.
It was time.
He stepped out and knocked on Koinatsu's door.
"Come in."
When Giyu entered, Koinatsu was seated before her mirror, removing her makeup. She looked up and froze the instant she saw him—his haori, his sword, his expression.
"Yukine… you're a man?"
"I'm sorry, Koinatsu-san. I deceived you."
Giyu bowed slightly.
"I'm Tomioka Giyu of the Demon Slayer Corps—the Water Hashira.
I disguised myself as a woman to infiltrate the Entertainment District and track down a demon hidden here.
Thank you for your kindness these past few days."
Koinatsu blinked in surprise, then suddenly laughed softly.
"So that's what this was… no wonder you were so composed. But still—" she tilted her head and smiled faintly, "you're very handsome in men's clothes, you know? More so than any gentleman in this whole district."
She stood and took a step closer, her tone teasing. "If it's you, I wouldn't even ask for payment to spend the night together."
Before Giyu could respond, the door burst open with a violent bang.
Warabihime stood framed in the doorway, her dark hair in disarray, her makeup half-smeared across her furious face.
Her blood-red eyes glared with venom. "Well, well, Koinatsu—you've outdone yourself. First you steal my clients, and now you're hiding a man? What's next, trying to ruin my business completely?"
Koinatsu paled and moved protectively in front of Giyu. "Warabihime, that's not true!"
"Not true?"
Warabihime's lips twisted into a cruel smile as her gaze flicked to Giyu—and in that instant, her pupils narrowed.
She could feel it. The aura of power, the unmistakable presence of a Demon Slayer.
And not just any—this one was a Hashira.
"So that's it…" she hissed. "You've been consorting with the Demon Slayer Corps. No wonder my 'meals' have been disappearing lately—it's your doing!"
Giyu's eyes hardened, the air around him freezing over.
From her words—and the sickly, overpowering stench of demon blood filling the room—there was no doubt left.
The woman before him was their target.
The one who had made Tanjiro vanish.
"Daki," Giyu said coldly, stepping forward to shield Koinatsu behind him. "You're the demon hiding in this district."
His hand reached toward the corner of the room—where his Nichirin Sword, delivered by the muscle mouse, was already waiting. The water-patterned sheath gleamed under the lamplight.
Daki's expression twisted into pure rage. The pretense fell away completely.
Her hair darkened to inky black, spilling wildly over half her face. Her eyes turned crimson, nails lengthening into glistening black talons dripping with venom. The air thickened with the stench of rot and decay.
"So, you've found me. Fine—then you both die here tonight!"
With a snarl, Daki whipped her sash from her waist. The cloth shot forward like a blade, cutting through the air toward Koinatsu.
Giyu moved before thought, shoving Koinatsu aside and drawing his sword in one smooth motion.
The blade flashed pale blue in the lamplight.
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
The arc of light struck toward Daki's wrist, clean and fast—the battle against Upper Moon Six had begun.