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This work is an extended piece based on Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba. Reference settings are primarily drawn from the manga and official guidebooks, with some adaptations and modifications made for plot purposes...
Character names may vary across different translation versions; this text uses the most convenient versions...
The entire narrative is told from the female protagonist's first-person perspective. If this style doesn't suit you, don't force yourself...
I told her I could basically be considered the ancestor of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Miss Kocho across from me smiled. Very refined. Very polite.
But I still somehow picked up a vibe that screamed, "It's not my ears—it's your brain."
She gently poured me tea and said in this coaxing tone that she'd take me for a full checkup in a bit.
The tea was pretty good, actually.
I slurped down a few sips, then said it again—I really was basically the ancestor of the Demon Slayer Corps.
If she wanted to hear it, I could even tell her about how the Corps got started!
I hadn't talked to anyone about this in forever!
Miss Kocho looked somewhat helpless, but she still sighed softly and said, "If Miss Chihaya wishes to speak, I'm all ears."
Yeah. She's a good kid.
But if I'm going to talk about the past, where do I even start?
It was a really, really long time ago. So long ago I wasn't even called Tachibana Chihaya yet—just some villager's daughter.
According to my old man, I was an idiot. Carefree and not particularly bright. Our family was so dirt-poor we could barely scrape together a meal, yet I walked around grinning like a fool every single day. He had no clue what the hell I was so happy about.
That said, if it weren't for my dumb cheerful face being so "full of life," some passing noble wouldn't have taken a liking to me and recruited me as a maid.
My old man got a sum of money. Enough to keep everyone at home fed.
And me? I got a makeover. No more swinging hoes in the fields. From then on, all I had to do was pour tea and serve water—easy work—and I'd get paid every month.
Double the happiness, right?
Famous last words. Looking back, I wanted to slap my grinning past self silly.
Walking around smiling like an idiot all day. Of course I got screwed over!
What "passing noble saw something special in your smile and picked you out of thousands"?
As if life ever worked that way!
I clutched a tiny ragged bundle and followed the noble back to the city.
The big houses in the city were gorgeous. People walking the streets wore clothes that actually covered their asses—not a single patch in sight. Their faces carried the smugness and pride of city folk.
So many pretty houses. So many self-important people.
My eyes couldn't keep up. I drooled over those sturdy, beautiful buildings, secretly calculating how many years I'd have to save my wages to afford a house in the city myself.
When I followed the noble back to that even grander estate, I was still smugly daydreaming about owning my own house someday.
Until a plainly dressed woman walked over, looked me up and down, and led me to the servants' quarters.
The moment she shoved me into the water and started scrubbing, all my dreams flew straight to the horizon.
She scrubbed hard. I let out a pig-like squeal. Not only did she not soften up, she actually praised me for squealing with such vigor and energy. Said I could go even louder if I wanted.
City people were absolutely insane!
Anyway, she scrubbed me down like a dead pig from head to toe until I was squeaky clean—guaranteed flea-free—and only then was I allowed to put on that work uniform I'd been dreaming about.
The fabric was actually pretty rough. Not a bright color either. But it was still a brand-new piece of clothing without a single patch.
I was thrilled when I put it on. Then this woman asked what my name was.
I said, "Tonko."
Her face exploded. "What?"
Was there a problem?
I explained that my old man gave me that name because his biggest dream in life was to eat pork someday.
"Absolutely not!" the woman snapped. "What kind of name is that?!"
She said the master of the house was a nobleman who appreciated elegance. If I dared wander around this beautiful estate with a name like that, I'd get beaten to death sooner or later.
I shrank back. This woman—Ohagi—said, "Change your name. Call yourself Chihaya."
At the time, I didn't understand the difference between Chihaya and Tonko... But since Ohagi said so, I immediately nodded.
Later I learned that Ohagi had grown up in the Tachibana Clan, absorbing refinement from nobles since childhood. She was educated. Literate.
The name she gave me was a good one. After I learned to read and understood things better, every time I remembered she'd given me that name, I felt happy.
Seeing me nod obediently, Ohagi's expression softened. She reached out to pat my head. "How old are you?"
I couldn't count on my fingers, so I could only tell her that from the time I was born until now, the persimmon tree in front of my house had borne fruit ten times. That was four years ago.
This noble family was surnamed Tachibana—a very impressive name. The estate was full of beautiful ladies and young misses dressed in gorgeous layered robes, and even more drab, gray maids like us.
Ohagi was my guide. She'd worked at the Tachibana household for many years as a senior attendant, with some standing among the servants. She knew the master's preferences and taboos inside and out, and she taught me all those rules.
I slowly came to understand that days with a full meal didn't come for free.
Because I knew nothing about etiquette, Ohagi even picked up a small wooden stick specifically to supervise my practice.
If I messed up even one step, she'd tap my legs with it.
Brutal!
But soon I learned that compared to the Young Master of this household, Ohagi's brutality was nothing.
After I finally passed the etiquette test, I got assigned real work—the steward transferred me to serve the esteemed Young Master himself.
Ohagi warned me anxiously that I absolutely had to behave and never, ever make the Young Master angry.
I patted my chest and told her not to worry. Full of energy, I followed the steward to where the Young Master lived.
I'd barely lifted one foot to step inside when I heard a very pleasant voice say, "Drag her out. Beat her to death."
A shrill cry rang out. Two attendants dragged a girl past me.
I'd seen her at meals. Her name was Oume. Her face was as lovely as peach blossoms... Because she was the Young Master's personal attendant, she dressed better than me. Every time she appeared, her eyes danced with pride.
But now she'd lost all that beauty. Her tear-soaked face was twisted and grotesque—nothing left but despair and terror.
Her hollow gaze landed on me. I shuddered. My foot stepped into the room.
The steward, however, walked in as if nothing had happened and reported that a new maid had just been transferred today.
I trembled all over but could only steel myself and follow. I dropped to my knees with a thud and bowed deeply to the Young Master.
Then I heard him speak casually: "Lift your head."
I was so tense that when he said it, I jerked my head up—and locked eyes directly with his cold stare.
It was a very beautiful face. Even more stunning than Oume's. His slender eyebrows curved like spring mountains. His skin was as pale as snow. His lips were the color of cherry blossoms. He sat there in a dark formal robe, like someone who'd stepped out of a painting.
But one look at him made me tremble uncontrollably. I remembered Oume's eyes as she was dragged away.
Perhaps by now you've figured it out. A thousand years later, he would bear a name known far and wide:
Kibutsuji Muzan.