Demon Slayer : Heir to the Moon

I stood frozen at the threshold of Mitsuri Kanroji's mansion, my brain scrambling to process the sight before me. Her clothes—or what was left of them—barely clung to her frame, a fact that plunged me into a spiral of polite panic. I tried not to stare, really I did, but my eyes had a mind of their own. Mitsuri, oblivious as ever, greeted me with a smile so bright it could've melted a demon's heart. "How may I help you?" she chirped, her voice bubbling with energy.

I swallowed hard and managed to choke out, "I am Ryo Tsukihara. Shinobu-san told me to meet you."

Her eyes sparkled with recognition. "Ah, I get it! I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting here!"

"That's okay," I said quickly, then added, "but please, Kanroji-san, put some clothes on."

She glanced down at herself, and a wave of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! I was sleeping, and I rushed out when I heard the knock. I'll get changed—please come in!" With that, she darted inside, leaving me to step into her mansion alone.

The place was vast, neat, and spotlessly clean—a far cry from the blood-soaked battlefields I'd trudged through lately. I waited, shifting awkwardly, until Mitsuri returned in her Demon Slayer uniform. Well, mostly covered. Her chest was still… prominent, and I had to remind myself she was my senior. No questioning her fashion choices, Ryo. Just keep it professional.

Flustered but determined, I cut to the chase. "Why are you searching for a strong Slayer, Kanroji-san?"

Her answer was vague, almost cryptic. "I need a strong Slayer for my personal mission."

My mind raced. A secret Hashira mission? An Upper Moon showdown? Why else would Shinobu send me? "I've been working on this for a long time," she added, stoking my curiosity—and my nerves.

"What's the mission?" I pressed.

She beamed and gestured for me to follow. I braced myself for a hidden war room, a stash of Nichirin Blades, or at least a map pinned with demon sightings. Instead, she led me to… the kitchen. I blinked, utterly lost.

The space was spacious and well-equipped, pots gleaming and spices neatly lined up. A wild thought hit me. "Why are we in the kitchen? Are you making some kind of wisteria poison for demons?"

Mitsuri burst into laughter, clutching her sides. "What? No, no, that's not it! You got it all wrong!"

"Then why are we here?" I asked, my bewilderment peaking.

Her grin widened. "I'm planning a small dinner feast for all the Hashiras!"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "What do you mean? Then why am I here?"

"I was trying to make something new and delicious for everyone," she explained, "but before serving it to the Hashiras, I need other people to tell me how my food tastes!"

Fury bubbled up inside me. I'd been dragged across the countryside to taste food? I fought to keep my face neutral. "So why a 'strong Slayer' for this?"

Her logic was… unique. "I heard from a grandma who taught me cooking that strong people have a different kind of appetite. Since I'm making food for the Hashiras, I thought I needed it tasted by other strong people!"

I wanted to scream. The sheer absurdity of it nearly broke me, but she was my senior—and her wide-eyed innocence made it impossible to snap. Resigned, I plastered on a fake smile. "Oh, sure, I love eating food. It'd be an honor to taste yours."

Her face lit up like a festival lantern. She ushered me to a table laden with a grand spread, the rich, savory aroma hitting me before I even sat down. She served the dish, and I took a cautious bite. My skepticism melted instantly. It was good. No, it was delicious. The meat was juicy, bursting with flavor, and I couldn't stop myself from digging in. Mitsuri watched me, practically glowing with joy. "Good thing you liked it!" she said, her warmth infectious.

She was a good person, I realized—a pure, innocent soul. The dress thing was still an issue, but I could overlook it. We finished eating, and I told her it was time for me to go. "You can come whenever you want!" she said cheerfully. "Just let me know with your Kasugai Crow first."

Before I left, curiosity got the better of me. "Why did you become a Hashira?" The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. What if I'd just dredged up some tragic tale of lost family, like my own story? Nice going, idiot.

But Mitsuri blushed, fidgeting. "Reason, you ask? Well…" She smiled shyly. "To find a strong person to marry."

WHAAAAAAAT?

That's it? That's the grand motivation? I muttered a quick thanks for the food and bolted, my head spinning.

On the trek back to the Butterfly Mansion, I mulled over the bizarre day. People were weird. And from now on, I swore I'd never take on another "errand" without the full scoop.

Back at the mansion, I bathed, letting the hot water wash away the absurdity, then headed to my room. Yuki was there, sewing quietly. "How was your mission?" she asked.

I kept it vague. "Uh, fine. Just… Hashira stuff." No way was I admitting I'd basically been on a dinner date.

Days later, I went to town to grab some things for Yuki. When I returned to the Butterfly Mansion, I spotted Kanao, the little girls Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo—and Aoi at the gate. Nearby, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke were talking to someone with a booming voice and a flashy presence —Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira.

I sidled up to Aoi. "What's going on?"

"Tengen's taking those three on a mission to the Red Light District," she said.

The Red Light District? Demons there too? It wasn't unthinkable—demons could lurk anywhere. I'd once fought one running a magic show in a city, after all. The group departed, and I waved them off, wishing them luck.

To Be Continued…

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