Breakfast time.
The table was literally laden with a feast. As expected of a dish made by Benienma.
The freshly cooked rice gleamed, the miso soup gave off a savory aroma, and the rolled omelet and grilled fish were perfect like works of art.
"Wow~! Amazing! It looks so delicious! Let's eat!"
Mitsuri clasped her hands and exclaimed in admiration, then picked up her chopsticks with a happy expression. Each time she stuffed her mouth full of rice, her cheeks puffed up like a hamster's.
"It's really delicious! Benienma-chan must be a genius!"
However, across the table, only an empty teacup was placed in front of Akira. He did not pick up his chopsticks.
He simply watched Mitsuri eat with a bittersweet gaze.
After eating happily for a while, Mitsuri suddenly realized this fact.
"Huh? Akira-san, aren't you eating? This is really delicious."
When Mitsuri tried to bring a piece of fish to his mouth, Akira politely shook his head and raised a hand to stop her.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot eat."
"What? Are you sick? Is your stomach not feeling well…?"
"No, it's not that. Mitsuri, there is something I must confess to you."
Akira put down his chopsticks and called softly. Mitsuri, who had been eating happily and munching away, opened her eyes wide and looked at him.
"Yes?"
"There is something very important that I must confess to you, though it might be a bit late."
The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy. The eyes of Kanae and Shinobu, who were serving nearby, sharpened.
The sisters were thinking the same thing at the same time. Their expressions said, "Finally, it has come."
No matter how love-struck she might be, if she learns that her husband is a predator who feeds on humans as his staple food?
Any human would flee in terror. The sisters were convinced that this bizarre newlywed play would end here.
Akira swallowed dryly and slowly opened his mouth.
"I am a demon. It's not just having horns, great strength, and not aging. I… must eat humans to survive."
Silence flowed through the room. In the quiet where not even a breath could be heard, Akira stared into Mitsuri's eyes without averting his gaze.
He was prepared for her pupils to shake, to be stained with contempt and fear.
However, Mitsuri tilted her head.
"Then, is that your flaw, Akira-san?"
At the unexpected choice of words, Akira was momentarily stunned.
"What? Flaw? This isn't just a simple shortcoming, but a sin and curse that goes against human morality."
"If it's a flaw, it's okay!"
A bright smile spread across Mitsuri's face. As if a spring breeze had blown in, the heavy air in the room instantly dispersed.
"I learned from my mother that a married couple originally fills each other's shortcomings and compensates for flaws while living together! If Akira-san's need to eat humans is a shortcoming, then… I can eat more rice to balance it out, can't I?"
"…No, Mitsuri. Eating more rice and cannibalism are not equivalent exchanges."
Akira felt dizzy. Her logic was beyond common sense.
To her, a demon's cannibalistic nature seemed to be perceived as a problem akin to picky eating or having violent sleep habits.
"Are you really okay with it? That I eat humans, your own species? Don't you feel the fear that the people you love could become my prey?"
Akira pushed a more cruel reality forward. Then, Mitsuri's expression became a bit more serious.
She rested her chin on her hand and thought for a moment, then asked carefully.
"Hmm… that is a bit scary. Then, by any chance, do you just grab any random person? Kind old men passing by, or cute children running errands?"
"No. I swear I never do that."
Akira shook his head firmly. A cool blue light flickered in his eyes.
"I only hunt those who have committed murder, villains who exploit and torment the weak, those who have committed heinous crimes deserving of death. I never touch innocent lives. That is the line I have upheld."
The moment she heard that, Mitsuri sighed deeply as if relieved, stroking her chest.
"Phew, that's a relief! Then it's no problem at all!"
"...What?"
"I learned from my father when I was young. People who harm others and do bad things must be punished! Akira-san is punishing bad people, right? And that punishment… well, it's a bit extreme, but it just takes the form of a meal."
Mitsuri laughed cheerfully and grabbed Akira's hand firmly. Her hand was warm and soft.
"That's a justice meal! Scolding the bad guys, and Akira-san gets full too! It's killing two birds with one stone, isn't it? Hehe."
"Justice… meal…"
Akira blankly repeated the words. He himself thought this wasn't a good thing, and the Kocho sisters only considered it a compromise.
But she was the first to frame his actions as justice.
From the corner, Shinobu and Kanae, who were listening to the conversation, held their foreheads. Shinobu's teacup almost slipped from her hand.
'...We lost. This woman is unbeatable.'
It wasn't madness.
It was an absolute affirmation, so pure and transparent that the muddy common sense of the world just passed through.
Before the filter of Mitsuri's love, even a demon's cannibalism transformed into a heroic act of vanquishing evil.
The butterfly sisters felt a sense of helplessness that even jealousy faded away, and shook their heads. This quirky and lovely new bride was unstoppable.
The journey that departed late in the afternoon took longer than expected. The destination was near the village where Tsuyuri Kanao lived.
They had sent Akatsuki Trading Company employees to secure Kanao first, and Akira was to directly receive her at the midpoint between Ginza, where they were, and that village.
The distance was about 15 km. In modern times, it would be quick, but in the Meiji era when road conditions were still poor, and with an early-model car like the Ford Model T, it was a distance that took considerable time.
"Hey, Master. This hunk of scrap metal, does it even roll?"
Hokusai (Oei), sitting in the passenger seat, complained about the rattling car body.
She had casually stuck a brush in her hair like a hairpin and was admiring the scenery unfolding outside the tinted window.
"I came along thinking it would be interesting, but it's more boring than I thought. I want to see something fun."
"Calling people a spectacle, huh."
"Haha, don't be so stiff. We're close, aren't we?"
Taking breaks intermittently during the move, before they knew it, the sun was setting, and the surroundings were engulfed in pitch-black darkness.
On a road with no streetlights, only the yellowish headlight beam of the car illuminated the path ahead.
Squeak~!
Then, Akira suddenly slammed on the brakes.
"Whoa! What, all of a sudden!"
The car stopped, and dust rose. In the middle of the road illuminated by the headlights, something was blocking the way.
"...Grrrk."
A foul smell of alcohol seeped in through the car window gaps. Oei covered her nose and frowned.
"Ugh, what's this smell? Is there a ghost drowned in alcohol or something."
With his back to the headlight's beam, a large man stood staggering.
Because of the light, his face wasn't clearly visible due to the long shadow cast, but his hair blowing in the wind was distinctly seen. That unique hair color with red base and yellow tips.
Akira's eyes narrowed.
'That hair color, and the Flame Hashira's haori…'
There was no doubt.
At this time, it must be the active Flame Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, Rengoku Shinjuro.
'He hasn't retired yet at this point. But from his condition, he already…'
The haori with flame patterns stained with spots.
And the large gourd of sake in one hand. He had a turbid gaze as if carrying all the burdens of the world, or cursing everything in the world.
The death of his beloved wife Ruka from illness. And the existence of Sun Breathing confirmed from the historical records of Flame Hashira.
Learning about the realm of genius he could never reach no matter how hard he tried, Sun Breathing and the progenitor of all Breathing, he lost the pride of the Rengoku family that had produced Flame Hashira for generations and fell into severe inferiority and nihilism.
"Oei, stay in the car. I'll handle this."
"Hmm? He seems like an interesting fellow, though?"
Akira opened the car door and got out. The night air was cold. He suppressed his demon aura as much as possible and approached Shinjuro disguised as a human.
"Excuse me. It's dangerous. The car needs to pass, so please move aside."
Akira said in a polite but firm voice. However, Shinjuro ignored him and tilted the gourd into his mouth.
Gulp, gulp.
The sound of sake going down his throat echoed through the silent night road. Then, Shinjuro slowly turned his head and looked at Akira. His pupils glinted in the headlight backlight.
Soon, Shinjuro's pupils, which had been unfocused and loose until now, flashed like a hungry beast.
He threw the gourd he was holding onto the ground.
At the sound of it falling, his staggering body rotated with an eerie smoothness, and he reached for the nichirin sword at his waist.
Whoosh!
Flames brushed past over the car hood. If Akira hadn't instinctively leaned back in an instant, he would have been cut.
"...Hoo."
Akira narrowed his eyes and straightened his posture. Oei in the car also brightened her eyes and hung onto the window.
"Heh? That uncle has quite a sharp color. His movements aren't ordinary."
'Even a rotten orange is still a mandarin. No, the class of an active Hashira is undeniable.'
The instinct to sense a demon's presence even in a drunken state.
It was a sense only a veteran who had traversed battlefields for over 20 years and slain countless demons could possess.
"As expected… my nose can't be fooled."
Shinjuro growled while pointing his sword, still staggering.
His body was swaying soaked in alcohol, but only the tip of his sword was fixed to a chilling degree, aiming at Akira's vital points.
"No matter how convincingly you wear human skin… the disgusting stench of demon vibrates. It's nauseating and unbearable."
"I thought you were a drunkard, but you're a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. You don't seem in your right mind; it would be better to sheathe your sword."
When Akira deliberately feigned ignorance and provoked, Shinjuro's face twisted in anger.
"Shut up, you filthy monster bastard."
Shinjuro shouted with bloodshot eyes.
His voice carried not just hostility towards demons, but a deeper, darker anger directed at himself and the unfair world.
"My wife… Ruka is dead! Such a kind and beautiful person returned to the soil so vainly! Why do filthy things like you live and breathe!"
He wailed. In the darkness, his cry echoed pitifully.
"Why are we… no matter how hard we struggle, we can't become the sun! No matter how much we train and strive, we're trash that can't even reach the tip of the progenitor's Breathing!"
Listening to Shinjuro's outcry, Akira clicked his tongue inwardly.
'As expected… the inferiority towards Sun Breathing is strong.'
The pride he had devoted his life to uphold was denied before the existence of a monster-like genius, Yoriichi.
He was venting his anger on the demon before him. Trying to pour out this boiling resentment and sense of powerlessness onto something he could cut down.
"Die. Demons that appear before my eyes. I'll turn you all into ashes!"
Shinjuro stomped the ground. It was an explosive acceleration unbelievable for a body drunk on alcohol. In the darkness, his sword burst into fierce flames.
Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire.
The headlight beam and flames mixed, brightening the night road like daytime.
A slashing attack charging while drawing a trajectory of flames like will-o'-the-wisps. Akira calmly stared at the flames.
A tiger with a sick heart, but its claws were still lethal.
"Tch, this has become troublesome. Oei, don't come out."
"Alright, I can't miss an interesting show. I'll help if it gets dangerous~"
Oei laughed and propped her chin, and the night road instantly transformed into a hot battlefield of flames.
"Even if drunk, a veteran Hashira. This is perfect to test my new power."
Akira's red eyes flashed, and he decides to test a new demon art.