The Butterfly Estate.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, spilling softly across pristine white sheets.
The air carried a faint scent of disinfectant—an aroma unique to the Butterfly Estate.
"Grrr…"
An extremely ungraceful growl of hunger broke the silence of the ward.
Inosuke's eyes snapped open. What greeted him was an unfamiliar ceiling. Instinctively, he reached for his waist—only to grab nothing.
His dual blades were gone.
His iron fans were gone.
Even that outrageously expensive haori was gone.
In their place was a clean but utterly tasteless patient's robe.
"Where's my money?!"
That was the very first thought that flashed through his mind.
"My swords?!
My fans?!
And where's the IOU that blond idiot owes me?!"
He tried to spring upright with a carp flip, only to be stopped by sharp, full-body pain—the aftereffects of severe overexertion following demonization.
"Ay, you're awake?"
A crisp yet slightly stern girl's voice sounded. Kanzaki Aoi walked in carrying a basin of water. When she saw Inosuke wriggling on the bed like a worm, her brows knitted tightly enough to kill flies.
"Don't move! You've got three cracked ribs and multiple muscle strains! Honestly—if you're this badly injured, lie still!"
Inosuke froze, tilting his head as he examined the twin-tailed girl.
She was fierce—but carried no killing intent.
Which meant—
She was bullyable.
"Hey, you."
Inosuke instantly reverted to the overbearing young master persona of the Eternal Paradise Cult. Even lying down, his chin lifted arrogantly.
"This young master is hungry. Call your best chef.
I want tempura—big shrimp—and sweet red bean soup with rock sugar."
Aoi froze. Veins popped on her forehead.
"Hah?! This is a hospital! Not a restaurant! All you get is rice porridge and medicinal broth!"
"Rice porridge?"
Inosuke looked utterly offended, as if he'd been gravely insulted.
"That stuff's for pigs! I'm an injured hero! A major contributor! Without me, those two paupers would've been turned into spider poop!"
He spread his hand confidently.
"Fine, no tempura. Then give me my clothes back.
I've got three gold coins sewn inside—go buy it for me."
"You—!"
Aoi was so angry she couldn't even speak.
She'd treated countless patients at the Butterfly Estate—crybabies, stoics, all kinds.
But someone treating the infirmary like a five-star hotel? This was a first.
Just then—
"Ara~ looks like our little guest is in very good spirits."
The door opened gently.
A smile that seemed capable of freezing the air filled the room.
Shinobu Kocho.
She wore her signature gentle smile, holding the iron fan that hadn't yet been returned to Inosuke as she stepped inside.
Every hair on Inosuke's body stood on end.
This woman looked calm—but beneath that calm lay a terrifying, suppressed fury.
"You may leave, Aoi," Shinobu said sweetly, eyes locked firmly on Inosuke.
"I'd like to have a private conversation with this young master."
Aoi fled as if pardoned by heaven.
Only the two of them remained. Shinobu pulled over a chair, sat beside the bed, and gently placed the blue iron fan on her knees.
"Hashibira Inosuke-kun, is it?"
Her fingers traced the patterns along the fan ribs, her voice soft, almost lulling.
"Your physical condition is remarkable. With that level of exhaustion, a normal person would be bedridden for at least a month—yet you woke up after just one night."
"As expected," Inosuke said stiffly, his eyes unconsciously drifting toward the fan.
"This young master was born strong."
"But…"
Shinobu's tone shifted. Her violet eyes narrowed slightly.
"While examining your belongings, I found something very interesting.
This fan is made from an extremely rare and expensive mineral. And the craftsmanship…"
She pointed at a nearly invisible lotus emblem etched into the handle.
"That's the crest of the Eternal Paradise Cult, isn't it?"
Inosuke's heart jolted.
Damn it—that flashy bastard Doma insisted on engraving that stupid 'anti-counterfeiting mark.'
"And according to Giyu," Shinobu continued coolly, "the techniques you used in battle showed clear frost effects."
Her smile vanished.
"I once encountered a demon.
He used fans. He used ice.
And he called himself a 'religious leader.'"
She leaned closer. At some point, her thin blade had slid halfway from its sheath.
"So, Inosuke-kun," she whispered,
"would you kindly tell me what your relationship is with that demon?"
One wrong word.
Inosuke had no doubt she'd poison him on the spot.
The concealment charm might hide his aura—but it couldn't erase evidence this blatant.
In that case—
Only acting could save him.
Inosuke inhaled deeply. Instead of fear, he put on an even more exasperated expression than Shinobu's.
"You mean that idiot old man…"
He rolled his eyes dramatically.
"The one who plays with ice all day and smiles like a broken doll?"
"Huh?"
Shinobu froze. This was not the reaction she'd anticipated.
"Don't get me started," Inosuke waved dismissively, face full of familial misery.
"That old geezer's nuts. Always rambling about religion, trying to drag me into it too.
This fan? He shoved it at me, called it a family heirloom."
"As for the ice…"
He stretched out his hand, perfectly normal—no demonic aura at all.
"I grew up in snowy mountains. Cold constitution. Learned a backwater breathing style. A bit of chill—what's so strange about that?"
He met Shinobu's gaze head-on, eyes clear and rebellious, like a rich kid sick of feudal superstition.
"Miss, you don't think I'm a demon, do you?
Do I look like one?
Do demons crave tempura?
Do demons risk their lives for five million gold?"
He sighed deeply.
"I'm just a runaway rich kid trying to earn some pocket money killing demons."
He leaned back, casual.
"If you hate the Eternal Paradise Cult, so do I. Want to team up?
I'll even sneak into that old man's vault one day—split the loot with you?"
Shinobu: "..."
Her logic short-circuited.
There really was no demonic aura on him.
And this kind of talk…
Annoyingly, it sounded real.
It fit him.
And somehow, imagining Upper Rank Two raising such a greedy, food-obsessed human child…
…felt disturbingly plausible.
"Pfft."
Shinobu couldn't help laughing. The killing intent in her eyes faded considerably.
"You really are… a silver-tongued child."
She tossed the fan back into Inosuke's arms and stood.
"For now, I'll accept your explanation—and your merciless attitude toward demons speaks in your favor.
But until your identity is fully verified, I'll be keeping a close eye on you."
She smiled sweetly.
"Oh, and by the way—treatment here is expensive.
Your gold coins? They've probably all been deducted."
"What?!"
Inosuke let out a pig-slaughter scream.
"All deducted?! This is a scam! I'm discharging myself! I want to file a complaint!"
Watching him roll around the bed throwing a tantrum, Shinobu shook her head and left.
Suspicious or not—
This child had a vitality that was hard to dislike.
Most importantly—
He wasn't a demon.
And he knew nothing of his father's true identity.
A few days later. Bright sunshine.
"One, two, three, four!"
Three boys in patient robes.
Tanjiro was practicing deep breathing, trying to heal his damaged lungs.
Zenitsu, still suffering from spider venom, lay bandaged like a mummy, groaning weakly.
And Inosuke—
He was holding a stick, scribbling complex arithmetic on the ground.
"Life-saving fee: five million. Interest ten percent. Medical fees on your tab.
Travel costs, food, emotional damages…"
He cackled darkly as he calculated.
"Hehehe… jackpot. Once you're healed, you're both going to work for me.
Tanjiro—sell charcoal.
Zenitsu—too useless… hmm… fine, street performance."
"That lightning breathing looks flashy—join a circus, you'll be a hit."
"Boss…"
Zenitsu sobbed with thick noodle tears.
"I just crawled back from death's door and you're already forcing me into showbiz?!"
"Shut it."
Inosuke poked Zenitsu's bandaged stomach with the stick.
"Living means paying debts. That's the adult world."
Tanjiro smiled gently at the scene.
"Inosuke-kun… you talk harshly, but… thank you."
He pointed at a basket of steamed buns beside Inosuke.
Inosuke had stolen them from the kitchen earlier and casually dumped them between the two of them.
"You were worried we'd be hungry, weren't you?"
"Shut up! Those are leftovers from me!"
Inosuke's face reddened as he viciously bit into a bun.
"Say another word and I'll double the interest!"
Just then, three little girls ran over.
"Inosuke-sama! Inosuke-sama!"
They held flower wreaths, gazing at him with shining admiration.
Sure, this big brother had a bad temper—but he was really handsome!
And he could do tricks with his fan!
"What is it?" Inosuke asked irritably.
"This is for you!"
They slipped the wreath over his neck.
Inosuke froze, touching it.
It was prickly. Smelled like cheap grass.
But—
He didn't throw it away.
"Tch… pointless junk."
He muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
Eternal Paradise Cult. Midnight.
"Tanuki-san… tanuki-san…
Boom boom boom, tummy goes…"
Doma sat beside Kotoha, holding a small drum, awkwardly keeping rhythm.
"Thump, thump, thump."
"Leader, your rhythm's off," Kotoha laughed.
"Oh, this is hard," Doma scratched his head.
Then suddenly, he said:
"Kotoha… if one day I stop being the leader—where would you want to go?"
Kotoha paused, thought, then smiled.
"I want to go somewhere sunny—with you and Inosuke.
Grow flowers. Raise a little dog."
"Sunlight, huh…"
Doma narrowed his eyes at the cold moon in the sky.
That might be difficult…
But imagining it—
Him, Kotoha, that noisy brat, standing in sunlight—
…it didn't sound so bad.
"How greedy of me," Doma laughed softly and resumed drumming.
"Thump, thump, thump."
"Sigh…"
He fanned himself lazily.
"Leader?" Kotoha looked up from folding Inosuke's old clothes.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"No."
Doma gazed at the moon, voice distant.
"I was just wondering… what that kid is doing right now."
He pulled out the drawing Inosuke had sent—stepping on Rui's head.
"I heard he's made new friends.
What if he forgets his father because of them?
And…"
He touched his face.
"What if some Demon Slayer woman falls for his looks and wants to be my daughter-in-law?"
Kotoha burst out laughing.
"You're overthinking it, Leader. Inosuke's still a child."
"Not small."
Doma said seriously.
"In the demon world, he's already capable on his own. No—this won't do!"
He suddenly stood, eyes sparkling.
"I have to send him something. Can't let him lose the Paradise Cult's prestige."
"Sato!"
"At your service."
"Send him a chest of gold. And a chest of wisteria cakes—yeah, toxic ingredients, but he likes them. Oh, and—"
Doma grinned mischievously, pulling out a booklet.
The Teachings of the Eternal Paradise Cult.
"Send this too. Tell him to spread the faith to his friends when he's bored.
Since they're debt-bound friends… turning them into believers seems reasonable."
"Call it… inheritance?"
Watching Doma brimming with excitement, Kotoha shook her head helplessly, continuing to sew.
Without realizing it, she hummed that off-key song again—
"Tanuki-san… tanuki-san… boom boom boom…"
Far away, at the Butterfly Estate—
Sleeping Inosuke suddenly shivered.
"What the hell…
Feels like that grindy-head is scheming again…"
He rolled over, hugging his pillow tighter, and continued dreaming of becoming the richest man in the world.
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