For someone like Mai—or more broadly, for any true martial artist—living in the modern world was both a tragedy and a blessing.
The tragedy? Their strength no longer made them extraordinary. No matter how much they trained, no martial artist could possibly withstand a nuclear strike. Even if a miracle allowed one to survive, it wouldn't represent all martial artists. The truth remained: their strength, no matter how honed, had limits.
Even Mai herself wouldn't dare claim she could absolutely survive if dozens of assault rifles were pointed on her at once.
They were powerful, yes—but they were still human. They could still catch a fever, fall ill, get injured, or become disabled.
The difference was that martial artists like Mai had pushed past ordinary limits, tapping into the essence known as Qi, and carried a heart that never stopped yearning for strength.
Modern martial arts had evolved. It was no longer solely about killing one's opponents—it was about overcoming them, mastering oneself, and reaching new heights. Slaughter wasn't the goal anymore, because their power alone could no longer determine the outcome of wars.
In the distant past, someone like Mai, clad in armor and wielding weapons, could lead a charge that ordinary soldiers would be helpless against.
Shiranui-ryu, the martial school to which she belonged, was once infamous for its proficiency in subterfuge, sabotage, and warfare behind enemy lines. They could dismantle entire supply chains, ignite chaos in camps, and assassinate even the most powerful generals—sometimes through seduction, sometimes through sheer skill.
Yes, you heard that right—seduction.
As absurd as it might sound now, seduction was once a core aspect of Shiranui-ryu's tactics. In the ancient world, it was part of the job. And that, in no small part, explained why Mai's modern fighting outfit looked the way it did—flamboyant, revealing, even vulgar by some standards.
Because long ago, such attire wasn't for show. It was standard issue for a kunoichi—a female ninja of the Shiranui style—whose mission might very well require a mix of charm and fatal precision.
In this era, it was no longer necessary—no longer necessary to sell out her sex appeal with such revealing clothes.
If Andy had married her and helped raise the status of the Shiranui Dojo under his name, Mai wouldn't have needed to wear such indecent outfits just to promote the Shiranui style of ninjutsu.
She was well aware of how indecent her clothing appeared. But for the Shiranui style to truly evolve, it wasn't just about changing fighting techniques or engaging in combat with others—it also needed fame and recognition.
Didn't fighters from the Kyokugenryu school constantly participate in various competitions, even taking on dojo challenges?
That was the reason.
Martial artists needed to survive. But their pride and the legacy they carried meant they would never stoop to stealing or robbing. Those who became yakuza either dominated entire cities or had fallen too far.
So promoting one's dojo and style to attract disciples became the path to both survival and income.
Sure, not every wealthy person could endure the hardship of martial training, but fame drew numbers. And among those numbers, a few gifted individuals would emerge—along with more money.
Everyone understood that.
But what about those without strength or fame?
They would either collaborate with official organizations or become vigilantes.
That's why, as Mai saw it, even though Andy spent his time training with his brother in seclusion—hiding his identity and constantly honing his skills—she could understand him. After all, his enemies were powerful, and it would be foolish to expose himself prematurely.
So she stepped up. She took on the responsibility of revitalizing the Shiranui school, while occasionally acting as a vigilante.
Fortunately, she had a strong sense of justice. The Shiranui tradition itself had a legacy of exorcising evil and slaying monsters—even if there were no demons left in this era.
She couldn't stand those who bullied the weak or abused their power.
To her, being a vigilante wasn't just a choice—it was her daily life, her habit, her way of living. More importantly, it was the honor of the Shiranui name she bore.
Helping those in need was exactly what a just martial artist like her would do.
After all, times had changed.
The Shiranui school no longer needed ninjas—it needed martial artists who could resonate with the people.
Her personality and the times both compelled her to act this way.
Ryuji didn't really understand Mai's mindset. To him, she just seemed like a kind-hearted person.
Which wasn't wrong—but he still didn't grasp what Mai was truly carrying, or what Andy meant to her.
All he could do was watch her, filled with fighting spirit, and share what little information he had to make sure she didn't broke mentally again.
"I asked around just now. Apparently, this world used to have creatures called 'demons.' They eat people and possess strange supernatural powers. Even decapitating them doesn't kill them—only special blades made by the Demon Slayer Corps can kill them by severing the head. Sunlight works too. And their breathing techniques are quite intriguing. I think those breathing styles probably have some powerful effects," Ryuji explained.
He wasn't trying to keep the plot of Demon Slayer a secret from Mai—because at this point, the original storyline didn't matter.
He didn't even mind if Mai learned that hes own world had "plotlines" like that. Honestly, he didn't know much about King of Fighters lore anyway—just that some new big boss always showed up to stir up trouble.
Something about Orochi, some so-called will of the world.
That sort of information was useless to Mai.
Even though she was made popular by the King of Fighters franchise, she wasn't originally from there—she came from Fatal Fury. Her role in KoF was minimal, mostly fan service.
Telling her the plot wouldn't help—she wasn't one of the three sacred families, so she had no way to deal with Orochi.
And more importantly, she wasn't in the right mental state for any shocking revelations.
"Yeah, I sensed something too. Their breathing is... unusual. If I'm not wrong, those breathing techniques take a heavy toll on the body."
Mai frowned.
Ryuji could feel it, and as a martial artist, she could sense it even more clearly. Her experience told her these breathing techniques were designed to squeeze out every last drop of power—at the cost of one's health.
Over time, such techniques would wreck the body entirely.
Yet the closer one came to collapse, the stronger those breathing styles became—something Mai couldn't ignore.
"No choice, really. Their physical attributes aren't that strong to begin with. If they want to fight monsters, this kind of technique is probably necessary," Ryuji said, shrugging as he folded his hands behind his head.
He had considered joining the Demon Slayer Corps himself. After all, joining an official organization was the smart play in this kind of world.
Besides, the Corps had been around for over a thousand years—they had an intelligence network way beyond what outsiders like them could hope for.
"You're right…"
Mai sighed softly.
If their suspicions were correct, then these demon slayers were burning themselves out to protect others. Just like the ancestors of the Shiranui style, who had chosen to become living weapons for the sake of the people.
That thought gave her a natural sense of respect for the Demon Slayer Corps.
Ryuji, on the other hand, wasn't too impressed. In his view, the only reason things had gotten so bad was because Japan was too chaotic. If Muzan had shown up in any other country, the government would've either wiped him out or turned him into a test subject.
But Japan had always been like this. Small land, too many people. More people died at the hands of humans than demons. They hadn't seen true peace in centuries—even outside the Sengoku era, daimyo were constantly at war. Who had time to care about one lone demon?
"So, the best way to join the Corps is to kill a demon and prove ourselves. I don't know exactly what these demons are like—just that they eat people and hate wisteria and sunlight," Ryuji yawned.
He glanced around at the lively, bustling streets. Geisha poured drinks and sang for their guests—or, to be blunt, prostitutes entertained customers.
In a place like this, "entertainment only" was a joke. Especially in a time of war, people wanted to drown themselves in pleasure. Even with monsters lurking outside, the nightlife here was loud and carefree—a jarring contrast.
He watched as a long line of heavily made-up women queued along the street, seemingly waiting for something.
Ryuji didn't know much about Japanese culture. He barely understood the history of his own country—much less other nations.
He didn't even realize the "shoes" on Mai's feet were actually tabi.
"What's that? Are those prostitutes going on parade? I think Japan has a tradition like that, right?"
If he remembered right, one of the demons had disguised itself as an oiran…
Mai shot him a look of pure exasperation. From the moment they'd arrived, Ryuji had been ogling the geisha around them—especially those clinging to drunk patrons. His gaze had been wandering the entire time, making her feel embarrassed and annoyed.
"That's an oiran selection. And not all geisha are prostitutes… never mind. Why am I even explaining this to you?"
She quickened her pace, wanting to put some distance between them.
But Ryuji suddenly stopped and focused, sharply enhancing his Observation Haki senses.
He didn't know whether Muzan had any connection to Lovecraftian monsters, but it didn't hurt to use Observation Haki to scout for demons.
Surely there were some cautious demons hiding among humans.
After all, he wasn't sure if the zombie virus affected demons—but the demons probably weren't sure either. So it was entirely possible some had blended into crowded places like this.
And the Demon Slayer Corps could only test for demons with sunlight or wisteria. That wasn't hard to fake. Most of their members weren't even Pillars—just regular humans.
Ryuji unleashed his Observation Haki to the fullest. In this world, his range wasn't that great—thirty to forty meters, at most. Far weaker than what he could do in the One Piece world.
Back there, he could easily sense things kilometers away—even hear people's thoughts from that distance.
But here, even thirty meters was impressive.
Everything around him began to turn transparent—especially the clothes…
He saw Mai's body clearly, still as alluring as ever. But then his Haki pushed deeper—letting him sense the internal structure of nearby people.
He followed behind Mai slowly.
She noticed and turned around with a scowl.
"Why are you walking so slow? Don't tell me… you're planning to stay here for the night?"
Her eyes were full of displeasure. She was convinced he was being seduced by the poor women who could be "bought" with a little money.
Though she held herself to strict moral standards, she still pitied those women.
There was a reason drugs, gambling, and pornography were considered the three great evils.
On the surface, pornography might not seem like a threat. But in truth, it was immensely dangerous, precisely because it generated huge profits. Human trafficking, coercion, threats, kidnapping—all of it was often tied to the pornography. It wasn't as simple as just watching a video or looking at some risqué images.
Because how could the viewer possibly know whether the person being filmed had been forced, kidnapped, or deceived?
So, under strict moral scrutiny, even watching that kind of "content" could make one complicit.
Most people knew this—they just didn't care. They treated it like a joke.
But both Mai and Ryuji knew the truth: in times like these, these beautiful women were victims. They hadn't chosen these professions out of a desire to fall into depravity—but out of sheer desperation.
"Well, it's not impossible…"
He glanced at a few women nearby—busty, beautiful, elegantly made up—and he couldn't help feeling tempted. Sure, they were what people called "shared rides," but part of him wanted to give them a little money, maybe even change their fate.
Of course, it wasn't purely out of kindness.
It also benefited him—more beautiful women meant more chances to pass down beautiful genes. A higher-quality gene pool meant more future beauty. If these women were left to rot here forever, their beauty might disappear with them.
So, in Ryuji's imagination, if he ever became king, he'd likely end up as one of those "tyrants" who cracked down harshly on the pornographic industry, banned beautiful women from having abortions, and encouraged only unattractive ones to abort.
"What the hell? Can't you take anything seriously for five seconds?"
Mai looked at him, speechlessly.
"No, I mean... it's just that…"
Ryuji raised his head and looked up at a second-story room. There, he sensed something—an unusual presence.
He'd struck gold.
"…I wanted to check out what makes this place so 'unique.'"
The undead creatures from 7 Days to Die couldn't withstand his flames. He had always wondered whether the so-called demons in Demon Slayer could survive against that same fire. He wanted to test a real, native demon of this world.
But looking at his calm, sincere expression, Mai stomped over angrily and jabbed him in the chest with her finger.
"I really thought you were starting to act more reliable! But you're still just a pervert, huh? Those women have suffered enough! Don't make it worse for them!"
Her voice was full of righteous fury.
But Ryuji calmly pointed out the flaw in her reasoning.
"Okay, but how are they supposed to survive otherwise? You think they have other options? You think there's some organization out there letting them live out whatever life they want? At least if they take clients like me—generous ones—they can make more toward buying their freedom."
He gestured toward the geishas who were forcing themselves to smile.
"That's the reality—they don't get to choose."
Then he gave his pouch a shake.
"I'm always generous with girls. Especially the cute and beautiful ones. If they spend a night with me, I'd pay to buy out their contracts and even throw in a house-fund. Of course… if you'd show me just a little kindness, I wouldn't mind buying someone out without spending the night."
He gave Mai a look.
"A righteous martial artist like you would definitely support that, right?"
His pouch was full of gold coins.
Yes—Ryuji planned to buy them out with gold, not just hand them cash.
But he couldn't resist teasing Mai at the same time.
It wasn't just about being cheeky. If she was going to be his partner in this strange world, she couldn't afford to be constantly uptight and overbearing.
Ryuji didn't take crap from women.
And if he did, he always made sure to give it right back.
Mai took a deep breath. Her full chest heaved visibly with the motion.
"You bastard!"
She was pissed—she could see right through him. He was just retaliating because she'd gotten mad earlier. He was trying to lighten the mood with a twisted sense of humor. But for some reason, the smug look on his face—like "I'm a pervert, deal with it"—just made her even angrier.
"Can you be serious for once?! We're in a dangerous place! Wasting your energy like this—is that really a good idea?! Could you at least pretend to be a little nervous?!"
She grabbed his collar and yelled in his face.
Even she didn't know why she lost her temper so easily around him.
But she would never admit it had anything to do with the fact that she'd once slept with Ryuji, or that their relationship had become... complicated.
In her eyes, he wasn't that strong. Wasting stamina in an unknown world like this was practically asking to die.
Ryuji looked at the fuming Mai and sighed inwardly.
He knew it looked bad—coming to a place like this right now. But because of his usual behavior, it didn't even seem out of place.
Which, ironically, made it harder for Mai to realize something was off.
Honestly, he didn't even know what to say.
So he winked at her, trying to signal: "I'm not actually here to mess around."
Even though he wouldn't mind doing that… later.
But—
"Why are you winking at me?! …Wait. This is the middle of the street..."
Only then did Mai notice that the people around them were all watching like they were putting on a show.
She quickly let go of his collar so the crowd wouldn't keep laughing at him.
But she was still in a foul mood, so she snapped loudly.
"What the hell are you all looking at?! Mind your own business!"
No more lady-like restraint—she was done with that.
Ryuji could only sigh. His enhanced senses were telling him that the strange presence upstairs had noticed them. It was beginning to move—either preparing to flee, or to investigate.
Still, he couldn't really blame Mai for this. It was the side effect of him being too damn honest about everything.
So he decided it was best not to take any more chances.
"You really are something else…"
Grabbing her by the shoulder, he pulled her into his arms.
Mai jolted like she'd been shocked by electricity, instinctively trying to back away.
But then—just for a moment—she saw Ryuji raise his greatsword.
And she heard his voice.
"Hey, friend upstairs—how about coming down to enjoy a little sunlight!?"
With a single swing of his sword, he unleashed a wave of searing flame. The fire surged upward, engulfing the second floor's rooftop, shattering the thin window in a burst of heat and force.
From within the blaze emerged a stunningly beautiful woman—her face elegant, almost ethereal.
But the moment her hand touched the sunlight pouring in, her skin began to smoke.
Mai saw it clearly. The smoke, the hiss, the recoil of someone who should not have been touched by sunlight.
In that instant, a thought bloomed in her mind.
Has he actually become dependable…?
She blinked, still feeling the lingering heat from the flame, still wrapped in Ryuji's sudden, protective embrace.
For once, he hadn't said something perverted.
He hadn't made a joke.
He had simply acted.
With precision.
With power.
And with a sense of timing that saved them both.
Mai's heart skipped a beat—not from fear, but from something else entirely.
~~~~~~~~~~
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