The road stretched out before us, winding beside endless farm fields bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. The air was warm, filled with the earthy scent of tilled soil and the distant hum of cicadas. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful for a group of Demon Slayers heading toward a high-level threat. Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and I trudged along, the sounds of nature a stark contrast to the demons we hunted. My eyes drifted to Nezuko's box, snug on Tanjiro's back, and a question bubbled up.
"Hey, Tanjiro," I said, curiosity getting the better of me, "why do you always carry Nezuko with you on these dangerous missions? Wouldn't it be safer for her to stay back at the Butterfly Mansion?"
Tanjiro turned his head slightly, giving me that soft, understanding smile of his. "I always worry about Nezuko, Ryo. But she doesn't want to stay alone in the mansion—she insists on coming. Besides," he added, a hint of pride in his voice, "she's a very capable fighter. She's saved us many times during battles, pulled us out of near-death situations."
I nodded, a smirk tugging at my lips. "That's cool. And incredibly convenient, I guess. Having a cute demon who can fight and also fit in a box."
Before I could say more, Zenitsu's head snapped up, his golden eyes blazing with indignation. "CUTE?! Did you just call MY Nezuko cute?!" he shrieked, his voice hitting a pitch that could shatter glass. "Don't you dare look at my Nezuko! You already have a wife, you greedy bastard!"
I sighed, shaking my head. What a waste of energy. Ignoring him was a skill I'd honed to perfection. I didn't bother responding, letting his outburst drift away like smoke.
A sudden shout broke the quiet rhythm of our walk. Ahead, a carriage driver was struggling with a wheel sunk deep in the mud. Without a second thought, Inosuke charged forward, his wild energy shifting into something almost noble. He gripped the wheel with raw strength, muscles bulging as he yanked it free. Tanjiro rushed to help but there was no need, Inosuke freed the carriage. The driver, practically in tears, handed us a small bag of onigiri as thanks.
I watched Inosuke tear into his rice ball, a genuine smile creeping onto my face. He's loud and obnoxious, sure, but deep down, he's got a pure heart—just wants to help people. It hit me then: he reminded me of Ichiro, all wild and fun and fiercely loyal. I wasn't hungry, so I slipped my onigiri to Inosuke. He grunted in delight, already halfway through it. "Thank you, Haku!"
"My name's Ryo," I said, chuckling. Why is he so terrible with names? It's almost a talent.
Then he turned to Tanjiro, mouth full. "Hey, Gonpachiro! Give me your onigiri too!"
Tanjiro sighed, his smile tired but fond. "It's Tanjiro, Inosuke."
I nearly snorted. Gonpachiro? That's actually hilarious.
The sun dipped low, painting the sky in oranges and purples as we reached the base of the mountain. Zenitsu froze, trembling like a leaf. "No, no, no! A mountain again?! I can't! I'm not going!" he wailed, clutching his head.
Irritation flared in my chest. This clown's wasting time. But yelling wouldn't work—I knew him too well for that. Instead, I grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face me. "Do you like Nezuko?" I asked, keeping my voice low and steady.
He puffed out his chest, tears streaming. "Yes! She's my wife! My adorable, beautiful wife!"
I scoffed. "Not yet, you dumbass. Look, girls like strong men who can protect them. For Nezuko to really like you, you've got to prove you're tough—not some sniveling coward. Otherwise, she'll think you're weak, pathetic, and she'll pick someone else. Someone strong, someone brave. She'll build a life with him. Picture it, Zenitsu—Nezuko laughing, happy, with a man who isn't you!"
The thought struck him like lightning. His eyes flew open, a fire sparking inside them. With a guttural yell, he shook off my hand and bolted up the mountain path, fueled by desperation and my words. I knew that'd work. I've been there—watching Yuki almost slip away to someone else.
But as the sun vanished and darkness closed in, Zenitsu's burst of courage faded. He couldn't keep it up, trapped between his fear and the ambition I'd planted.
Higher up the mountain, the air turned cold and thick. My senses tingled—a faint, scattered trace of demons lingered, too vague to pin down. They'd been here, though, not long ago. "Everyone, stay sharp," I said, tightening my grip on my blade.
Then the fog came—thick, swirling, cutting visibility to almost nothing. Through the haze, I spotted a little boy, playing alone. My heart lurched. I sprinted toward him, but when I got there, he was gone—just mist and shadows.
Tanjiro's voice pierced the fog. "Ryo, what happened? Why did you run?"
I froze, confused. "Didn't you see the boy?"
They shook their heads. Something's off. "Stick together!" I barked, unease sharpening my tone. We pressed closer, breaths shallow, and I took the lead, picking a path by instinct. But my senses were scrambled—a strange scent flooded the air, not good or bad, just overwhelming, muddling my mind. I turned to warn them, to say it might be a demon's trick, but when I looked back, they were gone. The fog had swallowed them whole.
To Be Continued…