"Um, Mr. Tomioka..."
"..."
"If you don't speak, customers won't come."
"..."
"Mr. Tomioka?"
"I'm waiting."
Under the scorching sun, beside the main gate of the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, a wooden table stood crookedly propped up. Its legs rested on two bricks, and a tattered flag fluttered in the wind on top. On the flag were written large characters: [Water and Mist's Odd Jobs]. The handwriting was awful—it had been written by a crow clutching an ink brush in its claws.
Giyu Tomioka sat behind the table, arms crossed, expressionless. His two-colored haori had a large hole, revealing his uniform underneath. The uniform was also torn, showing glimpses of his toned abs.
Next to him, Muichiro Tokito was folding a paper airplane, using the previous failed attempt at a sign.
"Why are we doing this?" Muichiro held the paper airplane up to the sun. "Is the allowance from Oyakata-sama not enough to buy radishes?"
"Not radishes," Tomioka replied, his eyes staring vacantly ahead like two dead fish. "Mending the uniform costs money. The Kakushi said my frequency of damage exceeds the reimbursement limit. If I don't pay, they'll alter my uniform into a skirt."
"A skirt," Muichiro tilted his head, his long hair slipping down. "If Mr. Tomioka wore a skirt, Shinobu Kocho would probably laugh herself to death. Though I don't remember what her laughter sounds like, it feels like it would be noisy."
"I don't want to wear a skirt," Tomioka said very seriously. "My legs would get cold."
"So what are we going to do?"
"Odd jobs. We do anything for money," Tomioka pointed at the sign. "That was Uzui's suggestion. He said if I'm willing to 'sell my looks' or unclog drains, money will come quickly."
"Don't understand the first part, and I don't want to unclog drains," Muichiro tossed the paper airplane. "So boring. I want to go home and watch the clouds."
The paper airplane flew halfway before a sudden gust of wind shredded it to pieces. Immediately after, an ear-splitting roar echoed.
"TOTAL CONCENTRATION! TOTAL CONCENTRATION! GIVE BACK MY STUFF!!"
Two figures rushed over, one after the other. Running ahead was a screaming Kasugai crow. Chasing it was a boy wearing a boar's head mask—completely naked.
Truly naked. Inosuke Hashibira had nothing on except the boar head. His private parts were obscured by leaves flying up from the roadside and some mysterious holy light.
"Ah, a pervert," Muichiro remarked flatly. "Mr. Tomioka, your friend is here."
"Not a friend," Tomioka corrected.
Inosuke charged up to the table, one foot slamming onto the surface, making it creak alarmingly.
"Tanjirou's senior! And that long-haired shorty!" The boar mask's nostrils flared with two bursts of hot air. "Help me catch that thief! Pisses me off! Pisses me off!"
Tomioka looked up at the clearly censored area. "Where are your clothes?"
"Clothes don't matter! My pelt! My pelt is gone!" Inosuke screamed, clutching his head. "I hung it on a tree after bathing, and it disappeared when I turned around! That was the sacred battle gear bestowed by the Mountain King! Without it, my lower half feels chilly, and I can't focus on my Total Concentration!"
"So you ran here naked?" Muichiro asked.
"Shut up! That's my comrade! My soul!" Inosuke grabbed Tomioka's shoulders and shook him violently. "Help me find it! Or I'll pee right here!"
Tomioka's head wobbled from the shaking, but he caught the keyword.
"Is there a reward?"
"Hah? I'll give you ten fish I catch!"
"Deal." Tomioka stood up. "Tokito, let's work."
Muichiro watched the paper airplane blown away by the wind. "Ten fish... Can they be stewed with radishes?"
"Yes."
The trio—plus a boar head—formed a temporary search team. According to Inosuke's chaotic description, he lost his belongings in the woods to the west. There were recent rumors of ghosts there; many villagers entered only to mysteriously lose their personal clothing.
"What kind of lowbrow ghost is this," Tomioka muttered, walking along the forest path, hand resting on his sword hilt.
"Maybe it wants to open a clothing store," Muichiro said, gazing at the treetops. "This tree looks like Mr. Tomioka—dull and wooden."
"How so?"
"The bark is thick."
"..."
After about twenty minutes, the fog around them grew thicker. Not ordinary fog—it carried a strange scent... like toilet cleaner.
"Stinks," Inosuke sniffed. "Smells worse than Zenitsu's feet."
A building suddenly appeared ahead. In the middle of the remote, deep forest stood a public toilet, conspicuously tiled in white. Red and blue curtains hung at the entrance, suggesting some weird implication.
"What's this?" Tomioka halted.
"A trap, probably," Muichiro drew his Nichirin Blade. "Normal people wouldn't build a toilet here."
"Gurgle—"
A thunderous sound erupted. Tomioka and Muichiro both clutched their stomachs simultaneously. They exchanged a glance.
Breakfast had been leftover radish stew with salmon and expired oden.
"That..." Tomioka's face paled slightly. "Even though it's a trap..."
"Yeah." Muichiro's forehead beaded with sweat. "But since it's here, it's nature's calling."
"I'll take the left."
"Then I'll go right."
"Hey! You two jerks! Aren't you supposed to find my pelt!" Inosuke yelled from behind.
"Wait a moment." Tomioka dashed into the men's restroom without looking back. "Humans have three urgences. Boars wouldn't understand."
"Boars don't have three urgences! Boars go wherever!" Regardless of the boar's roars, the two Hashira rushed into the restroom with "Thunderclap and Flash"-like speed.
The restroom was clean—blindingly white. A row of stalls stood neatly aligned. Tomioka rushed into the first one. Muichiro took the second.
Close door, lock, drop pants, squat.
A series of movements executed with fluid grace, befitting Hashira-level prowess.
Ten minutes later.
As the relief faded, reason reclaimed its throne.
Only then did Tomioka stiffly turn his head to look at the toilet paper holder.
Empty.
Just a bare cardboard tube, gleaming mockingly under the harsh white light.
He patted his pockets.
Only his sword.
"Tokito." Tomioka's voice echoed in the empty restroom, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.
"..."
"Muichiro Tokito."
"... Mr. Tomioka, have you realized it too?" The boy's ethereal voice came from the next stall. "In this world, some things, once lost, can never be recovered."
"You didn't bring paper either?"
"I thought clouds could wipe, but there are no clouds here."
Despair.
So this was an Upper Moon demon's trap? Not through combat, but by crushing the Demon Slayer Corps' will through the destruction of dignity.
Too vile.
"Mr. Tomioka," Muichiro's voice floated over. "Your haori... since it's already torn, why not..."