The gate shattered under a domineering surge of sword aura. Splinters flew.
Shinobu's heart went cold. Too late. That bastard had led them straight here.
—What were they supposed to do? Would Onee-san be implicated? No—more urgent than that: Inori. How was she supposed to explain her own existence? She wasn't a demon in any strict sense, but she wasn't human either. The Corps had no framework for that. They would never accept her.
Shinobu hadn't noticed it happening. Not long ago she'd been the one who couldn't stand Inori—the one who'd kept telling Onee-san to send her away before she caused trouble. But somewhere along the way, she'd gotten used to seeing her in the courtyard every day. Used to the wordless, funny looks exchanged between her and Kanao. Used to unloading the frustrations of an assignment on her.
But Shinobu knew: Inori wasn't a demon, but she wasn't human. Every Hashira in the Corps harbored a bone-deep hatred of demons—even Mr. Himejima, who had shown her such kindness, was no exception. Persuading them would not be the work of a sentence or two.
And then there was that scheming, arrogant troublemaker stirring things up—he'd been mouthing off since the moment he walked in. If not for the sheer presence of those two Hashira, Shinobu's temper would have blown long before now.
She'd wanted Inori gone before anyone could ask questions. Explanations only made things worse. But now the people she'd been trying to stall had found them.
In the middle of all that churning panic, her eyes found Inori's.
Deep, fathomless red. Exactly the same as they'd been the first time they'd met.
"Don't be afraid."
The words were barely a murmur—meant only for Shinobu, reaching no one else. Something about that low, unhurried voice made the hairs on her arms stand up.
Why wasn't she afraid at all? Those people had come specifically for her.
The gate was gone. Through the gap, the first man in was young—silver-white hair spiked like a hedgehog, a scar cutting across his face, eyes angled sharply upward in a permanent scowl. No trace of approachability anywhere on him. He carried a Nichirin Blade with green markings, and his stride was steady, unhurried.
"Wait—Shinazugawa. Don't be impulsive."
Right behind him, calling out to him by first name: another young man. Large red eyes above forked eyebrows that did distracting things to the face as a whole. Orange hair fading red at the tips—like something perpetually catching fire.
By their bearing alone, the identities were obvious. Wind Hashira and Flame Hashira.
"Hm?"
Rengoku cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice carried.
"Are you the one who... conquered sunlight? I thought as much—there's a particular scent about you."
"I'm not a demon."
Inori pulled Shinobu behind her and faced the two Hashira without changing expression.
Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa straightened up and spoke with his eyes flat and cold, his already-drawn Nichirin Blade gleaming coldly.
"Whether you are or aren't is not my concern right now. All you need to do is come with us."
"I won't."
"I don't trust you."
"Sounds to me like you're afraid."
The two Hashira hadn't come alone. More than a dozen Corps members filed in behind them—and with them, the informant Kaigaku.
"You're a demon—aren't you?!" Kaigaku's voice rose above everyone else's. "The Flower Hashira has some kind of intimate relationship with you—that's why she broke Corps rules to shelter you and hide your existence! Am I wrong?"
"You bastard!"
Shinobu couldn't stand the sight of that gloating face for another second. She shoved past Inori, stabbing a finger at him.
"You're only doing this because you resent her for punishing you! All you're doing is throwing filth!" The words came out fast and sharp. "I've already told you—she is not a demon. Every person at this Butterfly Mansion can attest to that! Sunlight has no effect on her. She's kind to everyone here!"
"And I keep saying," Kaigaku said, showing a wide, ugly grin—every sharp tooth on display— "that you clearly developed a sunlight-resistance medicine."
He let his eyes wander around the courtyard, unhurried.
"Where's the Flower Hashira, by the way? We can hardly hold this little proceeding without her." His gaze made a slow tour of the walls. "She's not hiding from her responsibilities, is she?"
"I'm here."
The door behind them opened. Flower Hashira Kanae Kocho stepped out, expression composed and serious. Her Nichirin Blade was still in hand—she'd come straight here from her return, no time to put it away.
"Oh?" Kaigaku raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't sure I believed the rumor. I suppose it's true after all."
"What rumor?" Shinobu said, impatient.
"Why—that the Flower Hashira has a preference for women."
The Wind and Flame Hashira showed no reaction. They'd evidently already known. On Inori's side of the courtyard, several people looked as though question marks had physically appeared above their heads. Kanae blinked, unmoved. Inori went still for a moment, then put it together. Shinobu had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, and was angry enough about it that her hair was practically standing on end.
"And the woman she prefers—is Inori!" Kaigaku leveled a finger straight at her. "This demon right here! Wind Hashira-sama, Flame Hashira-sama—you see now, don't you? The Flower Hashira was in her room. This is why she developed sunlight-resistance medicine and chose to shelter her!"
"Say one more word and I'll kill you!"
Shinobu's blade was out and she was lunging before she'd finished the sentence. Inori caught her by the arm. She wrenched hard against the hold—eyes blazing, incomprehension burning in every line of her face—but Inori's grip held.
Inori shook her head. There was an odd, settled look on her face. Acceptance, almost.
"I'm sorry," Kanae said, looking at Kaigaku with the same composed expression she'd walked in with. "I don't know where you heard any of that—and I can assure you it has no basis. Inori-san is not a demon. She's a girl with an unusual medical condition; I took her in for observation and treatment."
"A condition." He let the word sit. "Even now you're not planning to tell the truth?"
"You encountered her during the hunt for a Lower Rank demon. She showed demonic traits—something to do with feathers, wasn't it? You fought her, and instead of finishing it, you brought her back with you. Am I wrong?"
"That's not what happened!" Shinobu snapped. But something went cold inside her. She hadn't expected him to have dug this far.
Had someone inside the Mansion leaked this?
Kaigaku saw the waver in her eyes.
He reached back through the assembled Corps members and pulled a man forward—a down-and-out swordsman, face drawn, looking like he'd been carrying guilt for several days. Shinobu recognized the face: one of the Mansion's own.
"This man was there that day—he told us everything in his own words. You won't claim not to recognize him? Shinobu-san—and Flower Hashira-sama."
"He is my subordinate," Kanae said simply.
"Kanae-sama..." The man collapsed to his knees, sobbing without control. "I—I didn't mean to betray you. I had no idea what he was really after when he came asking about Inori-san... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry—"
To him, the Flower Hashira was more than a superior. She was the person who had saved his life, the leader every soul at the Butterfly Mansion looked up to. And because of one moment of greed for a small profit and a habit of loose lips he'd never managed to shake, he'd let it all unravel.
Rengoku stepped forward.
"This is why Sanemi and I are here, Kanae-nee." He looked at her directly, earnest and slightly uncertain at once. "Please tell us the truth. Did you actually develop a sunlight-resistance medicine for her?"
"That medicine doesn't exist, Kyojuro." Kanae's voice was clear and steady. "Muzan Kibutsuji himself has spent centuries searching for a way to overcome sunlight and found nothing. You think a physician's daughter could find it?"
Kyojuro fell silent. There was no argument to make.
But with things having come to this pass—whatever the truth was—they owed the Master an accounting. They couldn't let Inori go. They would have to bring her in.
"If it's not medicine—" Kaigaku's voice cut back in, refusing to be shut down— "then maybe she was simply born immune to sunlight. A demon who never needed a cure to begin with!"