Something was wrong.
There was something fundamentally... off about this Warabihime.
"Why have you stopped?" Warabihime's voice carried a sharp edge of impatience.
Aoi Kazama took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to steady. She picked up the comb again and began to stroke it through Warabihime's long hair with exaggerated gentleness. The strands were ice-cold and silk-smooth, yet they possessed a strange, tactile quality—almost as if they were devoid of life.
After a long session of styling...
Daki looked at her reflection in the mirror and nodded with a haughty sense of satisfaction. "Your skill isn't bad. From now on, you will be the one to style my hair."
"Yes," Aoi replied, lowering her eyelids to hide the suspicion swirling in her gaze as she responded with practiced subservience.
Suddenly, an ice-cold hand clamped around her wrist. Aoi's heart nearly leaped out of her chest.
"The powder on your face is too thick. It's making me nauseous. Wash it off. Now!"
Daki's voice was laced with undisguised disgust. She raked a fingernail across Aoi's cheek with unnecessary force, leaving behind a faint, stinging red welt.
"Yes, Oiran."
A moment later, Aoi stared at her reflection in a basin of water. Her expression was grim. This Warabihime was absolutely not human. She had to figure out the situation as quickly as possible and report back to Tengen Uzui.
Creak—
Daki entered the room. Upon seeing Aoi with her makeup removed, a flicker of surprise crossed her eyes. "You actually look decent. Still, compared to me, you're nothing but a plain pebble."
Aoi didn't offer a rebuttal, merely keeping her head bowed in silence.
"Fine. Get out," Daki said, waving a hand dismissively.
Aoi responded immediately, "Yes, Oiran."
She hurried downstairs and located Zenitsu, who had just finished a grueling session on the shamisen. "Come with me," she whispered.
Though Zenitsu looked confused, he stood up instantly and followed her into a secluded, shadowy corner of the house.
"Zenitsu, the demon is here."
"W-what did you say?" Zenitsu's voice trembled, his pitch rising in a panic. "The demon... where?!"
"Upstairs," Aoi whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's Warabihime Oiran."
"What?! Then aren't you in incredible danger?!"
Zenitsu's voice spiked, and he immediately slammed his hands over his own mouth, eyes darting around the hallway in terror.
"Shh!" Aoi hissed, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Keep it down!"
"Right now, it's just a strong suspicion. Once I confirm her identity beyond a shadow of a doubt, I'll report to Uzui-san," Aoi whispered. "Until then, we have to act like we don't know anything."
"Then... what do you plan to do next?"
"I'm going to stay by her side," Aoi said, her eyes hardening with resolve. "It's the best way to gather intelligence."
"No way! That's too dangerous!" Zenitsu cried quietly. "What if she finds out..."
"Shh!" Aoi pressed her hand against his mouth this time.
"Someone's coming."
The two immediately stepped away from each other, feigning a mundane conversation as if nothing had happened.
By evening, Aoi was summoned back to Daki's presence.
The room was lit by a single, flickering oil lamp. The shadows danced across the walls, stretching long and distorted, creating an oppressive, eerie atmosphere.
Daki didn't turn around. She simply said, "Come here."
Aoi obeyed, stepping forward. "Warabihime Oiran."
"Lift your head."
Aoi slowly raised her gaze, meeting Daki's frigid eyes.
"You have quite the lovely pair of eyes." Daki's voice carried a hint of dark amusement. She reached out with an ice-cold finger, tracing the corner of Aoi's eye.
The touch made Aoi's skin crawl. She fought the overwhelming urge to flinch away, forcing herself to remain rooted to the spot.
"..." Daki's gaze suddenly turned distant, her eyes losing their sharp focus. Blurry fragments of a long-forgotten memory flickered through her mind.
A pair of equally clear eyes, laughing in the sunlight. A man holding out a small, delicate plum blossom. "Ume, this is for you."
Daki shook her head violently, a sharp pain throbbing in her temples as she tried to discard the annoying memory.
She withdrew her hand, her eyes returning to their usual icy state as if that moment of vulnerability had never happened.
"A pity, really." Soon, these eyes will lose their light forever.
She turned back to her vanity and handed Aoi a comb. "Fix my hair."
As Aoi worked, her mind raced. She had to find a gap, a single moment of opportunity to slip away and find Tengen. But right now, Daki kept her on a short leash, making it impossible to leave her side for even a minute.
I'll have to wait until she leaves for her nightly work, Aoi decided.
"What are you thinking about?" Daki's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Aoi's heart skipped a beat. She lowered her head instantly. "I was just considering which hairstyle would best suit you tonight, Oiran."
Daki didn't reply, merely sparing her a cold glance through the mirror.
The night market in the Entertainment District was a cacophony of music, laughter, and decadence—a hedonistic symphony of strings and song.
While Daki was busy "entertaining" a guest, Aoi took her chance. She crept toward the door, but before she could take a single step outside, a surge of murderous intent washed over her from behind.
"Well, well... who do we have here?" A raspy, grating male voice rang out from the shadows.
Aoi froze. She turned slowly to see a tall, looming figure standing just a few feet away.
Damn it!
Tokito House
Meanwhile, Tanjiro had managed to glean some vital information.
"Have you heard? Things aren't right at the Kyogoku House lately," someone whispered conspiratorially. "A guest claimed he saw Warabihime Oiran with a mouth full of blood, like she was eating someone. And she never, ever comes out during the day."
"..."
"Sumiko-chan! Koinatsu Oiran is gone!" Two little girls who served Koinatsu ran up to Tanjiro, looking like they were on the verge of tears.
Tanjiro's gaze sharpened. Koinatsu's disappearance and the rumors from the Kyogoku House were no coincidence.
He bolted out of the Tokito House, his heart hammering against his ribs. Zenitsu and Aoi are still at the Kyogoku House! With Koinatsu missing, the situation was far more dire than they had anticipated.
Kyogoku House
Back at the Kyogoku House, Aoi's blood ran cold as she stared at the tall, skeletal demon before her.
Engraved clearly into his eyes were the kanji for Upper Rank Six.
Aoi's mind went blank. She never expected to run into an Upper Rank demon right here, right now. The last time she faced one, she had nearly died. Will I make it out alive this time?
Gyutaro approached her step by step, a cruel, jagged smile stretching across his face. "Well, well... what's this? Trying to sneak away to tattle on us?"
He pressed her back until her spine hit the cold, hard wall. There was nowhere left to run.
"Heh. A brat who isn't even a Hashira." Gyutaro suddenly lunged, grabbing Aoi's wrist and hurling her violently toward a nearby wooden pillar.
Crrr-ack!
Aoi slammed into the pillar. A metallic tang filled her mouth, and she coughed up a spray of blood.
"Wood Breathing!"
Countless vines erupted from the floorboards beneath her, instantly snaking around Gyutaro's ankles.
Caught off guard, Gyutaro stumbled. "Now that... is a technique I haven't seen before. Interesting."
With a casual flick of his wrist, a Blood Sickle flashed through the air, severing the vines. But more vines surged from every corner, surrounding him in a verdant cage.
Aoi struggled to her feet, wiping the blood from her chin.
"You really are full of surprises," the demon hissed.