The gentleman in silk was stunned by Aoi's retort before erupting into laughter, as if he'd just heard the world's most ridiculous joke. "Hahahaha! You? A slip of a girl like you thinks she can act tough in front of me?"
Aoi stared him down, her voice dropping to a frigid temperature. "A bottom-feeder like you actually thinking you have a chance with Ume? You're a toad dreaming of swan meat. Keep dreaming."
Enraged, the man gestured wildly to the thugs flanking him. "Get her! Drag this arrogant brat and that little bitch over here! Since she dared to wound me, I'll make sure they both spend the rest of their lives begging for a death that won't come!"
At his command, the servants lunged forward in waves, quickly surrounding her.
Aoi's lips curled into a cold smirk. She stepped to the side, narrowly dodging a club aimed at her head. In one fluid motion, she seized the attacker's wrist and twisted. A sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by the man's agonizing scream as he collapsed to the floor.
Two more closed in from behind. Aoi ducked low, feeling the wind of their swings pass over her, and delivered a brutal kick to one of their kneecaps.
In the blink of an eye, the three lead thugs were on the ground, howling in pain.
The remaining men recoiled, their faces pale with terror.
Aoi stood tall, wooden staff in hand. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that pinned them where they stood. "Anyone else?"
Give me a break, she thought. I've been through hellish training with the actual Demon Slayer Corps. Dealing with a few street thugs is barely a warm-up.
The gentleman's eye twitched. He realized he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Clutching his bleeding left eye, he bolted for the door, shouting over his shoulder, "Don't get cocky! You haven't seen the last of me!"
Aoi watched his retreating back with a look of cold derision. It looked like she'd be working some overtime tonight.
"Big Sister Aoi!"
Ume's tearful voice pulled her back. Aoi turned and gathered the girl into her arms. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."
"Ume! Aoi!" Gyutaro, who had just returned, came rushing into the shack. He didn't know the details yet, but he scrambled over to check them for injuries. "What happened? Are you hurt?!"
Aoi shook her head. "We're fine."
After learning what had transpired, Gyutaro's hand tightened around his sickle until his knuckles turned white. Beneath his messy, grey-green hair, his eyes burned with a concentrated, suffocating malice. "I'm going to kill him."
"Don't be impulsive," Aoi said, catching his hand. She leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Tonight, we'll do this instead..."
Gyutaro's eyes widened, and the tension in his hand slowly bled away. "Fine. We'll do it your way."
Ume, though she couldn't hear their hushed exchange, felt the atmosphere shift. "Onii-chan, Big Sister... do we have a way to deal with that bad man?"
Aoi turned and ruffled her hair, her eyes curving into a reassuring smile. "Of course. We're going to make sure he never dares to bully Ume again."
That night, Aoi and Gyutaro set out under the cover of a pale moon.
They reached the gentleman's estate in short order. With a quick signal from Aoi, the two scaled the perimeter wall with ease. They set a controlled fire in the woodshed, waiting until the flames were roaring before turning to leave.
Aoi glanced back at the orange glow reflecting against the night sky, a cold smile touching her lips. She had always been the type to pay back her debts in full. If anyone thought her cruel for this, then so be it.
Suddenly, the System in her mind—which had been offline for what felt like forever—erupted with a static-filled hum. A line of pale blue text materialized in her vision:
[Detection: Host is now capable of returning to the original timeline. Depart now?]
Aoi stared at the words, momentarily stunned. Was it already time for goodbye?
"What is it?" Gyutaro asked, immediately sensing the change in her. He stopped and looked back at her, his coppery eyes full of concern. "Are you feeling sick?"
"Gyutaro... I have to go."
The hand Gyutaro held his sickle with gave a violent shudder. He took a step toward her, his voice lurching into a panic he didn't even realize he was feeling. "Go? Where?"
"Back to where I came from," Aoi said, lowering her gaze.
Gyutaro went silent. The night wind whipped through his hair, making his tall, gaunt silhouette look strangely fragile under the moonlight. After a long, heavy silence, he spoke in a raspy voice, a faint note of pleading hidden in the cracks. "...Can't you stay?"
Aoi shook her head. "I have to go. There are things there I must finish... and people I can't leave behind."
"Will you come back?"
Aoi didn't answer.
Gyutaro let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh. "I see." He turned his back to her, refusing to look her in the eye, terrified that one more glance would shatter the fragile composure he was desperately clinging to.
Aoi looked at his back one last time—a lonely, towering figure in the moonlight, even the sway of his clothes radiating a profound sense of desolation.
"Gyutaro, take care of Ume."
"The two of you... you have to live well!"
Gyutaro's footsteps faltered, but he didn't look back.
Only when the presence behind him had completely vanished did he slowly turn around. "Tch. You sure left in a hurry..."
He let out a hollow scoff and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Only when his fingers came away wet did he realize, with a start, that he was crying.
"Kazama Aoi..."
Back to the Present
Everything went black. When Aoi opened her eyes again, she was back in the forest where she had collapsed. The lingering ache in her chest was proof that those memories weren't a dream—she really had traveled back to the past.
But now wasn't the time for sentimentality. She had to get to the Entertainment District to support Tanjiro and the others.
I wonder, she thought, if the Gyutaro and Ume of this time still remember me.
The Entertainment District
Tanjiro was sprinting through the streets when he caught a scent—a faint, putrid demonic aura. It was coming from... the Tokito House!
He burst through the doors just in time to see Daki's sashes snaking toward a paralyzed Koinatsu Oiran. The vivid red patterns on the fabric glowed eerily in the dim room.
"My, my... another demon slayer?" Daki giggled, tilting her head. "Are there a lot of you tonight? There was a yellow-haired brat earlier... is there a Hashira among you? You look pathetic; you're clearly not a Hashira. I have no interest in anyone who isn't a Hashira, you understand?"
Seeing the terror in Tanjiro's eyes, Daki continued, "I don't eat the elderly, and I don't eat ugly people. Little brat, is that a scar on your forehead? How hideous."
As Daki turned fully toward him, Tanjiro finally saw the kanji etched into her eyes.
Upper Rank Six.
Tanjiro's pupils contracted. "Let her go!"
Daki's expression soured into rage. "Do you have any idea who I am? How dare you speak to me like that!"
BOOM!
A dull thud echoed as Tanjiro felt a crushing pain in his chest. He was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, slamming into the wall. His Nichirin Sword slipped from his grip, clattering onto the floorboards.
He let out a muffled groan, coughing up blood as his vision blurred.
She's... too fast!