Chapter 140: Uzui Tengen's "Craft"
"Why disguise myself? The answer is simple. My face is likely already famous among the Upper Ranks."
Akira shrugged, a helpless sigh escaping his lips. "When Hantengu first laid eyes on me, he immediately summoned his strongest clone, Zohakuten. Akaza also recognized me at a glance as the man who killed Gyokko. If I stroll straight into the Yoshiwara Pleasure District looking like this, what happens if I scare Daki away?"
He paused, shaking his head. "Even if she is only Upper Rank Six, if an Upper Rank is truly determined to run and hide, dragging them out into the light is a nightmare."
Makomo stared blankly at Akira. He played the part of a helpless victim perfectly, yet she could practically see an invisible tail wagging triumphantly behind him. Just as she prepared to pull her hand back from his waist, her fingers clamped down, delivering a sharp, punishing pinch to his side before she finally let go.
Having laid out his perfectly logical reasoning only to be assaulted anyway, Akira naturally retaliated against this grave injustice. A brief, playful scuffle broke out on the wooden veranda. Makomo, still exhausted from her rigorous morning training, quickly found her stamina depleted and surrendered.
She leaned weakly against Akira's chest, her breathing soft and shallow. Amused by his childish antics, she raised a slender hand and delivered a weak, token thump to his chest before letting her eyes flutter shut to rest.
They embraced in the quiet morning breeze. Not long after, the rhythmic thud of a wooden sword ceased on the far side of the courtyard. Mitsuri, having just finished her own morning routine, wiped the sweat from her brow and approached the veranda.
The young girl, who had only recently moved into the Butterfly Mansion, paused. She watched Akira adjust Makomo's resting weight against his chest. Without missing a beat, he freed up his left arm and casually beckoned Mitsuri over to join them.
Makomo cracked an eye open, glancing up at Akira's chin and then over at the stunned pink-haired girl, but she kept her mouth shut. She simply shifted into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes again.
Mitsuri, however, was a completely different story. Even though she had mentally prepared herself for scenes exactly like this, the reality of it struck her like a physical blow. She froze dead in her tracks. Her cheeks, already rosy from her sword swings, instantly flared to the shade of a boiled lobster. Faint wisps of white steam practically rose from the top of her head.
Just as Mitsuri stood paralyzed in a storm of shyness and internal conflict, the sliding door rattled open. Kanae stepped out onto the porch to call them in for breakfast. The sudden noise broke the spell, causing Mitsuri to squeak and bolt toward the dining room as if fleeing for her life.
Kanae blinked, watching the flustered girl sprint away. She slowly turned her gaze back to Akira and Makomo, who were both looking up at her with perfectly innocent expressions. For a long moment, the Flower Hashira simply stood there, completely at a loss for words.
Two days later, Akira stood in the private residence of the Sound Hashira.
"An Upper Rank hiding in Yoshiwara? Are you serious?"
Tengen's initially boisterous greeting vanished. His expression darkened into a grim, sharp scowl the moment Akira dropped the intelligence regarding the Yoshiwara Pleasure District.
Yoshiwara fell directly under his jurisdiction. The realization that an Upper Rank demon had been nesting right under his nose for an extended period meant he, the Sound Hashira, had been severely derelict in his duties.
"Look at the signs yourself," Akira said, his tone calm and measured. "The unusual frequency of missing persons, the ability to hide in a densely populated, bustling city for so long without leaving a trace... ordinary demons do not possess that level of cunning or restraint."
"I am going to investigate this immediately." Tengen turned on his heel, fully prepared to march out the door right then and there.
"Hold on a second," Akira called out, halting the towering shinobi in his tracks. "Let me ask you something first. Back when you were an active ninja, did you pick up any skills related to disguises?"
Akira had sought out Tengen for two reasons. First, Yoshiwara was his territory, making him the ideal partner to crash Daki and her brother's party. Second, he desperately needed a makeup artist. Shinobi were supposed to be masters of infiltration and disguise. If Tengen lacked the skill, Akira would have to ask Kagaya to smuggle a professional makeup artist in from the outside, which would waste precious time.
Tengen glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "Disguises? I know a fair bit. Why do you ask?"
"Because I am coming with you," Akira replied smoothly. "According to the intelligence I gathered, the demon lurking in Yoshiwara is highly likely to be Upper Rank Six. We will infiltrate the district together, scout the situation, and then eliminate them directly."
Akira gestured to his own face. "The problem is, my appearance is already infamous among the Upper Ranks. I need to cover this up. If they recognize me, they might just cut their losses and slip away into the shadows."
Hearing this completely serious explanation, Tengen stood frozen, utterly unsure of how to respond.
'Damn,'Tengen thought, his eye twitching slightly.'This guy is entirely too good at acting.'
Despite the sheer audacity of Akira's reasoning, Tengen had to admit the plan was flawless. Akira's monstrous strength was universally recognized across the entire Demon Slayer Corps. Having a monster like him as backup in an Upper Rank subjugation mission put Tengen's mind completely at ease.
A few hours later.
"Tengen. This disguise technique of yours is not flashy in the slightest."
Akira stared blankly into the bronze mirror resting on the floor. In the background, Tengen's three wives huddled behind a paper screen, their shoulders trembling violently as they desperately stifled their giggles. Tengen himself stood off to the side, his back turned to Akira, his massive frame shaking with silent, suppressed laughter.
Akira felt a distinct throb at his temple. His blood pressure was steadily climbing.
As he had grown older, Akira's natural features had matured into a striking, sun-kissed handsomeness. Tempered by the razor-sharp aura he had honed through countless life-and-death battles, his presence was magnetic, making him stand out effortlessly even in a world filled with highly attractive individuals. The fact that he had managed to draw so many incredible women to his side was largely aided by his good looks.
Now, after being subjected to Tengen's so-called expert hands, his face was unrecognizable. It was not exactly hideously ugly, but it had completely severed all ties with the concept of handsome.
The bright, sharp young swordsman had been transformed into a sleazy, shifty-eyed street delinquent. Heavy shadows were painted under his eyes, his brow was thickened into a thuggish scowl, and an powerful aura of a cheap ruffian clung to his every feature.
Listening to the sound of Akira grinding his teeth, Tengen forced his laughter down, turned around, and slapped on a mask of absolute professional seriousness.
"Look at it this way, Akira," Tengen explained, gesturing grandly to the mirror. "Your original appearance was simply too flashy. Only by deliberately making you look like street trash can we guarantee that no one will give you a second glance."
Akira narrowed his eyes at the Sound Hashira's reflection. He noted the violent twitching at the corner of Tengen's mouth, a smile that was clearly harder to suppress than a loaded rifle. The excuse sounded like complete nonsense.
Yet, despite the sheer indignity of it, the disguise was undeniably effective. When Kanae and the others had briefly peeked into the room earlier, they had completely failed to recognize him at first glance.
"You know," Akira began, a slow, incredibly dangerous smile spreading across his newly thuggish face. "Ever since we met, we have never actually had a proper spar, have we? Once this mission is over, how about we spend some quality time training together?"
Even though the heavy makeup severely undercut his usual imposing aura, making him look more like a petty thug issuing a street threat, Tengen still swallowed hard.
A loud gulp echoed in the quiet room.
Thanks to Sabito, that iron-headed idiot who loved picking fights, Tengen had witnessed Akira's combat prowess on multiple occasions. Tengen knew he was strong, but strength was relative. Standing across from Akira in a serious fight, Tengen knew he would not last long, even if he went all out with his anti-demon explosives.
Worse still, a standard spar required wooden swords. His specialized explosive beads would be completely useless.
However, a shinobi's pride, coupled with the absolute refusal to lose face in front of his three wives, left Tengen with no avenue of retreat. He forced a confident nod of agreement.
Having sealed his own fate, Tengen decided to abandon all pretense. He threw his head back and erupted into booming, wild laughter, pointing directly at the dignified masterpiece of a delinquent he had crafted with his own two hands.
He was going to get beaten to a pulp later anyway. He might as well enjoy the comedy right now.
If he were not genuinely afraid of pushing Akira into drawing his blade on the spot, Tengen would have sprinted out to find a camera just to immortalize this glorious moment.
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