Chapter 63: A Small Interlude
"Sound Hashira, someone is looking for you."
Before long, a call from a caregiver outside the room shattered the fragile silence that had settled between the three of them.
"I'll go take a look," Akira said, his voice a touch too quick. Without waiting for a response from either girl, he rose from his seat and made a hasty exit.
Watching his retreating back, which seemed almost flustered, Makomo and Kanae exchanged a knowing glance. The tension in their shoulders eased, and the corners of their lips curled into faint, conspiratorial smiles.
The scene that had just unfolded, fraught with accusation and hurt, had been a carefully orchestrated performance. Of course, it wasn't entirely an act; there had been a genuine release of pent-up emotions woven into their script.
However, the two of them had already had many long talks about their feelings, starting back when Kanae was first learning her Breathing Style. They had long since come to terms with the fact that they couldn't have Kanzaki Akira all to themselves. Once a precedent is set, the second and third instances become far less difficult to accept.
But accepting it in their hearts was one thing; showing it was another. They couldn't let Akira think he could take a mile after being given an inch.
So, on the way back to the Butterfly Mansion, they had devised a general strategy. Makomo, who had known Akira the longest and possessed a personality less yielding than Kanae's, would lead the charge. After all, Kanae's gentle nature made her ill-suited for such a sharp, interrogative role.
Their objective was simple: at the very least, they wanted Akira to state his intentions openly and admit to his own greed. From there, they would react as the situation developed, perhaps even probing to see if anyone else occupied a space in his heart.
Makomo hadn't mentioned that secondary goal to Kanae beforehand. So when she began to improvise, Kanae's hand had shot out under the table, her fingers tugging at Makomo's sleeve in a silent plea not to push him too far.
As it turned out, the first name to be drawn from him was Shinobu's. The moment it was spoken, Kanae's hand fell away. That was all the encouragement Makomo needed, her words growing sharper and more pointed with each passing second.
But that was as far as it would go. They had no intention of actually letting him go over this.
He truly cared for them—that much was obvious. More, he subconsciously believed he deserved their anger for his greed, a stark contrast to the men of the world who disregarded a woman's feelings entirely. It was this ingrained sense of guilt and respect that blinded him. Despite possessing observational skills far beyond those of an ordinary person, he failed to see that Makomo's performance was ninety percent acting and only ten percent genuine hurt.
Though they might not have the romantic, enviable love of "one life, one couple," having someone who cared for them this deeply meant the future wouldn't be so bleak.
…
Led by a Butterfly Mansion attendant, Akira arrived at the main gate to find a man who was, for all intents and purposes, sparkling.
This was no figure of speech—he was literally dazzling. The newcomer was tall and strikingly handsome, clad in a sleeveless, dark-red top that revealed a pair of powerfully built arms. His snow-white hair was styled with careful care, and his headband and earrings were encrusted with an assortment of gemstones that glittered brilliantly in the sunlight.
"Are you the Demon Slayer Corps' Sound Hashira, Kanzaki Akira?" the man asked, his voice as bold as his appearance.
"I am. What can I do for you?"
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Uzui Tengen," he declared. "I was once a shinobi. However, I grew dissatisfied with certain rules within my clan and, at the Master's invitation, joined the Demon Slayer Corps."
He gestured with a flourish. "I'm quite interested in your Breathing Styles, but I have no intention of abandoning my original combat methods. Therefore, I wish to find a suitable Breathing Style to merge with my own."
"From what I've gathered about the existing styles, Thunder Breathing suits me best. Since you are currently its strongest user, I've come to flamboyantly ask for your guidance."
Although Uzui was surprised by Akira's obvious youth, he had heard whispers before his arrival that the current Sound Hashira was an extraordinary genius, so he showed no trace of contempt.
Akira had already guessed the man's purpose. He considered it for a moment before speaking. "To be honest, I'm not very good at teaching. When I first learned my Breathing Style, my master simply demonstrated it once, explained the core principles and the spirit behind it, and I learned it."
Akira delivered the line in a perfectly calm tone, but the words left Uzui completely stunned.
'Damn,'Uzui thought, a grin threatening to break his composed expression.'This kid really knows how to show off.'
Feeling a secret sense of satisfaction, Akira continued, "So, my teaching methods likely wouldn't suit you. If you want to correct your form or spar, I'd be happy to oblige. But as for pure instruction, you'd be better off elsewhere."
"How about this? I'll write you a letter. Take it to Mount Sagiri and find an old man named Urokodaki Sakonji—he was my master. He is the former Water Hashira. His mastery of fundamental breathing is second to none, and he's a far better teacher than I am."
"That works too." Seeing that Akira had pawned him off onto his own teacher in just a few sentences, Uzui had no objections. A former Hashira was more than qualified to teach him. Besides, the idea of seeking guidance from a venerable senior felt psychologically more comfortable than asking a boy who looked half his age.
Akira's desire to send Uzui away wasn't just because he was genuinely poor at conventional teaching. The truth was, he had no desire to spend his days and nights with this flashy fellow. Akira was a man who preferred simple, functional attire, and Uzui's entire aesthetic could be said to land squarely on every one of his pet peeves.
Though the man's natural good looks kept the ostentatious outfit from looking too garish, spending an extended period in his company would undoubtedly grate on Akira's nerves. Besides, his time in the near future was already fully booked. Where would he find the spare moments to teach a grown man a Breathing Style?
…
After Akira had left, Kanae and Makomo also departed from the quiet room. Makomo, wanting to make a clean getaway before Akira could return and process what had happened, practically fled the scene, deliberately taking a path that avoided him.
Kanae, on the other hand, needed to go speak with Shinobu.
But before she could reach the room where her sister saw patients, she was stopped by a familiar voice from behind. Akira, who was walking with Uzui, had caught sight of her.
"Kanae."
"Akira-kun? Is something the matter?" Even after their less-than-pleasant conversation earlier, Kanae's voice retained its usual gentleness when she addressed him.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll be giving you special training."
"Eh?" Kanae tilted her head, her expression clouded with confusion. She saw the tall, flamboyant man standing behind Akira, who must have been the one looking for him. Her confusion wasn't about why Akira wanted to train her, but whether he had already resolved his business.
"It's settled, then," Akira said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Until your strength meets my requirements, I will handle your missions for you, just as I did for Makomo."
"Oh..." Since Akira had put it that way, Kanae had little choice but to agree.
The swordsmen of the Demon Slayer Corps were a group of people walking on the razor's edge of life and death. No one ever knew when they might encounter a demon they couldn't defeat. The incident where Makomo was gravely injured had served as a brutal wake-up call for Akira.
In this world, as long as demons existed, danger was a constant. One couldn't simply rest easy because they had dodged the death flags from a story that no longer existed. Therefore, until Kanae's strength reached a level he deemed sufficient, he would not allow her to face demons on her own.
As for why the training would start tomorrow and not this afternoon… well, that was because, if he wasn't mistaken, there would be plenty of headaches to deal with this afternoon already. After all, he hadn't missed the fact that Kanae was heading directly toward Shinobu's clinic.
Uzui, who had witnessed the entire exchange, watched Akira's back with a slightly strange expression. As a man with three wives and a harmonious household, he could easily see the affection between the girl named Kanae and Akira. He actually admired the boy for looking after his sweetheart so protectively.
But listening to the conversation, he understood there was another girl, Makomo, who had received similar care. That was somewhat surprising. Of course, it was only a momentary thought. It was someone else's private life, and not his place to judge. He was just following Akira to get the recommendation letter he'd been promised.
…
Watching Akira walk away, Kanae resumed her unfinished business and arrived outside Shinobu's clinic.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in." Shinobu's cool, youthful voice answered from behind the door. After confirming her sister was free, Kanae pushed the door open, stepped inside, and clicked the lock shut behind her.
"Shinobu."
"Sister."
Shinobu wasn't surprised that Kanae had come looking for her, so her tone was perfectly calm. Even the sound of the lock clicking into place didn't provoke a reaction. She knew her sister's personality. Upon learning that a certain man held feelings for her, Kanae would absolutely come to talk, to ask if she knew… and if she was willing.
At this moment, however, Shinobu's heart was anything but calm. On the contrary, her mind was a maelstrom.
Before today—or more accurately, before she had overheard the conversation between Akira, Kanae, and Makomo—she hadn't even realized that a wisp of affection had taken root in her heart.
But when she heard Makomo mention her by name, and heard Akira offer no denial, her subconscious, instantaneous reaction had been a jolt of pure, unadulterated joy.
From that point on, her heart had been in complete disarray. She didn't even remember how she had made it from that room back to her own clinic. When she finally regained her senses, she was already sitting at her desk, and the sound of Kanae's knocking had echoed through the door.
The moment she entered, Kanae noticed that something was wrong. Though her sister appeared composed on the surface, that very placidness was the most glaring red flag of all.
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