"Sounds nice."
"But I'll pass."
Inori nodded along as though Kanae had nearly talked her into it — then swept the smile away immediately and gave her real answer, unhurried and deliberate.
She could see clearly that Kanae was inviting her out of pure goodwill. She was a genuinely, deeply kind person. Otherwise Inori couldn't begin to imagine what sequence of events could possibly transform the current Shinobu — hell-bent on cutting her down without stopping to ask a single question — into the version who accepted a combination like Tanjiro and Nezuko staying in the Demon Slayer Corps, and watched over those two with everything she had.
"Then I have no choice but to assume you've been lying all along — and that the one who killed those young Demon Slayers was you."
Kanae was kind, but she wasn't naive. She wasn't going to take someone at their word on the basis of looks and a few sentences.
That earlier invitation had also been a test, in its way. If Inori had agreed, good — it would have been decent evidence she hadn't been involved in those deaths. But if she refused... that made everything else look all the more suspicious.
"Suit yourself."
Inori shrugged.
What did it matter? Whether she was a demon or not, she certainly wasn't human — she couldn't even name for herself what kind of creature she was at this point.
(③)
In this unfamiliar world, she couldn't afford to trust anyone easily. Maybe Kanae would accept her — but what about the rest of the Corps? She didn't know the Demon Slayer plot well enough; Tanjiro and the main cast were probably still children, and couldn't serve as any reference point. All she had was the Feather Blades on her body, and Mana inside her. Nothing more.
"You can't keep lying, can you?!"
Shinobu's patience was gone. She drew her blade again and lunged.
The weapon was slender — deceptively harmless looking. In truth the hooked tip carried lethal poison, and it took a very specific kind of fighter to wield it. She was exactly that kind of fighter.
But to Inori's eyes, the speed was far too slow. The technique too raw, too direct.
The blood-red gaze caught the motion. Inori's fingertips snapped forward — a Red Feather Blade cut the air, aimed not at Shinobu but at the weapon in her hand.
Shinobu felt a sudden numbing shock travel up her grip. The poisoned blade wrenched free, the Feather Blade sweeping it away like a crow snatching something shiny — completely indifferent — and drove it into the trunk of the nearest tree.
Shinobu stood rooted to the spot. She looked at her empty hands. Then at the pink-haired demon girl, who was watching her with mild, patronizing amusement. Like playing with a child.
—Ugh! That girl is infuriating!
"Everyone at once — don't let her run!"
At Shinobu's call the Corps members drew their weapons and closed in from every side. Only Kanae Kocho stayed where she was, watching Inori's every move with careful attention.
"I'm in a very bad mood, for the record," Inori said. She stepped off the ground and landed cleanly on a branch overhead, steady and unhurried. "I've been framed for someone else's crime without asking for it."
"It's always been others cleaning up after my messes — no one has ever had the nerve to use me as their shield. So now..." She tilted her head. "I'll go deal with that Lower Rank demon myself. Consider it a public service."
"As if we'd let you go after saying all that!"
Shinobu's eyes went to the thin blade still buried in the tree bark. She couldn't swallow that humiliation. Not for a second.
"Then come and stop me."
"If you can actually catch me."
The pink-haired girl resting on the branch let her fingers rest beneath her chin — those naturally red lips curving into a subtle arc.
That look. That composed, untouchable look. The only people Shinobu had ever had to look up to were Onee-san, Mr. Himejima, and the Master. No one else.
Right now, though — she couldn't catch Inori.
The speed was beyond the naked eye. In the blink of an eye, all Shinobu saw was a streak of red tearing from the branch, pulling a rush of wind behind it as it vanished into the dark forest. That speed was terrifying.
"Let it go, Shinobu."
She was still young, still growing into herself. Kanae had seen the movement clearly — Inori had simply spread those sleeve-wings like a bird and flown. Simple as that. She could have given chase, but she saw no reason to.
"No! Onee-san — I'm going to catch her today. I have to."
Shinobu puffed her cheeks, furious and utterly adorable about it.
—Hmm.
Her little sister had gotten into a contest with that girl.
Kanae laughed, soft and elegant, then continued.
"She said she was going after the Lower Rank demon... is that actually all right? That's one of the Twelve Kizuki."
"Obvious lie. There's no other Twelve Kizuki anywhere around here — she has to be the one who killed our comrades."
Two Corps members bickered somewhere behind Shinobu.
She tightened her fists until her knuckles ached. For her fallen comrades. For the sheer indignity of it. She was going to deal with that smug pink-haired demon girl herself.
"I'm going after her, Onee-san. I'll be right back."
Shinobu was light on her feet, flipping up to the tree in two quick steps to work her blade free.
"Shinobu, I'm coming with you."
Kanae sighed, and followed. No other choice.
She knew the strange girl called Inori wouldn't hurt her sister. If Inori had wanted Shinobu dead, she wouldn't have bothered disarming her — not at that speed, not when the blade would have found its mark long before Shinobu could have reacted. But this was her little sister. How could she not worry? And if there truly was a Lower Rank Three somewhere in this forest, only a Hashira could stand against it.
...
—Getting light... it's almost dawn. I need to find a dark corner to hide in, quickly. Those Hashira had better have already dealt with the pink-haired she-demon. Just don't let them find me—
Wakuraba was fleeing in blind panic, scrambling down the mountain as fast as his legs would carry him.
He'd been running long enough that his stamina was nearly spent — lungs working hard, constantly checking over his shoulder. His heart had not left his throat.
Then, just as he looked back again—
A crimson Feather Blade shot from the darkness ahead and drove straight for him. Wakuraba's senses caught it in time, and he twisted sideways — but the speed was beyond his expectation. He got out of the way of the vital point, barely, but still had half his arm severed in the pass.
"Ngh!"
He was one of the Twelve Kizuki. Pain alone wasn't enough to make him scream. He swallowed the groan and fixed his focus on what lay ahead—
First came quiet footsteps. Then, from among the shadows of the trees, stepped a crimson silhouette.
Her pink-white hair lifted gently on the cool air. Her fingers toyed with a strand at the tip — the ends fading from white to red — and in her blood-red eyes he could see reflected his own terrified, pathetic face.
The sky was beginning to lighten. Summer meant shorter nights, and for creatures like them that only narrowed the window further.
"The sun's almost up, Lower Rank Three-sama."
"You... how did you even follow me?"
"Easy," she said, with a light smile. "You're too slow."