The Demon Slayer Corps.
An ancient organization — never granted government recognition, yet old beyond counting. Several hundred members strong, existing for one singular purpose: to destroy the progenitor of all demons, Muzan Kibutsuji. Its members were collectively known as "Demon Slayers," armed with Nichirin Swords and specialized Breathing techniques, pledging their lives to protect the innocent from the demons Muzan had made.
Within the Corps there was a hierarchy of ranks. The strongest among them — the strongest Breathing Swordsmen — were known as the Hashira.
Flower Hashira Kanae Kocho had received word from her crow an hour ago. She was the Hashira closest to the incident site, and the moment she learned a Lower Rank demon had been sighted nearby, she set out at once with her younger sister Shinobu and over a dozen Corps members, driving hard to close the distance. They gave it everything — but time did not wait. The location was far too remote. In the end they arrived too late, and could do nothing more than gather the bodies of those who had been taken.
"Onee-san! That Lower Rank demon can't have gotten far — let's go after it!"
Shinobu — serious, thorough to a fault — couldn't help but burn with righteous fury at the carnage laid out before her.
She'd estimated the victims' time of death from the freshness of the wounds and drawn her conclusion from that. Kanae gave a quiet nod. The composure on Kanae's face looked almost casual, but inside she was angry beyond words — so many young lives, cut short without reason. If she let the killer walk free, she would never forgive herself as a Hashira.
After leaving a few logistics members to handle the scene, the Kocho sisters and a handful of nimble swordspeople began a rapid sweep through the dense forest — until they found the lone pink-haired "demon girl."
...
...
From the sound of that voice, Inori understood at once why the Lower Rank demon had been in such a panicked rush to run.
He'd been afraid of the Demon Slayer Corps reinforcements catching up. Such a coward — and he called himself one of the Twelve Kizuki? What a disgrace. No wonder Muzan eventually cleaned house and kept only the Upper Ranks. The Lower Ranks were at best glorified elite mobs, good for bullying the enemy's foot soldiers. The Upper Ranks were the real bosses.
"..."
Inori turned slowly. More than a dozen Corps members with Nichirin Swords had closed around her in a tight circle, and at their head stood two young women with striking, delicate features. She felt a flicker of recognition — especially the haori embroidered with butterfly-wing patterns. Had to be the Kocho sisters.
"You can't escape!"
The shorter one stepped forward — a bob of dark hair, a young face pulled into a look of absolute seriousness.
The odds weren't in Inori's favor, but she wasn't particularly rattled. She just stood there quietly appreciating the sight: that childishly refined little face set in such an intense, stern expression. This is a genuinely adorable girl, she thought. Those squishy little cheeks would be fun to pinch.
Hold on — something's off. This is Shinobu? Wasn't Shinobu supposed to be the smiling-face-hiding-a-knife type? The woman who delivered the most devastating things wearing the most serene expression? This girl in front of her was cut from completely different cloth.
And the older sister — Inori couldn't quite pull the name — but she vaguely recalled from the anime that Shinobu's sister had already passed away by the time of the main story, appearing only in flashbacks.
—Which means this is several years before Tanjiro Kamado joins the Corps?
"I'm not a demon."
Inori said it with perfect calm.
"What is this thing talking about? No human looks like that!"
(③)
One of the swordspeople behind Shinobu called out in disbelief, pointing at her.
Inori glanced down at herself. Apparently the hostility radiating from the assembled Corps members had triggered a reaction — the Nameless Monster had shifted into combat posture, and the ribbon-like strips of red satin along her sleeves and skirt were lifting like tendrils, guarding against attack from any direction.
—Fair enough. Trying to explain you're not a demon while looking like this wasn't going to convince anyone.
"You killed our comrades, didn't you!"
Dark violet fire burned in Shinobu's eyes.
She looked around fourteen or fifteen. A girl that young wouldn't have had the time to learn cold-headed thinking under ordinary circumstances — let alone now, seething, with the image of her fallen squadmates fresh in her mind.
Inori knew there was no point explaining. Shinobu didn't care whether she was human or demon. She wanted revenge for her comrades, and the most suspicious figure on the scene was the obvious target for all that anger.
"Even if I said no, you wouldn't believe me."
Inori dropped her gaze, and smiled — faint, a touch forlorn.
—Forget it, then.
Something loosened in her chest, though it felt more like resignation than relief. She let go of any hope of becoming a Demon Slayer Corps ally. If fate was determined not to make things easy for her, what was the point of fighting it? In this world, she could only go on as she was — the Nameless Monster. A creature with no name to claim.
"Vile demon! Still playing the victim? Looking for our sympathy?!"
Shinobu was direct — she said exactly what she felt. And her contempt for demons knew no bottom. She drew her weapon in one motion: a slender spike of a blade, with a hook-shaped edge only at the very tip — a Nichirin Sword that only she could wield.
"Wait, Shinobu."
(③)
The older sister, who had stayed silent this whole time, finally spoke.
"Onee-san?"
"I'm interested in her. Don't make a move yet."
Kanae steadied her sister, then walked forward without drawing her sword, smiling gently, studying the strangely dressed girl with unhurried curiosity as she closed the distance.
Her outward appearance was clearly not human. But someone claiming not to be a demon — in front of the Demon Slayer Corps — that was a first.
And somehow... while she was visibly not human, she carried none of the dangerous scent that every demon wore. On the contrary, the skin that showed was porcelain-smooth and flawless, and where the moonlight fell it seemed to produce a film of silver. Truly... truly beautiful. Those blood-red eyes drew the gaze like a pair of gemstones — with none of the murderous intent that flickered through a demon's.
"My name is Kanae Kocho, Flower Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. And you?"
Her brows curved in a gentle smile, and her voice was clean and clear — like a stream running through mountain stillness.
"Inori."
—In other worlds that name was unusual, hard to say. Here, it fit right in.
She gave the name, wary.
"Are you a Lower Rank demon?"
Kanae's caution had nothing to do with looks — she simply didn't want to kill the wrong person.
"I'm not a demon."
Inori repeated it.
"Then what are you?"
"I... would you believe me if I said I was sick?" Inori folded her arms, still holding the three Feather Blades she'd just recalled, half-joking and half-serious.
"Onee-san! Just let me cut her! Stop wasting time on her!"
Shinobu was losing patience — and losing the ability to understand why her sister was treating a demon so gently. Their own family had been killed by things like this.
Kanae raised one hand and rested it lightly on Shinobu's shoulder, a gentle signal to wait.
"If you're sick, then you need treatment — isn't that right, Inori-san?"
Kanae said it with patience.
"Why not come back to the Demon Slayer Corps with me? I may be of modest skill, but I am the daughter of an apothecary — I may well be able to treat whatever's afflicting you."
"I don't want treatment. And I don't want to go to the Corps."
—Because nothing was wrong with her!
—And anyway, if she went with Kanae, she'd end up exactly like Nezuko in the canon — endlessly targeted and harassed by Hashira who'd decided on their verdict before hearing a word. She couldn't stomach that kind of humiliation. And if it came to blows, the Kocho sisters would inevitably get dragged in too — there was no reason for any of them to suffer through it.
"That isn't ideal for you, I'm afraid. I don't make a habit of letting demons go, and I can't look away from a girl who appears to be ill."
"If you won't come willingly — I'll have to bring you by force."
Kanae's smile was as sweet as ever. Her words were just as merciless.
She's more like the Shinobu I remember, Inori thought. Maybe it was the weight of her sister's sacrifice that changed Shinobu — left her with something too heavy to carry, and that was what put the soft, dangerous smile on her face.