Chapter 122: Acceptance
No one expected Kagaya to bring Tamayo and Yushiro into the Ubuyashiki estate ahead of schedule. Even Akira hadn't anticipated that the Master of the Mansion would attempt something so inherently risky.
It was a stark reminder of the man's sheer, terrifying resolve. This was the same Kagaya who, in the original timeline, wouldn't hesitate to blow himself up along with his wife and children just to drag Muzan Kibutsuji down to hell. When it came to eradicating the progenitor of demons, there was truly no line he wouldn't cross.
, Tamayo's sheer audacity to walk into the very heart of the Demon Slayer Corps commanded Akira's utmost respect. She, too, was a woman who would sacrifice absolutely anything to see Muzan dead.
"Thank you very much, Ubuyashiki-sama, and Kanzaki-sama," Tamayo said, her voice soft but steady as she bowed deeply. She shifted her serene gaze toward the girls. "And my deepest gratitude to you as well, Miss Makomo, Miss Kanae. Thank you for placing your trust in us."
She then turned to face the gathered Hashira, her posture reflecting centuries of quiet sorrow. "As for the rest of you, whom I am meeting for the first time... I am a demon. My hands are stained with the blood of many human lives. I do not dare to beg for your forgiveness. I only ask that you grant me the chance to exact my vengeance upon Muzan."
"Once Muzan is dead, you may dispose of me however you see fit." She reached out, gently placing a hand on the shoulder of the scowling boy beside her. "However, this child, Yushiro, has never harmed a single human since his transformation. I humbly ask that you spare him."
She lowered her head until her forehead nearly touched the tatami mats. "I beg of you."
Following her lead, she pulled a reluctant Yushiro down into a deep kowtow. The sight sent a ripple of unease through the room. Several of the Hashira, whose hands had been resting tensely on their Nichirin blades, exchanged complicated glances. The sheer humility of the act forced them to seriously evaluate these two anomalies.
Tengen crossed his thick arms over his chest, his silver ornaments chiming softly. "Setting everything else aside, you actually had the guts to walk right into our headquarters," he noted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I'll acknowledge that flamboyant courage. However, whether you can truly coexist peacefully with humans and help us slaughter the rest of your kind... that's something only time will prove."
"Namu Amida Butsu," Gyomei chanted, tears streaming freely down his scarred cheeks as he rubbed his prayer beads together. "I can sense that your hatred for Muzan is genuine. There is no malice radiating from your forms. Yet, I must agree with Uzui. You must prove yourselves through your actions."
The rest of the room remained utterly silent.
Yet, silence was a monumental victory. For the highest-ranking slayers of the Demon Slayer Corps to not immediately draw their blades and call for the heads of Tamayo and Yushiro was a deep statement of tolerance. Even Shinjuro, whose jaw was clenched so tight a vein pulsed at his temple, forcibly suppressed his blazing hostility.
Observing the shifted atmosphere, Kagaya smiled gently. "I know it is immensely difficult to suddenly accept an alliance with demons," his soothing voice washed over the room, easing the lingering tension. "I understand your concerns completely. Therefore, I have arranged for Miss Tamayo's laboratory and residence to be situated close to your own estates., you will take turns standing guard over them. Will this ease your minds?"
He then turned his sightless eyes toward the kneeling demons. "Miss Tamayo, Yushiro. Are you amenable to this arrangement?"
"We have absolutely no objections," Tamayo replied immediately, shaking her head in humble submission. "We are simply deeply grateful that you are willing to grant us this opportunity."
And just like that, an unmatched alliance between Tamayo and the Demon Slayer Corps was forged in stone. Before the meeting adjourned, Tamayo distributed specialized, reinforced syringes to each of the Hashira, instructing them to extract blood samples from any of the Twelve Kizuki they managed to slay to further her anti-Muzan research.
Meanwhile, the joint effort to develop lethal anti-demon poisons alongside Sawaki and Shinobu had already commenced. Escorted by Kanae and Makomo, the Kochou father-daughter duo had held a private consultation with Tamayo prior to the Hashira meeting.
Because the Kochou family had been spared the tragedy of a direct blood feud with demons—thanks to Akira's past interventions—and possessing naturally pragmatic dispositions, their collaboration proceeded without a hitch. Tamayo's encyclopedic medical knowledge, refined over centuries of survival, provided Sawaki and Shinobu with very useful breakthroughs.
As the meeting dispersed, only Shinjuro and Gyomei remained seated. They volunteered to stay behind and keep a watchful eye on Tamayo and Yushiro, fully intending to "escort" the demonic pair to their newly designated residence the moment the sun dipped below the horizon.
With Gyomei—the undisputed strongest among them—and Shinjuro—the one harboring the fiercest animosity toward demonkind—standing guard, the rest of the Hashira could finally exhale and depart in peace.
"I still can't believe Oyakata-sama brought Miss Tamayo directly into his own home," Makomo muttered, kicking a loose pebble off the dirt path as they made their way back to the Butterfly Mansion. "Wasn't he terrified of an accident happening?"
Despite her gentle nature, Makomo couldn't entirely shake her ingrained resistance toward demons. Even with Akira and Kanae repeatedly vouching for Tamayo and Yushiro's pacifism, a small, protective part of her subconscious remained on high alert.
Akira walked beside her, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "It's because Tamayo holds the key to helping us eradicate the demons more efficiently. She might even be the linchpin to defeating Muzan himself," he explained smoothly. "When it comes to that ultimate goal, Kagaya has never hesitated to put everything on the line."
"I suppose that's true," Makomo conceded, her tense shoulders dropping slightly.
Having sat in on Shinobu's medical discussions with Tamayo, Makomo had witnessed the exchange firsthand. While the complex chemical jargon had flown completely over her head, Shinobu's wide-eyed fascination and furious note-taking had been proof enough. Tamayo's expertise was a major change.
Not wanting to sour the afternoon by dwelling on demons, Makomo smoothly pivoted the conversation. She tilted her head, her cyan eyes locking onto Akira. "Speaking of which... your sixteenth birthday is coming up soon, isn't it? Given your current state of recovery, are you still planning to make the trip to visit your grandfather's grave?"
"Well..." Akira trailed off, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
In reality, demons weren't an everyday occurrence for the average citizen; a vast majority of people lived and died without ever seeing one. However, this particular memorial trip was meant to be taken alongside Makomo.
While Makomo wasn't the absolute strongest among the Hashira—currently ranking just a hair above Shinjuro in raw combat power—her Water Breathing was masterful enough that she could easily dispatch any ordinary threat. The only entities that posed a lethal danger to her were the Upper Ranks.
The problem was Akira's own abysmal luck. His mind flashed back to the sheer absurdity of his recent track record: he had crossed paths with three different Upper Ranks in the span of just a few short months. To date, he had only ever seen a single Lower Rank, yet he had somehow managed to brawl with half of Muzan's elite vanguard.
With that kind of cosmic misfortune clinging to him, he genuinely didn't dare to travel long distances until his internal injuries were fully healed.
He let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle. "Given my stellar luck of stumbling into three Upper Ranks in less than a year, I think I'll pass for now. I'll make the trip to pay my respects once my ribs stop aching every time I breathe."
Makomo burst into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth with her sleeve. "Pfft... now that you mention it, your luck really is terrible! Could it be that you're just too greedy with your affections, and the heavens are handing down divine retribution?"
"Makomo!" Before Akira could even formulate a witty retort, Kanae's sharp reprimand cut through the air. The Flower Hashira shot her friend a deeply disapproving look.
"Pui, pui, pui! I take it back, I misspoke..." Makomo hastily spat out the bad omen, her playful demeanor vanishing as guilt washed over her features. She realized a second too late that Akira's survival wasn't a laughing matter. Out of those three consecutive Upper Rank encounters, he had nearly died twice.
Seeing the sudden dip in their mood, Akira offered a warm, reassuring smile. He reached out, gently patting both girls on the head. "Don't worry about it. I honestly think it's just because meeting all of you used up a lifetime's worth of my good luck. It's only natural the universe is trying to balance the scales."
"Akira-kun..." Kanae murmured, her violet eyes softening with deep affection as a rosy tint dusted her cheeks.
Makomo quickly turned her head away to hide her own blooming blush, though the tips of her ears betrayed her. "And to think... this is the same guy who claimed he didn't know how to sweet-talk a girl back then," she muttered under her breath.
A moment later, Makomo's keen eyes caught movement up ahead. A solitary figure wearing a comical Hyottoko mask stepped out from a fork in the dirt road, their trajectory clearly aimed straight toward the Butterfly Mansion.
"Wait, who is that up ahead?" Makomo asked, squinting.
Judging by the traditional haori and the distinct mask, it was undoubtedly a craftsman from the hidden Swordsmith Village. However, just looking at the man's back, she couldn't pinpoint his identity. To her, all the swordsmiths dressed virtually identically.
But Kanae and Akira had already recognized the approaching figure. Both of them froze dead in their tracks simultaneously.
"Hmm?" Makomo paused, turning her head to look at her two companions in utter confusion.
Kanae slowly shifted her gaze toward Akira, her expression a mix of pity and impending dread. She possessed a very vivid memory of this particular swordsmith—the very same man who had nearly drawn a blade to stab Akira the last time he visited. Makomo had happened to be away on a mission during that chaotic incident; otherwise, she would have recognized the murderous aura instantly.
"Kanae..." Akira asked softly, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple. "Does the Butterfly Mansion's kitchen happen to have any mitarashi dango prepared?"
He could swear on his life that he hadn't been this terrified even when he was trading blows with Akaza.
"Probably...?" Kanae replied, though she didn't sound entirely confident either.
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