It hadn’t been an especially weak demon. But it also had definitely not been too strong for her. Normally, she would have been able to help them and come out of it without a single scratch on her.
And then I wouldn’t have given her such a scare when she’s pregnant.
The damp night breeze caressed her cheek as Mitsuri let her finger gently trace the cut on it. She had almost no pain, but she couldn’t help feel something precious was spilling from the wide-open wound.
“Phew.”
Having finished guard duty for the night, Mitsuri walked through town, practically dragging her incredibly dense body along in the bright light of the sun that poured down on her.
She went into a restaurant she frequented and ordered the tempura rice bowl, soba, grilled fish, rice, and miso soup. While this might have seemed like quite a lot for someone to be eating first thing in the morning, it was about a tenth of what Mitsuri normally ate. Before too long, tea was brought to her, and she sipped at it absently. She sighed again.
Ever since she had found out, she’d had herself under tight control and was trying not to have giddy feelings about anyone and everyone. To be blunt, she had locked away love. To make herself relinquish her wicked reason for joining the Demon Slayer Corps—to find a man to marry and spend her days with—she’d banished the daily thrills and sparks of true love to focus on her duties.
But as if sneering at this determination of hers, the world continually presented her with things that made her heart leap up recklessly in her chest. Why would it only be at a time like this … ? The ridiculously poor timing made her want to cry. The last Hashira meeting had been the absolute worst.
She’d happened to take shelter from the rain with the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku, and he’d thrown his jacket over her shoulders, saying “You’ll catch cold! Wear this, Kanroji!” And she’d seen the Stone Hashira Gyomei Himejima secretly cradling a kitten, telling it “Namu. Cute kitty …” and looking surprisingly adorable. She’d come across the Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa sneaking food to what appeared to be an abandoned puppy. Plus, she’d witnessed the Water Hashira Giyu Tomioka dozing sweetly on the veranda, which set her heart pounding. And when she’d staggered and nearly tripped, Uzui caught her with a “Careful there. Don’t go falling.” Then Iguro had invited her to a new udon restaurant.
Just keeping her heart under control when it threatened to pound in constant delight, out of control, was a lot for Mitsuri. In the end …
“Mitsuri, is there maybe something you’re worried about? I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”
Even Master Ubuyashiki is worried about me. And I ran away when Muichiro called out to me on the way home …
The worst. She hadn’t even been able to look at any of them, including Shinobu, because she’d been so nervous. What am I even doing?
After all that, someone who wasn’t even one of the Twelve Kizuki had hurt her. Shoulders slumping dejectedly, Mitsuri picked at the tempura bowl the serving woman had brought her.
How can I keep going like this? she wondered absently. The piece of tempura she had pinned in her chopsticks slipped out and fell back into the bowl. There was still over two-thirds of the rice left. She should have been hungry, but she just didn’t feel like eating. In fact, no matter what she put in her mouth, it was like chewing sand. Nothing tasted even vaguely delicious.
She hadn’t felt like this since the first arranged match of her life had ended so spectacularly.
“You have the same physique as a regular person, but eight times the muscle. Meaning you have a high muscle density.”
It was none other than Shinobu who had taught her this.
“This is why you have to eat plenty. People with a lot of muscle mass have a higher basal metabolic rate. Please ensure that you eat at least eight times that of the average person.”
“But I’m a girl,” Mitsuri protested. “If I eat that much, it’s … Isn’t that creepy? People might hate me.”
“Don’t force yourself to be with anyone who tells you not to get the nutrition you need. You can just do this with people like that,” Shinobu said, and still smiling sweetly, she pretended to punch a person who wasn’t there. “Right?”
“Oh, Shinobu!” How that smile and those words had soothed her soul!
A few days after she spoke with Shinobu, she went for dinner with Iguro. Fearful, she asked for the food she wanted, trembling inside. He had the smallest appetite of any of the Hashira and only ordered tea and a little bit to eat, but he didn’t reproach Mitsuri for her large meal. He even asked for some extra food for her, saying, “Have some of this too.”
He was also the one who had casually given her the long, striped socks without acting in the least like he was doing her any kind of favor. That was when Mitsuri had been embarrassed at how much skin her uniform left exposed, but she couldn’t burn her uniform in front of the tailor like Shinobu had.
“Kanroji! So you are here.”
Surprised at the familiar voice, Mitsuri lifted her face and was stunned to see the very Iguro she had just been thinking about. “I-Iguro?! Why?!”
“I wanted to talk to you, so I came looking for you.” He sat down in the seat across from her and scowled severely for some reason. “Kanroji, what’s the matter? This …”
“Huh?” Flustered, she looked at her bowl. “Did I spill some rice?” Was she eating messily? She couldn’t actually have bits of rice stuck to her face, could she? But Iguro found fault with something else entirely.
“Why is there a cut on your cheek?” His voice was colder than absolute zero.
“Oh! This? During guard duty yesterday … I was careless,” she replied timidly, and Iguro’s eyes flew open. She had never seen such a harsh look on the face of her normally cool and collected colleague. A cold sweat sprang up on her forehead.
He’s angry because I’m a Hashira, and I still got hurt by a demon who’s not even one of the Twelve Kizuki. I’m worthless. Ah, I think he’s rolling his eyes at me.
She shrank into herself, trying to be smaller, and Iguro abruptly got to his feet.
“Where?” he demanded.
“Eeep!” Mitsuri jumped reflexively.
“Where is that piece of garbage?”
“Huh?”
“The piece of garbage that marred your rosy cheek, Kanroji.”
“Huh? Oh. That …” She started to tell him she’d killed it, but Iguro interrupted her with a groan, his voice filled with rage.
“That piece of garbage deserves a thousand deaths. I am going to carve it up right now until it is nothing but thin slices.” He looked ready to fly out of the restaurant at any second, and Mitsuri hurried to stop him.
“W-wait, Iguro! It’s already gone. Um. You know, because I cut its head off. So …”
Iguro finally came back to himself, and the bloodlust radiating from his small body disappeared as he plopped back down in the seat across from Mitsuri. He put a hand to his forehead. “Sorry. Me of all people, forgetting myself in anger,” he muttered as if embarrassed.
“Iguro?” So he wasn’t mad at me. He was actually just that worried about her. Warmth filled her heart.
Now that she was thinking about it, Iguro had been kind to her right from the time she joined the Demon Slayer Corps. He had always found some reason to watch out for her.
And now, sounding somehow awkward, he said, “Kanroji. Is something bothering you?”
“What?”
“I’m happy to listen if you want to talk.”
“Iguro …”
“I want to help if I can.”
Her heart leaped up in her chest and pounded loudly at his earnest tone and serious gaze. In that moment, the face of Shinobu Kocho rose up in the back of her mind.
“Ngh! No!”
“Kanroji?”
She leaped to her feet, and Iguro stared up at her, dumbfounded. Mitsuri absolutely could not meet his eyes.
“I-I just remembered I have a thing! I’m sorry. I’m going now, okay?” She managed to get this much out before shoving some money for her order at the manager and flying out of the shop, practically tumbling out the door.
Iguro, I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!
Just when he had been so kind to come looking for her, worried. Just when he’d said he wanted to help her.