Chapter 94: Mr. Takemoto's Throat is Acting Up Again
The two tightly clasped hands finally parted at the courtyard gate.
The separation was abrupt. Once the last morsel of food had been savored and Mitsuri's brain finally rebooted, she realized that the hand which was supposed to be merely holding Akira's wrist was now intimately interlaced with his, palm pressed against palm.
And then, she froze solid right where she stood.
'So, Mitsuri's mind really is single-threaded,'Akira mused, a fond smile touching his lips.'She can't think about anything else while she's eating.'He briefly replayed the dinner scene in his head.'Then how do I explain her stealing glances at me earlier?'
After a moment's thought, the answer clicked into place. When Mitsuri had been peeking at him from across the table, she hadn't actually been eating.
Case closed. Her focus was absolute, whether on food or on him.
To prevent the poor girl from fainting from sheer embarrassment at her own front door, Akira gently let go of her soft, warm hand.
It took a few long seconds for Mitsuri to come back to her senses. When she finally processed what had happened, she began apologizing profusely, her head bowed low. Curiously, she wasn't apologizing for holding his hand, but for the fact that her shyness had caused them to stall at the gate, prompting him to be the one to let go.
"I'm so sorry, Brother Kanzaki, I just..."
"It's alright, Mitsuri," Akira said, his voice calm and reassuring. "We have plenty of time in the future; there's no need to rush. Today must have been quite a shock for you. It might be better to take some time to process everything and think it through."
Looking at Akira's unfailingly gentle smile, Mitsuri fell silent for a moment before nodding with firm resolve.
"Mm!"
"Um... Brother Kanzaki..." After visibly composing herself, she spoke up again, a bashful tint still coloring her cheeks.
"Hmm? Is there something you want to say, Mitsuri?"
"It's just... could you tell me about those other sisters?"
In Mitsuri's wide, blinking emerald eyes, Akira saw no trace of jealousy. Instead, they were filled with a pure, sparkling curiosity—the innate, gossipy soul of a young woman eager to learn more about the world of the man she admired.
"Well... I can tell you a bit," Akira said slowly after a moment of consideration.
"The first girl I met was Makomo..."
As he spoke, Akira pictured each of their faces, their unique personalities coloring his memories. He recounted the history of their first meetings and the moments their feelings for him blossomed.
There was Makomo, kind and spirited; Kanae, whose affection was like a gentle, nourishing rain, yet who possessed an unshakeable inner strength; the sharp-tongued but soft-hearted Shinobu, with her tsundere tendencies and mischievous streak; and the adorable Kanao, who was so deeply attached to him...
Their meetings had been a mix of chance encounters and deliberate efforts on his part, but they had all eventually come together. Aside from the still-young Kanao, the other three had already forged a romantic bond with him.
In the end, carefully omitting any details related to the Demon Slayer Corps, Akira gave Mitsuri a brief overview of the personalities and general histories of the women in his life. The tale left her looking completely dazed. He had, of course, glossed over the more tragic parts of Makomo and Kanao's pasts; otherwise, he was certain Mitsuri would have been reduced to a puddle of tears.
...
Akira didn't stay for another meal at Mitsuri's home. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the land, he departed under her reluctant, lingering gaze.
From this day forward, the weight of responsibility on his shoulders had grown a little heavier.
Therefore, he needed to work even harder.
He set a small, immediate goal for himself: to endure the same training intensity as Gyoumei without fainting.
For ordinary people, exercise meant physical training or sports. For Akira, exercise was a process of forging and tempering. It was treating his body as a raw ingot of steel, repeatedly hammering it with powerful external forces and then quenching it in the fires of time to ultimately achieve a stronger, more resilient form.
After personally fighting Gyokko, he understood the chasm in physical strength between humans and demons more clearly than ever. An Upper Rank Five, a demon not even known for its frontal combat prowess, had been able to suppress him in terms of raw physical stats. What, then, would the true monsters of raw power in the top three Upper Ranks be like?
As the saying goes, absolute strength renders all techniques meaningless.
Although Gyokko's physical abilities were greater than his, the gap hadn't been so vast as to be impossible. It had left him room to struggle, to counterattack, and even to turn the tables.
But if he were to face a higher-ranked demon, one with an absolute advantage in power and speed, his body wouldn't be able to keep up, even if his eyes could track their every move.
Therefore, while his sword practice could not stop, his subsequent focus had to be on tempering his body. Strength, reflexes, senses, and durability—all of it needed to be pushed to new heights.
With a clear plan for his upcoming rehabilitation and training, Akira set off on the journey back to the Butterfly Mansion.
...
With a new goal fueling his determination, the day-and-night journey passed in what felt like the blink of an eye.
Bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, Akira finally stepped back into the Butterfly Mansion.
"Brother!"
The moment he passed through the gates, Kanao came sprinting toward him, diving headfirst into his waiting, open arms.
"Kanzaki-kun." Kanae followed at a more graceful pace, her smile warm and welcoming.
"It seems I've arrived just in time for dinner?" Akira asked, a lighthearted tone in his voice.
"If a certain someone hadn't come back soon, we wouldn't have waited for you," Shinobu called out, poking her head out from inside the house alongside Makomo.
"I'm coming," he replied with a chuckle.
Although a long time had passed since they had all first started dining together, the seating arrangement at the table remained unchanged.
Kanao, who had grown slightly taller, still clung to Akira's side, nestled in his embrace. Makomo and Kanae sat to his left and right, with Shinobu seated next to her sister. Across from them sat Mr. and Mrs. Takemoto.
Slightly different from usual, however, was the focused attention of every girl at the table. It was all directed at Akira, who had taken the initiative to recount the experiences of his trip.
"Hah. You only met her three times... and another simple, innocent girl has fallen into your clutches," Shinobu retorted immediately after he finished his story, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, Kanzaki Akira, are you feeling proud of yourself?"
"Cough, cough..."
Shinobu's pointed remark made Akira cough for a moment. After finally catching his breath, he waved a hand dismissively. "I admit, having such outstanding girls fall for me... any normal man would feel a sense of accomplishment."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over them. "But I have never once gone around provoking one girl after another just for that so-called 'sense of accomplishment'."
"Yes, yes, of course," Shinobu said, her voice deceptively sweet as she completely ignored his defense and zeroed in on his admission. "So, you do admit it, then?"
"..." Akira fell silent, knowing a losing battle when he saw one.
"So, when are you planning to bring little Mitsuri to the Butterfly Mansion? Or should we find some time to go see her?" Makomo asked, her tone entirely natural as she fed a piece of fish to Kanao.
"If I'm to bring her here, we'll need to wait a while," Akira responded, his voice equally steady. "She has a happy family and she's still young. There's no need for her to come into contact with anything related to the Demon Slayer Corps so early."
"As for whether you want to go see her, that's up to you. I haven't hidden her address."
"Fine," Makomo mused. "The Rengoku family's territory is closer to where Kanae patrols."
"Hmm... then when I'm in that area in the future, I'll go take a look," Kanae added softly. "I can pay a visit to Senior Rengoku while I'm at it."
Having been through so much together, the girls had long since reached a tacit understanding of Akira's greed. They only asked that he keep a place for each of them in his heart.
For his part, Akira no longer offered repeated apologies. Saying such things too many times would only make the words cheap and annoying. Actions, he knew, were a far better way to express his devotion.
As he was speaking, however, he felt a gentle tapping against his shin. He glanced down to see Kanao, still nestled against him, gently kicking him with her heel.
Thinking she just wanted him to feed her, Akira didn't give it much thought. He simply stroked her head affectionately and picked up a piece of her favorite food with his chopsticks, holding it to her lips.
Under Akira's doting care, Kanao soon settled down again, content.
The only discordant sound at the dinner table came from across the way. Mr. Takemoto's throat was acting up again. This time, however, his ailment seemed to be more than just physical; there was a psychological component as well. Not only was he coughing fitfully, but he also let out the occasional, world-weary sigh.
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