Chapter 137: Sanemi's Kill Was Stolen
The afternoon sun bathed the Butterfly Mansion's courtyard in a warm, golden haze as Akira officially began instructing Mitsuri in the ways of Flame Breathing.
Since she never intended to rely on it as her primary combat style in the future, he only needed to guide her through the foundational forms. There was absolutely no need to send her off to the Rengoku estate for intensive study.
Besides, if Mitsuri—who had just tearfully bid her family farewell a few days ago—suddenly showed up on their doorstep again, Akira could only imagine the priceless expressions on her parents' faces.
He could almost hear Kaito and Hina's voices echoing in his head: 'What do you mean our daughter was sent back after staying at her boyfriend's house for a single day?!'
Mitsuri stood before him, her wooden bokken gripped so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her entire body was rigid with tension. Akira offered a soft, reassuring smile. "Don't be nervous, Mitsuri. While this is your first time learning a Breathing Technique, it also happens to be my first time teaching one. There won't be any problems."
"Eh... ah?"
Her large, pale green eyes blinked rapidly. Her single-threaded brain immediately dropped its anxiety and began whirring, desperately trying to process his logic.
Unfortunately, it failed to compute. She stared at him with a completely blank, overloaded expression.
Seeing her adorable, brain-dead stare, Akira chuckled and elaborated. "What I mean is, since I'm a novice teacher, you should feel completely free to speak up boldly if anything confuses you. If you don't understand a form, it's probably not your fault—it's a result of my oversight in teaching. So, there's absolutely no reason to be tense. Understood?"
"Understood!"
Mitsuri nodded vigorously. Though his logic still felt a little strange, she trusted him implicitly. As long as she listened carefully, asked questions actively, and acted as a diligent student, everything would be fine. This wasn't a difficult task for her.
With that, Teacher Akira and Student Mitsuri commenced their private little classroom session.
Since Mitsuri moved into the Butterfly Mansion, the days settled into a tranquil, comfortable rhythm.
Kanae and Makomo frequently departed on their assigned patrols, while Akira occasionally took leisurely strolls into the wilderness—mostly to find a lucky demon to test his newly concocted medicines on. Meanwhile, Mitsuri's Breathing Technique training progressed in an orderly fashion.
She absorbed the complex movements, the precise breathing essentials, and the core philosophies of Flame Breathing bit by bit. Relying on the immense bodily control she had cultivated through years of gymnastics, her physical adaptability was staggering. Her learning speed nearly rivaled Kanae's back in the day.
Kanae, of course, had the luxury of being taught by Urokodaki Sakonji, a former Water Hashira with decades of pedagogical experience. It made sense why Kanae truly lived up to being the person whose promotion speed was second only to Gyomei among the original nine Hashira.
Yet, compared to Akira's amateur teaching, there was still a bit of a gap.
Akira couldn't help but feel a swell of pride.
Under the blazing midsummer sun, the two retreated to the cool shade of the engawa to rest. As they recovered their stamina, they naturally leaned into each other, gently wiping the sweat from one another's brows with cool towels.
After spending so much time together, Mitsuri had shed much of her initial shyness. Even with the Medical Department staff frequently peeking out from the nearby clinic windows, she leaned into his touch, perfectly comfortable with their intimate interactions.
However, Akira noticed something off about the gazes piercing his back today.
It wasn't the usual blend of harmless envy or teasing jealousy. The heavy stares felt suspiciously similar to the look Kochou Sawaki had given him at the dinner table all those months ago.
It was the look one reserved for an absolute scumbag.
Frowning slightly, Akira turned his head toward the source of the hostility. Instead of a disgruntled nurse, his eyes met a familiar mop of messy, pale peach hair and a pair of furious silver-grey eyes.
"Akira, I want to duel you!"
Sabito stomped aggressively across the courtyard, his hand resting on his hilt.
He glared at the man before him. Akira was already entangled with both his senior and junior martial sisters, yet here he was, openly flirting with another beautiful girl under the broad daylight. Makomo had already written to Mount Sagiri, explaining the complex romantic situation to Urokodaki and her fellow disciples. Knowing about it intellectually was one thing; seeing Akira casually building his harem with his own two eyes made Sabito's blood boil.
Regarding the challenge, Akira merely sighed, a wry smile touching his lips.
He knew perfectly well that even without Mitsuri's presence, Sabito would have demanded a spar the second he stepped foot in the Butterfly Mansion.
With a martial idiot attribute like his, Akira mused that Sabito and the Upper Rank demon Akaza might actually have a lot of common topics to discuss. Then again, given Sabito's deep-seated hatred for demons, he likely had zero interest in chatting with Akaza.
During the times Sabito had taken shifts guarding Tamayo, Yushiro had privately complained to Akira, labeling the Water Hashira a "cold, silent mute." Along with Rengoku Shinjuro—whom Yushiro dubbed the "fierce loudmouth"—Sabito sat firmly on the demon boy's unfriendly list.
Trailing quietly behind the aggressive peach-haired swordsman was the perpetually expressionless Giyuu. A faint trace of exhaustion lingered in his deep blue eyes.
Giyuu truly couldn't fathom why his senior brother insisted on initiating these challenges time and again, knowing full well he couldn't win. They were only supposed to be here today to escort a group of wounded slayers to the medical ward after completing a grueling rescue mission...
"Brother Akira, who are they?" Mitsuri asked softly, tilting her head. She had adopted the habit of calling him 'Teacher'during class and'Brother' the moment they went on break.
"They are Makomo's junior brothers, and Kanae's senior brothers," Akira explained, patting her shoulder. "The Water Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps: Sabito and Tomioka Giyuu."
"Oh." Mitsuri's eyes lit up. She immediately stood, smoothed out her uniform, and offered a bright, enthusiastic bow to the approaching men. "Hello, Mr. Sabito! Mr. Tomioka! It is so wonderful to meet you. I am Kanroji Mitsuri."
Her pure, overflowing warmth caught Sabito completely off guard, instantly deflating his aggressive momentum. "Uh... hello," he muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hello." Giyuu maintained his nearly emotionless facade, offering Mitsuri a polite, singular nod.
Naturally, the ensuing spar lacked any real suspense. While Sabito's strength was constantly improving, facing Akira—a man armed with absurdly high physical stats and his own visual cheats—resulted in a regrettable, crushing defeat.
Sabito had pushed the aggressiveness of Water Breathing to an unmatched height. In his hands, even the supposedly gentlest form, 'Blessed Rain After the Drought,' struck with the devastating momentum of a towering flood. But a loss was still a loss.
Akira casually sheathed his wooden blade, barely breaking a sweat.
The brief, one-sided clash instantly turned Mitsuri into a little fangirl. She stood on the sidelines, frantically clapping her hands and cheering Akira's name, which only deepened Sabito's gloom.
Panting heavily on the dirt, Sabito shot a betrayed glare at his fellow disciple. "Why didn't you shout a few words of encouragement for me?"
Giyuu stared down at him blankly. "Because you can't win."
Sabito petrified on the spot.
"By the way, why did you guys come to the Butterfly Mansion today?" Akira asked, tossing Sabito a clean towel.
Catching it, Sabito wiped his face and sighed. "We took an emergency rescue mission last night and brought the wounded over while we were at it."
"A rescue mission that required two Hashira?" Akira raised an eyebrow. "Which demon had that much face?"
"Lower Rank One," Giyuu answered, his voice flat but serious. "A demon capable of creating complex illusions. He was a troublesome fellow."
Trapped within the opponent's hallucinatory Blood Demon Art, even the two Hashira couldn't secure a swift victory. They had been forced to rely entirely on Giyuu's airtight defense to block the onslaught until the demon finally revealed a fatal flaw, allowing Sabito to deliver a one-hit kill.
"Among the wounded you brought in..." Akira's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Is there a white-haired guy who uses Wind Breathing?"
Akira recalled the original timeline. Shinazugawa Sanemi was supposed to earn his Hashira title by slaying the Lower Rank One, Ubume, though the victory came at the tragic cost of his closest friend's life.
"Yes, I think he's called Shinazugawa," Sabito nodded, looking slightly impressed. "His injuries aren't too severe. To have held out against a Lower Rank One until we arrived shows he has some real skill. There's also someone with more serious injuries who seems to be that Shinazugawa's friend. Both of them are currently receiving treatment over in the intensive ward."
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