Chapter 68: She... is a Demon! |
"...fine," the manager could not help but sigh, turning around and walking out into the corridor.
Meanwhile, Daki turned back, ordered the room to be tidied, and continued to admire herself in the mirror with a smile. The fact that she had already found such choice prey before evening had even truly fallen lifted her spirits.
As soon as the room was restored to order and the Oiran had seated herself at the low tea table in the center, another knock came at the door.
"A guest has arrived," a servant's nervous voice called out.
"Please, come in," Daki said with a nod.
Immediately following her words, the door slid open, and the silent servants flanking the entrance bowed politely to Yeruashi as he entered. They then carefully withdrew and closed the door behind them.
Daki's eyes were already glittering with interest.
She had been somewhat skeptical of the manager's praise before, but it turned out to be no exaggeration in the slightest. Forget the manager—even in her own century-plus of life, she had never encountered a more handsome human.
Only Muzan could possibly compare to the man who now stood before her with an air of effortless nobility.
"Me? Well, I am the Fifth Hokage, a legend of the Grand Line, an S-Class hero, the King of Hollows, and the Soul King to boot..." Yeruashi replied nonchalantly, taking a seat opposite her after a moment's reflection.
Daki nearly developed a nervous tic at his response.
"You have quite a few names, though I understood none of them. They do sound impressive, however," she said, her smile never faltering as she poured tea from the pot and politely offered a cup to her strange guest.
'The first three are complete nonsense, and a man with the title of king would hardly be visiting the Red Light District,' she thought.
'So, it is just a slightly misplaced joke...'
"It is quite alright. I admit it was not easy at first, but things settled down over time. I did not even notice how many years had slipped away," Yeruashi said, accepting the cup from the Oiran's hands and shaking his head melancholically while taking a slow sip of the fragrant tea.
"Even the noble have their struggles?" Daki asked with a smile.
"Yes. More than once, I have walked the fine line between life and death, but I have always survived the uncompromising struggle with fate," Yeruashi nodded impassively.
Daki raised her eyebrows in surprise. If the first part of his story sounded like a jest she was simply playing along with, the last sentence did not sound like a fabrication at all.
"Well, since everything is fine now, let us drink to the hardships you have overcome!" After recovering from her surprise, the girl set the teapot and cups aside and spoke warmly. She then produced a decanter and a pair of glasses, pouring them both some wine.
Over the years, Daki had received countless guests, but most could be divided into just two types. They were either samurai who had fought their way up from the bottom and came to boast of their past in the company of beautiful women, or nobles who were born with silver spoons in their mouths and enjoyed being served by the finest Oiran.
According to the manager, this client definitely belonged to the second type, but now he seemed more like the first.
A samurai...
Daki felt a slight pang of unease as she offered the toast. She did not quite understand the reason; she simply had always harbored a dislike for samurai. It was as if she were forgetting some terrible event that had happened a very, very long time ago.
However, it was not just the vague echoes of the past. Samurai also bore a striking resemblance to those wretched Demon Slayers.
"Rumors reached me that the Oiran Warabihime is an unsurpassed master of dance, the likes of whom cannot be found elsewhere in this era," Yeruashi remarked casually, emptying his glass in a single draught.
Daki tilted her head slightly at his words. In truth, she did not particularly feel like dancing, but her appetite had not yet arrived and the sun was still setting, so she figured she might as well entertain herself.
"I shall dance once, if it pleases you," the Oiran smiled, then rose to her feet, stepped back, and called out, "You there, come assist me!"
A servant behind the door responded instantly, and soon several handmaidens entered carrying various musical instruments. They bowed politely to the guest before taking their positions.
Meanwhile, Yeruashi turned and sat sideways, leaning his elbow carelessly on the edge of the table and propping his chin in his palm.
"It has been a while since I last danced, so I may be a bit rusty. Please do not judge me too harshly, dear guest," the girl said, striking a graceful pose with a smile.
Daki was not lying. She had only danced in the early days of working under the pseudonym Warabihime to quickly rise to the rank of Oiran. However, a demon always remains a demon.
Because of her nature, she danced and played the shamisen far better than other Oiran, even without regular practice.
Accompanied by traditional music, Warabihime's measured dance began.
Yeruashi admired the performance, slowly sipping his wine.
At that same moment, Tanjiro and his comrades were launching their top-secret infiltration operation into the Red Light District, seeking traces of a demon and the missing wives of the Sound Hashira.
The dance came to an end.
Outside the window, darkness had fallen.
"Exquisite," Yeruashi clapped his hands.
He had to give her credit; Daki's movements bordered on the limit of human capability thanks to the agility and plasticity of her demonic body. Very few in this world could hope to match her in dance.
"Thank you for the compliment. Would you like to rest now?" Daki asked, sitting down beside him with a sweet smile. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her chest heaved rapidly thanks to her delicate control over her demon form.
"I wouldn't say no," Yeruashi smiled back.
"I must take a bath first," Daki nodded with a smile, adding inwardly, 'In the end, all men are the same, even those like him. Still, that only makes him better prey...'
With those words, she stood up, waved farewell, and left with a servant. Those who remained approached Yeruashi.
"Will you take a bath as well?"
"I think I'll pass," he replied, rising and following the servants to a private room.
Meanwhile, outside.
Daki crossed paths with a hideously made-up girl carrying a basin.
As she hurried past, a shiver ran through this 'ugly girl'. She barely suppressed the urge to look back, instead scurrying along with her head down and the basin in her hands as if nothing were wrong.
A large scar sat on the girl's forehead, one that no amount of white powder could completely mask.
It was the newly minted Flame Hashira.
'That woman just now...' Tanjiro thought, turning a corner and quickly looking back with a wary, narrowed gaze.
There could be no mistake.
A demon!
And at the very least...
At the very least, she was one of the Twelve Kizuki!
In all likelihood, she was the very one Tengen was searching for!