Traded one duty for another.

by Thatonechaoticmenace

Summary:

Dying from critical wounds after unleashing one last attack at a new Demon King, a Demon Slayer passed away in their time, and woke up in a different period where giant-sized Demons are a daily inconvenience and sometimes a disaster.

Follow Mukoe Ironerai's second lease at life, grappling with phantom pains from wounds that aren't there, building-sized monstrosities called Kaiju, and the attention she gets when she uses a blade instead of a rifle during the second part of the Defense Force joining system. Will she acclimate to this new reality, or will she break under the strain? Only time will tell, ironically.

Notes:

Thank you for checking out this work! I'll add artworks where you can see what MC looks like!

Chapter 1: Prologue

Mukoe can't see anymore.

 

She didn't know when it happened, for one second she was close to dodging a flesh whip getting dangerously close to her face, and then suddenly, her vision went black and a searing pain erupted in the same area.

 

It's only by focusing on Recovery breaths that she managed not to let out a bloodcurdling scream and lost another limb from the gesture.

 

Yes, she is missing a limb, her right arm only ending in the elbow now, where she got it from protecting a fellow comrade who perished shortly, which made it a wasteful effort. She had to tie it tightly with a tourniquet, and she had already popped one of the coagulation pills in her mouth to hopefully stop the bleeding.

 

‘It's not a waste. Don't be so callous.’ chided her subconscious.

 

Still, their battle of attrition against the son of a bitch Muzan is progressively getting worse by the minute.

 

She isn't blind (Heh, what a damn pun) to the Hashira doing their best to damage his weakened body that still managed to kill so many of her comrades and kill more in front of her, that they were similarly exhausted from fighting in the Infinity Castle that was brought then to surface by one of their collaborators, Yushiro, was it?

 

Now that she's blind as a babe, she felt it, her already enhanced sense of touch getting sharper and sharper with every Breath she takes, her body’s way of compensating for a vital sense lost to battle. 

 

It allowed her to dodge the flailing flesh whips of Muzan and time her attacks to continue damaging his body. 

 

“An hour and a half before sunrise! An hour and a half before sunrise!” One of the crows loudly cawed. 

 

Mukoe cursed. She feels like she can’t last another five minutes at this rate!

 

But like always, she shoved her complaints to the deepest parts of her mind and breathed. 

 

“Damn you, Muzan, you will die today! I will make sure of it!” Tanjiro screamed and was getting ready to unleash another Sun Breathing attack when Mukoe felt it, a sneak attack from a minuscule flesh whip that breached his awareness.

 

“Tanjiro! Watch out!!” Mukoe rushed with the help of Dream Breathing: First Form, Midnight Mirage! Leaving two afterimages in her wake. 

 

SHAKK! 

 

Tanjiro could only watch horrified as the attack that would’ve gouged out his stomach created a hole in his comrade’s left lumbar region, who let out a choked scream from the pain. “Mukoe!!” He yelled, worriedly. “I’m so sorry, can you still fight?!”

 

“I can, focus on not getting hit, you’re like the one we’re counting on to put an end to this nightmare…!” Mukoe responded between gritted teeth. She hastily wrapped a roll of bandages around her waist, which were immediately soaked with blood from the wound on her left flank. It was made almost impossible by her hands shaking with fatigue and lightheadedness due to the amount of blood she shed, but she managed. 

 

Suddenly, Muzan rears to unleash a barrage of flesh whips once again! It came close to dealing critical damage to the Hashira and themselves, but…

 

“Protect the Hashira! Protect Tanjiro Kamado!” Countless Demon Slayers threw themselves as human shields to protect said people, all suffering grievous mutilations and deaths in hopes that those who can deal the most damage to Muzan are protected. 

 

Mukoe’s gasp was caught in her throat as a comrade she trained alongside had his life fade away from his eyes from being bisected at the waist down. He felt that looked at her and gritted, “Defeat Muzan… for us…!” Before going limp and still. 

 

Tanjiro is no better; she heard his agonized sobs and screams as he held someone dying in his arms. “Nagakura!! Hang in there! Don’t die!” He screamed futilely, and Muke felt the boy’s life fade away like many others in this battlefield. 

 

Mukoe gritted her teeth. “I’ll avenge everyone, I’ll help put down this monster!” She swore to herself. 

 

Invigorated with rage, the Demon Slayers continued their assault on Muzan. 

 

It was chaotic, a whirlwind of bloodshed and desperation, with the Hashira doing their best to hamper Muzan’s regeneration, pushing their bodies to the limit that it can do, covering each other’s backs, all motivated for one thing and one thing only—Keep Muzan in a place where the sun can reach him. 

 

Mukoe is devastated once again when she feels Tanjiro’s life grow weaker and weaker as the moment passes, and the relief when he is resuscitated by a Demon allied to them, the former Tamayo’s assistant, named Yushiro. 

 

They held on, but suddenly Muzan probably has another breakdown, and suddenly everyone she feels, including her, are thrown into the half-broken buildings littered around the battlefield. Mukoe has to physically rouse her torn muscles from the attack and use Recovery Breathing to mend them quickly, as she feels Muzan wouldn’t suddenly take pity on their broken forms all of a sudden. 

 

Then Tanjiro appeared, wielding Sun Breathing, and all was progressing well again.

 

And then, when he is about to be hit because he can’t dodge, He-who-feels-like-snakes-and-reptiles swooped in to save him, making Mukoe let out a breath of relief, accepting help from the Kakushi in administering the antidote for the poison coursing through her bloodstream.

 

Mukoe re-entered the fold and gripped her blade, unleashing Sixth Form: Granted Wish, Unending Slumber. This made Muzan extremely angry, as multiple afterimages started slashing at him that getting progressively faster until there! All at once, they rushed to impale him in different parts of his body that, unbeknownst to Mukoe, are the spots where the Demon King’s brains and hearts are located!

Seeing this moment of opportunity, the Demon Slayers pounced on him, with Tanjiro attempting to use his newfound breathing style to destroy said organs, only to be rendered futile when Mukoe had to forcibly dislodge her blade to avoid getting cut by Muzan himself. Mukoe gritted her teeth, ‘It’s still not enough…!’

 

The crow announces there are 40 minutes until dawn. 

 

The Demon Slayers, Mukoe, Obanai, and Tanjiro, continue their assault, enraged by how Muzan carelessly trampled upon the corpses of their fellow comrades. All three of them were attacked when Tanjiro was about to hand over Yushiro’s Talismans to a blind Obanai and Mukoe. She suffered a deep gash on her left thigh, which is spurting blood worryingly, which is a sign of an arterial bleed. She masked her presence with the Blindfold and retreated behind a wall, tying up a tourniquet around her thigh and wrapping it with bandages, which were soaked immediately with blood. 

 

She re-entered the fold just in time to get hit by Muzan’s Shockwave Energy Blast attack, causing convulsions and rendering them unable to breathe properly. 

 

There are 25 minutes left before dawn. 

 

She aided Tanjiro, alongside Zenitsu and Inosuke, unleashing Fifth Form: Scattered Lunar Dream to deflect a flesh whip and allow Tanjiro to continue performing the forms of Sun Breathing. She was shocked when she-who-radiates-love-and-affection suddenly appeared and ripped off both of Muzan’s arms, sacrificing her own in the process. The other Hashira went back to the fold!

 

Mukoe felt immense annoyance when the Demon King turned into a giant infant and was horrified when it absorbed Tanjiro; she screamed her lungs hoarse. 

 

With that, everyone started keeping away the infant from getting shade, with Mukoe unleashing Sixth Form: Granted Wish, Unending Slumber once again, causing her to cough up blood from the backlash of using the same taxing technique twice. But it worked; it pinned down the giant infant and prevented it from moving for precious minutes, allowing the other Hashira to unleash their attacks onto it. 

 

As the sun rose, Mukoe felt immense relief upon the wails of the giant infant being burned by the sun. With that, Muzan is gone. 

 

So imagine her immense horror when she felt another presence from within the corpse, and looked upon, horrified and despairing, at the slitted eyes of her friend. 

 

Tanjiro Kamado was turned into the new Demon King by Muzan. 

 

“That damn parasite, what the fuck is he doing twisting Oyakata-sama’s words like that?! I won’t forgive him!” Mukoe yelled. 

 

Her voice rang in the Slayer’s minds, warning them of the new threat on the battlefield. 

 

It was a battle of attrition once again, add the fact that Tanjiro is resistant to the sun, and the addition of a humanized Nezuko holding him off and getting maimed in the process, it wasn’t a very good day for everyone involved. 

 

Mukoe, sensing Kanao’s plan, gripped her blade for one last time and breathed.

Sixth Form: Granted Wish, Unending Slumber!

 

Multiple apparitions of Mukoe Ironerai started blitzing the demonified Tanjiro, with each slash getting progressively faster and faster until all apparitions rushed forward to stab him in multiple areas, all while avoiding the human clinging onto him at the same time. It immobilized him enough for Kanao, who was holding the Humanification drug, to strike Tanjiro with the syringe, and it flooded his veins. 

 

Mukoe smiled in peace that she had done all she could, allowing herself to collapse on the ground. 

 

Even belated, she was one of the many hands that pushed and reached out for Tanjiro, with the boy shocked and tearful that his friend was among the deceased now. 

 

And with that, Mukoe Ironerai, the last survivor of the Ironerai Clan, the last wielder of Dream Breathing and Kinoe-ranked Demon Slayer of the Demon Slayer Corps, passed away after succumbing to her injuries at a mere fifteen years of age. 

 

Her journey as a Demon Slayer ends here. 

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

In limbo, an unharmed Mukoe looked around with a tired acceptance and relief oozing out of her pores.

 

“So this is it, huh? Am I going to heaven for doing my duty, or am I going to hell because I killed what are once-humans? I wonder if Masayoshi- nii is waiting on the other side…” She muttered. 

 

She felt an inexplicable pull on one junction of the road, marked Heaven, and she started heading towards it, before she heard it.

 

A cry for help.

 

At a distance, she saw him. 

 

A bloodied man with Sengoku-period armor, all disheveled and close to breaking down, both physically and mentally, looked at her like she was the light to a dark tunnel. 

 

He went full-on dogeza and pleaded, “Please, fellow warrior! My world needs your help in vanquishing our failure, please!”

 

Mukoe moved to assist the man, even though she is mere moments from entering Tengoku , her nature to assist bereaved families from Demon attacks takes precedence over everything else. And this man is bereaved. 

 

“What do you mean by  ‘my world’, Senshi-san ? And what about ‘our failure’?” She questioned, moving to place a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, only that the moment she touched him, a barrage of memories assaulted her head to oblivion. 

 

And the world went black. 

Chapter 2: Awakening

Summary:

Mukoe Ironerai opens her eyes to modern-day Japan. Dropped in a battle between a Kaiju and a civilian, Mukoe instinctively defends them. Her skills don’t go unnoticed.

It takes a long while for Mukoe to register sounds again. 

 

Unfamiliar sounds, unfamiliar smells, unfamiliar feelings, like the place’s abundance of trees, were replaced by more solid, inorganic matter.

 

But what she’s familiar with are the screams. 

 

Her eyes flew open, and she sat up, wincing at the phantom pain that it generated, taking stock of her whole body. Shockingly, she may have holes on her uniform–modesty is her least concern at this point–but she can’t feel any residual scarring or scabbing when she ran her hands through her face where she definitely knew she got blinded by a claw attack. She similarly did so to her left side, only to find none.

 

She picked up the tattered remains of her cloak, now shortened into a mantle, and tied up the orchid string into a cloverleaf knot. She looks like someone who got into a fight with Yorichi Type Zero and lost. Her right arm from the elbow down to the hand is exposed, her clothing was ragged and torn in places where attacks have hit, and she looks filthy as fuck.

 

It must be why when she noticed civilians starting to run past her, none of them bothered to warn her, seemingly uncaring of the strange girl in their way, and more focused on their lives. Because Mukoe can relate, staring up at a gigantic reptilian Demon that somehow doesn’t burn in the sun, what in the fucking shit?

 

She snapped out of her musings when she heard a child's cry. There! She spotted him hidden behind a more modern-looking kuruma with scabbed knees. She hurried over, making her steps audible so as not to spook him. 

 

“Hey there, little guy, what happened?” She cooed, placing a hand on the child’s shoulder. 

 

The child sniffled and, seeing that the stranger would listen, told them. “I got separated from Kaa-san , we were heading for the shelter, but then, someone bumped into me and I skidded on the road…! It was so painful…!” He whimpered. “No one helped me, s-so I crawled over here to hide… I want Kaa-san, I want Kaa-san …! Waaaahh!” He cried. 

 

Mukoe gently shushed the child, “Okay, we will find your Kaa-san , little guy, can you tell me your name?” She asked while pulling out a tube of disinfectant, gauze, and medical tape, preparing to give first aid to the child. 

 

Like this, Mukoe kept asking questions to divert the child’s attention from the danger of being a sitting duck and his wounds, hissing minutely at the pain. Mukoe learned that his name was Kotaro, and his Kaa-san was named Nana, he likes dogs and omurice, and he’s in the 1st grade of preschool. Likewise, Mukoe shared her name, her love of sweets, and her crow– ”Your crow can talk? Woah!” “Hehe, he does, he can sing too!”--and that she is a middle school student—she noticed a pre-teen wearing the same Demon Slayer uniform but without the saggy trousers and the white belt, running by her earlier so she is shooting blind here, and after all that, she has built a rapport with the kid and was going to suggest heading to the shelter but then,

 

She felt it.

 

The hungry gaze of a predator. 

 

She dared to look up.

 

And that monstrosity of a Demon loomed over them like an omen, jaws already opening wide to expose sharp teeth meant for tearing apart flesh while it’s still alive. 

 

Kotaro whimpered. 

 

Mukoe steeled her resolve. She can still fight even after the fuckery that is the Sunrise Countdown, after pushing her body to the limits. But she has to limit it to only five forms, since she has exhausted her use of the sixth one. 

 

There’s no choice, she has to behead or at least immobilize the damn thing. Maybe this world’s law enforcement would be so kind as to finish what she started. 

 

Good thing she knew the perfect form for it. “Kotaro-kun, close your eyes for me, okay? Don’t open them unless I tell you to, or the monster is away from us, yeah?” She called.

 

“Kaiju.” “What was that?” “We call them Kaiju, Nee-chan. No one knows where they come from, but they keep attacking us!”

 

“If they’re attacking so frequently, who protects you?” She asked. 

 

“The Defense Force! There’s Third Division’s Captain Ashiro, with Vice Captain Hoshina, who defends us from the Kaiju here at Tachikawa City! They’re my heroes!” Kotaro answered, with stars in his eyes. 

 

Mukoe quirked a smile. “Let’s hope they take down this ‘Kaiju’ quickly, then. I’ll help your heroes by making this prick kneel .”

 

Mukoe carried Kotaro and leaped away just in time for the Kaiju’s jaws to crunch the car, which would’ve killed them instantly. 

 

She left Kotaro in a shaded corner away from prying eyes and drew her blade, the colorful gradient of midnight blue, cornflower blue, and orchid shining like a beacon. She gazed at the Demon— No, Kaiju in front of her and took stock of its features. 

 

It was huge, towering all the other too-large rectangular-like houses, and an ugly green with a cream-colored underbelly to boot. It resembled a reptile with a snout and horned ridges on its head, down to its tail, with wicked, sharp teeth and claws. 

 

She Breathed, letting her lungs expand, and with the help of Total Concentration Breathing: Constant, she moved fast with a low stance. 

 

Dream Breathing, Fifth Form. 

 

She gripped her blade tightly and leaped. She then swung it in a crescent shape mid-air, dismembering the Kaiju’s legs, which caused it to topple over. 

 

Scattered Lunar Dream!

 

Without breaking momentum, she continued unleashing slash after slash, targeting the tail, the claws, even carving away at its flesh, curiously disturbed about how it started to heal—Is it distantly related to Demons from her time, per se?

 

She’s mid-swing to cut off its hind legs when a sonic boom reached her ears and pierced the Kaiju’s chest. She caught a glimpse of something crystalline before she quickly ducked into the corner to hide. Kotaro was nowhere to be seen. She felt panic grip her, but quickly relaxed when she heard those masked men with black jumpsuits speak. “We have one injured civilian here, Over. Taking him to the shelter.” 

 

Mukoe heaved a sigh of relief. She’s glad Kotaro will be alright. Maybe this is the Defense Force he’s talking about? And the Third Division to boot? She’s not so keen on meeting them right now, since there’s a whole lot she doesn’t know about this future. 

 

So she quietly slinked through the alleyways, leaving the dead Kaiju and the Third Division responding to the scene. 

 

“This is Platoon Leader Ebina. Reporting that the Yoju on the Bravo side has been neutralized by Captain Ashiro, over.” A man with a beret and multiple scars reported on his radio. 

 

“Copy that, Ebina. Any wounded?” Okonogi asked. 

 

“A civilian was rescued on-site. He’s a little boy who had scabbed knees and was hiding in the corner, or rather, someone hid him in the corner.” Ebina reported. 

 

“This is Captain Ashiro. Can you clarify?” Mina Ashiro spoke over the comms. 

 

“Yes, ma’am! The little boy seemed awestruck instead of terrified, telling us a kind swordsman bandaged up his knees and was going to escort him to the nearest shelter and reunite with his mother, but the Yoju arrived, and was going to eat them both.” 

 

By then, the whole Division was listening, curious about this newcomer. 

 

“Keep in mind that this is from a child’s perspective, so it can’t be sure that this is a product of imagination, but… 

 

The child reported that the swordsman used their blade to swiftly cut off the Yoju’s legs, and some colorful smoke accompanied their movements. He said they continued to hack away at the Yoju until they suddenly stopped and went into hiding. It was then that Captain Ashiro shot the Yoju in its core.” 

 

There was silence on the comms, with a new voice joining in. “Interesting, indeed. Do we have any drones nearby to see what they look like?” 

 

“Vice Captain Hoshina! Unfortunately, the footage is rather grainy, so we only managed to spot a few identifying features.” Okonogi replied. “From the footage, they’re seen to have white hair and are wearing a colorful yet ragged mantle of dark blue to purple gradient. From a brief look at the inscription on the back of their purple gakuran jacket, the kanji for “Destroy” is etched on it. That is all the drone could make out before it was a blur of movement with the swordsman slicing the Yoju’s limbs and felling it.” 

 

“That’s impossible! You mean someone managed to damage a Kaiju whose ordinary weapons do no work, with a katana?!” A man named Itakura exclaimed on comms. 

 

“It’s a shame they got away. They already show potential to be a member of the Defense Force!” Chimed Nakanoshima, cheery as ever. 

 

And within the day, the rumors of a Kaiju-defeating swordsman leaked from the Third Division to the neighboring Divisions through word of mouth. 

 

At Mukoe’s end, she wandered around unseen by people, which meant she is moving at a really fast pace that the normal eye couldn’t keep track of. There is no particular destination at her mind—she wants to relish the fact that she was alive and she could do things like sprint wildly and fast like this. 

 

She halted when her stomach growled. It seems the toll the battle took on her was unavoidable. She fished out a few yen and coins from her pocket, wondering if the old banknotes were still legible for purchase. She still has her whole paycheck stashed, which made her very loaded for a teenager at this time. 

 

But first, clothing. Her senses tell her that her little stunt didn’t go unnoticed, and she has to avoid catching attention until she understands what the Kaiju are and how the fuck they aren’t disintegrating in the sun. She has to blend in with these people, and she knew what to do. 

 

“Hmmm, choices, choices.” Mukoe pondered. On one hand, she could procure clothes from a shop that has the modern version of sentakki or from the clothesline she could see when she was roof hopping, or do the more honest thing—buy clothes.

 

In the end, she slinked into a thrift store–not that she knew it was a thrift store–and bought three pairs of clothing. She used the changing room to switch her outfit to fit more into the fashion of this era. A loose purple shirt underneath a dark blue and cornflower jacket, a black pleated skirt, and her usual gradient legwarmers and jika tabi . She’s confident this wouldn’t turn heads at all, since it looks like one of the more subcultural fashions out there–she’s talking about kogyaru style–and with that, stepped out into the streets. It barely made a dent in her pockets. She swung the plastic bag that contained her Demon Slayer uniform and her other purchases. 

 

Clothing, check. Food, shelter, and a job? Not checked. 

 

Food and shelter she could get, but who would hire someone who is invisible to their records and is an on-the-run vigilante to boot, with only experience slaying Demons in their shinaosu ?

 

Mukoe shrugged. Better focus on getting food and shelter for now. She could worry about a job later—she has hundreds of thousands stored in her literal pockets–her skirt has one, brilliant–and she wouldn’t be burning through them easily that soon. 

 

So she walked around the streets, wandering around Tachikawa, searching for a meshi-ya or even an udon stand, and her wishes came true when she stumbled upon a ramen stand. She took a seat, with the owner bidding her welcome, and she placed her order—one tonkotsu ramen, and waited. 

 

A couple was busy gossiping on the other side of the seats, and Mukoe focused on enhancing her ears to hear what they were talking about. Information gathering is one of the skill sets Demon Slayers have to develop to locate Demons in human-populated towns. 

 

“Hey, hey, did ya hear? I heard the Third Division neutralized another Kaiju!”

 

“That’s great and all, but did you know what my friend from the Fourth Division heard?”

 

“What is it, what is it?”

 

“He says that there was someone who was unaffiliated with the Division who immobilized the Kaiju, allowing Captain Ashiro to line up a perfect shot to its core!”

 

“Ehhh? An outsider managed to immobilize a Kaiju? Don’t normal weapons not work when striking against its hide? How did they manage it?”

 

“Hear this, it’s not with some overpowered gun or a grenade, but rather, they used a sword!”

 

“A sword?? What is this, the Muromachi period? I would understand if it's with an officer’s misplaced gun, but a sword? Only the Vice Captain is known for dispatching Kaiju like that—and his weapons are specifically made with Anti-Kaiju steel! You’re telling me someone managed to fell a Kaiju with a sword? Unbelievable!”

 

“You can be skeptical all you want, but that’s what my buddy told me. There are rumors that the Third Division was on the lookout for this individual, hoping to recruit them into the Force—there are even more outlandish rumors that Vice Captain Hoshina wants to personally make this individual his student!”

 

“The Defense Force’s Strongest Close-Quarters Combatant’s Protege? Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah, indeed!”

 

“Here’s your food!” The ramen chef gleefully announced while placing a bowl of tonkotsu ramen in front of Mukoe. She mumbled a thanks and picked up her chopsticks and started slurping her noodles. It was good. It’s filling, the noodles weren’t cooked too long, so that they started to turn soggy, and the broth was meaty and savory. The toppings, like the sliced pork, are scrumptious, and the egg and the nori provide interesting textures to enjoy with the ramen, with the narutomaki being a welcome splash of color on the overall bowl. 

 

She ordered another bowl. Then another. Then another one that made the owner look in intimidated awe. The couple from before was staring at the piles of bowls that started to litter Mukoe’s station.

 

“Dude, what are they teaching high-schoolers nowadays that they need to eat that much to keep up?”

 

“Dunno, but it must be something hard.”

 

Mukoe tugged a smirk on her face. Perks of being a Demon Slayer, higher demands for physical ability equal higher demand for calories, thus the big appetite. They thought this was outrageous, but watch when Kanroji-san was here—she could outeat everyone under the table. 

 

Her mood sombered. Kanroji-san… and the others. Were they buried properly after the battle? Will she encounter their names on the graves for Demon Slayers who died on duty? Was she buried alongside Iguro-san, her mutual attraction? Will she find descendants anywhere that resemble long-lost comrades back home?

 

She made a mental note—as soon as everything settles, where she has a job, a steady understanding of this world, with no Kaiju threat in place, she’ll make the trek to the Wisteria Graveyard to pay her respects to Oyakata-sama and the Hashira, as well as wander around to see if she can get a glimpse of the descendants of each person she met during the Taisho era. 

 

Mind made up, she gave the payment to the ramen chef, who boggled at the huge tip, and left the stall with barely a dent in her pockets. 

 

It was getting late, so she started hurrying to find an inn or somewhere she could stay temporarily while looking for more permanent housing. 

 

Luckily, she stumbled upon a ryokan . Upon payment, the attendants guided her to where her room would be—traditional, with shogi , tatami , and futon tucked in the corner as well as a kotatsu in the center, with the other side separated by shogi overlooking the engawa that leads to a well-tended backyard, with a katsura tree on the side and a koi pond on the other. She was provided a nemaki kimono to change into for sleepwear, and she did just that. 

 

She had already eaten, so she refused dinner and lay down on her futon. Her thoughts kept her awake, staring at the ceiling, contemplating her life and circumstances.

 

Who was that man? Is he a Demon? Is his Blood Demon Art responsible for sending her forward in time in this future where oversized Demons—Kaiju rampaged around in irregular intervals? If so, what is her purpose here? She had already battled the Demon King twice and won, so what remains of her here? Would she be able to live a normal life afterward, knowing that others risk their lives to protect the citizens from the Kaiju?

 

The answer to that is a resounding no. You can take the sword out of a man but you can’t take a man out of the way of the sword—setting for nothing less than battle is heresy at this point, she’s not keen on wasting away her hard-earned muscles and techniques for some stifling, monotonous job that although pays good doesn’t provide much in the stimulation department. 

 

So with a mind made up, Mukoe fell into a dreamless sleep. Total Concentration Breathing: Constant refreshing her body and maintaining it at peak condition even when she's asleep. 

 

Or was it?

 

Here's an artwork of Mukoe!

Notes:

Copy this link and paste it to see what Mukoe looks like!

https://www.instagram.com/p/DMoh-Tcymk0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Chapter 3: Dreams and Job Hunting

Summary:

Mukoe encounters the man again in her dream and asks the right questions. They were answered. For the next week, Mukoe started hunting for jobs to acclimate herself to this future.

The next time Mukoe opened her eyes, it was into her hazy dreamscape. Like any other Ironerai, she has learned to customize how her mindscape looks, and for this, it took the appearance of a wide room filled with bookshelves and open shogi that exposed the full view of a wide expanse of cherry blossom trees that bloomed constantly, showering the ground in soft pink petals. 

 

Usually, there would be no one else in her mindscape, yet…

 

She unconsciously withdrew a sword her dream procured for her and pointed it at the same armored man now serenely sitting down on the ground underneath the largest cherry blossom tree. 

 

“Alright, you Demon,” she spat, “Who are you and what have you done to me? Is it one of your Blood Demon Arts? What is your goal for sending me here? And most of all, why is it me?” She rapid-fired questions. 

 

The man lifted his head; he had long black hair pulled in a ponytail, and his eyes were narrowed and fox-like. He lowered into a bow. “My apologies for pulling you off Kami-sama’s grasp, but there are no other people who can help us with our mission.”

 

“My name is Mizuno, one of the members of the Hoshina Family that has been responsible for vanquishing Kaiju since the Muromachi period.”

 

‘Hoshina…? Is he related to Third Division’s Vice Captain then?’ Mukoe wondered. 

 

“It's one of our powers that we have discovered, and no, we aren’t a Demon. We are a collective of souls drowning in hatred and desire for revenge, for we have failed to stop that thing .” Mizuno spat in hostility, anger clouding his once fine features. 

 

“That Kaiju… It was towering over us and just as strong, I couldn’t get its many eyes that glared at us, and how it mercilessly tore apart my comrades instead of granting them a swift death! I had to watch my comrades scream in pain from missing limbs, or even their whole lower half! My death isn’t pretty at all, since I got gutted like a fish and left to die in a ditch! It’s one of our biggest, shameful failures, one we loath to pass over to this era…”

 

“This era…? You mean that Kaiju lived?” Mukoe questioned. 

 

“Indeed. It might be slumbering, but it will be a catastrophic threat once it awakens—the damage to human lives and structures will be disastrous, and whatever it takes, it shall be vanquished, for it could wipe out the whole country in days.” Mizuno stressed. 

 

After a few bouts of silence passed, Mukoe lowered her blade, which vanished in a smattering of particles. “Okay, let’s say I believe you, but what do you want from me? Enough that you would risk a pantheon’s wrath from depriving me of crossing the Sanzu River?” 

 

At this, Mizuno bowed again, “We wish that you lend your assistance in helping our beneficiary in this battle!”

 

“Beneficiary?”

 

“Our collective hatred of 400 men coalesced in a core that mutated into a Kaiju—don’t draw your blade yet for I will explain, this Kaiju is harmless but for one purpose—anything it fuses with will become a Kaiju themselves, attaining a high fortitude enough to go toe-to-toe or even surpass the power of the Kaiju we failed to vanquish.”

 

“And you want me to search for this man? Are you sick in the head, Mizuno-san? How will I know whom to find in the throngs of people that make up Japan’s populace? You want me to drop dead finding them, huh?”

 

Mizuno waved his hands, “No, that will be unnecessary, for we have pinpointed who would be the best to become our beneficiary—a man in his thirties, Kafka Hibino.” 

 

“Kafka Hibino. Is he a gaijin ?”

 

He shook his head, “No, he’s a Japanese through and through. Our task for you is simple, Mukoe Ironerai.” He opened his eyes, which revealed maroon irises. “Accompany Kafka Hibino, train him to the best of your abilities, and work together with the Defense Force to vanquish the Daikaiju of the Meireki era.”

 

Mukoe face-faulted. “Ehhhh?!”

 

“I repeat, accompany Kafka Hibino, train him to the best of your abilities, and work together with the Defense Force to vanquish the Daikaiju of the Meireki era.”

 

“Wait, wait, Hoshina-san- What the heck! I didn’t sign up for this?! You mean I had to find this individual and assist him and the Defense Force to kill some Kaiju?! Give me a refund! I want to go back!”

 

“Of course, you can go back to heaven after all is said and done, Ironerai-san.”

“Well, that’s reassuring and not so threatening…” Mukoe muttered. 

 

“That is all we ask of you. We aren’t going to interfere with your decisions any longer. Whether you accept or not is up to you.” Mizuno added. 

 

Mukoe cupped her chin for a moment and shrugged. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

 

Mizuno gave a soft smile. “Thank you, Ironerai-san. We wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

 

“Now, can you leave my mind? I have to search for Hibino the first thing in the morning.” 

 

“Certainly. Farewell.”

 

And with that, Mukoe fell into a dreamless sleep once again.

 

Which brings us to now. 

 

After paying for 3 days in advance, Mukoe left the ryokan and wandered the streets, grabbed some food in a place called WacDonalds, ate the split dorayaki with the sweet syrup it came with, and went searching for a place called the library when she asked the nice lady on the counter how to research. 

 

And there she was, sitting in a plastic chair, staring at the screen of a computer, making no move since she absolutely didn’t know how to work this thing. The librarian keeps glancing at her, and she doesn’t know what to do. 

 

Mukoe inhaled, and marched over to the librarian, pulling off an act that Uzui-san would weep at the greatness of it, as a shy, home-schooled country bumpkin who didn’t encounter gadgets of any kind. 

 

“A-Ano… can you help me with how to use that, librarian-san…?” She pointed at the computer while looking shyly at the ground. 

 

The librarian stared and sighed, and walked over with her. “Alright. So this is the mouse and the keyboard. The mouse is connected to the pointer, and you can use it to move around the screen. The keyboard inputs letters, and by stringing along letters, it creates words. One of the only things you can do on this computer is search for something, and here, let me show you…”

 

Within 20 minutes, Mukoe learned more about computers than she’s comfortable with. It seems the librarian is a geek for them. 

 

She thanked the librarian and typed a name into the search box. 

 

Kafka Hibino. 

 

Within seconds, a ‘link’ appeared on the screen. She clicked on it. 

 

She was transported to a website called the Monster Sweepers, Inc., a Kaiju corpse disposal and cleaning company that works closely with the Eastern Divisions to clean up Kaiju corpses. She browsed its public list of employees, and there she found him. Kafka Hibino, one of the Senior Cleaners of the company.

 

He looks plain, with messy short black hair, black eyes, and stubble on his chin. He looks to be in his thirties, just like what Hoshina-san said. 

 

She scrolled the website and found a recruitment flyer at the bottom. It says, “We are looking for more cleaners for our company! We accept those with no experience, provided they are at least 15 years of age and are willing to learn! To submit your resume, do it online at this link or visit our company in Tachikawa City!”

 

She made sure to re-read the address before approaching the librarian again. “Miss Librarian, please tell me how to make a resume.” 

 

The librarian arched an eyebrow but eventually taught her how to do so. 

 

So, Mukoe left the library that afternoon, holding two brand-new resumes with barely any information on it. Since her stomach is growling, she started searching for restaurants or even a cafe to eat in. 

 

She eventually found a quaint cafe and entered it. The atmosphere was cozy and warm, with plants dispersed throughout the cafe to give a splash of color to the beige walls and brown trimmings. 

 

It was a quiet afternoon, with only a few customers here and there, including a man with a purple bowl cut sipping on a cup of coffee, with the same narrow eyes as Hoshina-san, a woman reading a newspaper, and a young man typing on a portable computer. 

 

Mukoe made sure to sit far away from them all. She was approached by a waitress who greeted her and gave her a menu. Mukoe didn’t hesitate to order one of everything on their food and snacks menu. The waitress looked shocked and intimidated, but upon seeing that Mukoe could pay, she hurried to deliver the order. 

 

It wasn’t long before Mukoe was gorging herself on the delicious food the cafe provided. Other customers stared for a while before going back to their businesses, but one pair of eyes continued watching her in the corner of his eye. Mukoe paid him no mind. What is this, his first time seeing someone fifty-three pounds soaking wet eat her own body weight? Probably. But he isn’t doing anything malicious, so she tolerated him for now. 

 

She finished with a slurp on her milkshake and a big burp flew from her mouth. “Excuse me.” She muttered, she went and stacked the dirtied plates, and left the cafe. 

 

She gotta head back to the ryokan —she could go searching for Monster Sweeper Inc. tomorrow. 

 

There's also the matter of maintaining her nichirinto . Now that the Swordsmith Village is truly hidden since it changed location after its last attack, Mukoe has little to no hope of getting her blade repaired when it breaks mid-battle or getting it sharpened when it gets too dull. It seems Mukoe may have to settle for a bog-standard katana even if her insides are screeching horribly at the idea.

 

Mukoe heaved a sigh. Future problems for future her.

 

She passed a building with a huge painting of a woman in a Defense Force uniform and the words “Captain Ashiro” on it. She gazed at it.

 

If she's going to join the Defense Force, is she given the option to choose which Division she goes to? She wonders if they accept blade wielders there—Of course they do, since Vice Captain Hoshina exists as one of its powerhouses. But that comes across as a challenge, doesn't it?

 

Mukoe shook her head, no use pondering about it. All she had to do was get employed by Monster Sweeper Inc., train Kafka in basic Slayer conditioning, join the Defense Force, and kill the Daikaiju of the Meireki Era. After that, she'll finally be reunited with her loved ones in Heaven.

 

Mind made up, Mukoe retraced her steps back to the Ryokan where she changed into the guest’s nemaki, ate dinner that she ordered, which is tempura, fried rice, and kocha, and lay down on her futon. Total Concentration Breathing: Constant running through her veins.

 

She closed her eyes and slept.

Chapter 4: Employment

Summary:

Mukoe hunts down the headquarters of Monster Sweeper Inc., where she collides with the very same man she's searching for. Two birds killed in one stone, she follows Kafka to their headquarters to be screened and employed.

Mukoe woke up with no rush.

 

She is getting dressed when she hears a familiar caw.

 

Wait, can it be..?!

 

She rushed to the engawa where a sight filled her with happy tears.

 

Its a crow, not just any crow, but her Kasugai Crow, with the same purple cloverleaf necklace she gave it, her dear companion,

 

“Fūwa-chan!” She exclaimed, cradling the crow who barreled straight towards her chest, making cawing sounds.

 

“Mukoe! Mukoe! Fūwa is glad to reunite with you! Very glad!” The aforementioned crow cawed gladly in the same grating, loud voice she loved.

 

She nuzzled its cheek, “Glad to see you, dear friend. Who knew you followed me here? Can't be apart from you, huh? You'll scour the ends of the earth for me, won't you?” She teased.

 

“Caw, caw! Fūwa will do so! Also, Fūwa has fathered children! Wife wants to meet you along with the hatchlings!”

 

Mukoe gasped, “No way, Fūwa-chan, you're a dad now?! Congratulations!” She exclaimed. “Maybe I'll see them when they're big enough. Can you bring them to me when they're older? I'm pretty sure I could also train them to speak!”

 

“Fūwa will love that, Mukoe!”

 

“Oh, on a second note,” Mukoe dug through her pockets and pulled her hand out filled with birdseed. “Here, eat Fūwa-chan, cause I have a mission for you.”

 

The crow started pecking at the seeds.

 

“You are to locate a company headquarters called Monster Sweeper Inc., which has this red logo with a monster's head on one end, you see, Mukoe has her own quest, and it involves joining that company to learn more about this future!” She relayed to her crow, who finished eating.

 

“Caw! Fūwa will do his best! Follow me, Mukoe! Follow me, Mukoe!” The crow cawed, already finished. He flew out of the engawa and onto the street.

 

“Wait for me!” Mukoe yelled as she hopped over the tall fence, surprising some onlookers, and started at her usual Slayer pace to follow her crow.

 

Which is, Olympian-like speed, making her a blur to passerbys, who did a double-take to see her chasing a talking crow in the distance.

 

So focused on running, Mukoe didn’t realize that she collided with someone until she heard groans of pain. She whipped her head back and boggled at her luck. 

 

Because the person lying on the ground, groaning in pain, was the same man she was searching for. Kafka Hibino. Who is, admittedly, plain-looking.

 

She hurriedly extended her hand, “I’m so sorry, sir! Are you alright?” She apologized, genuinely remorseful. 

 

Kafka groaned, “I’m okay, it’s just my old bones. Hup.” He took the girl’s hand, who pulled him to his feet with surprising strength for her age. “Are you not injured too, miss? I’m fine, how about you?” He asked.

 

The girl in her teens, with white hair and purple eyes, turned sheepish. “Yes, I’m fine, but I have something to ask of you, err, what is your name, mister?”

 

“Kafka. Kafka Hibino.” Kafka introduced himself, confused. 

 

“I’m Mukoe Ironerai,” Mukoe told him, who dug around her jacket pockets to pull out a crumpled form, Is that a resume? “And I wish to join your company. Will you take me to see your boss, Hibino- san ?” 

 

Kafka’s mind boggled. “E-Eh?? M-My company?!” He exclaimed. 

 

“I decided that becoming a member of your company will help me immensely with my future, so I beg of you, Hibino-san!” She bowed at a 90-degree angle. “Please accompany me to your company so I can join!”

 

“Hey, you don’t have to bow! This is embarrassing…” Kafka rubbed his nape. “Please rise up, Ironerai-kun, but are you sure that this is the path you want to take?” 

 

Mukoe rose up from her bow. “Yes. I am sure.” 

 

Kafka sighed wearily. “I’ll lead you there. But it’s all up to you to convince my boss, yeah, Ironerai?” He replied. 

 

Mukoe nodded and followed the older man on the way to his company’s headquarters. 

 

“By the way, what’s up with that crow? Is it yours?” Kafka asked. 

 

“Yeah, this is Fūwa, say hello to Hibino- san , Fūwa-chan.” Mukoe gestured at Kafka to her crow. 

 

To his surprise, the crow started talking! 

 

“Hello, Hibino, Hello, Hibino! It is nice to meet you.” Fūwa greeted, drawing looks of surprise from other people.

 

“Wow! It's a talking crow! That is interesting! It could be a boon when you started doing cleanups with us, Ironerai!” Kafka commented. 

 

“He could be? That is nice to know.” Mukoe replied, stroking her crow’s head, who crooned at her touch.  

 

10 minutes later, they stood in front of the headquarters of Monster Sweeper Inc. 

 

“Welp, here we are. It's up to you now, Ironerai!” Kafka patted the girl on the back, who squared her shoulders and marched right in. 

 

The other members lounging in the room perked up at the sight of Kafka. “Hey there, Kafka! And who’s the little lady? Ain’t that illegal?” Ichitaka Mitsuike, a rather pudgy man with light-blond hair and simplistic expression, teased. 

 

Kafka sputtered. “T-That is not what is going on here! Also, I wouldn’t do that, ever! Stop thinking those things!” He protested. 

 

“Glad to know that, since I don’t take kindly to child-lovers.” Masashide Tokuda warned, a man with curly black hair and brown skin, knuckles cracking, feeling oddly protective of the girl in front of him, who is years younger than his own daughter. 

 

“Chill out, you three. It’s clear the girl is here on business.” Kinugasa said. “What is your name, miss?”

 

“Mukoe Ironerai, mister…?” Mukoe asked.

 

“Jiro Kinugasa. Call me Kinugasa-senpai, since you seem intent on joining us.” Kinugasa replied. 

 

“Alright, Kinugasa-senpai.” 

 

“Hey, why is he senpai when I am Hibino-san??” Kafka complained. 

 

Mukoe looked at him dead in the eye and said, “Cause you haven’t earned it.” 

 

Tokuda and Mitsuike laughed. Kafka sputtered. 

 

“What is all this commotion? Oh, you’re a new face.” Their boss, Katsura Mizoguchi, entered the room and saw them laughing at Kafka. 

 

“B-Boss! Ironerai-kun said they want to join us! Do we have any spaces to be filled?” Mitsuike responded. 

 

“Hmmm. Let’s see your resume first. We’ll follow the standard procedure when it comes to hiring someone. Come here.” Mizoguchi gestured to his office. 

 

Mukoe’s soon-to-be coworkers clapped her on the back, telling her not to worry since Mizoguchi is a good judge of character and won’t be unfair to newbies like her. Mukoe took it all in stride. 

 

20 minutes had passed before Mukoe and Mizoguchi came out of the room, with Mukoe sporting a beaming smile. 

 

Everyone cheered. “We got a new member! Hooray!” 

 

“Everyone, welcome your new coworker, Mukoe Ironerai- san . Treat her well and show her the ropes in our next job.” Mizoguchi told them. 

 

“Yes, sir!” They all chorused. 

 

“I’ll be expecting you to do a good job on your first day, understood?”

 

“Yes.” Mukoe nodded. 

 

“Now, off you all go. There isn’t much to do but to maintain equipment and wait for the next Kaiju to be felled so we can do our jobs. Everyone, dismissed.” Mizoguchi told them, going back to his office. 

 

Hiroto Mori slung an arm across Mukoe’s shoulders, “Welcome, newbie! To the most reliable Kaiju disposal company on this side of Japan! You wouldn’t find yourself bored around here, haha!” He said. 

 

“Glad to know that,” Mukoe replied. 

 

“Hey, what’s up with that crow anyway? It kept staring at us.” Tokuda pointed, and everyone looked at the crow with a purple cloverleaf knot around its neck, who was staring at them pointedly. 

 

Mukoe lit up with a smile. “That’s my companion, Fūwa.” She held an arm up, and the crow flew, perching on her arm. “Say hello to my new coworkers, Fūwa-chan.” 

 

To everyone’s surpris,e except Kafka, the crow started speaking. 

 

“Hello, everyone! Hello everyone! It’s nice to meet you!” It cawed. 

 

“It talks!” Mitsuike pointed out. “We hear that, you idiot.” Kinugasa rebuked. “Wow, I knew crows could imitate human speech, but I never knew they could actually talk!” Tokuda exclaimed. “What breed is it?” 

 

Mukoe answered, “He’s a Kasugai crow.” 

 

“Kasugai?” “Never heard of it.” “Is that a fancy breed or something?”

 

“Anyways, Fūwa here will assist us from now on. He could be our scout from the sky, our personal communicator, and he could locate places and people, provided you give him a description. He’ll be very helpful, so treat him like a coworker and not a pet.” Mukoe told them. 

 

“You got it, Ironerai!” Mori gave a thumbs-up. “I never knew we’d get two new employees in one day, talk about luck.” Mitsuike shook his head in disbelief. “It's nice to have a new face around here. What are you talking about?” Tokuda chimed in. “What, getting tired of our faces, Toku?” Kafka teased. “Oi, I didn’t say that!” Tokuda yelled.

 

Mukoe smiled. 

 

It seems she picked the right company to join. 

Chapter 5: Mukoe’s First Job

Summary:

Two weeks later, a Kaiju attack happens. After it has been neutralized, Monster Sweeper Inc. goes on scene to dispose of Kaiju remains. Mukoe proves her worth.

Notes:

Here's an artwork of Mukoe in the MSI overalls!
https://www.instagram.com/p/DMvCNN1J5sw/?igsh=MTVuY3U0aXY3ZHB0bA==

Two weeks have passed, and not a lot has happened. 

 

Firstly, Mukoe bought a phone for herself, recalling the gobsmacked faces on her coworkers when she didn’t know the current lingo and slang as well as having no way to contact her, at all. 

 

So she went and bought the first one she saw, got a quick rundown on how to use it, expanded that knowledge by going to the library, and eventually, started using her phone as a normal teenage girl. 

 

Preferably by taking so many pictures, she maxed out her storage before two weeks had even gone by. She went and bought an SD card and resolved to not take too many photos again. 

 

Anywho, she’s added to a groupchat called the “Cleaners of MSI” which sounds pretty generic, not that she’ll say that, and it's a blend of a professional group chat and a casual convo between coworkers and possibly, drinking buddies.

 

She was on her way to going to the headquarters when a shrill alarm rang through the streets, and an unfamiliar message popped up on her screen:

 

“Kaiju Attack Reported. Proceed to the nearest underground shelter immediately.”

 

And with a GPS showing the shortest route towards said shelter. 

 

She pocketed her phone and went sprinting in Slayer speed towards the headquarters. 

 

She barely managed to step foot on the place before Mitsuike spotted her and directed her to her locker. “Suit up now, Ironerai! We’ll be on standby for the cleanup! God, this one’s probably going to take weeks…” He called and muttered. 

 

Mukoe nodded and went to her locker, removing her jacket. Thankfully, she wore only a compression top and some shorts for easier movement, forgoing her usual legwarmers for a pair of sandals. She looked at the grey coverall that is two sizes too big, even though its the smallest size they could find and without hesitation, zipped it up. She also put on gloves and the company-issued boots that have studded grips to prevent her from slipping on any Kaiju secretions and marveled at the soft yet durable feeling the coverall provided. 

 

She slung her nichirinto sheathed in its saya with a new purple braided rope so it could be slung on her shoulder, and followed her coworkers who loaded up the necessary equipment in the company van. 

 

“What’s up with the katana, Ironerai? We got axes and chainsaws if we need to do some hacking and cutting, you know?” Mori questioned.

 

Mukoe grabbed her mask, “I just wanna be prepared for anything.”

 

He shrugged, “Suit yourself.” 

 

“Oi, is everything loaded? We got reports that the Third Division is currently engaging the Honju and the Yoju!” A man named Yoshimura hollered. 

 

“Copy that! Everything is nice and loaded!” Kafka hollered back, closing the van’s trunk with a thud. 

 

Mukoe squeezed inside the Van and ended up on the window seat, where she could see smoke in the distance from where the Kaiju is rampaging and currently being engaged by the Third Division Officers. 

 

Mitsuike mistook her silence for nervousness and chimed in, “Don’t worry, your senpai , Kafka, will be there to help you since you’re the newbie!”

 

“Huh? Why is it me??” Kafka whined. 

 

Tokuda responded with, “Because it’s you who brought her into this, idiot.”He said with fondness. “Besides, would you really let down your kouhai ?”

 

Mukoe added in a deadpan tone, “Help me survive my first day, Hibino- senpai .” 

 

Kafka shivered, “Don’t call me that if you’re going to use that creepy voice to do so!”

 

Everyone started ribbing on Kafka, and the whole van is full of laughter and jokes while Kinugasa drove and Mizoguchi pursed through reports and what to expect when they arrive at the scene. 

 

Suddenly, there was a faint boom, and they looked at the Kaiju toppling over, at least ¾’s of its torso obliterated. 

 

Mori whistled, “And there goes another kill count for Captain Ashiro.” 

 

“Oi! Don’t forget about Vice Captain Hoshina, who did a good job immobilizing the Kaiju!” Yoshimura chimed in. 

 

“Regardless, those two are literal powerhouses, don’t you think, Ironerai?” Mitsuike asked the only female and youngest member of their company. 

 

Mukoe nodded, “They’re strong.” 

 

“Damn straight!” Mori cheered.

 

“Okay, you guys. We are getting nearby our destination. Our mess right now is a lizard-type Kaiju who can breathe fire, so expect its skin to be easily flammable, and we have to take special precautions not to rupture its fire glands, so no heat chainsaws or anything, okay?” Mizoguchi told them. 

 

The group agreed. 

 

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the scene. What reached Mukoe first was the stench—it smells like pork left to bask in the sun mixed with the juices of expired chicken and beef, along with the metallic tang of blood. She scrunched up her nose, pulled on her hood, and put on her mask, which lessened the smell. 

 

“You good, Ironerai?” Kafka asked her, seemingly used to the smell. 

 

She nodded, “The smell just hit me, that’s all.”

 

“It’s a normal reaction, you’ll get used to it, newbie,” KInugasa advised her, putting on his mask himself. The others did so similarly. Hiroto Mori popped open the trunk of their van, which exposed a lot of gear—normal chainsaws, antacid pickaxes, and oversized butcher knives, along with biohazard buckets, mops, cleaning products, and big scrubbers. 

 

Mizoguchi clapped his hands. “Okay, so we’ll be split into two teams—the Kaiju dismantling team and the Splatter cleaning team. Ironerai, you’d be on the Kaiju dismantling team along with Hibino, Mitsuike, and Tokuda, while Kinugasa, Yoshimura, and Mori are on the Splatter cleaning team.”

 

“Okay!”

 

“Also, Hibino, you and Ironerai are in charge of the intestines today.” He added.

 

Kafka gasped like it were the end of the world. Mukoe drooped. She knew exactly what lay in the intestines. Is this workplace hazing? 

 

Despondent, they both mumbled a “Yes, sir.” While trudging to get their equipment. Mukoe placed her saya in the seats of the van for safekeeping—she doesn’t want it to get dirtied by Kaiju shit. 

 

Kafka handed her a chainsaw, which she hefted with no effort despite its bulk, and headed to the dead Kaiju’s lower body, which had entrails scattered around. 

 

“So… how do we start, Hibino- senpai ?” She asked cautiously, looking at the lumpy pink columns that she swore were wriggling. 

 

“We crack 'em open and dismantle them. Then we’ll carry it bucket by bucket so it could be shredded up into ground meat and be disposed of.” He explained. 

 

Mukoe deadpanned, “While covered in Kaiju shit?”

 

Kafka nodded solemnly, “While covered in Kaiju shit.”

 

They each took a deep breath, then laid waste to the intestines. 

 

“Fuck- fuck- fuck! Is this bitch pent up or what?!”

 

“Looks like it- also, language!”

 

“Excuse you?? I’m 15, I could swear without getting reprimanded, AND I wield a sword for god’s sake!”

 

“Still! Oh my god- There’s a freaking woRM in there! AHHHH!”

 

“Shit- Shit- Shit! Kill it Hibino- senpai ! Kill it with your chainsaw!!”

 

“Phew, that’s the last of them- OH GOD!!”

 

“I’m calling for backup! This is Mukoe Ironerai speaking. The intestines are infected by parasitic Kaiju-sized worms! Please back us up here and help us kill these fuckers!” 

 

“Mitsuike here, wow, it's only the first day, huh? We’re coming over!”

 

And with that, the entirety of the Kaiju dismantling team arrived at the site, where a handful of cow-sized parasitic worms came crawling out of the intestines, with Kafka and Mukoe doing their damned best to slice each with their chainsaws, screaming like little girls all the while. They assisted. 

 

At the lunch break, both Kafka and Mukoe looked into the far distance. He was clutching a sandwich in his hand while Mukoe had a half-eaten chicken yakitori onigiri on hers. 

 

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it, Hibino- senpai ?” She hollowly asked.

 

“Yeah. It’s a fine day. That was…” Kafka sighed and put his head on his hands, uncaring of the sauce smearing into his hair. Mukoe wrinkled her nose at that. “Oh my god, I heard of parasites living in Kaijus, but this is my first time encountering them. Did you see the size of that thing?”

 

She nodded and took a bite of her onigiri. She chewed before replying, “That’s stuff for nightmares, for sure.” She responded. 

 

Kafka groaned. “I’m going to be dreading doing intestine duty again…” 

 

Mukoe sighed. So much for her first day. 

 

At the end of the day, they finished dismantling the intestines without encountering any more parasitic worms and were bidding “Nice work today” to each other, when Mukoe asked a question that shocked Kafka to the core.

 

“You’re homeless?!”

 

Mukoe looked insulted. “I just said I was staying at a Ryokan, Hibino- senpai . I am most definitely not homeless, more like… a tourist.” She explained. 

 

“Well, that won’t do, so, what’d you need my help for?” He asked. 

 

“Do you know of any apartments that are not too expensive but not too cheap either?” She responded.

 

“Wait, let me check.” He took out his phone and went to the website of his apartment. “Aha, my apartment block has a few slots free. You can rent one and we can be neighbors! Saves time from going to and fro from the headquarters to your house, yeah?” He smiled. 

 

She nodded, “I’ll speak to your landlord, Hibino- senpai . Thank you, mind showing me the way?” 

 

He rode his moped. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Hop in! I’m going to my apartment.” 

 

Mukoe picked up her saya and did so, fastening a helmet around her head and holding on the handlebars behind the moped. They cruised at a moderate speed, allowing Mukoe to appreciate the fine view basked in the afternoon sun. 

 

To fill the silence, she asked something. “Hibino- senpai . This might be personal, but what made you join Monster Sweeper Inc.?” 

 

Kafka stilled before replying, “Actually, I was planning to join the Defense Force, you know?” 

 

“Oh? Then why are you working cleaning Kaiju guts, then?”

 

He chuckled, “It’s simple—I keep failing the entrance exams for joining the Defense Force, so I wondered, maybe I can help more people by disposing of Kaiju corpses so everybody could resume their normal lives, and it helps me too! It gives me insight into Kaiju physiology and—”

 

She interrupted him. “You’re lying.”

 

A silence stretched between them. He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Yeah… You could say I have… given up. I mean, I’m pushing into my middle ages, I can’t possibly catch up with the stronger, faster recruits of the Force these days.”

 

She shook her head, “What if I tell you there’s a method to get stronger and faster other than just cleaning Kaiju guts?”

 

He replied, curious. “Oh? What is it?”

 

“Before I tell you, tell me first that you wouldn’t give up on your dreams that easily.”

 

“But—”

 

“Promise. Me.”

 

“...”

 

“Alright, alright, I promise. So, what is it?”

 

“It’s simple.” Mukoe smiled widely. “I’ll train you in basic conditioning for my occupation.”

 

“You mean a swordsman? Doesn’t it involve katas and swinging swords only?” 

 

Mukoe’s vein pulsed. “You are underestimating it, Hibino- senpai .” She said sweetly. 

 

“Ack! Okay, okay! I’m sorry! So, you’ll train me in basic conditioning for your occupation…? What is your occupation exactly? I know it’s something to do with the sword, but you’re not exactly a swordsman practicing it for religious zeal or fun, right?” He asked. 

 

“I’ll tell you when you've completed my training. So here’s what’s going to happen—I’ll train you to the best I can, get you started with the arsenal of the blade, so you can pass the exams for becoming a Defense Force officer. Your training can last years, are you prepared?” 

 

Kafka thought for it for a while, and asked, hesitantly, “How do I know you’re not pulling my leg right now?”

 

Mukoe rolled her eyes. “Senpai. You’ve seen me heft up that chainsaw with no difficulty, right? Also, I reached the headquarters right from the other side of town, where the Ryokan I’m staying in just five minutes. If that’s not a demonstration of the strength and speed you can gain from training under me, I don’t know how to convince you… Aha!”

 

“What is it, Ironerai?” 

 

“Can you let me down for a sec? And keep driving! I’ll show you a Sayer’s speed that can catch up with carriages like yours!”

 

“It’s not a carriage, it’s a moped! A motorcycle!” 

 

Nevertheless, Kafka stopped, Mukoe hopped off, and got on a sprinting position. 

 

Kafka resumed driving. He was befuddled when he looked back and Mukoe wasn’t there, only to hear footsteps thumping faster and faster nearby his position. 

 

He looked at the side and choked on his spit. 

 

Mukoe is running side by side with his moped! Which is exactly running at 60 mph!

 

‘No way… Is this the Slayer speed she’s talking about? Then…!’

 

He revved the accelerator and went faster, at 80 mph!

 

He choked on his spit and boggled his eyes when Mukoe caught up !

 

She still looked unbothered, even when her feet are basically a whirling circle right now, legs kicked into overdrive and keeping up with Kafka’s moped!

 

“Okay, okay, I believe you now! Now hop in!” He exclaimed. 

 

He was about to stop when, in a show of agility, Mukoe hopped over on his moped and fastened her helmet like it was nothing. 

 

Kafka yelped, “Don’t surprise me like that! I was going to stop so you can hop on like y’know, a normal human being?” He exclaimed. 

 

Mukoe shrugged, “It is what it is, so, you accept my proposal now?”

 

Kafka sighed, “Sure, sure, when will it start?”

 

Mukoe grinned, “We’ll be doing it on weekends. I’ll make a Slayer out of you, Hibino- senpai .” 

 

Kafka shuddered at that, seemingly uneased by the looming premonition in her voice.

 

They arrived at Kafka’s apartment block, a five-story building with similar doors and similar rooms. He directed her to his landlord, a late middle-aged lady named Sato, who was taken immediately by Mukoe’s nice manners and polite mannerisms. She immediately offered her an apartment with a discount for the first rent payment. Kafka wept at the injustice. 

 

It took less than 5 minutes for Mukoe to be given her apartment keys and ushered into her new home. 

 

It was… plain. 

 

There’s a kitchenette just beside the genkan, and a bathroom on the far right side of the room. The rest is a blend of the living room and a single folded futon with a single pillow as her bed. 

 

In short, it was perfect. She’ll have time to furnish it later. 

 

“So here we are, dearie. Remember, the rent is to be paid at the end of the month. Bye-bye for now.” Sato-obaa bid her farewell, leaving her alone at the genkan of her new apartment. 

 

Mukoe stepped into her apartment, which is labeled 065; she chuffed at the obvious wordplay and shut the door behind her. 

 

Near the kitchenette is an appliance she came to know as a refrigerator—an electronic device that spews cold air to preserve food put inside it. It’s a handy little thing, with the one at headquarters rumored to be older than any people there. 

 

She rested her saya near her futon, and looked at her apartment. 

 

She could buy furniture thanks to her leftover payment as a Kinoe-ranked Demon Slayer and the increasing salary as a Monster Sweeper Inc. cleaner. 

 

She could buy a cabinet for her clothing, maybe get her cloak and uniform repaired, and so much more. She also needs stationery so she can plan how to train Kafka and the subsequent food he’ll need to consume. She’s gonna put him through the same hell her former master put her through, which is just shy of an excuse for torture. 

 

But, future problems are for future her, so she took a rigorous shower (how the hell Sato-obaa didn't smell Kaiju shit on her she wonders), changed into her sleepwear, unrolled her futon, and lay down on it, staring at the ceiling, Total Concentration Breathing: Constant running through her veins. 

 

She feels her eyelids droop close, and she sleeps soundly into the night.

Chapter 6: Getting the Hang of things

Summary:

A montage where Mukoe’s first year with Monster Sweeper Inc. is described in detail. She starts training Kafka.

Aside from the worm fiasco, Mukoe’s life as a member of Monster Sweeper Inc. is pretty exciting yet mundane at the same time. 

 

After being assigned to the intestines, she moved on to starting to carve away at the tough hides of dead Kaiju using heat chainsaws and sometimes, when stubborn, she’s given permission to use one of her Breathing Forms to bisect the bastard’s hide. Her coworkers always oohed and aahed at the display of power. 

 

Thankfully, the drones from Izumo Tech didn’t capture anything, for they arrive only when the whole flesh is exposed—these flying electronic devices called drones have compartments where sometimes they’re asked to fill with Kaiju flesh. 

 

Mukoe, in a bout of curiosity, asked the drone what it does with the samples. The drone’s operator humored her by answering that Kaiju flesh is made into a combat suit that allows Defense Force officers to gain superhuman strength, speed, and agility, depending on the power they can release from the suit. Mukoe boggled at that.

 

The existence of said suit would’ve helped her comrades back in the Taisho era immensely…! She thanked the drone and went back to carving the Kaiju’s corpse. 

 

Then there were the weekends. 

 

Mukoe instructed Kafka to bring his lunch and a lot of water for the rigorous training they’re going to do. 

 

“Okay. We’ll start slow.” Mukoe said to him. 

 

They’re at the foot of a mountain that already looks ominous to Kafka. 

 

“You are to trek the mountain up and go down before the sun sets.” She said.

 

“Huh? Is that it?” He questioned. 

 

She nodded. “Make it back here alive, I don’t want to lose a disciple this early…”

 

“Wait, what do you mean ‘lose’? Did you do something in the mountain?!” Kafka exclaimed in alarm.

 

Mukoe smiled; it was a little sadistic at the edges. “Why yes, I have tailored it to see if you have what it takes to withstand the next phases of training, off you go, Hibino- san ~”

 

Gulping, Kafka raced ahead into the mountain.

 

It didn’t take long for his shrieks to disturb nature. 

 

Be it approaching logs, thrown knives, and bamboo-filled pitfalls, as well as traps that are triggered by tripwire, hell was unleashed on Kafka, who definitely got a lot of scrapes and cuts by the end of it.

 

It was sunset, and Kafka trudged forward down the mountain. He looked like he got in a fight with a badger and a blender and barely won. His hair was unevenly cut in some places, he had many cuts and lacerations on his body, and his clothes were rumpled and grass-stained from rolling too many times, the time he slipped and fell. 

 

He slumped forward in front of Mukoe. “There…!” He panted. “I completed it…! Did I pass…?” He was then on the verge of passing out when Mukoe commented, “This is just the start, get up.”

 

He shakily stood on his feet and avoided getting smacked in the face as he caught the wooden sword given to him by Mukoe. 

 

“Swing the sword until your arms give up—this gives me a hint at what your threshold would be.” She ordered. 

 

Kafka whined but did so anyway. He barely managed to reach thirty swings before his arms gave out, and he dropped the wooden sword. “That’s… all… I can…. Manage…!” he rasped. 

 

Mukoe hummed. “I see. Go eat and drink lots of water, Hibino-san. That is all for today. I expect to see you again tomorrow. We’ll be doing the same thing until your legs memorize how to dodge the traps and you’re not huffing and panting when you come down from the mountain, am I clear?”

 

God, his kouhai is such a taskmaster…! “Understood…” He muttered. 

 

Six months passed like that. On work, it’d be Hibino- senpai and Ironerai- kouhai , both working together to dismantle Kaiju guts, dispose of unwanted samples, provide said samples or even bone marrow to Izumo Tech drones, clean blood splatters and wipe down splattered brain matter with a specialized powerwasher which launched Mukoe due to the recoil and her weight, she will never forget the laughter that rang at her earpiece (a technological advancement which again, would’ve proved beneficial during the battles in the Infinity Castle and the Sunrise Countdown battle–), which when weekends struck clear, it becomes Ironerai- sensei and she drills Kafka mercilessly, having him trek up the mountain, stand under a waterfall without flinching, put him on his ass during spars using the bokken they grip tightly in their hands, instruct him in proper Breathing, to which he coughed and gasped for air due to the rush of oxygen in his lungs, train him in dodging projectiles by flinging leftover Kaiju guts and having him dodge them less he gets hit by an eyeball, and putting him through hell, mostly. 

 

The fruits of their labor eventually showed—Kafka never gets tired easily, lifts up chainsaws and even heavy axes surprisingly easier, and his senses have sharpened. His spatial awareness grew more potent to the point he could identify where the fat is in Kaiju flesh with just a touch. He can even jump higher! Although not as doing impressive backflips and somersaults like he’d seen Ironerai do… 

 

“Mukoe,” Ironerai told him one afternoon.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Call me Mukoe from now on, or Mukoe- sensei if you want the specifics.” Ironerai, no, Mukoe told him, while sipping from a strawberry milk carton. 

 

“Then call me Kafka!” Kafka replied. 

 

Mukoe quirked a smile. “Kafka-san then.”

 

“Ehh??”

 

Six months then passed in the blink of an eye. 

 

Mukoe got added musculature to her lithe figure due to the heavy work of transporting buckets of Kaiju flesh, hefting chainsaws and powerwashers, and training Kafka in weekends by sparring with him. It also kept her swordsmanship skills sharp, even against a sword novice like Kafka. 

 

She wonders what kind of Breathing Style she could teach to the older man. She knew the fundamentals of the Five Core Breathing Styles, Water, Fire, Stone, Thunder, and Wind, but only the former four can be taught using normal katana or bokken. Hmm… decisions, decisions. 

 

For now, she’ll focus on conditioning him with a healthy work ethic and diet. She doesn’t want to micromanage, so all she said when he asked her what he needed to eat was, “Little to no fat, high protein and carbohydrates, preferably double the usual portion he eats.” 

 

How Kafka interpreted that as hamburgers is lost to her. Nevertheless, it did its job, fueling Kafka to finish his daily mountain trek that had gotten easier after six months, and his usual training with breathing exercises and sparring against Mukoe. 

 

So the inevitable question came earlier than she expected one afternoon. 

 

After thoroughly making Kafka eat the ground after their spar, Kafka asked between heaving breaths, “Mukoe- sensei … how long… will I be… training… against you?” He wheezed. 

 

Mukoe cupped her chin and hummed. “2 years and 6 months more.”

 

His eyes boggled. “That long?!”

 

“What? That’s the typical length for a Slayer-in-training to take to condition their bodies to receive more oxygen than its normal threshold, to attain superhuman strength, stamina, and speed that allows them to outclass their enemy. You were lucky that it won’t take five years for your training.” She explained. 

 

“Ack…! Lucky she says…”

 

She kicked his shin, which crumpled him, causing him to whine about his definitely bruised leg. “If you have the strength to complain, you have the strength to spar more, get on, up!”

 

Kafka grumbled, but gripped his bokken and got into an unsteady stance. And then they sparred. It didn’t take five minutes before Mukoe knocked the bokken out of his hands and leveled her own against his neck. “Tap out.”

 

Kafka tapped out. 

 

While they drank their water and ate, Mukoe told him. “After this year, I’ll begin training you in one of the five core Breathing Styles. It’s a good gauge on what you will focus on. Water for flexibility and fluid movements, Fire for singular, high-powered slashes, Thunder for lower body power and quick-draw techniques, and Wind for purely offensive and aggressive attacks.” She listed each on one finger after another. 

 

“What about the fifth one?” Kafka asked. 

 

“Stone Breathing requires a specialized weapon, which involves a kusarigama-like structure. You’ll need to acquire said tool or a spiked flail and axe in order to maximize the effects of Stone Breathing. That said, Stone Breathing focuses on being sturdy and attacks that specialize in both defense and offense.” 

 

Kafka nodded. Deep down inside him, he already knew what Breathing Style he would be compatible with, unbeknownst to both master and disciple. 

 

“Anyway, I have decided on how you will graduate from training, Kafka-san,” Mukoe commented. “I have something to show you. Follow me.” She turned on her heel and walked deeper into the forest. 

 

Kafka hurried after her. And he was shocked by what he saw. 

 

An enormous, gigantic boulder with rope and shide tied around it lies in the clearing. “How did you drag it here?! With your size??” He questioned Mukoe, who looked smug and just flexed her muscles in response. 

 

“Y-You mean, I gotta cut this thing if I want to pass your training?!” He asked. 

 

“Yes. And passing my training meant being able to join the Defense Force, and passing their entrance exams.” Mukoe replied. 

 

“But that’s impossible! I can’t exactly cut a boulder like that!”

 

Mukoe was ready to kick his shin again, to which Kafka pre-emptively dodged out of fear. 

 

“Don’t go saying you give up, idiot! What am I training you for, then?!” She barked. “Just for that, give me 50 push-ups!”

 

“But-”

 

“50 pushups. Now.”

 

Kafka grumbled, but knowing how much of a terror Mukoe is, dropped down to the ground and did his pushups. 

 

Mukoe watched him from on top of the boulder after hopping on it. She wonders if she’s pushing him enough. She doesn’t want training to become too repetitive, so she’s been throwing every single miscellaneous training she did as a Demon Slayer, such as balancing on a tightrope, running while dragging a pile of logs, push-ups with boulders on his back, and even instructing him to move one cho while on a handstand. 

 

Kafka whined and complained, but he didn’t give up; she could give him that. 

 

So at their end-of-the-year celebration party, while everybody was toasting drinks and eating snacks, Mukoe slid a small gift box to Kafka. 

 

“Hmm? What’s this for, Mukoe-san?” He asked. 

 

“Just open it.” Mukoe told him, while drinking her orange juice—it’s funny how her coworkers, most especially Tokuda, protested against her drinking beer. She fought Demons and shed blood, and she isn’t allowed by law to drink what is amounted to budget's sake ? Preposterous!

 

Nevertheless, she quirked a smile when Kafka’s exclamations reached her ears. “Woah?! Is this real?! Thank you, Mukoe!”

 

What she gifted Kafka was free tickets to the new Defense Force movie that she knows he’s been dying to see. It’s originally meant for children and as a subtle propaganda to encourage future generations to enlist in the Defense Force, and she knew Kafka hasn’t gotten to watch it since his parents passed away before they could take them there, so Mukoe went and purchased some for him, along with a tucked note that said, ‘Your training is canceled for said weekend, go watch the movie.’

 

Their coworkers began teasing Kafka upon his choice of the movie without any real heat behind them, making everyone smile and laugh as Kafka sputters an explanation. Mukoe hid her smile behind her glass. 

 

It's a fruitful six months, she could say. 

 

The next thing on her agenda was finding swordsmiths who dabbled in making Nichirin Swords and possibly, maintain hers. She doesn’t know when will her blade will chip or snap due to an ill-timed encounter with a Kaiju that has a durable hide, so she has to be prepared for everything. 

Chapter 7: Interlude

Summary:

Mukoe goes on the hunt for records of the Five Core Breathing Styles. During a train ride, Kaiju attacks. She bickers with a certain Captain.

Notes:

Here's an art of Mukoe in casual clothing!

https://www.instagram.com/p/DM27yZRpnsB/?igsh=ODNvNzM2dHlkeHpm

After bidding goodbye to her coworkers after a hard day at work, Mukoe refused Kafka’s offers to hitch a ride and decided to buy what she thought she would need for her next phase of training. After another six months, she will be training Kafka in one of the Five Core Breathing Styles he’s compatible with, hopefully. 

 

So she paid a visit to one of the equipment stores and bought what she thought would be needed to survive in the wilderness, to the point that the lady on the cashier asked her if she was going to go camping or hiking. Mukoe dignified it with a shrug. Nevertheless, it barely made a dent in her coffers, and she left the store with a hiking bag full of essentials. She is going to buy ekiben when she travels by train, then buy food from locals when she makes her trek through the countryside. 

 

She preemptively requested for leave citing personal reasons, to which, due to her stellar record, Mizoguchi granted her, and she has about one week to locate records of said breathing styles and somehow, gain enough knowledge to teach them to Kafka. 

 

So she packed the meager belongings she had and started her journey. 

 

She purchased a train ticket for the JR Chuo Line Limited Express at Tachikawa Station, Platform 3. She didn’t garner that many looks, and sat down on one of the luckily vacant seats. Wearing a compression top, lime green shorts, and her jika-tabi, along with a black cap, earned her some glances and curious gazes, especially with the scars lining her exposed skin accrued from fighting Demons, but they eventually minded their own business. 

 

Mukoe is carrying her hiking bag, her saya containing her nichirinto, and was about to bring out her ekiben after 20 minutes of travel, when an earthquake shuddered the train car she was in, causing frightful exclamations from other passengers. It snapped her senses to high alert, and she only confirmed the true cause of trouble when her phone pinged with an alert: “Kaiju Attack Detected! Please Evacuate to the Nearest Shelter.” Showing her a GPS location for the nearest shelter, which is E47. 

 

Suddenly, a horrific screeching of metal occurred, which made everyone cover their ears reflexively, and they looked in horror at what crawled into the train car—a mantis-type Kaiju with armored chitin and an exoskeleton of nightmarish proportions. The passengers were too stunned that a mother and child could only exclaim screams of terror as the Kaiju lunged towards them with a blade outstretched. 

 

CLANG!

 

In an instant, Mukoe shrugged off her bag and drew her nichirinto from her saya , blocking the Kaiju’s attack on the pair. “What are you waiting for? Scram! Alert the others to a Kaiju here on this carriage!” She barked, seemingly snapping the two out of their terror-induced trance, and the other passengers similarly bolted in the opposite direction and started calling the Defense Force hotline to inform them of a Kaiju in the carriage. 

 

Mukoe grinned. “Thanks. With you, I get to polish my swordsmanship skills even more!” She exclaimed, parried the Kaiju’s mantis blade, and crouched low in an instant to avoid an overhead swing. ‘ Dream Breathing, First Form…’

 

In an instant, Mukoe gained two clones, which rushed at the Kaiju at blinding speeds. The Kaiju was then beheaded in a flash of colorful dark blue, cornflower blue, and orchid smoke. 

 

‘Midnight Mirage!’

 

Mukoe didn’t sheath her nichirinto . She could recall that Kaiju have a core somewhere, and thanks to her attack, she got a glimpse of the multi-colored orb sitting below the neck bones. She went up to the headless corpse and stabbed the core with her nichirinto , killing the Kaiju for good. 

 

Not long after, more mantis-like Kaiju crawled up on the train. Mukoe sighed. “There’s no end to you fuckers, eh?”

 

When all were poised to attack her, a flash of magenta blinded her for a second, and she opened her eyes to see a man with two-toned windswept hair holding a futuristic bayonet with a rifle, crouched on top of a dead Kaiju, clearly having stabbed through its core. 

 

“Hey, brat.”

 

Mukoe was instantly ticked off. ‘Brat?’

 

“What are you doing prancing around with a blade like that? Why haven’t you evacuated like the rest of the mob? Here to die by Kaiju hands?” He spoke, words cutting and cold. “Unfortunately, the First Division is here to correct that, so go on, shoo.” He made a dismissive motion with his hands, “Go join the others in the evacuation center.”

 

With every word, Mukoe’s anger grew; she gave a tight-lipped smile. “I’m holding my own for a while now, Officer- san .” She gritted. “If you bothered to look, I clearly killed one Kaiju before your late entrance here.”

 

“Hah?? Officer? It's Captain Narumi to you, brat!” He barked, seemingly incensed by this random, no-named civilian who thought she was hot shit with a colorful katana. “Late entrance? Is that what you have to say when I saved your ass from getting skewered like a kebab? Why you ungrateful little shi—” 

 

He was cut off with said brat unleashing multiple slashes to which he hurriedly avoided. 

 

“What the— Brat! Don’t you know the meaning of friendly fire?!” He screeched. 

 

“Dream Breathing, Second Form!” Said brat chanted. 

 

And within the retinas of Numbers 1, First Division Captain Gen Narumi witnessed how the reckless and missed flying slashes the girl in front of him unleashed came ricocheting back and slicing through the other Kaiju that was about to skewer him, all perfectly hit in their cores to neutralize them. 

 

“Illusionary Desires!”

 

A stunned silence followed, only to be broken by a sharp bark of laughter from Narumi. “Seems that isn’t a prop at all, huh, brat? What’s your name?” He remarked.

 

Mukoe sheathed her nichirinto , sensing no more Kaiju in their location. “Why should I tell you, Captain- san ? Also, yes, it isn’t a prop, I thought that eyes of yours didn’t see already?” She quipped. 

 

A vein ticked in Narumi’s forehead. “Fine! If you don’t want to tell me, I was going to say I would recommend you a place in my Division if you want to apply in the next three years, it seems that’s a lost offer…” He grumbled.

 

Mukoe deadpanned. “Is this what poaching feels like?”

 

“Hahh?? There’s nothing illegal with recommending someone for the Defense Force, brat!”

 

“Not a brat, you old fart, I’m fifteen!”

 

“A grown-up brat, then! Als,o I’m not old, I’m 24!”

 

“Nearing thirties then? Need a hot compress over your aching joints, Grandpa?”

 

“Y-You brat! Forget the protocol for civilians, I’ll show you what this grandpa is made of!”

 

And that’s what Platoon Leader Rin Shinonome stumbled upon—Captain Narumi arguing with a white-haired kid with many scars. They are bickering like siblings, spewing cutting words and teasing with no real heat behind them. 

 

Rin sweatdropped. “Captain Narumi…?” She questioned hesitantly. 

 

Narumi seemed to have snapped out of arguing with the kid, who crossed their scarred arms and huffed. 

 

“Oh, Platoon Leader Shinonome. How’s the evacuation going?” He asked, unruffled like he hadn’t seen arguing with a kid half his height and age. 

 

Rin straightened. “Everyone was evacuated except a few stragglers, like that one.” She pointed out. 

 

“Hear that brat? You come with the nice lady over there, and she’ll show you to the evacuation center. I’ll let what you said and did slide for now, but there’ll be no second chances, got it?” He told the kid. 

 

Said kid rolled her eyes, making Rin shocked at the blatant disrespect and sass directed at Narumi, Captain of the First Division! “Sure, sure, grandpa. Don’t go breaking your joints out there, yeah?”

 

“For the last time, 24 is not old!”

 

Said kid flipped him the bird. 

 

“BRAT!”

 

Rin Shinonome couldn’t help it. When they’re far away from Captain Narumi’s range of vision, she bursts out chuckling. 

 

The brat, ehem– the kid had the gall to look confused at that. “What’s so funny, Shinonome-san?” They asked. 

 

“Usually, Captain Narumi is this composed, calm yet arrogant captain in the battlefield, and it's only when he’s alone is he's childish and bratty, but you, you managed to let out his childish side at this moment! Oh, this is gold!” Rin replied between chuckles.

 

The kid tilted her head. “Is he really that big of a shot?”

 

Rin stared at her incredulously. “Y’mean you don’t know who Captain Narumi is? I get that he’s not as popular as Captain Ashiro, but surely you’ve heard of the might of the First Division?” She asked. When she received no reply, her eyes boggled out of her head. “Seriously?!”

 

Mukoe winced, “Yeah… who is he anyway?”

 

Rin composed herself quickly. “Captain Narumi is the captain of the First Division, the strongest division there is! His prowess is so well-known that he’s been given the epithet of Japan’s Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant! He stands at the peak of releasing the most strength out of the combat suits we Defense Force Officers wear, at a staggering level of 98%! And did you know he’s…”

 

Mukoe listened to the rambles of Platoon Leader Shinonome and quickly made the connection. ‘She has a crush on Grandpa, huh? Also, she looks like the female version of the Mist Hashira, and that is a thought I don’t want to revisit.’

 

“Anyways,” Rin coughed, embarrassed at her ramblings, “What is your name, kid? It's not so many that managed to fight off Kaiju alongside our captain. We heard you, you know—Captain saying that he’ll recommend you for a position when you’re 18 years of age if you join the First Division.” She remarked. 

 

“I’m Mukoe. Mukoe Ironerai. You are Shinonome-san, right?” Mukoe answered. 

 

“Platoon Leader Rin Shinonome. I’ve been working with Captain Narumi for at least six years now. And 4 years as a Platoon Leader at that.” Rin replied. 

 

“Wow. How’s it like being in the First Division?” Mukoe asked, tilting her head. 

 

Rin thought on that for a while before answering. “It’s exhilarating. The feeling that you’re working with the strongest men and women the Defense Force has to offer, and the unspoken weight of expectations demanding you keep up or else you get culled… The training might be harsh, but it's been fruitful for us, yes. Me and my fellow Platoon Leaders unlocked at least 70% of our combat suits thanks to Vice Captain Hasegawa’s training and drills. And there’s also the matter of pride—We pride ourselves as the strongest and most reliable of the Defense Force Divisions, so there’s that.” 

 

Mukoe nodded. “That sounds good.”

 

Rin chuckled. “Yes, it is. What about you? Are you thinking of joining the Defense Force in three years? We could use a talented close-quarters combatant like you. More and more smaller yet stronger Kaijus keep emerging every month, and although I have respect for Captain Ashiro’s prowess as the Defense Force’s Strongest Supergiant-Class Killer, some days big guns and cannons wouldn’t cut it. So, what do you say?” She asked Mukoe. 

 

Mukoe, without hesitation, replied. “Of course I’d join. Gotta wait for my body to catch up to the minimum age of enlistment, though.”

 

Rin smiled. “You’re right.” 

 

It wasn’t long before they reached the shelter’s entrance. “Well, this is where I leave you. Take care, Mukoe-san!” Rin bid her goodbye, to which Mukoe returned with a wave of her own. 

 

She entered the shelter and waited with her fellow evacuees for the dust to settle. It wasn’t long before they were being led out by groups of soldiers who kept telling them to proceed in a calm and orderly manner. Mukoe looked at the damage the mantis-like Kaiju had caused—buildings were damaged by large claw-like scratches, roads were blocked with debris, the train lines were suspended due to broken rail lines, and train cars opened like cans, and corpses of Kaiju littered everywhere. Some of them are peppered with holes from rifle rounds, while some are killed precisely where their cores would be, no doubt the work of one Captain Narumi. 

 

Mukoe paid them no mind, more focused on what she was going to do now that the train was suspended indefinitely for repairs. 

 

She’s originally heading for said ward to search for Shinazugawa-san’s descendants who may know the forms of Wind Breathing. It was a slim and impossible chance, especially since she’s only been given a week. 

 

She did a quick search on her phone for Breathing Styles and found herself surprised by the first thing that popped up. 

 

“Kimetsu Academy…?” She mumbled. Ah, so her comrade’s descendants erected a high school to preserve the Breathing Styles as kagura dances…? Oh, how touching…

 

It says here that they’re located in Chuo Ward, along with an address given. 

 

Time to inquire if she can learn about the Breathing Styles that Kimetsu Academy has preserved for generations. 

 

She flagged a taxi and related her destination. The taxi driver nodded and started driving towards said location. 

 

It’ll be a hefty cost, but Mukoe can take it—after all, she’s practically the most loaded teenager there is in her area. We’re counting hundreds of thousands of yen in her coffers. 

 

While watching the scenery pass by her, Mukoe started wondering what affinity Kafka would have. Will he take to Water in fluid grace? Will he be speedy like Thunder? Will he focus on strength, like in Flame? Will he be aggressive and attack-oriented like Wind? Or will he be a blend of defense and offense like Stone? Decisions, decisions…

 

An hour later, the driver announced they had arrived at the destination. Mukoe handed him the fare and climbed out of the taxi. 

 

She took the train again to get to the Tsukishima district, where Kimetsu Academy is located. Thankfully, fewer people are traveling here and there are no Kaiju attacks on the way, so she got off the train with no hitch. As always, there are stares and glances, but Mukoe paid them no mind, clearly focused on getting to her destination. 

 

After a 20-minute walk from the train station, she finally came across it—Kimetsu Academy. 

 

She took the time to just… stare. Some passing students gave her a once-over and double-take at the number of scars on her arms and thighs, they hurried away after that, and it didn’t take long for security to approach her, looking almost like the last Demon Slayer who sacrificed his life to protect her, that she’s the one who did a double-take. 

 

“Are you okay, miss? Are you a student of this school? If so, you’re running late? Also, where is your uniform?” The guard asked. 

 

Mukoe shook her head, “Ah no no no! I’m not a student at this school. Actually, I heard that this school is practicing Kagura dances tailored to each element. I was wondering where I could sign up to learn them? You see, my school has this festival, and I wanted to learn said kagura dances to—” 

 

Mukoe effortlessly lied through her teeth to the guard, who was letting his guard down (what a pun) to a rambling of an excited teenager who heard about the pride and joy of the Kimetsu Academy. 

 

“Alright, miss. Just write your name down here, and I’ll escort you to our principal to discuss the details of your learning sessions. I’ll wait. Here’s a pen.” The guard handed her a pe,n and she eagerly wrote her name on the logbook. 

 

The guard took it and read aloud. “Mukoe Ironerai-san. Please follow me.” The guard started walking towards the building, and Mukoe followed. 

 

It felt like she stepped in a dream. The Hashira she got a glimpse of are here, thriving as teachers and instructors. There’s a smartly dressed descendant of Iguro-san, arguing with a descendant of Shinazugawa-san. There’s a descendant of Tomioka-san, eating raisin bread on the stairs. There’s even Kocho-san and another unfamiliar girl, walking side by side and talking. And there’s Rengoku-san’s descendant, his voice heard through the hallway as he passionately taught his subject, which, from what Mukoe can glean, is about history. Then there’s Kanzaki-san, who is hurrying to get to her next class, but what stole her breath was seeing the trio she had been a part of for a long time. 

 

Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Nezuko. Mukoe fought to keep her tears at bay. It stung when they passed by her without ever recognizing her. Only curious glances were thrown her way like she was some interesting stranger, which made her sigh wearily.

 

The guard looked back at her. “You okay?” He asked. 

 

Mukoe nodded. “Yeah. What’s your name anyways, Guard-san?”

 

The guard smiled. “It’s Matsuhiro Inoue. Call me Inoue-san, Ironerai-san.” 

 

“Okay, Inoue-san.”

 

It wasn’t long before they were in front of a huge pair of dark oak doors with the label Headmaster’s Office on the top. “We’re here. Just knock and be yourself. Oyakata-sama will be responsible for admitting you as a learner of the kagura styles after all.” 

 

Mukoe snapped her focus at that. “Oyakata-sama…?”

 

“Oh, my bad. I guess other schools don’t call their headmasters that? Well, here in Kimetsu Academy, it’s been a tradition for as long as we can remember to call our headmaster ‘Oyakata-sama’ regardless of gender or age.” Inoue-san explained. 

 

Mukoe replied, “Right…”

 

“Alright, here’s where I leave you. Good luck and have a nice day, Ironerai-san.”

 

“Thank you, Inoue-san.” 

 

Mukoe faced the door one more time, took a deep breath, and knocked.

 

She heard a feminine voice saying, “Come in.”

 

She entered the door and was surprised to see Amane-san’s descendant sitting behind the desk. The Headmaster's or rather, the Headmistress’s office is a blend of simplicity and elegance, with a polished oak desk, comfortable chairs, and money trees placed in strategic places, with two huge bookshelves serving as a backdrop to Amane-san’s desk. The woman herself looks so similar to her Oyakata-sama’s wife, only that she’s clad in a professional suit rather than a kimono. 

 

“Greetings. You must be the one interested to learn the kagura styles this Academy provides, right?” Amane-san’s descendant told her. “Please, take a seat.” She gestured at one of the chairs. Mukoe sat down and set down her bag and her saya . Amane’s descendant drifted to her sword before focusing on the girl before her. 

 

Mukoe wasn’t the only one having deja vu. Amane’s descendant clearly recalls her face from somewhere, but she can’t pinpoint it at the moment. 

 

“Yes, I am. My name is Mukoe Ironerai, Ma’am…?” Mukoe trailed off, since Amane’s descendant had frozen. 

 

“N-No way. You’re an Ironerai? That Mukoe Ironerai?” Amane’s descendant stammered. 

 

“Are you okay, Ma’am?” She asked, worriedly. 

 

Amane’s descendant eventually calmed down. “This is going to sound outlandish, but are you involved in the fight against the Demon King at year 1932, Mukoe Ironerai?”

 

Mukoe tensed, and something in Amane’s descendant’s eyes wavered. “Oh, it's truly you…!” She exclaimed. 

 

“Ma’am…?” Mukoe called worriedly. 

 

Amane’s descendant visibly composed herself and breathed. She faced her with a smile. “Call me Amaya Ubuyashiki. No need for you to call me Oyakata-sama since I knew you had a different Oyakata-sama in your time.” 

 

“Okay, Ubuyashiki-san. What gave away that I am from that time?” Mukoe asked, genuinely curious. 

 

“That white hair and similar face, and the fact that my husband had a vision of you entering this place at this very time, along with the fact that he received another vision of your past battles against Kibutsuji,” Amaya explained. 

 

“So my arrival has been foreseen…? That’s the Ubuyashiki Foresight alright…” Mukoe whistled.

 

“Although he predicted your arrival here, it doesn’t say anything about your purpose for seeking us. Thankfully, Inoue-san provided me some context, so I’ll be happy to discuss further details with you, however.” Amaya’s face turned serious. 

 

“What is your true purpose for learning the Five Core Breathing Styles of the Demon Slayers?” 

 

Mukoe answered with no hesitation, “To teach a disciple of mine so he can have a fighting chance against the monsters of this world.” 

 

Amaya looked at her and smiled. “A good answer.”

 

“Learning all five will take too long if you’re only allotted a short amount of time, so we have to shorten it to only three breathing styles. How long are you allotted, Ironerai-san?” Amaya asked her. 

 

“A week, Ubuyashiki-san.” She answered.

 

“Enough to learn the basics of three breathing styles. Now, which style would you like to learn for your disciple?” 

 

Mukoe thought about it for a moment. “Thunder, Stone, and Flame.” She stated. 

 

“A wise choice,” Amaya remarked. 

 

“Come with me then, Ironerai-san. If I could recall, the Hydrangea Class is performing the Flame Breathing forms right at this moment. You could watch and join if you want to, I’m sure they’d be thrilled to teach someone of their kagura style.”

 

“Alright, Ubuyashiki-san,” Mukoe answered. 

 

And a week passed like that. 

 

Mukoe got the know descendants from her time and mingled with new faces, learned the Breathing Styles, experienced pain from parts of her body she never knew she could have–the strain on her arms from doing Flame Breathing and the ache on her lower legs from Thunder Breathing just takes the cake–and while she’s at it, she discovered that Kimetsu Town has its very own swordsmith! Although what he crafts nowadays are decorative swords, once he took a good look at Mukoe’s blade, it was like a dam of creativity rushed through him at once. He took her commission—a simple kusarigama made of steel, another kusarigama made of Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand and Scarlet Ore that she plans to give to Kafka when she passes her training, and a simple pair of katana to replace one that will break from Kafka’s hands. 

 

The swordsmith looked skeptical until Mukeo flashed him her wealth, to which he started doing his job, eager to craft new weaponry that wasn’t to be used in ceremonies and rituals, but for actual battle. Mukoe, meanwhile, kept learning the Flame, Thunder, and Stone Breathing styles for the whole week. She was then informed that all she commissioned would be done after exactly fifteen days. She set aside on her schedule the day she’ll pick it up, only to be refused by the swordsmith, Hozuki Haganezuka, telling her, “As a courtesy from having commissioned me a lot of weaponry, I’ll be glad to deliver you the finished products provide that you give me the location where I’ll drop them off.” 

 

Mukoe was so glad with this that she paid in advance for the commission. Hozuki looked surprised by this. 

 

So far, it’s been a productive week, heck, she even got manuals of said Breathing Styles herself! She had fun exploring Kimetsu Town, eating at Aozora Diner or ordering pizza from Hyottoko Pizzeria, buying bread from the Kamado Bakery, and when it’s time for her to leave, she went to Sagiriyama Station to buy girly accessories from Cute Shop and desserts for her coworkers at the Japanese Sweet Shop. Ohagi, yaki dango, kuri daifuku, monika, kusa mochi, mame mochi and more, she bought them all. She also purchased a strawberry parfait at the Family Restaurant in Sagiriyama Station!

 

Mukoe boarded the train back at Tsukishima Station. She got a notification saying the train lines are active again, and she could board a train heading directly to Tachikawa. She marveled at the speed the lines are restored. She wondered that her coworkers must be hard at work clearing all the Kaiju corpses for the common people to resume their lives…

 

She sat down, with a comically oversized bag stuffed with sweets she could buy and the other souvenirs she bought during her time at Kimetsu Academy. Naturally, she had her saya slung over her shoulder, which was tied with a sageo for easier handling. She ignored the stares and just looked at the scenery passing by. She has to move seats when a man with less than pure intentions sits beside her, even though there are many empty seats around.

 

She jabbed her saya at the man’s throat and glared at him when he attempted to follow her. “If you do what I think you’d be doing, I’ll cut off your genitals and shove them down your throat, got it, you cockroach?” She barked. 

 

The other passengers are terrified, the man is terrified, and he eventually ran away from her by getting off at the next station. A tense silence filled the normally peaceful train car. Mukoe bowed shallowly to apologize and went back to her previous seat. 

 

When the intercom announced Tachikawa Station, Mukoe got out of her seat and walked to the train doors, and exited the train. She is met with the usual hustle and bustle of commuters on the station platforms and breathes in the usual scent of the city. If her Tanjiro were here, not his descendant, Sumihiko, he would’ve wrinkled his nose and covered his face with his scarf because the smell of smog and metal is too pungent for one with a sensitive nose like his. 

 

Mukoe is still getting used to her senses being assaulted by inorganic feelings of towering buildings and jam-packed throngs of people, even after six months since she was transported in the future by a warrior with regrets, of all people. 

 

I guess they say regret is a powerful emotion, after all. 

 

Mukoe was in the middle of arranging the sweets inside her fridge when she received a message from the group chat: 

 

Mizoguchi: *forwards a link to a livestream that shows, from an aerial view, a huge crocodile-like Kaiju crawling out of Tachikawa Park’s lake.* Cleaning job upcoming.

 

Mitsuike: Awww man, I didn’t even manage to watch at least one of the horse races this time!

 

Mukoe: Thankfully, I am back. 

 

Kafka: Mukoe! You’re back? How’s the trip?

 

Toku: How are ya, squirt? No one gave you a hard time, right? Did you get what you were seeking?

 

Mukoe: Yeah. 

 

Mori: Hell yes! Did you get us any souvenirs? From where you visited, there must be some kind of specialty over there, right?

 

Toku: How shameless! It seems as if you’re only talking to her for souvenirs!

 

Kafka: As if you aren’t interested in yourself…

 

Toku: What was that, Kafka? 

 

Kafka: Nothing, nothing!

 

Kinugasa: Anyways, glad to see you’re safely home, Ironerai. 

 

Mukoe: Thanks. I do actually have souvenirs for all of you. I hope you like sweets. 

 

Mori: Hell yeah!

 

Mizoguchi: Advanced thanks, Ironerai. Can I count on you being present when the Kaiju is neutralized and we are to be called for disposal?

 

Mukoe: Yes, boss. 

 

Mizoguchi: We’d need to bring our axes and chainsaws to cut through the crocodile Kaiju’s scaly hide. We’d appreciate your assistance in hacking it down too, Ironerai. Feel free to bring your blade. 

 

Yoshimura: That just sounded like the six favorite words of Ironerai right now. 

 

Mukoe: Mhm. That’s right. 

 

Kafka: And she’s not even denying it…

 

Mukoe quirked a smile and continued stocking the fridge with her sweets while bringing all the sweets she would gift to her coworkers in one plastic bag. She swapped her shorts for cycling shorts and her jikatabi for sandals and headed out of her apartment with her nichirinto in her saya . It took her five minutes to reach the headquarters of MSI through Slayer-speed. 

 

It’s game time. 

Chapter 8: Breathing Styles

Summary:

The time has come for Mukoe to determine which Breathing Style Kafka shows promise in. It was something they both less expected to be.

Kafka rode his moped towards the foot of the mountain he’s been training on for a year with trepidation in his veins. 

 

He’ll catch his younger mentor staring at him during the duration of their work hours, with this contemplative gleam in her eyes that doesn’t bode well for his training. The last time she looked at him that way was when she announced that his graduation would be trying to split a boulder in half with nothing but a real katana, not the wooden bokken or shinai she made him use during their training, but no, an honest to god, metal katana that weighs solidly in his grip. 

 

His hands’ calluses now have calluses due to the sheer intensity of the training Mukoe-sensei is putting him under. Any attempts to call for seniority always result in a deadpan expression from those purple dead fish eyes and a kick to the shin—painful and stronger than what a mere fifteen, now sixteen-year-old, can do, along with a demand of a hundred push-ups as punishment. 

 

A year before, he would’ve groaned and balked at the sheer number, but nowadays, with his body being conditioned to the harsh training, he could push up to five hundred and still have enough to go down the trap-riddled mountain twice. There might be a part of his heart that absolutely loathes the training Mukoe put him through, but the majority of him feels grateful and in awe of the transformation across his body. 

 

His beer gut has all but disappeared, and his subtly toned muscles get more buffed, and he feels more connected with his body than ever possible. He catches himself running faster, lifting heavier, and he can soar up to unbelievable heights when he jumps. Heck, he started doing parkour in his free time to keep up the momentum! Mukoe all but approved, and sometimes they both would go parkour together with no training involved. 

 

It finally feels like he’s making solid progress, and this is just a third of their training? Kafka feels anticipating churning his gut when he imagines what will come out of him after two more years of training under Mukoe. 

 

So, he took a proper deep breath–those painful smacks against his solar plexus when he breathed even a centimeter wrong surely drilled him into the proper way of breathing–and went to the usual place where he meets with his sensei. 

 

When he arrived, Mukoe was there, in her usual compression top, green shorts, and that strange ninja footwear that comes below her knees, with her bangs tied off, exposing a scar across her left eye. He barely bats an eye on the other numerous scars across her limbs, simply accepting them as part of her. That and the contemplative expression instead of the usual challenging sneer and sadistic grin was plastered on her deceptively cherubic face makes up the spartan trainer that is Ironerai Mukoe-sensei. 

“Oh, Kafka. You’re already here. Come take a look.” Mukoe gestured downwards, and it was then that Kafka noticed a pair of weaponry that is placed on the ground over a red cloth. 

 

A kusarigama and a metal katana is laying on it. Kafka didn’t get much to ponder when Mukoe continued. “It’s time I start training you in one of the Core Breathing Styles so you’d stand a fighting chance against the Kaiju, instead of being helpless like a duckling when left by its mother. The katana is for the rest of the styles while the kusarigama is for a specific form called the Stone Breathing, which uses a mid-ranged weapon instead of the traditional melee.” 

 

“Okay, which Breathing Styles are we going to do?” Kafka asked. 

 

“Flame, Thunder, and Stone. I would’ve added Water and Wind, yet my one week of leave wasn’t enough to properly learn the other two without compromising the quality of the forms I drilled into my mind.” Mukoe huffed, seemingly overlooking the innocent fact that she managed to learn three new Breathing Styles in a week, enough to be able to teach them to someone like Kafka, a newbie when it comes to the intricacies that are the arsenal of a Demon Slayer. 

 

“Is that what you took an abrupt leave for?” Kafka asked. “Duh. What else could it be?” She replied. “Fair enough.” 

 

“Enough with the chit-chat. Pick up the katana, and we’ll go by the forms without putting any power behind them. This is to get your body familiar with how it moves when executing said forms. I’ll demonstrate twice, and you’ll copy on the second demonstration. I don’t care if you look awkward or fumbling, we’ll practice drilling the forms into you that you can recite them even with your eyes closed, got it?”

 

Kafka did as he was told. “Right!”

 

So they went through the forms. They were in the middle of ‘Third Form: Blazing Universe’ when Kafka mumbled, “Doesn’t feel right.”

 

Mukoe nodded. “I see. Let’s go with Thunder Breathing, then.” And there went Kafka’s dignity, as every time he tried to do the ‘First Form: Thunderclap and Flash’, he went rocketing with so much speed he smacked face-first into trees around him. Mukoe’s barely suppressed giggles didn’t help much either. They shrugged it off and were in the middle of performing the ‘Fifth Form: Heat Lightning’ when Mukoe motioned for them to stop and state what was on Kafka’s mind the entire time. “Your lower body is too rigid and stiff, and your upper body is less than strong, both forms put focus on both upper and lower body strengths, and leaning on only one of them causes discrepancies with the other. So Kafka, drop that katana, and pick up the kusarigama.” 

 

Kafka hefted the kusarigama. He felt a tingle on his hands, like something was slotting into place. He inspected the weapon; it was nothing too gaudy—a dull grey kama on one end connected by a chain with a weight on the other. Simple, yet somehow enough for what he will use it for. 

 

“The last but not the least—Stone Breathing. If this somehow doesn’t suit you, I have to go back and learn the Water and Wind Breathing so you won’t go into a fight empty-handed.” Mukoe remarked, picking up a replica of his weapon and twirling the chain between her fingers. 

 

“Apologies.” “Don’t apologize—it was just like that for me too. I tried Water and Thunder, but it somehow didn’t fit, so I got endorsed to the cultivator who derived a Breathing Style from Thunder Breathing, and there I found my suited Breathing Style.” She consoled him, and he could feel determination bubbling inside him to make this Style work!

 

As Mukoe went through the motions and Kafka followed through, he felt something click into place that startled him with so much clarity. This Style… It’s form… It was perfect! It fits his build perfectly, utilizing a blend of defensive and offensive techniques! He found himself performing the forms faster, getting more and more polished with each try. Mukoe stopped herself and watched her protege in awe, somehow looking at home performing the Breathing Style the Strongest Demon Slayer in history specializes in. 

 

“First Form: Serpentinite Bipolar!”

 

“Second Form: Upper Smash!”

 

“Third Form: Stone Skin!”

 

“Fourth Form: Volcanic Rock, Rapid Conquest!”

 

“Fifth Form: Arcs of Justice!!”

 

After the fifth form concluded with omnidirectional attacks against an unseen enemy with Kafka expertly twirling the kusarigama and displaying a proficiency that is next to prodigy-level with Stone Breathing, Mukoe clapped her hands, snapping Kafka out of the Zone he was in. When it registered that he performed through the five forms of Stone Breathing without falter, his face lit up in genuine admiration and joy. “I-I did it! I did it, Sensei! I found the Breathing Style I am most suited to! Yahoo!” He jumped in joy, somehow not minding the cuts he gained from a few nicks and tears the kusarigama did to him from a few ill-timed mistakes. Still, that didn’t dent the pride that was in Mukoe’s voice. “Yeah. You have a pretty sick arsenal against those Kaiju now, Kafka Hibino.”

 

“Since we have found what you're suited for, we’ll spend the rest of this year drilling you into the forms so much so that you can do them in your sleep. I’ll set up some dummies for you to target with, and imagine them as Kaiju with real cores and everything.” Mukoe told him, they are heading towards the shed to do just that. “While I set them up, practice wielding your newfound weapon! Because you showed compatibility with that, you can use that instead to slice the boulder in half or in pieces as your graduation clause!” She yelled over her shoulder. 

 

“Right!” Kafka called back and started practicing with his kusarigama . Now that the zone has lifted, he started yelping as the chain smacks on his face and the sickle almost comes close to bisecting him or taking out his eyes. He shook his head. Now’s not the time to fumble around! And he recalls what he felt during his first performance of the forms, and tries to replicate it. 

 

Unbeknownst to him, he unconsciously unlocked one of the methods of strengthening a Demon Slayer—Repetitive Action. He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?

 

As he cycled through the forms of Stone Breathing, Mukoe set up the dummies, their large size nothing for her to scoff at, as she lifted them as easily as small bags. She set them up, even drawing crudely monstrous faces resembling Kaiju, or Yonju in this case, and stuck them onto sticks. She created an ingenious contraption that makes these dummies move, increasing the difficulty with which Kafka must hit them. 

 

She clapped her hands three times. “Okay, Kafka, try to hit all of these dummies within a minute. Unleash single or more forms, just hit them all within a minute period. This is also to serve as your target practice for today.” She called to her disciple, who responded with a yes and a ready stance, grasping his kusarigama . 

 

Mukoe watched as Kafka wielded his weapon with moderate ease. He cleaved through the first two dummies with a swing, used ‘ Second Form: Upper Smash’ to crush one into smithereens, and totally missed a dummy, with the weight hitting him in the gut, disrupting his breathing and causing him to let out a wheeze. 

 

By the end of the minute, only two dummies were standing. Mukoe nodded approvingly. “A good start. Now let’s see how you fare against stronger dummies.” She said. 

 

Kafka sweatdropped. This wouldn’t end, would it?

 

So that month’s training consisted of Kafka getting drilled onto the forms of Stone Breathing, trying to beat his mentor through unleashing every form, only to get his butt kicked, going up the mountain made to be even more deadlier as a form of increasing his training’s intensity, and making attempts to even land a scratch on the boulder that determines whether he can join the Defense Force or not. 

 

The first time Kafka used Stone Breathing to defeat a Kaiju was after six months of training like this. He was on his moped, riding towards the headquarters with Mukoe on his back, when the ground rumbled and their phones rang with the familiar alert: “Kaiju attack detected! Kaiju attack detected! Please make your way to the nearest shelter in your area. Please make way to the nearest shelter in your area.”

 

“Let’s head over there, Mukoe!” Kafka told the girl behind him, who just nodded and gripped her saya tightly, and they sped over to the nearest shelter, which is E35, the GPS showing on the face of Kafka’s moped. 

 

They were forced to stop when the intersection in front of them was swarmed by ant-type Kaiju. They stood tall as two-storey houses, with black bodies and red heads, speckled with dots of yellow and pink. Kafka parked his moped and pulled out his kusarigama . “We have no choice…! We have to defeat them here!” He muttered. “Affirmative. We gotta clear the blockage in the road!” Mukoe agreed, pulling her nichirinto out of its saya .

 

They leapt into action, the three Kaiju shrieking and attacking them as well. Mukoe weaved through its pincers and pierced its underbelly, sliding towards it so that her blade gutted it like a fish, causing it to fall over due to its gaping wound, spilling guts and other internal organs. Mukoe caught a glimpse of the ant’s core. “Kafka!” She called. 

 

“Alright!” Kafka responded, who breathed, “ Stone Breathing, Second Form…” He threw both the sickle and the weight towards the ant in a pincer move before smashing down on the chain, causing the sickle to then rebound and smash the ant’s core into smithereens. “Upper Smash!”

 

One Kaiju neutralized, two more to go. Mukoe approached one who were more aggressive than its counterpart and held her sword in a reverse grip. “ Dream Breathing, Fourth Form…” She breathed, and suddenly, multicolored smoke flooded the area, shadowing her. In a second, three slashes occurred across the ant’s body, splintering it into pieces and exposing its core. “ Infinite Dreamland! Kafka!”

 

“Yosh!” Kafka rushed over and breathed, “ First Form…” He threw both weight and sickle towards the ant, and grabbed the chain, manipulating it by rotating it, causing both the weight and the sickle to rotate, drilling and grinding through the ant’s core. “ Serpentinite Bipolar!”

 

One ant left, who was hesitating to attack two strong humans who defeated its kind, was not given a choice when the Slayer and the Slayer-in-training rushed towards it, with Mukoe chanting “ Third Form, Disturbed Nap” to unleash three powerful curved downward slashes that sliced through its exoskeleton and limbs, and Kafka following with a powerful, two-pronged wide ranged attack called “ Fourth Form, Volcanic Rock, Rapid Conquest!”, putting an end to the Kaiju’s life. 

 

The pair stood, with Kafka panting from the exertion, to which Mukoe commented, “Seems we have to increase stamina-related training, don’t we, Kafka?” Causing Kafka to groan, “Oh, anything but that!” Mukoe was about to kick his shin when their comms picked a stray channel, “This is Ikaruga, we’re heading to point Bravo, over.”

 

Mukoe and Kafka took that as a signal to get the fuck out of their location. They sped over to the headquarters, where their coworkers are in the midst of watching the Kaiju attack on the screen. “Yo! Kafka and Mukoe are here!” Toku yelled, catching their attention. They were immediately swarmed in a flurry of worried questions about getting caught in the crossfire, to which they reassured them that no, they didn’t come across anything (lie), and they managed to get here with no hiccups (lie). The others accepted that explanation, and they watched as Captain Ashiro loaded her massive cannon and fired a superpowered round that obliterated the ant’s body and its core within, splattering blood and Kaiju guts around the surrounding perimeter. 

 

Yoshimura groaned, “That’s going to take weeks with overtime to clean up…!” Several others groaned as well, with Mori patting Mukoe’s shoulder. “This work doesn’t get easy, huh?” She mumbled. 

 

At that moment, their boss Mizoguchi walked out of his office. “Okay, everyone. Suit up. We’re heading towards that area right now. Kinugasa, Mitsuike, Tokuda, you’re on equipment duty. The rest of you suit up and bring all the patience you can get—this clean-up job is going to be harder due to the number of ant-like Kaiju littering the place. Godspeed, everyone.” He called. 

 

“Yes, sir!” Everyone responded. The hub quickly became a flurry of activity. Everyone suited up in the white coveralls with the Monster Sweeper Inc. logo on the right arm, the trio grabbed the equipment and loaded it in the van, and Mukoe followed the others as they boarded said vehicle.

 

“Alright, next stop—Ant Disposal job,” Kinugasa announced before stepping on the gas pedal and driving towards the location. 

 

Kafka and Mukoe were silent, they’re both thinking the same thing—” Will we be assigned to clean our messes that we made of the Ant Kaiju?” It didn’t take long for the van to stop at the site, along with two more vans. 

 

“Oh, who are they, Boss?” Mukoe asked Mizoguchi. 

 

“They’re the Iida Cleaners and TSCleaning. We’ll be working with them together due to the sheer number of Kaiju corpses that Ants left us with. Let’s go say hi.” Mizoguchi replied before walking over to the leaders of said teams. 

 

Mukoe and the others followed, with Mukoe having her hood up and mask on. 

 

“Here’s my team. These are Hibino, Mitsuike, Tokuda, Kinugasa, Yoshimura, Mori, and Ironerai, one of our new members who joined a year and a month ago. Team, say hi to Kaien Iida, the team leader of Iida Cleaners, and Tokushi Sano, the team leader of TSCleaning.” Mizoguchi introduced them, with everyone saying hi with various enthusiasm. 

 

“Hello there, it's nice to meet you, but we have work to do.” Iida greeted back. “Those Kaiju corpses wouldn’t clean themselves! Let’s work hard, everyone.” Sano added. His side agreed. 

 

So they did their work. Mukoe was placed in the Splatter Cleaning Team and was handed a power washer and an embarrassing warning to not blast off again, which left her ears burning, before she squared her gut and fired the power washer against the stubborn blood splatters on the buildings alongside Mitsuike, Tokuda, and Yoshimura. 

 

“Man, their blood sure is like ink in the regard that they’re hard to wash off!” Mitsuike grumbled, scrubbing furiously against a puddle on the ground, his scrubber quickly turning red, prompting him to dip it again in a bucket with a special mixture of bleach and Anti-Kaiju Fluid Remover. 

 

“You tell me! These Kaiju just can’t resist bleeding out to death instead of y’know, dying a bloodless death?” Yoshimura added. “Although that is unrealistic, since Kaiju would have blood, guts, and shit to live, anyway.” He was busy powerwashing the buildings like Mukoe does. 

 

“Quit yapping and keep working! The blood splatters won’t clean themselves!” Tokuda chimed from where he was scooping Kaiju guts and placing them in a tarp to be lifted to a dump truck made specifically for transporting Kaiju remains to be incinerated in a landfill. “Still, whoever did a job hacking these Kaiju into pieces made me think of sashimi…” 

 

“Oh, that could be the work of Vice Captain Hoshina!” Mitsuike chimed in. “He’s pretty famous for being the only swordsman among the Third Division, but that doesn’t diminish his prowess. In fact, he’s considered The Defense Force’s Strongest Close-Quarters Combatant! That’s how powerful he is on the field. He also rose up through the ranks quickly, going straight from being an Officer to Vice Captain in a span of six months!” He rambled, scrubber momentarily forgotten. 

 

“Not only that, but I heard his released combat power is easily in the Captain levels,” Yoshimura added. “What is the combat power for Captains?” Mukoe asked.
“90% and upwards,” Yoshimura answered. “That sounds strong,” Mukoe commented. “Damn straight!”

 

“Speaking of, did you hear?” Tokuda called to them. “A vigilante is going around, disposing of Kaiju that the Defense Force doesn’t spot! They’re a swordsman like Vice Captain Hoshina, or so the rumors say.” 

 

Mukoe stiffened imperceptibly, but she sharpened her ears to listen better. “Eh? What do you mean? I thought only the Defense Force could kill Kaiju? How can this vigilante do so?” Mitsuike questioned. 

 

“Well, ain’t that the mystery, it could be attributed to their fantastic swordplay, or their special weapon, or simply their unbelievable strength. But get this, they’re so good at evading the Defense Force’s surveying eyes that they had gained an alias within the bases, and that is…”

 

By now, the others leaned including Mukoe to hear what the Defense Force wanted to call her with. 

 

“The Night Sword.”

 

“Cheesy.” Yoshimura chimed in. “Occult-like, ain’t it occult-like?” Mitsuike muttered. “Why did they choose that alias in the first place, anyway?” Mukoe asked. 

 

“Nobody knows what the top brass is thinking, seeing that its a suitable alias for their elusive vigilante. But, rumors say they picked up a protege!” Tokuda added. 

 

“You mean we got two vigilantes running around now?” Mitsuike asked. “Precisely. Their existence was confirmed just a minute ago when I overheard through the comms that the Ikaruga Platoon discovered a bunch of ant Kaiju disposed of with slashed limbs and crushed cores on site. The crushing attacks can’t be done by Night Sword, seeing as they wield swords, not something heavy, so a second party is suspected to be assisting them.” Tokuda answered.

 

“Did the Force have an alias for this one, too?” Yoshimura asked. “No, not yet. Seeing as they appeared just this day, the Force is still thinking of an alias to call them.” 

 

“Heh. As long as it's not Night Crusher, anything will be a better fit.” Yoshimura jested. “Don’t jinx it, you.” Mitsuike chided.

 

Mukoe let the chatter wash into her ears as she washed off huge splatters of blood on a building’s windows. This is getting serious. Is their actions really that significant that it warranted an alias like that? It seems they have to be careful in the future… maybe limit their Kaiju-slaying activities if they don’t want to be found out by the Force and… persecuted, maybe? For slaying Kaiju without a license? What will they accuse them of? Animal abuse?

 

That notion was so ridiculous, Mukoe let out a silent bark of laughter. She moved on from spraying the windows to washing down the walls, with Mitsuike still scrubbing the pavement furiously, Tokuda dumping Kaiju guts into the dump truck, and Yoshimura washing down lampposts caked with gore and red. Their work eventually culminated in one street block free of blood, shit, piss, and guts, which satisfied them immensely enough to return to work tomorrow. 

 

All the time, while the others are busy saying “Nice work today” and she hitches a ride with Kafka’s moped, she kept thinking about the aliases of Night Sword and their protege. 

 

They should really be careful, aren’t they? She guesses she must update Kafka’s training to include stealth training as well. 

 

Kafka shivered and dared to look behind him for a second, and what he saw made his stomach drop. It’s Mukoe-sensei, with a contemplative look in her eyes, again . 

 

Hoo, boy. That doesn’t bode well for him. At all.