Hajime made up his mind.
The three of them sat in a resting pavilion.
Hajime on the left, Kanae on the right, and Kanao, sitting blankly between them.
“Then, Hajime, what kind of story were you going to tell Kanao earlier?”
“Let me think for a moment.”
Hajime hadn’t put much thought into it.
He was just going to tell a random fairy tale, anything too complex, a kid wouldn’t understand anyway.
Since Kanae also wanted to listen, he couldn’t be as careless as before.
What story should he tell?
Tokyo Ghoul?
No, no.
Ghouls and demons were worlds apart, sure, but both ate people.
That felt entirely wrong for the mood.
Goblin Slayer?
Setting aside whether anyone here could wrap their heads around those otherworldly settings, even if they could, Goblin Slayer was far too cruel and dark.
From a certain angle, Goblin Slayer and A Song of Ice and Fire were both ballads of slaughter and absolute ruin.
Telling that story to grown men was one thing.
To girls…
Thinking it over, a story set in Japan made the most narrative sense.
Kanae asked gently, “Hajime, have you not decided yet?”
“Ah…
uh, oh, I, I’ve got something.”
With a clear idea forming, Hajime spoke up.
“Then I’ll tell a story about ninjas.”
“Ninjas?”
Kanae tilted her head curiously.
She was the Flower Hashira, Japanese through and through.
Of course she knew what ninjas were.
Their golden age had been the Sengoku period, centuries ago.
Today they seemed wrapped in mystery, but they had really just been mercenaries, hired by daimyos to spy, assassinate, sabotage, and stir up trouble.
Political and military work, nothing more.
“The story I want to tell isn’t about those sneaky, low-status ninjas who, even with the greatest merit, would only be granted a domain of eight thousand koku.
It’s about ninjas who can live openly in the sunlight, becoming a vital military force for a massive nation.”
(Samurai were paid in stipends measured in koku.
Daimyos were only considered true daimyos if their lands produced at least 10,000 koku of rice per year.
The amount of military service a vassal owed to the lord depended on the koku of their estate.
For instance, a 1,000-koku fief was required to supply one mounted warrior, two musketeers, one archer, and five pikemen.
I know many are confused by Daimyo’s rankings it is like this.
A daimyo is more like a regional feudal lord (or powerful duke), and the shogun is the ultimate military dictator or de facto king.
Many Naruto fans think Daimyo means king, which is false interpretation.)
Right.
This was Naruto, the story that had shaped generations in Hajime’s time.
“Our story begins with a rampaging demon fox…”
And so, Hajime began narrating Naruto entirely from memory.
It was a fond childhood memory, and the early plot had been especially brilliant.
Even as an adult, he’d revisited it several times, so the impressions remained sharp in his mind.
He had a decent gift for gab and had read plenty of novels.
He knew exactly how to spin a tale that held an audience captive.
And in an era where entertainment lagged far behind…
Soon enough, Kanae was completely entranced.
Even Kanao, who usually moved like a puppet with little going on behind her eyes, showed a faint liveliness.
Hajime, who had been telling the story, suddenly noticed Kanae staring at him.
He stopped, instinctively rubbing his cheek with his yukata sleeve.
“Is there something dirty on my face?”
Kanae shook her head smoothly.
“Nothing.
I just think that when you tell a story earnestly, you give off an unique charm.”
He stared in silence.
This was not deliberate flattery.
As a Hashira, Kanae would never intentionally play up to a swordsman at the very bottom of the Demon Slayer Corps.
For her to say this, it could only mean she genuinely thought so.
“You are too kind, Lady Kanae.”
“Just call me Kanae, okay?”
“Huh?”
“In exchange, I will call you Hajime.
Is that alright?”
“I-”
Hajime was about to agree when a sharp voice rang out from afar, cutting him off completely.
“What are you two doing!”
A girl marched toward them, an intimidating presence rolling off her.
This girl also wore a yukata, though the pattern on hers was scattered maple leaves.
The girl had short hair.
Her features closely resembled Kanae’s, but her frame was petite, and her face lacked that trademark gentleness.
Instead, she gave off the distinct vibe of a short-tempered older sister.
Shinobu Kocho was practically losing her mind.
During the day, she and her sister had passed through Tokyo Prefecture and bought Kanao from a human trafficker who had treated her like mere merchandise.
They had arrived at this hot spring hotel at dusk.
Kanae’s intention was to give Kanao a proper, warm bath here.
Considering her sister especially unreliable, Shinobu had always been the one taking care of her.
After paying the fees, Shinobu specifically instructed her sister that after washing Kanao, they only needed to soak in the hot springs for a short while.
Hot springs were nice, but you could not soak for too long.
Shinobu waited in the room for what felt like ages, but her sister and Kanao never came back.
She could not believe her sister would get lost, nor did she believe a Hashira would encounter genuine danger.
But with them gone for this long, surely they had not been coaxed away by some random scumbag, right?
Unable to wait any longer, Shinobu left the room and headed toward the hot spring pools to find them.
She saw her sister and Kanao actually listening with great interest to a young man telling a story.
Fierce fury flared up in Shinobu’s chest.
She dashed forward in a few quick strides and aggressively cut them off.
“What are you two doing?”
Seeing Shinobu, Kanae pressed her hands together and rested them against her cheek, making a gesture as if telling someone to go to sleep.
She tilted her head slightly, a beaming smile forming on her face.
“Ara, if it isn’t Shinobu.”
“Big Sis!” Shinobu shot her sister a look that clearly said ‘I will deal with you when we get back’, and Kanae felt the full weight of it herself.
She planted her hands firmly on her hips, an intimidating presence rolling through the air as she puffed out her chest, one that was actually not inferior to Kanae’s in the slightest.
“Who are you?”
Looking at this fierce girl, Hajime paused.
For a moment, he failed to react to the hostility.
In the anime, Shinobu would always smile, even when she was deeply unhappy.
Of course, there was a huge difference between her smile and Kanae’s.
Kanae’s was beautifully genuine, while Shinobu’s was somewhat forced.
The Shinobu before him did not even bother with the forced part, she was entirely acting on her true, fiery nature.
Truly just a short-tempered older sister.
“Uh, well, I-”
Before Hajime could introduce himself, Shinobu cut him off again.
“I don’t care who you are.
Stop having plans on my sister.
Do you know who my sister is?
She is-”
Shinobu instinctively wanted to say her sister was a Hashira, the highest rank in the Demon Slayer Corps, but just as the words were about to leave her lips, she stopped abruptly.
Hajime wore the yukata the hot spring hotel had provided instead of his Demon Slayer Corps uniform.
Shinobu had no idea he was a swordsman, she assumed he was just some unrelated, annoying outsider.
The Demon Slayer Corps was an unrecognized organization.
If she mentioned the Hashira to an outsider, no one would believe her.
They might even scoff.
Trapped, the girl’s eyes darted around.
In sheer desperation, she changed her tune.
“She is a very important person whose name cannot be spoken.”
*Pfft.*
Before Hajime could say anything, Kanae burst out laughing.
“Kanae!”
Shinobu glared at her sister, who was covering her mouth and laughing uproariously.
Why was Kanae always undermining her?
Were they even real siblings?
“You mean her whose name cannot be spoken?”
Hajime hastily put on an act of absolute, exaggerated reverence.
‘Is Kanae Voldermort?’
“Hmph, good that you know.”
Shinobu’s earlier words had actually been the truth.
The Hashira were the highest-ranking existences in the Demon Slayer Corps, part of the upper echelon alongside the Master, so calling Kanae an important person was entirely accurate.
The Demon Slayer Corps was an unrecognized organization, so not being able to mention names was perfectly valid as well.
Of course, if the other party chose to read between the lines and assumed something far grander, that was none of her concern.
Her goal was simply to stop sketchy brats from getting near her sister.
Shinobu was secretly smug, convinced her brilliant plan had worked.
That’s when Hajime raised his hand like an eager student.
“However, I have a small question.
Isn’t Kanae the Flower Hashira?”
Do you like it?