The Hidden Demon Slayer (DEMON SLAYER X OC)

Chapter 19: An Encounter with the Hashira

The wind shifted again, no longer cold, but sharp. Nariko narrowed her eyes, fingers still hovering over her katana. Whatever presence she had felt before, it was closer now. Still shrouded, but undeniably human. Her instincts flared. It wasn't Muzan, but it wasn't safe either. Suddenly, it clicked.

"No... not demons," she whispered.

Kenzhou turned to her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"They're humans. But not ordinary ones." She turned her head slightly, attuning her senses. There it was. Subtle, disciplined breathing. A rhythm only a trained fighter could maintain. "Demon Slayers."

His body tensed immediately. "Slayers? Here?"

Nariko didn't wait. Her voice turned sharp, urgent. "Go. Now."

"What?"

"Back to Hanabi's cottage. Don't argue." She grabbed his sleeve, yanking him half a step toward the shadows. "If they see you, they will attack. They'll never believe you're not a threat."

Kenzhou's eyes searched hers, burning with uncertainty. "You expect me to leave you alone?"

"I'll handle them," she snapped. "You're not in a state to fight. Not against trained Hashira, if that's who they are. And if they recognize you, this won't be a conversation. It'll be a bloodbath."

He hesitated a second longer, jaw clenched. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turned and vanished into the trees, his footsteps silent but swift.

Nariko inhaled deeply. It was time for her to play a different role. She closed her eyes and concentrated, suppressing the visible signs of her demon blood. Slowing her healing, dimming the glow in her irises, even lowering her body temperature. A trick she'd practiced out of necessity. If she was going to face them, she had to look human. Sound human. Feel human.

Footsteps were fast approaching. They were fast. Purposeful. Two figures emerged through the treeline just moments later. Cloaks billowing, with Nichirin blades gleaming in the silver moonlight.

She recognized the insignia on their haori instantly. Nariko stiffened, every nerve on edge, but she bowed her head slightly, as if startled by their arrival and still catching her breath. "You're not demons," she said carefully.

The taller one, bearing the Flame insignia, stepped forward first. He was young and sharp-eyed, his presence radiating heat even without a flame breathing stance. His companion moved quieter, calm as a breath in fog. Mist Hashira. The real danger. As the Flame Hashira stepped a bit closer, his sharp eyes scanned Nariko from head to toe. His gaze landed on the folds of her cloak, and the faint pattern beneath it.

"You're wearing Corps uniform," he noted. "Older design. Still marked with the Demon Slayer insignia." Nariko didn't flinch. "Didn't have the heart to burn it," she replied. "Or maybe I just wanted the reminder."

The Mist Hashira's voice was soft but probing. "You served?"

"Yes. Trained under Ritsuka-san. I was still active until two years ago." That name made them pause, just long enough to be noticeable. "You trained under the Water Hashira?" the Flame one asked, voice less guarded now. "She went missing around the same time you left."

Nariko kept her voice steady. "I was on a mission near my home village when it was attacked. I survived, but... something changed in me. I couldn't go back. I didn't think I was worthy."

The Mist Hashira's gaze was unreadable. "That's not your choice to make."

"No. But it felt like the right one at the time."

They both went quiet. The tension hadn't disappeared, but it had shifted. Nariko wasn't just a stranger now. She was a former comrade. A Demon Slayer like them. One who had been through something, and maybe hadn't come out the same. The Flame Hashira finally nodded. "Then you know what's at stake. If the demon returns, we hunt it down. If you feel anything out of place, you let us know immediately."

Nariko gave a curt nod. "Understood."

The Mist Hashira lingered a moment longer before turning away, disappearing into the forest like a shadow. The other followed, his flame-patterned haori rippling behind him. As their presence faded, Nariko let out a slow, controlled breath. That moment of recognition - her old uniform, her master's name - had bought her just enough trust to deflect suspicion. But she knew it wouldn't last. They wouldn't leave the area until they were sure. And if they dug deeper into her past, or sensed the truth in her blood, she wouldn't be able to lie her way out again.

"I hope they don't find Kenzhou soon," she mumbled under her breath. As Nariko vanished into the trees, her footsteps light and practiced, the Flame and Mist Hashira lingered in the clearing, silent for a moment before the taller of the two finally spoke.

"Something about her form felt off," he muttered, arms folded tightly over his chest. "That wasn't Water Breathing."

"No," the Mist Hashira agreed. "It was Thunder Breathing. Fast. Sharp. But still unrefined, like she tailored it to herself." He paused, thoughtful. "Strange, considering she trained under Ritsuka."

The Flame Hashira frowned. "Ritsuka only ever took a few students... all Water Breathing users. I remember hearing she had one she couldn't get to master it, one with volatile energy. Wild talent. Maybe this is her."

"If so," the Mist Hashira mused, "then her presence here means Ritsuka might not be as far gone as we feared."

"Or she really is gone," the Flame Hashira said grimly, "and Nariko is what's left of her teachings."

Another pause.

"Thunder Breathing taught by the Water Hashira..." the Mist Hashira murmured, almost amused. "Unconventional."

"But effective," the Flame Hashira replied. "Did you feel that restraint in her movements? She's holding back. She's hiding something."

"Not fear. Guilt."

Their eyes followed the faint path Nariko had taken, the only proof of her passage the barely disturbed leaves and a quiet in the air that hadn't existed before.

"If she's telling the truth, she might be a key piece in all this."

"And if she's not?" the Mist Hashira asked softly.

"Then we do what we must."