The Hidden Demon Slayer (DEMON SLAYER X OC)

Chapter 22: In Her Footsteps

"Right, how do I find Ritsuka-san if I don't know where she is in the first place?" Nariko groaned and slapped a hand over her face, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet woods. "Brilliant. Truly brilliant. I could definitely be the sharpest tool in the shed."

She let her palm slide down to her chin, muttering to herself, "Let's just blindly walk into demon territory and hope my former mentor magically appears in front of me. Great plan." The trees rustled gently around her, as if the forest itself were laughing.

She stopped walking for a moment, and looked up at the sky. A canvas of dark blue scattered with stars. She let out a slow, deep sigh. Her breath fogged slightly in the cool air.

"Okay, think. Ritsuka-san wouldn't be in the city. It's too crowded. She wouldn't be at any of the known Corps stations either. Not if she was laying low. But... maybe the old training grounds?" Nariko frowned. "Unless she's moved on completely."

She pressed two fingers to her temple, squinting in thought. Ritsuka had connections, old allies, other slayers she mentored. Maybe one of them knew something. But finding them would be just as hard. Still, it was better than wandering aimlessly.

Nariko pulled her haori tighter around her shoulders and adjusted the blade strapped to her waist. "Alright. Guess we start with the places she used to go. One by one. This is definitely going to take a long time." Her voice softened with a trace of determination. "You better still be alive, Ritsuka-san. I have a lot of questions, and maybe one or two complaints." With that, she turned toward the northeast trail, her boots crunching against fallen leaves, disappearing once more into the moonlit forest.

As Nariko trudged along the narrow forest path, guided only by moonlight and memory, her thoughts grew heavier with every step. "Why did she disappear in the first place?" she muttered, brows furrowing. "The Hashira said she went off the radar the same day I was last sent on a mission. No communication, no missions. Just... vanished."

That wasn't like Ritsuka. She was strict and disciplined to the bone. She was someone who never left loose ends. If she stepped away from the Demon Slayer Corps, there had to be a reason. A serious one at that.

Nariko chewed her lower lip, the wind tugging at the edge of her haori. "Did she leave willingly?" she wondered aloud. "Or... was she forced to?"

The idea unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. If something, or someone, had gotten to Ritsuka, then it was bigger than a personal mission or quiet retirement. It could mean she was in danger, or even worse.

"Where the hell are you, Ritsuka-san..." Her voice was low, nearly drowned out by the rustling leaves. Still, she didn't stop walking. No matter how many doubts clawed at her, she had to believe that her mentor was still out there. Still alive, fighting, or even just waiting. And if there was even the smallest chance of that being true, Nariko would find her.

Three months had passed.

Nariko sat at the edge of a high cliff, legs dangling over the stone, her gaze fixed on the fog that clung stubbornly to the trees below. The wind tugged at her loose hair, carrying with it the crisp scent of pine and rain, but not a single hint of the person she was searching for. Ritsuka was still nowhere to be found.

She had crossed three prefectures, passed through burned-out villages, faded Corps waystations, and even dared to question a few traveling slayers without drawing suspicion. But all her questions led to the same dead ends. Most hadn't seen Ritsuka in over a year. A few barely even remembered her name. One thought she had retired, and another believed she had died in secret. Nariko didn't believe either.

Every night, she returned to the same questions. "Why disappear? Why the same day I was sent on that mission?"  There was no coincidence in the Corps, especially not when it came to veterans like Ritsuka.

She considered going to her fellow trainees, those who had also been under Ritsuka's wing. They might have known something. They might still be alive. But the thought of approaching them felt dangerous. If any of them had remained with the Corps, she couldn't risk exposing herself. Not until she had answers. Not until she was sure the Hashira weren't still sniffing through the ashes of her disappearance. Instead, she stayed in the shadows.

The days bled together. Her supplies were running low, and exhaustion gnawed at her bones. It was more than physical fatigue. It was the weight of chasing ghosts, of retracing memories like they were maps. She hadn't spoken to anyone in days. Maybe weeks. She'd stopped keeping count.

The supplies weren't necessary. Nariko hadn't needed food or water in months. Her body, now changed, didn't tire the same way, didn't hunger like it used to. And yet, she still carried a pack. Dried rice, herbs, flint, a worn needle and thread, traces of a life she hadn't fully let go of. She brought them out of habit, out of ritual, as if the weight of the pack kept her tethered to the person she used to be.

Beneath her haori, she clutched a thin piece of parchment. A single page from Ritsuka's old journal, found in an abandoned storehouse in the outskirts of Kagetsuchi Pass. It mentioned a place: Natsukawa. An old training field no longer used by the Corps. Faint handwriting in the margin read, "Too quiet now. Almost peaceful." It wasn't much. But it was something.

Nariko rose from the cliffside, stuffing the paper back into the pouch at her hip. Her joints ached as she stood. An ache not from age, but from weariness built over months of travel without rest, without answers. Her eyes, however, remained sharp.

"This better not be another empty trail," she murmured to herself, tightening the strap on her blade. "But if you're there, Ritsuka-san... I swear I'll find you, and you better treat me to a famous udon shop." With that, she turned east, the wind rising behind her like an unseen force urging her forward.