Nezuko stood bathed in sunlight.
In Ryuji's mind, there wasn't any actual music playing, yet his brain automatically queued up a certain theme—because at this moment, Nezuko looked far too much like a certain ultimate lifeform from another story. (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure OST - Pillar Men Theme)
"Ne–Nezuko!"
Tanjiro's jaw nearly hit the ground. In all his memories and everything he knew, demons simply could not exist under the sun without burning to ash. So when Ryuji had claimed Nezuko could walk in sunlight, Tanjiro had brushed it off with disbelief.
But now… with his own eyes, he saw her basking in the daylight—and it left him completely stunned.
It was like watching your favorite bubblegum-pop idol suddenly become a powerhouse rock vocalist overnight—utterly unimaginable.
For Ryuji, it was surprising, yes, but not too shocking.
Yoriichi, however, stood frozen.
Because in that girl, he sensed something familiar—something that resonated with his own existence. That feeling of being born with a mission.
"That girl… she's also…"
He didn't finish. Closing his mouth, Yoriichi realized just how many tragedies had stemmed from his failure to kill Muzan.
A faint sigh escaped him.
Nezuko, meanwhile, turned toward them. Slowly, under the warm sun, she walked to Tanjiro and reached out to touch his tear-streaked face.
"Big brother…"
"Nezuko!"
They embraced, both breaking down in tears.
Ryuji raised an eyebrow.
"Huh? She's even regained her memories?"
Activating his Observation Haki, he scanned Nezuko carefully. This time, it didn't feel like he was sensing a demon at all—more like a human.
But humans didn't have this kind of vitality.
It was… solar. A life force as fierce and brilliant as the sun itself.
Ryuji realized instantly—if the courtesan demon he'd fought before were here, she wouldn't even be able to stand near Nezuko. The sunlight she now absorbed poured back out of her in every direction, a constant radiant emission.
Scientifically speaking, she had basically become a walking solar radiation source. Harmless to humans, yes—but to any creature unable to withstand the sun? Pure, lethal poison.
"How fascinating…"
Feeling her life force grow stronger under the light, Ryuji couldn't help clicking his tongue. Nezuko could no longer be called demon or human—her life was now on a different level entirely.
And it wasn't the same kind of strength as his own.
The moment he so much as entertained the thought of fighting her, his instincts screamed: You'll lose.
"Oh?"
Unwilling to accept that, Ryuji took a step forward with fighting intent. But as soon as his foot touched the ground, he understood why.
The world wouldn't let him win.
That one step landed on terrain that—by sheer "natural coincidence"—shifted just enough to throw off his stance, robbing his strike of power. Even his breathing felt off; oxygen in the air seemed thinner, carbon monoxide thicker.
It wasn't that his nose could smell the change—his mastery of blood and breath let him feel the subtle shift in oxygen exchange within his own body.
"Tch… the world's chosen daughter, huh?"
He narrowed his eyes. He hated this feeling—this rigged fight where the world itself tilted the scales.
In another world, this could mean trouble. If he faced protagonists like Rance from the Rance series, or the mercenaries from Black Beast (Blazblue), he might lose for no reason other than the narrative bending to their fate.
Just like in JoJo, where—if the original story's rules applied—only Jotaro could truly defeat Dio. Everyone else? Destined to fail.
Because that world had something called… Fate.
And now, it seemed, the world of Demon Slayer was the same.
This world was built on destiny.
Like he and Yoriichi had sensed—it birthed certain people specifically to answer certain threats.
"What a boring setup… being told to lose by the world itself feels unfair."
If he lost in a fair fight, fine—no complaints. But under such blatant bias? It soured his mood.
Still, this time he didn't mind too much. After all, he'd already guessed this world had such mechanics—the golden motes of light he'd seen earlier were clearly the world's blessing.
"And I'm just an outside mercenary here. Makes sense. Nezuko's role is probably to destroy the invading monsters. Muzan just happens to be collateral."
The world, naturally, favored its own child.
And having poured his own life energy into her earlier, Ryuji now felt a wave of drowsiness.
"All right, you two, enough staring. Time to head back. Oh, and Nezuko—once I wake up, let's go take down the last Monster. You can feel it too, right? That it's your mission? If you're not tired, spend this time getting used to your power."
Stretching lazily, Ryuji turned and started walking away.
But—
"Ryuji-san!"
A clear, bright voice called out. In the next instant, a figure appeared before him so fast his instincts flared like an alarm—he almost couldn't react in time.
It was Nezuko.
In a flash, she'd closed the distance, seizing his hand.
"Thank you. Truly! Without you… I don't know how long it would've taken for me to return to myself."
Her cheeks flushed faintly.
Before, she had been conscious, but only dimly—unable to control her body, moving purely by instinct.
It had been like living in a dream.
But near Ryuji… even just standing close to him had slowly cleared the haze. And when he had poured his life force and spiritual energy into her, it was like sunlight breaking into a pitch-black room—her muddled mind had snapped into clarity.
That was why, upon regaining herself, the first person she sought out… was him.
Even just being near him made her feel comfortable—like her body was slowly reviving, the shadow clinging to her dispelled by the warmth of his presence.
Even now, even without standing right next to him, she could feel a part of him within her—and she couldn't help craving more of that comforting aura.
The realization made her both uneasy and flustered, because when her memories had returned, she had also recalled last night—how Ryuji had teased her in ways she didn't quite know how to process, and how he had gotten far too close during their night activities.
By all rights, she should have been angry. Yet, when she faced him, she couldn't summon any real resentment—only a shy, inexplicable sense of happiness.
As if… being teased by him was somehow a good thing.
The thought made her head spin. If it were someone like Ryuji, he would probably dismiss it as the will of the world meddling—but for a girl just awakening to such feelings…
"Um, I… um…"
Nezuko stared at him, unable to form a coherent sentence. Just looking at Ryuji—his kimono carelessly worn, revealing the defined muscles of his chest—left her mind completely blank.
She didn't even know whether she should look at his face… or his chest.
"I… I…"
Watching her stammer endlessly without finishing a single thought, Ryuji's curiosity got the better of him. He reached out and placed a hand on her head.
He had never interacted with a fully conscious Nezuko before, so he had no real idea what kind of person she truly was.
"Hm? What's wrong? Don't tell me you didn't finish evolving?"
But the instant his palm touched her head—its warmth mixing with memories of the teasing, the closeness, and now his unexpected concern—her mind completely shut down.
Steam seemed to rise from her head, and the "ultimate lifeform" Nezuko… collapsed.
"Nezuko!!"
Tanjiro dashed forward, catching his sister in his arms. She hadn't fully lost consciousness—she realized quickly she needed to wake up.
Yet, knowing she had fainted simply from being patted by Ryuji filled her with such embarrassment that she covered her face with both hands… then, very slowly, peeked through a small gap in her fingers, just to look at him.
Tanjiro noticed.
He glanced at Nezuko in his arms, then at the bewildered Ryuji, and a sharp pang struck his heart.
His sister had returned to him… but it felt like she might soon be slipping away again.
Noooo!!
The cry tore through Tanjiro's mind.
"Well, if nothing else is needed, I'll be going. Tanjiro, take Yoriichi to the Demon Slayer Corps for me," Ryuji said, already turning to leave.
Nezuko might look like she liked him, but he wasn't so far gone as to do anything questionable right in front of her brother.
When Ryuji returned, Shinobu was still busy tending to patients at the medical hall. He sighed at the sight.
Most of these injuries were sword wounds from slayers clashing with each other.
For wounds like that, Ryuji had no desire to heal them—letting these people lie there quietly might be the best treatment.
So, he went back to his own quarters.
He knocked on Mai's door, but all he received in return was a fan scented faintly of her perfume. Resigned, he trudged back to his room.
After a light meal, he sprawled out on his futon, chewing on dried fish while scrolling through the information on his phone.
He was studying ancient Latin, Greek, and a variety of rare scripts. Since he still had one last use of his "genius mode," he wasn't forcing himself to fully memorize anything yet—just to store it in his mind.
Once he goes back to the genius mode, all of it would become usable skill. A little practice with speaking, and he'd have the language down.
Of course, such learning wouldn't be true mastery. Genius mode wasn't omnipotent—only skills and knowledge he had truly used could reach the level of complete fluency.
Without practice, knowledge was nothing.
"Mmm… shame I've been using genius mode purely for learning instead of creating anything. But that little time wouldn't be enough to invent something big anyway."
Yawning, Ryuji set his phone aside. It held plenty of photos…
Ryuji stared at his phone, scrolling through a gallery of very compromising photos:
• Ikumi on her knees in the shower, bubbles clinging to her skin as her tongue traced his dick
• Erina's flushed and dazed face, her usual haughtiness shattered by pleasure
• A sneaky shot of Alice's perfect butt
• Shinobu bent over, her pale butt checks marked with unmistakable white streaks of cum
• Robin's ample breasts pressed against him
• And Nami, her reluctant mouth busy giving him a blowjob despite her scowling expression
Result?
Desire, ignited.
"Ugh... this is dangerous. I should really study instead."
He glanced down at his already-erect dick briefly considering self-restraint—
—before the simmering heat in his gut flared hotter, derailing all noble intentions.
With a defeated sigh, Ryuji sprawled onto his back in a starfish position and raised his hand.
A particularly shameless idea struck him.
Golden light gathered in his palm, and in the next moment, a graceful figure appeared before him.
"Hm? You revived me again? I was just watching Shinobu tend to the wounded," said Kanae, tilting her head in confusion.
But when she saw his current state—and especially the very obvious sign of his restlessness—particularly the very conspicuous cock tenting his pants her expression turned complicated.
"Well," Ryuji said with a crooked smile, "for… various reasons, I'm bored, don't feel like studying, and I'm a bit… restless."
Ryuji met Kanae's gaze with utter calm.
"So?"
Kanae sighed, already reading his intentions. Without a word, she slipped off her shoes, revealing feet clad in pristine white socks.
"Shinobu's recovering from her injuries, Mitsuri's not ready to be conquered yet, Mai's still furious with me, Nezuko's off-limits for now, and Amane's husband is still alive..."
As he muttered his "dilemma," Ryuji leaned closer to Kanae's feet, eyes locked on the delicate curve of her ankles and the way her small, sock-clad feet flexed slightly. He inhaled deeply—
—only to be met not with foot odor, but a faint, floral scent. Unidentifiable, yet intoxicating.
"So?" Kanae crossed her arms, watching him with a mix of exasperation and amusement.
She wasn't angry. If anything, he reminded her of a child throwing a tantrum over candy—ridiculous, yet somehow endearing.
Deep down, she'd known exactly why he'd summoned her. And truthfully? She didn't mind.
Her ideal type had always been someone steadfast and reliable—qualities Ryuji did possess, buried under all that shamelessness.
Besides, he was now the linchpin of the Demon Slayer Corps. And where Shinobu went, she would follow. That troublesome little sister of hers left her no other choice.
So really, his current antics were just... entertaining.
"Please! Just one favor! Even a oral service would save me right now!"
Ryuji clung to Kanae's thighs, shamelessly savoring their firm yet slender texture as he gazed up at her with exaggerated desperation.
His request was simple: Just let me have your mouth!
But Kanae couldn't help but laugh.
This version of Ryuji—whiny, clingy, yet oddly endearing—reminded her of the little brother she'd always wanted. A mischievous but ultimately dependable sibling who'd pester her for treats and attention.
As the eldest sister, she'd always longed to provide that warmth for others. Adopting Kanao had been partly motivated by that desire—to let Shinobu experience the joys of being an older sister too.
"Alright, alright... I'll indulge you. Though I never imagined my marriage proposal would be this ridiculous."
She patted his head with one hand while covering her amused smile with the other.
Yet the moment she acknowledged her agreement, her heart raced—not with reluctance, but anticipation.
After all...
She'd seen enough to know what to expect.
Ryuji's eyes lit up. "Wait—really?! You're actually willing?!"
"Of course."
Kanae nodded. There was no need for pretense.
Her sister had already chosen this man. She herself had worried endlessly about Shinobu's well-being. Their union was inevitable—the only surprise was the timing.
Would she have preferred a traditional wedding alongside her sister? Perhaps.
But sharing a husband guaranteed they'd never be separated. And given Ryuji's... capabilities, stamina would never be an issue.
For her, this was a happy ending.
The moment she confirmed her consent, Ryuji sprang to his feet, hands seizing her waist. His grin turned wolfish as he looked at her delicate features.
"After all," Kanae added with playful resignation, "even if I refused, you'd just find a way to trap this butterfly anyway, wouldn't you?"
Kanae giggled as she felt Ryuji's hands tighten around her waist.
"Absolutely!"
Without hesitation, Ryuji captured her lips. Kanae's lips tasted entirely different from Shinobu's—if Shinobu was the pure, singular fragrance of wisteria, then Kanae was like an exquisitely arranged ikebana bouquet.
Her scent carried a harmonious blend of florals, not as sharp as her sister's but more refined, more elegant.
And the most delightful discovery?
Kanae's tongue was noticeably smaller than Shinobu's.
The older sister, yet physically less "mature" in some ways...
Ryuji's relentless assault left Kanae dizzy and disoriented. Though she'd watched her sister progress from awkwardness to proficiency, facing Ryuji herself was an entirely different battle. None of the techniques she'd observed seemed to work—she could only surrender to his plunder.
Within minutes, Kanae realized the grave miscalculation she'd made. When Ryuji finally released her, her usual composed demeanor had cracked, replaced by flustered panting.
So it wasn't that Shinobu's constitution was lacking...
The problem was simply that Ryuji wasn't someone any ordinary woman could handle alone.
This revelation only strengthened Kanae's resolve. To save her sister from an untimely demise by bedroom exhaustion, no less, she had to marry this man.
"Marvelous. As expected of the elder sister."
Ryuji wiped his lips, grinning at Kanae's heaving chest. The Breathing Style swordsmen of this world might have battered bodies, but their lung capacity was superhuman—they could even breathe while kissing!
To overwhelm them required disrupting their respiratory rhythm, a near-impossible feat given their ability to maintain precise breathing even in combat. Kissing might seem more disruptive than fighting, but for Hashira-level warriors? Child's play.
Even Shinobu, the physically weakest, had quickly adapted to Ryuji's rhythm. For someone like Kanae—a Hashira by sheer skill—it should've been effortless.
Her current defeat was purely due to inexperience.
Which meant opportunities to catch her off-guard like this were limited.
"Pardon my intrusion," Ryuji murmured, watching the rise and fall of Kanae's chest quicken with each breath. His fingers made quick work of her kimono ties, the garment falling away like cherry blossom petals shed in spring—revealing skin as pale and unblemished as fresh mochi.
Though mentally prepared, Kanae still instinctively crossed her arms over breasts slightly fuller than her sister's, the pressure creating tantalizing cleavage. Her other hand fluttered downward, attempting in vain to shield the neatly trimmed triangle of dark curls between her thighs.
Ryuji's chuckle vibrated against her collarbone as he pressed his lips there. Days of pent-up desire narrowed his world to one objective:
Brand this woman body and soul as mine.
His palm glided up from her ankle, making her toes curl reflexively. Normally he'd savor unwrapping those white tabi socks like a delicacy, but not today—
Today demanded conquest.
Fingers traced the silk of her inner thighs with deliberate slowness, parting her legs further until her pussy lay exposed. Unlike her sister's bare innocence, Kanae's petals were veiled by soft down—the pink folds beneath peeking shyly through her guarding fingers.
Rather than remove her hand, but stretched out his hand and kept stocking her thighs then Ryuji nuzzled between her thighs, his hot breath making her gasp. When she finally relinquished her defense, his tongue darted out to first tease the retreating fingertips, then—
Flick.
The moment his tongue connected with her clit, Kanae's entire body arched like a drawn bow. Her choked whimper filled the room as unfamiliar sensations erupted—tingling heat spreading outward from where Ryuji's mouth worked with single-minded focus.
"R-Ryuji-sama... please..." Her voice broke as she tangled fingers in his hair, unsure whether to push away or pull closer. "This... isn't proper..."
The protest died when his tongue plunged lower, breaching her entrance with a wet stroke that had her thighs clamping around his head. Her hips jerked involuntarily—a butterfly pinned yet still fluttering against its restraints.
Ryuji grinned against her soaked pussy.
Proper?
After tonight, she'd forget the word existed.
"Ryuji-sama... Ryu... Please, don't tease me like this..."
Despite being the older sister, the nineteen-year-old not yet twenty Kanae couldn't hold back her plea. A sob threatened to rise in her throat, though she didn't quite understand why. Tears pricked at her eyes—not from pain, but from some indescribable emotion she couldn't name.
But Ryuji didn't answer. Instead, his tongue traced slow, deliberate circles around her sensitive clit, coaxing it to stiffen before finally flicking over the delicate, tightly closed slit below. This was far more torturous than direct pressure—where a firm touch might have offered relief, the teasing strokes only left her gasping, aching for more.
She wanted to beg him to stop this torment, to press his mouth against her properly. But before she could speak, his tongue delved deeper, slipping inside with sinful precision.
Her back arched, eyes flying wide. Instinct screamed at her to push him away, yet her body betrayed her, hips tilting greedily toward that wicked tongue. The rough, wet heat of him sent shocks of pleasure through her, each stroke unraveling her restraint.
Shinobu... So this is why you made those expressions...
Her fingers twisted in the sheets as Ryuji explored her mercilessly. Revived at the peak of her physical prime, her body was more responsive than ever—every nerve alight, every sensation magnified.
Memories of her younger sister flooded her mind: Shinobu's frenzied moans, the way her face contorted between agony and ecstasy, the way she blissfully collapse into unconsciousness after each encounter.
Now, Kanae understood.
She, too, would become like that.
The thought shattered what remained of her composure.
When Ryuji's tongue found that innocent barrier—flicking, pressing, promising—something inside Kanae snapped. A scream lodged in her throat as her body convulsed—her climax crashing over her too fast, too intense. Liquid heat spilled from her core as her inner walls convulsed around Ryuji's tongue, but worse, a traitorous spurt of clear fluid followed, soaking the sheets beneath her.
The moment it happened, shame burned through her. She turned her face away, eyes squeezing shut, unable to bear his gaze. Kanae barely registered the wet heat soaking the sheets before horror dawned—
I—I just—!
Her eyes flew open in time to see Ryuji pulling back, his smirk untouched by the sparkling droplets now decorating the air between them. Of course he'd anticipated this; Shinobu had painted him with similar offerings countless times before.
When a man could piston his hips at three strokes per second for fifteen minutes straight, such reactions became inevitable.
Few could endure his relentless pace, the way he could thrust deep and unyielding, pinning a woman between pleasure and madness until she broke.
Ryuji licked his lips, savoring her taste.
A low chuckle escaped him.
"Haha… truly adorable."
With a flick of his water control technique, Ryuji sent the glistening droplets flying out the window. As they scattered into the air, a stray beam of sunlight caught them, painting a faint rainbow in their wake. The sight drew a low laugh from him.
Kanae, hearing his amusement, hesitantly opened her eyes—only to freeze at the prismatic shimmer. Then, realization struck. That rainbow was made from…
So shameful....
Her hands flew to her face, burning with humiliation. The usually composed and gentle Flower Hashira wanted to vanish. At that moment, Ryuji was nothing short of a devil in her eyes. When she finally dared to peek at him through her fingers, her gaze was a mix of flustered reproach and simmering irritation.
But Ryuji knew exactly how to redirect that shame into something far more intoxicating. His fingers trailed back to her dripping entrance, already twitching from aftershocks. Kanae bit her lip hard. Earlier, she had braced herself for pain, for the brutal loss of her purity—only for him to cruelly tease her instead. Now, however, his intent was unmistakable.
Gently parting her flushed folds, he exhaled in admiration.
"As expected of a Butterfly…"
Just like her sister Shinobu, Kanae's hidden petals unfurled into an exquisite, symmetrical pattern—a delicate mimicry of wings. For any man, penetrating her would be a trial in itself. To withdraw almost completely before thrusting back in promised unbearable stimulation. And to repeat the motion? It would feel like being caressed by the fluttering of a thousand silken wings.
But such pleasure demanded perfection:
1. Unrelenting hardness.
2. Impeccable precision.
Fail in either, and the butterfly's secret would remain locked away.
Ryuji lacked neither.
Bracing one hand against Kanae's chest, he used the other to spread her glistening petals wider. Then, under her trembling watch, he aligned himself—the broad head of his dick pressing against her soaked entrance.
"Ready to become a woman in truth?" he murmured.
Kanae drew a shaky breath and nodded. But then, surprising him, her own hands replaced his. One guided his length while the other parted pussy.
"I… I am prepared," she whispered, voice thick with resolve—and something softer. "…Husband."
The shift in title sealed her surrender.
Ryuji needed no further invitation.
With a single, relentless thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt.
~~~~~~~~~~
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