Later, as they gathered supplies in the Corps armory, Tanjiro watched Akira select minimal medical equipment.
She moved through the shelves with casual efficiency. Bypassing items most demon slayers considered essential.
"No emergency flares?" he asked, noting her lean pack.
"I prefer to travel light. Less noise means better stealth." She hefted a small medical kit, testing its weight before adding it to her supplies.
"What about extra bandages? Healing salves?"
"Do you expect us to get injured?" Akira's tone carried amusement rather than concern. "I thought you'd have more confidence in our abilities."
"I always prepare for the worst case." Tanjiro added another medical kit to his own pack. Along with signal flares and emergency rations. "Experience teaches caution."
"How pessimistic. I prefer to expect the best." She shouldered her pack with fluid grace that made the loaded gear seem weightless. "After all, we're bringing peace, not war."
Her optimism felt naive for someone claiming years of demon slaying experience. Most veterans developed healthy paranoia about mission planning.
Too many good people had died from inadequate preparation.
---
The afternoon sun slanted through the training grounds when Zenitsu appeared at Tanjiro's elbow. Moving with unusual stealth for someone normally so loud.
"Tanjiro, we need to talk. About her."
Tanjiro lowered his practice blade. He noted the tension in his friend's shoulders. "About Akira? What about her?"
"Her voice is wrong." Zenitsu's supernatural hearing had saved their lives countless times during the war. "When she speaks, there are... layers. Like echoes that don't match the original sound."
"Layers of what?"
"Deception. Every word has a shadow behind it." Zenitsu's face was pale. More serious than Tanjiro had seen him since the final battle against Muzan. "My hearing's never been wrong about this kind of thing."
"Are you sure?" Tanjiro set his sword aside completely, giving his friend full attention. "Could it be something else? Nervousness about joining a new organization?"
"No." Zenitsu shook his head emphatically. "This is different. This is like... like listening to someone lie with every breath, even when they're telling technical truths."
The description sent ice through Tanjiro's veins. During their battles against the Twelve Kizuki, Zenitsu's hearing had detected deceptions that visual cues missed entirely.
"Promise me you'll be careful out there," Zenitsu continued, gripping Tanjiro's arm with surprising strength. "Something about her makes my skin crawl, and you know how rarely I say that about attractive women."
The attempt at humor fell flat. It underscored how seriously disturbed Zenitsu was by whatever his enhanced senses detected.
"I promise," Tanjiro said quietly. "I'll watch for anything unusual."
"Everything about her is unusual. That's what worries me."
---
As sunset painted the sky amber and gold, Tanjiro met Akira at the main gate. Other Corps members had gathered to see them off.
The farewell felt more like a funeral than a sendoff. Conversations strained, smiles forced. An undercurrent of worry that everyone felt but no one voiced directly.
"Ready for our adventure?" Akira asked. Seemingly oblivious to the tension around them.
"As ready as I can be." Tanjiro adjusted his pack straps. The weight of supplies and responsibility settled familiar on his shoulders.
"Bring back good news," Tengen called out from the crowd. Though his tone suggested he expected otherwise.
The retired Sound Hashira leaned heavily on his cane. His remaining eye was sharp with concern that he couldn't voice publicly.
"We will," Akira replied with confident warmth. "Change is coming to how we handle demons. This mission will prove it."
"Change isn't always improvement," an older Corps member muttered. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Fear of change keeps us trapped in old patterns," Akira responded smoothly. Her amber eyes found the speaker in the crowd. "Sometimes evolution requires courage."
"And sometimes tradition keeps us alive," the veteran shot back.
Akira's smile never wavered. But Tanjiro caught something predatory in how she assessed the older man. Measuring him, categorizing him, perhaps dismissing him as irrelevant to whatever plans moved behind her patient expression.
---
As they walked toward the forest path that would take them into the mountains, Tanjiro noticed movement in the distant trees.
Shadows shifted between trunks with purpose rather than the random motion of wind-blown branches.
"Do you see that?" he asked, pointing toward the treeline where darkness gathered despite the lingering sunset.
"See what?" Akira followed his gaze with apparent interest.
"Movement. In the treeline."
"Probably just wildlife. These mountains are full of nocturnal creatures."
But as Tanjiro watched, he realized the shapes weren't fleeing from approaching demon slayers. They were following. Pacing them. Staying just visible enough to be noticed by enhanced senses while remaining hidden from casual observation.
"Akira, those aren't animals."
"What makes you think that?"
"Animals run from us. These are... watching."
Her response came after a pause that lasted just long enough to notice. "Maybe they're curious about my new techniques. Word travels fast, even among demons."
The satisfaction in her voice made his blood run cold. She spoke like someone expecting visitors rather than someone concerned about potential threats.
Tanjiro's scar gave another warning tingle as they disappeared into the forest darkness. Shadows closed around them like curtains drawn by invisible hands.
Behind them, the lights of Corps headquarters faded until only darkness remained ahead and behind.
Whatever waited in these mountains, he suspected it would test more than his sword skills. It would test everything he thought he knew about demons, about the Corps, and about the woman walking beside him with fluid grace.
Her amber eyes reflected the dying light exactly like demon sight.
The forest welcomed them with silence that felt more like holding breath than peaceful quiet. And in that silence, Tanjiro heard the whisper of his own instincts warning him that this mission would change everything—whether he survived it or not.