As the sky over Asakusa dyed itself in a twilight of mingled purple and crimson.
The red lanterns along the street lit up one by one, creating a mesmerizing scene different from the day.
Today, the woman on Akira's arm was his official wife and beloved lover, Kanroji Mitsuri.
She wore a pink kimono reminiscent of full-bloom cherry blossoms, her unique lime-green eyes sparkling as she clung to Akira.
Each time her voluptuous curves, impossible to hide even beneath the kimono, touched Akira's arm, they conveyed a pleasant resilience.
"Akira-san! Akira-san! Did you see that play earlier? When the protagonist confessed his love, my heart started pounding without me even realizing it!"
Mitsuri chattered away in a childishly excited voice. In her hand was the cherry blossom rice cake Akira had bought for her.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. You look adorable and blessed while eating."
When Akira wiped the red bean paste from the corner of Mitsuri's mouth with his finger, her face flushed like a ripe peach.
"Heehee… Since it's Kiyohime-chan's turn tomorrow, today I'm going to monopolize every single second of Akira-san's time. I won't yield to anyone."
"You're a greedy little lady, aren't you? Alright, I'll dedicate tonight entirely to you."
Akira led Mitsuri toward the Sumida River.
There, a small roofed ferryboat was prepared, with no boatman—only the two of them could board.
"Wow…! A boat ride? Oh my, it's so romantic!"
Akira rowed the boat out to the center of the river.
On the water, cherry blossom petals that had fallen from the riverbanks flowed in pink ribbons, while moonlight and lantern light reflected on the surface, shimmering and creating a dreamlike atmosphere.
The surroundings were quiet. Other boats were mere dots in the distance; only the two of them were in the middle of the river.
"Akira-san…."
Mitsuri settled between Akira's knees and looked up at him. Her eyes, bathed in moonlight, were moist.
"The mood is so good… I can't hold back."
Shyly but boldly, she took Akira's hand and brought it to her chest. Through the thin kimono, her rapid heartbeat was palpable.
"Here… no one can see us, right?"
With trembling hands, Mitsuri slowly lowered the collar of her kimono. Under the moonlight, her dazzlingly white shoulders and deep cleavage were revealed.
"Love me, Akira-san. As passionately as if this boat might capsize."
Akira could no longer resist and covered her lips with his. On the calm river, the small ferryboat began to shake violently.
The sound of lapping water, the creaking of oars, and Mitsuri's intoxicated moans mingled and spread across the river.
Making love on the swaying boat was thrilling because of its precariousness, and the openness of the wide river stimulated their instincts even more.
Thus, Mitsuri's night reached its climax on the river where cherry blossom petals flowed.
At the same time, in stark contrast to the romantic night of Asakusa, Nagao Kanao's night was a continuous ordeal of pain and anguish.
Returning to the Okita residence, Kanao collapsed onto the sofa as if falling, changing only her clothes without the energy to wash up.
The stench of blood and disinfectant she had inhaled all day at the Butterfly Mansion seemed stuck in her nostrils, refusing to fade.
"...Haa."
She looked down at her own hands. Even after washing them dozens of times, she still hallucinated that the blood of the slain corps members remained under her nails.
'Does what I'm doing have any meaning?'
Ignorant corps members, rigid regulations, and lives lost one after another.
Unlike the rational and efficient world she had learned from Akira's side, the reality of the Demon Slayer Corps was utterly wretched and primitive.
"I want to quit…."
A soft monologue escaped Kanao's lips. The weight of the Flower Hashira position pressed down on her slender shoulders.
Could she truly gain anything here? Would she be able to gather information helpful to Father?
"I miss you… Father…."
In her hardest moments, only one person came to mind first.
The person who saved her from a hellish life of slavery, gave her a name, and gave her life. Akira.
But he wasn't by her side now. Thinking of him spending happy times with his other wives made a corner of her heart ache with a throbbing pain.
She tried to chide herself, but her weary heart kept yearning for more.
A warm embrace, a gentle voice, and eyes that looked only at her.
Vwoom~ Creak.
Then, the space in the middle of the living room shimmered, and a dimensional door opened like spreading black ink.
"...?!"
As Kanao watched with startled eyes, a familiar shadow stepped out from beyond the door.
"Still awake, Kanao?"
A man dressed neatly in a kimono, smiling affectionately. It was Akira.
"Ah, Father…?!"
Kanao doubted her eyes. Thinking it might be an illusion, she rubbed them, but Akira strode over and stood before her.
"I heard you've been having a hard time with the Butterfly Mansion work. I stopped by to see how you're doing. Have you eaten?"
The moment she heard Akira's gentle voice, the thread of reason Kanao had barely held onto snapped with a pop.
"Ah… Aah…."
She sprang up from her seat and threw herself into Akira's arms. The force with which she embraced him, with a whoosh, was desperate, unlike the usual demure Kanao.
"Father… Hic… Father…!!"
"Kanao? What's wrong, did something happen? Did someone do something to you? Tell me. I'll take care of everything."
Akira was taken aback but softly stroked her trembling back.
His touch was so warm that Kanao cried out like a child.
"It's too hard… This place is hell. No one listens to me… People are dying, and I can't do anything…."
"I see… I see, it's been tough. You've worked hard."
Akira asked nothing more, simply holding her quietly until she calmed down. His sturdy chest and familiar scent comforted Kanao's weary soul.
After crying for a while, Kanao looked up at Akira with reddened eyes. Her tear-damp eyelashes and flushed cheeks.
Her gaze was no longer that of a daughter looking at her father.
"Father… I can't take it anymore."
Kanao's voice trembled faintly.
"The Demon Slayer Corps, the Flower Hashira position… I hate it all. I just want to be by your side. Like before… no, closer than before."
Her hand clenched tightly onto Akira's clothing.
"I… love you, Father. It's not respect. Like Sister Mitsuri… or Sister Shinobu… I want to be your woman too."
"...Kanao?"
Akira's eyes wavered.
"I know. It's not allowed. I'm your adopted daughter… and you're like a parent to me. But… my heart won't stop. Every time you embrace others… it feels like my heart is tearing apart."
As if resolved, Kanao untied the strings of her yukata with trembling hands.
"Look at me. I'm… not a child anymore."
The clothing slipped to the floor.
Perhaps thanks to being raised on premium ingredients and nutritious food at Akira's residence.
Kanao's naked body was mature and beautiful beyond comparison with girls her age.
Her slender waist contrasted with her full breasts, and her white, smooth skin shone dazzlingly under the light.
"Kanao, you're now…."
Akira tried to stop her in panic. But Kanao didn't retreat, pressing her bare body against Akira's chest.
"Please… hold me. Without your warmth… I might really go mad. Please… love me too."
It wasn't mere seduction. It was like a plea for salvation, a prayer for deliverance.
Creak~
Then, the tightly closed door opened slightly, and two faces popped out abruptly.
"Oh my, goodness. Master? Why are you hesitating so much?"
Ushiwakamaru watched the situation with excited eyes.
"Ushiwaka? Okita?"
"Come on, you're not even blood-related, so what's the problem? In the Heian period, aristocrats married even half-siblings. Just look at The Tale of Genji—incest is a time-honored taste of royalty! Doesn't the sense of taboo make it even better?"
Ushiwakamaru gave a thumbs-up and spouted nonsense seriously.
"That's right, Master. When Kanao-san is that desperate, refusing isn't manly. Eh~ really?"
Okita Souji yawned widely and chimed in.
"And look at that figure. She grew up so splendidly with the food we provided; isn't the harvest the farmer's right?"
"You two…."
"Well then, we'll get out of the way, so comfort her passionately. Hang in there, Kanao-san!"
The two mischievously winked, then slammed the door and disappeared.
Once again, only heavy silence and hot passion remained in the room.
"...You heard them, right? Everyone… says it's fine."
Kanao sobbed and wrapped her arms around Akira's neck. Her soft skin touched Akira's body.
"Don't abandon me. Even if just for tonight… treat me as your daughter and your woman."
Akira let out a deep sigh. Then, slowly raising his hand, he cupped Kanao's cheek.
"...Won't you regret it? You'll be crossing a river you can't return from."
"Never. A world without you is a greater hell for me. Please… take me."
At her resolute gaze, Akira's last shred of reason crumbled. He pulled Kanao's waist firmly toward him.
"Fine. If that's what you want… I'll accept it."
Akira's lips covered Kanao's. It was the moment the forbidden wall between adoptive father and daughter collapsed.
Guilt or morals melted away in their mutual longing and comfort, vanishing without a trace.
The worn-out Flower Hashira, Kanao, finally found solace that night in the arms of her savior and eternal love.
Outside, the night wind blew, but inside their room was filled with a love hotter and more intense than ever before.