Canary had never planned on leaving her post at the Zoldyck Estate, certainly not for another realm so foreign, so steeped in an otherworldly energy that it left her breathless. One moment, she'd been diligently hunting through the far edges of the Zoldyck forest for a rare herb that the manor's chefs demanded.
The next, she found herself frozen in place before a flickering portal of blended dark primary colors. Its swirling hues emanated both allure and danger. Her curiosity, stronger than she cared to admit, urged her forward, step by step, until she had crossed over.
No sooner had she arrived than a crushing disorientation overtook her. The world felt different; everything in her senses screamed that she'd left behind the comforting aura of the place she knew best. She couldn't sense any familiar presences, no known Nen signatures.
This new environment buzzed with energies that seemed more primal, more savage. Despite her steeled composure, she felt a flicker of dread. If not for her own mastery of Nen, she doubted she would have survived those first encounters with the nightmarish creatures that roamed this land.
But survive she did. She discovered, through harrowing trial, that these beings, 'demons' was the term she'd gleaned from overhearing local conversations, would not die by normal means.
Even her staff, empowered with her aura, struggled to inflict lasting wounds. Breaking their skulls seemed one of the few surefire ways to put them down. A lesser fighter might have succumbed by now, but Canary had been trained to adapt under pressure.
She used her Nen to probe for weak points, harnessing her staff strikes with measured precision. Though the struggle felt relentless, she emerged victorious from each confrontation.
In the midst of one battle near a quiet river, where she knelt to drink fresh water, she encountered a couple from a nearby settlement—a strong man with haunted eyes, and his equally resolute, purple-haired wife. Though they were initially cautious of her strange appearance.
Her dark skin, her 4C cloud-like hair that cascaded to her mid-thigh, and the black kimono patterned with red and gold flowers that she now wore, they quickly recognised her as a savior when she dispatched four stalking demons with startling ease.
They felt indebted to Canary, insisting that she come stay under their roof for a while. She, in turn, was grateful for the help, for their home was the only place of shelter she'd encountered in days. She couldn't be certain how long this strange sojourn might last, but she knew she needed a base of operations if she was ever to discover a way home. And so she agreed, albeit with a certain nervous caution she never let fully slip from her eyes.
Soon she learned the man's name, Arata, and that he had once been a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. The settlement was modest, but the couple had six young children, each of them wide-eyed and curious.
They welcomed Canary wholeheartedly, entranced by her exotic appearance and her uncanny strength. She found it endearing how they would watch her train outside with her staff, whispering in hushed tones about her grace and lethal efficiency. She would sometimes hear them murmur, "She's not from around here…" and she would smile.
After days of uneasy rest, Canary decided if she had been thrust into a world brimming with such formidable demons, she'd need to train further. Especially in new disciplines that might enhance her ability to fight.
It was an easy step to ask Arata for swordsmanship lessons. He seemed reluctant at first, unwilling to revisit the life he had left behind, but her earnest request, combined with his sense of gratitude, won him over.
Initially, the difference between a staff and a sword felt awkward to Canary's practiced hands. She'd grown accustomed to the balance and reach of her staff, a weapon that mirrored the loyal role she'd once served, standing guard, protecting, seldom going on the offensive unless absolutely necessary. But she discovered that her reflexes translated well to swords.
Before long, she was gliding through the basic forms, each slash and thrust reminiscent of the wide arcs and short jabs she performed with her staff. Her adaptability startled Arata.
He put her through a demanding regimen from early morning until sundown for an entire day, testing how swiftly she learned new techniques.
At the end, when she disarmed him in a brief sparring match, he broke into a wry smile. "It's been a day since I started training you," Arata remarked, voice laden with disbelief, "and already I'm starting to wonder if you're some kind of sword prodigy."
She offered him a modest grin, though inwardly she glowed with a sense of pride. "I adapt quickly," she explained. "The way I grew up…it demanded that I learn everything swiftly. Or fail."
Arata studied her, clearly wanting to learn more. There was a question in his eyes.
Canary knew he yearned to unravel the mystery of this teenage girl who had come out of nowhere, brandishing strange abilities and an accent reminiscent of no region he'd ever encountered. But he said nothing.
The conversation shifted to the well-being of his children. Arata was torn about whether to teach them how to fight. He had lost too many friends and proteges to the demon threat, and the mere thought of losing a child in a demon battle weighed heavily on him.
But Canary argued gently and persuasively. "You're strong, Arata-san. I've seen you fight. But you can't be everywhere at once. If the children know some fundamental defensive moves, if they know how to handle themselves in an ambush, maybe they won't need to wait for rescue."
He sighed, relenting. "Fine. I'll train Yoshinori. He's older. As for the little ones, maybe you can show them a thing or two—enough so they won't be helpless if I'm not around."
A ripple of excitement spread among the children, especially the boy named Yoshinori, who was nearing adulthood, and his younger siblings who watched Canary with shining eyes. They all admired her strange staff-based fighting, her uncanny speed, and her quiet confidence. Eagerly, they asked if she would really train them.
She nodded, but the very idea made her reflect on her own predicament. She felt a pang of longing for the comfort of her old life, for familiarity. But no matter how much she yearned to return, she was stuck here for now, and she refused to remain idle.
Soon, Canary fell into a daily routine. Each morning, the family woke with the dawn to start their day. After helping with chores around the small homestead, fetching water, tending the garden, Canary would practice with Arata for swordsmanship.
Then, she moved on to training the children, focusing on physical conditioning and simple but effective sword forms. She taught them to sense danger, to observe the environment around them the way she did with Nen, though she kept the specifics of her Nen usage discreet.
Arata's three oldest children, Yoshinori, Yoshimasa, and the bright-eyed boy named Yukio, took to the lessons with eager determination. The younger triplets were only ten, brimming with energy and hero worship.
They revered Canary for her skill, and they especially loved hearing the bits of her story she was willing to share, sparse though the details were. A hint of intrigue clung to her, a suggestion of deeper truths she kept locked away.
Late one afternoon, after a grueling training session, Arata and Canary stood side by side on the wooden porch, sipping water and watching the sun dip below the horizon.
The family home, though small, felt suffused with warmth that was sometimes absent in the dark hallways of the Zoldyck Estate. Canary couldn't help but notice the difference.
Arata turned to her. "We never asked… Is there a place you need to return to?"
She hesitated. "Yes. But I don't know how to get back yet."
He nodded slowly, as though a puzzle piece had just slotted into place. "Well, maybe we'll find a clue in the bigger towns or near the Corps headquarters. The world has hidden corners, some of them rumored to be riddled with unusual phenomena. It's not impossible you stumbled upon one."
Canary's heart leaped at the prospect. "Do you truly think so?"
He offered a slight shrug. "Stranger things have happened. We demon slayers have come across illusions and distortions before, though none quite like what you've described. Still, it's not outside the realm of possibility."
They stood for a moment, comfortable in each other's company. Canary let the conversation fade, retreating into her own thoughts. If she could locate a demon slayer strong enough or wise enough in the ways of this world, they might provide some clue about how to return.
A pang of longing for her life in the Zoldyck Estate soared through her. She missed familiar faces, the hush of that secretive domain, and even the formalities of her butler uniform. Yet she couldn't deny a budding affection for this world and the family who had shown her so much kindness.
OoO
Time seemed to blur. Days became weeks, and soon Canary found herself quite accustomed to the rhythms of life in this demon-infested realm. She rose early, just as she had in her butler duties, beginning each day with focus.
The garden chores, the quick run-through of sword drills, the spontaneous laughter of the children, all of it formed a tapestry of calm that contrasted sharply against the violent reality she knew lurked beyond the edges of the forest.
During her second week in the household, she found herself kneeling by a modest shrine they kept in a corner of the house, listening as Yoshimasa explained it was dedicated to those who had died in demon attacks. The small shelf bore wooden plaques with names etched upon them. Arata had lost a friend named Ryo, and the children had lost an uncle.
"This is the life we lead," Yoshimasa confided in her quiet voice. "We can't stray far from safety, not in the night at least. But even that doesn't guarantee that we won't encounter them."
Canary nodded, her expression solemn. She recalled the night she had stumbled across a demon nest on her own. The memory of their glowing eyes and frantic hunger still clenched at her stomach. If she'd been weaker, if she had not possessed Nen, she might have perished.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "But you're strong, you know. The children especially, they show resilience and curiosity. Keep nurturing that."
Yoshimasa smiled. "Thank you, Canary. But truly, we owe you much. And we only hope you'll find your way home, if that's what you wish."
No matter how many times they thanked her, she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps she was the one in debt. They had taken her in, when they might easily have shunned her. A stranger from nowhere, with secret powers and a stoic demeanor. They had welcomed her wholeheartedly.
That very afternoon, while she was helping the children practice a basic kata, a traveling merchant arrived at the doorstep.
He bore herbs, fabrics, and some news from the outside world. Arata stepped out to greet him, exchanging polite words, while Canary hovered by a window inside the house, listening intently.
"Have you heard about a swordsman with a checkered haori passing through?" the merchant asked, rummaging in his cart. "They say he's on the path to becoming a demon slayer. The boy's traveling with a demon as well…though apparently it's his sister, and she's docile."
Arata tensed. "Traveling with a demon? Is that even possible?"
The merchant shrugged. "Who knows? But the gossip says he's heading east, maybe toward the mountains. They say he's got exceptional sense of smell, and he's searching for some demon with power enough to turn his sister back."
Canary's ears perked up. She wondered if this swordsman might hold some answers, or at least a clue about how demon transformations worked. If one demon could transform humans, perhaps some demon or some bizarre phenomenon might open a portal. The notion was tenuous, but in her predicament, she had to explore every possibility. A faint spark of hope lit within her.
When the merchant left, Arata stepped back inside. He eyed her curiously, well aware she'd likely overheard the conversation. "You're interested?"
She nodded. "I want to find someone who can tell me more about…unusual phenomena. Maybe if this swordsman is traveling widely, he's heard or seen something."
Arata took a while to respond. "If you leave, the road won't be easy. You'll face demons, bandits, who knows what else. But I know you can handle yourself. And frankly, if there is a chance it'll help you get home, then you should go."
He sounded almost resigned, like a father letting his child step into a greater destiny. Canary appreciated his trust. Over the past weeks, he had come to understand the measure of her determination.
Before dawn the next day, she packed a modest satchel. The children woke early to bid her farewell. Yoshinori and Yoshimasa both looked crestfallen, while the younger children clung to her arms.
Yoshinori, voice thick with emotion, said, "You better come back when you can. You promised you'd see us pass your training, right?"
With a tender pat on his shoulder, she nodded. "I will. Just because I'm searching for answers doesn't mean I won't return."She cast a glance around the small group. "Keep practicing. And watch each other's backs. If anything happens, call for me."
She exchanged a few words of gratitude with Arata, who only nodded stoically. The warmth in his eyes spoke more than his words ever could. When she turned and walked away from the cottage, her heart fluttered with a curious mix of excitement and anxiety.
She was on a journey now, one that might lead her deeper into the secrets of this demon plagued world. She only hoped it would eventually reveal a path back to her own.