Demon Slayer

demon slayer SSBBW

There were few things Mitsuri hated more than waiting. Ironic considering she was the Love Hashira. It wasn’t as if the high-ranking member of the Demon Slayer Corp was outright impatient. More that she needed to be doing something or interacting with someone she had a special bond with. “How can I get to know any of these people?” She wondered while sitting around the Swordsmith Village’s Inn. Her gripe had a point. Everyone within the isolated society was quite secretive with their identity. No matter who she encountered in the village, they all had masks, keeping their expressions hidden. Mitsuri could normally handle this since she had ease pinning down other’s emotions. Yet all these villagers kept their feelings close to the chest. “Is something the matter?” One of the Inn attendants asked. Their voice caught Mitsuri off guard, nearly causing her to jump from the startling presence. “Was I talking to myself? Apologies. I suppose it’s difficult to relax when I know my comrades are out there and I’m stuck here waiting for my Nichirin Whip to finish being reforged.” “About that…” The attendant bowed apologetically as their masked face kept the same expression of detachment. “Why wouldn’t you simply wait at your headquarters? Why come all the way here? Your presence won’t make the swordsmiths work any faster.” A fair point. But Mitsuri being there had a purpose. “This new smith…from what I gathered, it’s their first time making it. Tecchin gave them the stamp of approval but I want to make sure the whip blade feels right before they finish tempering it.” True, her blade was one of the more unique weapons in the Demon Slayer Corp’s arsenal. With such expertise in handling, the smallest imperfection could ruin the whole thing and throw off Mitsuri’s stance or worse, her breathing. “Understood.” The attendant glanced at their clock, bowing once more. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way to prepare your dinner.” She wasn’t all that hungry. Most of the day had been spent idly eating rice crackers while watching nature roll on by. Boredom brought out the peckish nature in any person and Mitsuri was no exception. Little did she know that a well-meaning but manipulative plot was brewing in the village’s shadows. “She’s perfect for our future chief. Don’t you think?” “And with a blade such as hers near impossible to replicate without Tecchin, we can keep her here until she wishes to stay of her own accord.” “I don’t oppose this plan except for one thing. Won’t Lord Ubuyashiki be upset if we were to rob the Corps of a prime Hashira?” “They have new ones up and coming from what I hear. The Love Hashira can be left to our care. It’s for the sake of a strong village to last into our future.” The murmurs within the Inn subsided as the plot was now in motion. No looking back now when the Swordsmith Village would prosper as a result. A knock on Mitsuri’s door got her attention as a woman entered. “Good afternoon, Lady Kanroji. I don’t think we met properly. I’m Lady Gasuto, attendant to the Village Chief.” She introduced herself. “Mitsuri is fine.” She wolfed down another cracker, turning to the masked woman. Her kimono was a beautiful scarlet crimson, resembling autumn leaves that dangled on the trees that buried the village. The mask had a neutral but gentle look, feminine in nature. “Is this about dinner? I’m not picky so long as it’s good.” Gasuto shook her head. “Not that, though I’ll make sure the meal is especially scrumptious to make up for this inconvenience.” That had Mitsuri’s attention as she sat up, waiting for whatever bad news was needing to be delivered. Although she had a sneaking suspicion as to what it pertained to. “Your blade will need longer to forge I’m afraid.” “Gah. I knew it.” She fell back onto the tatami mat before her green legs flopped up then down. “Only Tecchin could do my Nichirin justice. Where’s he?” “Busy as well. That isn’t the end of it, however.” “There’s more bad news?” Gasuto nodded as Mitsuri sat back upright. “Well?” “As you no doubt know, your blade is special. As such, it requires specific ores and material to forge. All of which we’re on short supply in the village. Waiting for that and Lord Tecchikawahara will put you further behind than anticipated.” She bowed once more. Odd that she didn’t refer to him as Chief but Mitsuri was far too preoccupied with the delayed stay. “I understand that it's out of your control. But surely, there must be something that can be done to expedite this process.” The fact that Gasuto didn’t provide any alternate plans proved that there wasn’t much else that could be done save for waiting. Mitsuri wouldn’t get a chance to voice any ideas of her own as a knock to her door came. Gasuto shuffled aside to let the Inn’s attendants bring in her dinner. Just as promised, the meals were varying and delectable. Each one provided Mitsuri a chance to dine on local fish prepared in succulent sauces and salads drenched in fixings that’d fill anyone up in two bites. All accompanied with rice dishes that could feed half the Hashiras. “Please, don’t let me interrupt your meal. Enjoy and be sure to call upon me or any of the attendants if you need more.” Gasuto took her leave with the others, allowing Mitsuri to be in the company of herself and this personal banquet. The disappointment and frustration lingered for a few moments while Mitsuri tried to think on the positive side of things. Any rest would be good for the soul, allowing her to return to the battlefield at a 100%. “Maybe I should take it easy. Watched pots never boil.” She noted as her chopsticks plucked up the tender fish. All those thoughts of her blade and being stuck in the Swordsmith Village vanished when the meal graced her tongue. “Delicious!” She cooed, sounding just like Rentaro anytime he ate bento boxes. It made her want more, loving each bite more than the last. In her eagerness to eat Mitsuri didn’t notice the sliding door hadn’t closed all the way. The porcelain eyes of different masks staring at the pink haired girl and her stuffing session. Not one wanted to leave until they could rest comfortably knowing that Mitsuri had begun her feast and gotten a taste of their special additives. Gasuto and her attendants waited a few moments longer. They all wanted to assure that Mitsuri was eating of her own accord, that not a bite went wasted, and that she seemed to be in the throes of her dinner. All to their devious plan. Satisfied, the group shuffled away from Mitsuri’s room, not wanting a single word to catch her ears. “Phew.” Gasuto sighed with relief. “You all have impeccable timing.” “Apologies, Lady Gasuto, we were eavesdropping on your conversation. We hesitated to interrupt with dinner until Lady Mitsuri began to probe around for potential solutions.” The masked woman took no offense to the spying. “It saved me in the end.” Two lies were told back there. Any swordsmith in the village worth their salt could forge the Nishirin Whip blade as it’d become a test of sorts to showcase one’s skills. The second one was what Gasuto feared Mitsuri reacting to more than the first. “I thought she’d volunteer to go searching for that alleged ore on the spot.” “I suppose it’s good that we still have some of those spices in our warehouse.” One of the Inn attendants commented on their fortune. The spice additive was meant to help boost the caloric intake of food; a countermeasure during times of scarcity or crop failures. It helped the Swordsmith Village several times over and the Demon Slayer Corps used it for missions that’d take longer than expected. But it was meant to be sprinkled in the smallest doses onto food, not added liberally as the Inn’s chefs have done. “We’ll have to wait and see the results. Lord Doragon’eiji will be Chief in six months time. He requested a wife suitable to lead beside him.” That statement from Gasuto made her gaggle titter. “We all know Lord Doragon’eiji has peculiar tastes you want to fulfill.” “As repayment to his kindness towards you and your family.” “A nice gift to celebrate his ascension to the Chief position.” Gasuto’s blush could be seen in spite of the mask obscuring her face. She quickly shooed off the three attendants before slipping back to Mitsuri’s room. A quick glance inside revealed the Love Hashira looking slightly more plump, her figure filled out just a bit. Proof the spices were doing their job. And a good job they’d continue to do for the next few weeks. No matter the meal, those who oversaw Mitsuri’s cooking ensured that heaping spoonfuls of spices were mixed in with her food. Even other villagers who grew wise to the game offered the visiting Hashira snacks laced with the caloric additives. Though it helped that Gasuto’s personal entourage trio let it slip out what plans their Lady had with Mitsuri. Of course they’d help prepare Lord Doragon’eiji’s new wife! Feeding Mitsuri was half the effort. Most work from Gasuto and the villagers came in the form of new excuses to keep her sedentary. Not entirely under lock and key but to ensure she didn’t try to venture outside the village’s boundaries. To avoid going back to the Demon Slayers Corps HQ for temporary work. “No, it’s too dangerous without your sword.” “Please, you’re our guest. Don’t trouble yourself.” “When’s the last time you got to enjoy nature passing you by?” All were sweet nothings to keep Mitsuri content with whiling away the hours. “Maybe they all have a point. I can’t make my forging go by any faster.” She reluctantly conceded over breakfast one morning. “Yet I can’t shake the feeling something is amiss…” “Nothing’s changed around the village. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you.” Gasuto’s assurance didn’t fully do the trick. “No…something is definitely wrong…” Mitsuri finished her fourth rice bowl as she sat up, her heavy chest flopping out from her yukata. A nervous sweat made Gasuto’s mask uncomfortable. She, her assistants, and everyone else in the village was in on this whole ruse. And while they had plenty of ways to sequester Mitsuri, they all knew she had the strength to overpower them if she thought something was truly amiss. Has such a time come? Were the villagers now having to resort to full-blown imprisonment? They were so close to the ascension of Lord Doragon’eiji that Mitsuri could ruin the whole thing. Swallowing back her fears allowed Gasuto to ask. “Well, what do you think is wrong? Maybe if you were to voice your concerns, I and my staff can resolve the problem at hand.” This was a good way to throw it back to Mitsuri. There’d been times where she voiced similar fears. Simply putting it back on the Love Hashira to identify the problem resolved the issue since she struggled to do so. Today, however, it finally dawned on Mitsuri what had felt so wrong. “Wait! I know!” Gasuto trembled, waiting in dreadful anticipation before she finally said it. “I haven’t left the Inn in a while!” The first part of that declaration made Gasuto’s blood run cold, shivers of true terror arcing through her spine. Once Mitsuri finished her thought was when Gasuto could exhale in relief. Though she tried to suppress her sigh. Mitsuri assumed that the woman was breathing like normal or practicing breathing techniques special to the Swordsmith Village. Those in the hallway spying upon the conversation didn’t have to be as subtle since their collective relief was palpable. “Well, there’s a good reason why you’ve been inside the past few weeks.” Thankfully, this was one of the numerous scenarios Gasuto had prepared for. “The weather is changing. With it getting colder outside, we tend to stay inside more often.” Not a lie either as snow was on the horizon for the village. That came as a small shock to Mitsuri. Looking out the window, those red and orange leaves were gone, greeted only by bare branches that’d shed all their foliage. “Huh. When did that happen?” A fair question. Tricked into indulging for so long that she hadn’t noticed the season change over to winter. “Time is a strange thing. Only when we stop to examine it do we notice its passing.” “True…” Mitsuri ate her fried mushrooms. Everything said made sense yet she couldn’t shake the niggling doubts that gnawed at the back of her brain. “Why can’t I go outside?” Cold never stopped anyone from traveling into the wild. The world wouldn’t stop for frigid winds and ice. Another easy topic for Gasuto to cover. She went to the nearby full-length mirror, aiming it towards Mitsuri. “I believe you can see for yourself the slight problem you’ve stumbled into.” This was a risky move for her since this highlighted how much weight the Hashira had gained the past few months. But having irrefutable evidence of a different kind could potentially quell any questions for a while. Mitsuri didn’t bother to get up and close with Gasuto’s mirror. She could see herself fine enough from her position on the tatami mat. And getting too close would cut off quite a bit of her reflection as well. Her red winter robe was draped over her arms rather than her shoulders. A gift from the village to keep warm as the weather turned over as it helped during the nights. Though Mitsuri didn’t wear it properly for good reason: she couldn’t fasten it properly over her massive figure. The village’s plan had worked well in fattening Mitsuri into an immense size. Gone was a trim stomach with toned muscle for the strongest demon fights. Instead it’d bloated out into a heavy tummy. Soft to the touch, it’d been stuffed to capacity several times over which would allow Mitsuri to eat even more. A nice pillow for anyone lucky enough to rest their head against the sack. Its giant u-shaped curve dipped down against fatter thighs. There was a dispute among the villagers about what was a better point of comparison for Mitsuri’s legs. Some were adamant that wine barrels could match their circumference. Others noted that ancient elder trees in the forest couldn’t come close to those meaty legs. A minority opinion that was getting traction was that those bare blubbery thighs seemed keen on comparing them to rolled futons. ‘Just as soft too’ was their go-to argument. Only one person would be able to confirm their true girth though Gasuto never dreamed of caressing those fat legs; that was a luxury meant for Lord Doragon’eiji! However, those new fatty features were nowhere near as colossal as her chest. Already formidable when she arrived in the village, not a single soul thought breasts could grow this big. So vast that Mitsuri’s chunkier arms couldn’t reach over them, they forced her to sleep facing down. Any other position and her giant chest would smother her, Mitsuri’s soul squeezed out her body. How she could continue Total Concentration Breathing with two boulders crushing her lungs, hanging off her shoulders, was a testament to her strength as a Hashira. Only just barely could her yukata be tied just beneath her breasts. The Inn resorted to using three obi to fasten the robe to a state of ‘closed’ though only barely. Too often now would Mitsuri move around her room only for the knot to pop loose, flashing everyone within the vicinity. The last time that’d happened was what Mitsuri recalled. “I suppose you’re right. I can’t just go around the village indecent.” She sighed. “It’s a chore to be this beautiful. Though I’m sure you can empathize. Right, Gasuto?” In fact, Gasuto could not relate. Though she didn’t mind. Her duty was to Lord Doragon’eiji and his happiness. “Villagers wouldn’t want you to feel immodest either. Especially in front of mothers and their children.” “And we can’t just make me something bigger?” “There’s not enough fabric available in the Village, Mitsuri.” “True. Winter months make things scarce.” She looked over her body once more. A thought occurred to her as she tried to adjust her sash. “Oh. Could we not stitch together some extra yukatas?” The nervous sweat returned to Gasuto’s brow. “I’m decent with a needle seeing that my own sword is kind of one. Oh, speaking of, when is N-” The room’s door slid open with such a BANG that both women jumped. Gasuto nearly stumbled but steadied her legs. Couldn’t let herself fall onto Mitsuri and get lost in that cleavage. “Lady Mitsuri!” The three masked assistants to Gasuto barged in, each with a different plate of warm food. All perfect for a chilly day such as this. “We got some roasted chestnuts for you.” “And some meat buns!” “And some baked yams!” The thought of food interrupted whatever thought Mitsuri had been on. Green eyes sparkled as she scooped up the three into a hug, squishing each into her massive chest. Squirming in an effort to breathe, they all got away, letting the Love Hashira tuck into this immense snack attack. Stuffing her face hand over fist, they all left Mitsuri to her own devices. In the hallway, out of earshot, Gasuto was hunched over the floor. “I think I lost a few years of my life. Walking on the thinnest ice isn’t good for my health.” Her three attendants patted her back, reassuring the tired woman while providing whatever comfort possible. “Please don’t worry Lady Gasuto.” “We’re so close to the end.” “When the cherry blossoms bloom is when the ascension of Lord Doragon’eiji into Chief Doragon’eiji. And then the marriage! You can rest easy then.” While she appreciated the kind words with the end in sight Gasuto knew that her work wouldn’t change. Quite the opposite of a rest when she’d become the attendant for the Chief rather than a Lord of the Swordsmith Village. She could only hold out hope that the gift of Mitsuri would please the man she owed so much. With the seeds of this latest lie sewn, all that remained was to keep convincing Mitsuri to stay inside until the grand unveiling. Thankfully Gasuto and her workers didn’t need to do much else. The explanations provided that day sufficed. Mitsuri just needed more of these delicious snacks that seemed to be near-infinite. Though the only other major challenge that came to the Swordsmith Village was keeping their rations in check; if they gave the growing girl too much, they’d all starve before Spring. That didn’t come to pass, thankfully. Trees surrounding the village began to bloom into their pink cherry blossoms. A fitting accompaniment for Mitsuri during this grand unveiling. As the day had finally come. She’d meet her future husband though she still remained clueless that the wedding was today. “Lord Doragon’eiji…no, Chief Doragon’eiji.” Gasuto bowed as the man had been instructed to arrive at the Inn. “It is an honor to finally call you that.” Like Mitsuri, he wasn’t terribly fond of the title. “You’ve looked after me since I was so young. Are we not that close where we can drop the formal titles? At least when we’re mostly alone like this.” He looked down at Gasuto’s attendants. They were like family too so he didn’t mean a more casual form of speech. She raised her head from the bow while looking at the new Swordsmith Village chief with pride. His own mask had been replaced with a featureless white mask. A tradition that symbolized a new leader and the endless possibilities that could shape their new face. In his robes, he had no time to dress down for whatever his trusted attendant had in store for him. “You’ll forgive me if I can’t just shed them so easily. You’re someone who I admire and look forward to aiding.” She bowed again. In other circumstances or situations, there’d have been some unrequited love between the two. But Gasuto spoke the truth. All she wanted was to be by Chief Doragon’eiji and help him lead the Village to new prosperity. Though he wasn’t too thrilled with that, sighing, reluctantly allowing Gasuto to continue as she had. “So, what was it you asked me to come here for? You mentioned that the ceremony would serve two purposes.” “Right. Girls?” They all hurried around the sliding doors that led into an Inn room. “I recall you had an affinity for a certain type of woman.” She explained while they worked to present Doragon’eiji with his surprise. And surprised he was! Staring down Mitsuri, the woman had become so massive that leaving on her own accord would prove to be a hassle. Practically immobilized by all her body weight against the tatami mats, she seemed to not care in the slightest. Her attention was on a bushel of fruit picked fresh that morning. Each berry grazed upon as her jaw lazily chewed until Mitsuri felt a draft from outside tickle her bare skin. “Hmm? Oh my. I didn’t think I’d be having company.” Mitsuri moaned, slurping down whatever was in her hand. She tried to turn towards Doragon’eiji but couldn’t get her breasts to go along with this. Far too big for any one person or five people to handle, a whole gaggle of villagers would be needed to hoist a single breast. Stunned and truly speechless by what, or rather who, lay before him Doragon’eiji needed a moment to get his composure. “Uh…I…ahem…” Settled down was what he wanted to call his current state. Trembling hands said otherwise. “G-Gasuto. What exactly is going on?” “As a gift for your ascension to Chiefdom, Lord Ubuyashiki has allowed us wed you to the Love Hashira Mitsuri Kanroji. A way for the Swordsmith Village and Demon Slayer Corps. to strengthen their bond with one another.” “All well and good, yes. That doesn’t explain, well, why she’s so…voluptuous.” Doragon’eiji made sure to choose his words carefully as not to offend this new woman. “Wait, wed? She’s my betrothed?” “I am?” Gasuto’s three attendants helped her sit up, her massive butt keeping her propped up. Though the front weight of her chest definitely did more on that front. Each breast flopped onto either side of that thick belly that’d pinned her meaty legs against the floor for some time. “News to me too. Though I won’t complain.” She eyed Doragon’eiji up eagerly. He did seem like a lovely catch to bestow all her love onto and into him. Doragon’eiji took Gasuto’s wrist, bringing her into private as they exchanged words with each other. Mitsuri and the attendants made no effort to eavesdrop but they could all assume it had to do with what the lady caretaker meant by ‘that type of woman’. It took a moment for things to settle down before Doragon’eiji returned. “Gasuto has helped me remember what conversation I had with her. Though I wish she’d have forgotten it.” Mitsuri had gotten better at telling the emotions of these villagers despite the masks. She knew Doragon’eiji was staring daggers into Gasuto’s soul though his gaze was softer upon seeing the massive woman. “So, we’re getting married.” “Today it seems. I do apologize for you not being told. But I hope you’ll accept this in spite of the suddenness.” “Do I get to keep eating like this?” Mitsuri asked. “Uh…I’m sure that can be arranged. Right?” Gasuto and her attendants nodded. “So, it seems, yes.” “Then it’s good by me. I’ve gotten used to this village. Settling down with you doesn’t seem all that bad. At least when compared to fighting demons all night.” Mitsuri smiled as she went back to her snacking, fully programmed to do so through Gasuto’s efforts. Not bad for six months’ worth of manipulation and suggestion. Finally, Chief Doragon’eiji gets the woman he deserves! Gasuto beamed with happiness for her charge. Although, in hindsight, upon scanning all the accumulated fat on Mitsuri’s body, that maybe starting her off in Doragon’eiji’s manor would have been the better decision.