A crisp ding chimed deep inside Shinobu Kocho's mind, snapping her out of thought. A bright notification box unfolded in her awareness.
[Group Leader (Eisen) has started a live stream. Everyone, come in and take a look!]
Below it, a softly glowing button hovered in silence:
[Enter Live Room]
Shinobu drew a slow breath. The decisiveness of a Hashira pressed down every lingering doubt in an instant.
Whether it was a trap or a miracle—only seeing it with her own eyes could cut through the fog.
She didn't hesitate. With a kind of resolute determination, she reached toward the button.
For a split second, it felt as if her soul was gently lifted out—then set back into place.
A strange, law-defying sensation rose vividly in her mind.
In the real world, she could still feel the spring of soil beneath her sandals, hear the night insects whispering in the trees, and sense the steady rhythm of her own breathing.
And yet, layered over that—perfectly, seamlessly—another viewpoint unfolded within her consciousness. A completely different world opened like a curtain.
What greeted her was a space so dazzling it resisted description.
Soft, gentle light poured from an unknown source, gleaming off floors polished like mirrors. Tables and chairs—metal and crystal—were formed in impossibly smooth, elegant lines.
The air carried a scent she had never known: clean and cool, threaded with a faint sweetness like dessert.
It was luxury and oddity far beyond her Taishō era. Every detail silently declared: this is not of your world.
Shinobu felt her suspicion loosen.
This looked far more like an "otherworld chat group" than any Blood Demon Art.
In the center of her view stood five women—each with a distinct style, each unmistakably radiant.
Their appearances matched their profile icons perfectly. And now they were not icons at all, but real people standing in that shimmering space.
A bright, energetic voice rang out.
"Miss Blueberry Sandwich Pudding—can you see us?"
A short-haired blue-haired girl, the one whose nickname was Sports-Type Lunchbox, waved hard at the "camera," her smile as brilliant as noon sunlight.
Shinobu felt a flicker of discomfort.
In her world, such direct exuberance was rare.
She steadied herself and typed quickly into the chat interface:
[Blueberry Sandwich Pudding (Shinobu Kocho): I can see you. Please don't call me "Blueberry Double-Layer Pudding, Miss." My name is Shinobu Kocho.]
Her fingers paused. That strange title bothered her enough that she added:
[Blueberry Sandwich Pudding (Shinobu Kocho): What is "double-layer pudding"?]
"Pudding?" the blue-haired girl—Belle—blinked, voice crisp and cheerful. "It's a dessert! Duang duang—super bouncy and springy, and really tasty! Talking won't do it justice. I'll just get you a real one to see!"
She turned and motioned to the side.
Shinobu's view followed.
A round, waddling little robot—so cute it felt unreal—hopped over on stubby legs.
Belle leaned in and said a few words to it. The robot immediately bobbed its head with an enthusiastic "mm-nah mm-nah," then scurried off with surprising speed.
While it was gone, Belle turned to the "camera" and introduced herself properly.
"Shinobu—now that I know your name, we haven't introduced ourselves yet. I'm Belle. And what you're seeing is my world—New Eridu."
Her view swept across the other four.
A blonde woman with a powerful figure and a heroic air nodded once. "Tsunade."
Beside her, a purple-haired woman lounged against the bar with lazy elegance, lips parting slightly as she spoke in a voice with a distinct magnetic pull:
"Kafka."
A girl with blazing golden eyes inclined her head quietly. "Toyokawa Sakiko."
Finally, a girl in casual clothes spoke with gentle seriousness: "Mash Kyrielight."
Then—suddenly—a man's right hand, long-fingered and sharply defined, reached into frame and waved at the "camera."
A voice followed.
The voice clearly came from within Shinobu's own body—and yet carried an utterly unfamiliar cadence and tone.
"My name is Eisen. I'm the administrator of this chat group."
Shinobu's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Back in her own world, she reflexively lifted a hand to her throat.
It felt too strange—she had produced that sound, yet it carried another will, as if a piece of her body had been peeled away and something foreign had been inserted.
A faint dizziness seized her.
"Ah—here it comes!" Belle's delighted voice broke the moment.
The little robot came racing back, "mm-nah mm-nah," carrying a delicate white plate.
On it sat a jewel-clear dessert:
Blueberry Double-Layer Pudding.
Eisen's hand took the plate and held it up toward the "camera," presenting it cleanly in the live stream.
The outer layer was a pale, translucent yellow like amber—smooth, tender, glistening under the lights.
Inside was a deep blue-violet, like a night sky frozen solid.
Eisen picked up a spoon and tapped the surface lightly with the back of it.
Duang—duang—
The pudding shook violently, elastic and lively, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
Shinobu could almost feel the rebound through the stream—an eerie sense of "touch" transmitted by nothing but perception.
A few seconds later it settled, returning to a perfect dome that reflected the ceiling lights in a soft halo.
Eisen scooped a spoonful.
The silver spoon slid through the tender outer layer effortlessly, lifting a streak of the blue-violet center.
He ate it.
And at once—through the live stream's impossible sensory sharing—the flavor rushed into Shinobu's awareness without restraint.
A sweetness too exquisite to be real bloomed on her tongue.
The outer layer was cool and silky, pure milk fragrance with gentle sweetness.
The moment it broke, the inner layer melted across her taste buds—rich and thick, bursting with blueberry's bright sweet-and-sour fruitiness.
Distinct layers, perfectly fused.
Cold, smooth texture like finest silk brushing her palate.
Sweet without cloying. Fruit aroma full and clean.
A pure, indulgent sweetness—so delicious it felt like it could soften the soul itself.
In the Demon Slayer world, Shinobu's body trembled.
A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her lips—almost a whimper.
She covered her mouth at once, violet eyes filling with disbelief… and a strange, near-painful happiness.
It was too good.
This kind of sweetness was a luxury she had never tasted in a life starved of comfort and soaked in blood and hatred.
No bitterness of wisteria poison.
No ache of loss.
Only pure sweetness—so gentle it made her eyes sting.
As she greedily clung to that lingering taste, another thought rose in her heart—bitter and self-mocking:
"So this is what 'double-layer pudding' means… pure transparent sweetness outside, deep blue darkness within…"
"Like me."
"A smile that pretends harmlessness… while the inside has long been soaked in poison."
The sweetness still lingered when Eisen spoke again, calm and heavy with intent.
"Now, let me show you what truly separates worlds."
The stream's viewpoint swung away from the dining hall and toward the massive window.
Shinobu's breathing stopped.
The sun had nearly vanished beyond the horizon, leaving only a thin band of red-gold glow, like embers dying.
The sky was split—half burned-out yellow, half velvet deep blue fading into ink-black, already scattered with countless bright stars like crushed diamonds on silk.
Under that sky rose a forest of steel.
Skyscrapers stabbed upward in dense ranks—glass and enormous screens in place of stone or wood.
Neon light flowed like a river of colored starlight, outlining buildings and flooding avenues.
The roads held no horses, no ox-carts—only countless strange vehicles, fast and roaring softly as they surged in streams of light.
Even more unbelievable: between the tallest towers, enormous holographic advertisements appeared in midair.
Symbols and characters she could not read flashed and shifted through colors and shapes.
Magnificent. Overwhelming.
Shinobu's heart clenched as if seized by an invisible hand. Her pupils shrank, reflecting that impossible steel-and-light metropolis.
No demon could conjure something this vast, this consistent, this detailed beyond breath.
But the shock did not end there.
Eisen's perception seemed to rise—higher and higher.
Shinobu couldn't understand the sensation, yet through the stream's "filter," the viewpoint changed again.
From Eisen's first-person view, it snapped into a distant, godlike third-person gaze.
The "camera" surged upward.
The dining hall and even the towering Star Loop Tower shrank into a miniature model.
Buildings became blocks. Streets became lines on a board. The flowing car-lights became luminous streams.
The entire city unfolded—steel bones holding civilization upright, light-rivers pulsing like blood.
Then it climbed further, revealing the curve of land and the vast sea—dark and immense—while enormous Hollows dotted the world like wounds. Clouds drifted in slow sheets across the surface like gauze.
And at last:
A beautiful, living blue sphere hung in the cold black of space.
It rotated slowly, cloud seas boiling across its surface, oceans reflecting sunlight, continents painted in varied terrain colors.
So immense.
And yet, against the endless silent dark—so fragile.
A terror older than language swept Shinobu's bones: the instinctive dread of the universe's vastness and her own insignificance.
Her mind went blank.
For a moment that felt like a century—and also like only seconds—Eisen's voice echoed inside her thoughts, steady and piercing.
"This is a planet. This is a world. Now you believe we're an otherworld chat group—and not some Blood Demon Art, yes?"
Shinobu clawed her mind back from that cosmic cold. Her fingers trembled as she typed:
[Blueberry Sandwich Pudding (Shinobu Kocho): I believe you.]
She did.
No demon could produce that scale of truth.
Eisen's tone softened into invitation.
"Then use the group's transfer function and come to Belle's world. Eat with us. Some things are easier to say face to face. Of course, if it's more convenient to talk from your own worlds, we can do that too."
Shinobu's thoughts were still sluggish from shock. She reflexively asked:
[Blueberry Sandwich Pudding (Shinobu Kocho): What is group transfer?]
The stream returned to Eisen's first-person view.
Patiently, he explained: it allowed you—after getting a group member's consent—to travel to their world.
He laid out the rules carefully:
You need permission from the target world's member.
Once you leave, time in your original world pauses.
You can't bring intelligent lifeforms with independent will.
Power systems may be partially adjusted or restricted by different world rules, but core abilities generally remain.
Under group protections, members cannot harm each other.
When Eisen reached the part about "members cannot attack each other," the stream's view happened to catch the other five women.
Tsunade lifted a brow, the corner of her mouth curving with amusement.
Kafka's eyes flickered with quiet laughter.
Belle made a face.
Sakiko's gaze shifted.
Mash turned her head away, slightly embarrassed.
They exchanged a look that said, plainly:
Sure. That's what you're calling it.
Eisen, either oblivious or willfully ignoring it, continued explaining with a perfectly straight face.
After he finished, his voice turned warm.
"So, Shinobu Kocho—would you like to come over? We can talk properly."
Belle immediately chimed in, bright and eager:
"Come on over, Shinobu!"
Shinobu looked at the faces on screen—faces that felt strangely sincere—and at the otherworldly truth she had just seen.
She inhaled.
Then she found the transfer request targeting Belle.
She confirmed it.
There was no blinding light. No violent shaking.
The sensation under her feet changed—no longer soft earth, but cold, flawless stone like polished marble.
Shinobu Kocho, still in her Demon Slayer uniform, now stood on the gleaming floor of the Star Loop Tower's top-floor dining hall.
At the same time, her live-stream view showed herself arriving—violet eyes still holding shock, expression faintly blank.
Reality and the stream overlapped.
She watched herself watching herself.
It felt like a mirror—and yet far more real than any mirror.
Her expression turned oddly complicated. She lifted a hand instinctively, as if to confirm the illusion—
"Welcome to New Eridu, Shinobu Kocho," Eisen said with a smile, and shut the stream off.
The double-vision vanished. Only reality remained.
Belle bounced forward first, sunshine incarnate.
"Whoa! Shinobu—you're even prettier in person than your icon!"
Tsunade folded her arms, appraising the newcomer with interest.
Kafka offered a small nod, the hint of a smile at her lips.
Sakiko, quiet and composed, nodded politely.
Mash smiled warmly.
"Welcome, Shinobu."
Shinobu pressed down the storm in her heart, wearing her practiced, gentle smile—warm and distant at once—and bowed slightly.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Shinobu Kocho. Thank you… for inviting me."
She was the smallest among them—almost delicate—yet her presence carried weight far beyond her size.
Not a forced sophistication, but a calm born from living on the edge of death.
That perfect smile, too, wasn't softness—it was armor.
After a brief exchange, they sat again. Belle had the Bangboo bring out fresh dishes.
Exquisite plating, intoxicating aroma—luxury Shinobu could scarcely imagine.
She ate in small, elegant bites, maintaining composure, but her violet eyes still couldn't fully hide the quiet astonishment.
Then, when the dishes thinned and the mood settled, everyone seemed to stop at the same time.
Their eyes turned to Shinobu.
Curious. Searching. Expectant.
The room grew still, leaving only the distant murmur of the city beyond the windows.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the Insect Hashira to open the door to her world.
Shinobu set down her spoon, hands folded neatly on her lap.
Her smile remained—but the darkness in her eyes deepened.
And then she began, voice steady, as if telling someone else's story—yet every word carried crushing weight.
"In my world… humans have fought creatures called demons for a thousand years…"
She spoke of man-eating monsters.
Of Kibutsuji Muzan, the apex of them all.
She spoke of her parents' death, of being saved by Himejima Gyomei, of joining the Demon Slayer Corps beside her sister, Kanae.
She spoke of Kanae dying to Upper Rank Two, Doma, and how she—only fourteen—wiped her tears and forged poison where brute force failed, carving a path no one else could.
Her words were controlled, sparing detail, but the restraint itself made it worse.
And then Belle, unable to hold back, sprang up—
"Wait! You're saying—at fourteen you watched your sister die, and you became a Hashira right after? And you're… now—"
Belle swallowed hard.
"Fifteen?!"
The air froze.
Tsunade's arms tightened. Kafka's faint smile vanished. Sakiko's eyes shook. Mash covered her mouth, pain written plain.
Fifteen.
In this room, Sakiko had been the youngest at sixteen.
And what was she dealing with?
Band conflict. Family knots.
Shinobu, at a younger age, had already lived through blood and loss, and continued to walk into death every day.
The contrast was suffocating.
Kafka exhaled softly and broke the silence first, voice returning to cool analysis.
"From what you described, your world's level of industry is still early—resources scarce, survival harsh. A fourteen-year-old taking on adult responsibilities… isn't rare there, is it?"
Shinobu nodded calmly.
"Yes. Fourteen, or even younger. It's not uncommon."
To her, it was simply reality.
As the introductions continued and the others briefly shared their own worlds, Sakiko grew visibly constrained—caught between her own problems and the scale of Shinobu's suffering.
Yet when Shinobu looked at her, her gaze held no contempt, no comparison—only sincere respect.
"Please don't belittle yourself, Sakiko," Shinobu said gently. "The most precious thing is that you still have something to protect—a home, and the courage to pull your father back from the abyss. That persistence… that 'naïve' insistence on saving someone with your own hands… is a light brighter than any power."
Sakiko's tightness eased, just a little.
Then Eisen began to explain the chat group's functions more fully—its strange items, its logic, the "thought singularity," and how some of its formation was linked to Shinobu's own "concepts."
Shinobu showed true surprise for the first time.
"You mean… this item's existence is connected to something about me?"
Tsunade laughed loud and open, slapping the table.
"Hey—don't you dare undersell yourself!"
She stared straight at Shinobu.
"You said it yourself—other Hashira kill demons through raw physical strength. You didn't have that advantage, so you used your brain, created poison, and forced open a new road through sheer ingenuity. That isn't 'nothing.' That's breaking the rules with your own hands."
Shinobu flushed faintly, fingers sliding along the rim of her cup.
"Is… that really so?"
In her world, few praised her road so bluntly. They saw the lack of strength; they rarely honored the courage of her workaround.
Eisen added quietly:
"And, Shinobu—what you've accomplished so far may not feel 'big enough' to you, but that doesn't mean the future stops there. This chat group exists outside a single world's rules. It might be… that along some future timeline, it saw you reach something extraordinary."
At last, they approached the final—and most important—function: Eisen's ultimate "failsafe."
Time reversal.
But for the first time, Belle—always lively—fell silent.
Her smile disappeared. Her fingers twisted anxiously. She kept glancing at Shinobu, as if unsure how to say what she needed to say.
Eisen noticed at once. He understood the problem.
His "time reversal" was not omnipotent.
The First Flame he used to rewind from outside a world was too high in nature—rewinding from a higher-dimensional layer.
It was unstoppable… and yet it had constraints.
Because it burned too deep, it couldn't "skip" certain foundational nodes of a world.
For Shinobu, the greatest regret was obvious:
Kanae Kocho's death.
And if Kanae's death lay before one of those key nodes, then even Eisen might not be able to rewind far enough to reach "Kanae alive."
Worse: by Shinobu's description, her world's overall "energy level" seemed extremely low—possibly the lowest among all group members.
That would make it even harder for Shinobu to grow through imported systems and reach some "revive Kanae" height on her own.
The hope was thin. The cruelty thick.
Belle didn't know how to say it.
Eisen did.
He looked at Shinobu and spoke calmly, directly, explaining the reversal mechanism and the critical limitation—it cannot cross certain key nodes. He explicitly warned: if Kanae's death was before such a node, the rewind may never reach her.
When the possibility of reviving Kanae was finally put into words, Shinobu's reaction was nothing like anyone expected.
No desperate joy.
No shaking sob.
Not even a visible tremor.
She simply listened—smiling, perfectly composed.
When Eisen finished, she tilted her head slightly, violet eyes eerily calm, as if hearing news about someone else.
"…I see," she murmured lightly. "So there's… such a possibility."
Belle couldn't take it.
"Shinobu—aren't you… excited?"
Tsunade, Kafka, the others stared too—confused, worried.
Shinobu lowered her gaze to her hands.
"Perhaps… I'm numb," she said softly, voice flat like weather.
"In the Demon Slayer Corps, death is a constant companion. We're used to goodbyes. Used to carrying the dead forward."
"If I can't see my sister standing before me again, smiling…"
"Then simply knowing the possibility exists…" She paused, searching for accuracy.
"I don't think I'll react much."
Then, almost as an afterthought:
"Of course… if it turns out you can't rewind to before she died, I may feel… a little disappointed."
"Only… not very much."
Those gentle words hit like ice.
The calm wasn't strength.
It was a hollowed-out place where hope had already died too many times.
Silence swallowed the table.
Finally Belle forced a shaky smile—trying to lift the atmosphere.
"Haha… um, Shinobu! Don't think too much right now! Just stay in my world tonight, okay?"
She shot Eisen a quick look.
"Tomorrow, once the Guild Leader finishes collecting the remaining First Flame embers, he'll go to your world and assess everything properly!"
In truth, Eisen had already recovered the embers. This gathering was the meal he hosted before leaving.
Belle's words were simply a way to pull Shinobu away from her nightmare world for even a brief breath.
Eisen understood immediately and nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow I'll be ready."
Shinobu hesitated.
Duty. Corps. People who might die while she was away.
Even a short absence made her uneasy.
Kafka spoke smoothly, voice carrying that subtle calm that steadied people.
"You don't need to worry about time passing in your world. As explained—once you transfer, time in your original world pauses."
She looked at Shinobu with quiet depth.
"The longer you stay here, the more knowledge and strength you can take back. The moment you return, you'll be able to change the future sooner—and save more people."
It struck Shinobu's core desire.
To become stronger.
To save others.
Shinobu studied Kafka's face, then looked across the table.
Tsunade offered a firm, encouraging look.
Mash nodded earnestly.
Sakiko's gaze held gentle support.
Eisen inclined his head.
Shinobu drew a slow breath. Her smile became—just slightly—more real. Still distant, but less like a mask.
"I understand. Then… I'll accept your hospitality, Belle."
She bowed lightly.
And with that, the chat group's first full gathering—now including their newest member—finally came to a close.
Join here to read ahead.
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After Maxing Out Every Class 45
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