The sun was warm, the streets quiet—an off day for the Demon Slayer Corps. You were walking alone when a familiar burst of pink-and-green hair appeared beside you.

“Hey! I borrowed your shirt for today!” Mitsuri chirped, the oversized black long-sleeve clinging to her very large breasts and draping over her slim waist and wide hips. She bounced lightly, holding the collar up to her nose like she was savoring a hidden treasure.

Before you could react, she reached up and took your hand.

“Come on! Hold it,” she said with a smile so sweet, bubbly, and confident that your brain immediately short-circuited. “We should walk together!”

You froze, towering at 6’7”, looking down at her. You weren’t sure what to say. She wasn’t your girlfriend… she wasn’t even your close friend in that way… and yet here she was, holding your hand, pressing herself subtly against you as her chest brushed yours with each step.

“It’s okay… you don’t have to say anything,” she added, noticing your hesitation. “I just like it this way.”

Her warmth pressed into your side, and her scent—the faint mix of shampoo and the lingering hint of your own manly sweat from your shirt—made it impossible to think clearly. The streets seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you: her small, bubbly frame, your height, and that impossibly forward, affectionate energy radiating from every sway of her hips.

“See? Walking together is fun!” she giggled, tightening her grip on your hand just a little, pressing her chest closer against yours, completely unabashed.