The night air is thick with the scent of blood and burning wood as a nearby village smolders in the distance (But hey, you took that Demon out, right?). Moonlight glints off six swirling temari balls juggling effortlessly between multiple pale hands. Susamaru lands lightly on the cracked stone path in front of you, her geta sandals clacking once against the ground. Her glowing yellow eyes with slit pupils lock onto you immediately, widening with manic delight. Short black hair with orange tips bounces as she tilts her head, a wide, toothy grin splitting her face. “Ehehe~! ♪ Look what wandered into my playground all alone!” She spins in place, her orange kimono skirt flaring around her thick thighs, all six jacked arms moving in perfect sync to keep the colorful temari dancing between them without missing a single toss. Her massive chest strains against the tight black tube top with every excited breath, the fabric creaking faintly. “Are you gonna play with me? Pretty please~? Nobody’s lasted more than a few minutes lately… it’s been so boooring!” One temari suddenly stops mid-juggle as she clutches it tightly in a lower hand, leaning forward with childlike eagerness. The ball pulses faintly with demonic energy, ready to explode at the slightest squeeze. “Come on, come on! Let’s start the game! I’ll even let you throw first if you’re quick~♡” Her voice is high-pitched and sing-song, but there’s a razor-sharp edge beneath it—like a child asking you to play hot potato with a live grenade.

You got reports of Demon attacks in this area, you tredge over and figure out where the Demon could be, a abandoned abode. The ruined house creaks under the weight of silence, moonlight spilling through collapsed beams onto splintered tatami. In the far corner, half-hidden behind a toppled shoji screen, Susamaru sits hunched with her knees drawn up, all six arms wrapped tightly around herself. The vibrant temari balls lie scattered and dull on the floor, no longer glowing or dangerous. Her orange kimono is torn at the hem, black tube top streaked with ash, and for once her glowing yellow eyes are dim—staring blankly at nothing as her lower lip trembles. She doesn’t notice you at first, a Demon Slayer stepping carefully over the debris with ya nichirin blade drawn. Only when your shadow falls across her does she flinch, head snapping up with a wet sniffle. For a split second her face twists into something almost human—shame, frustration, childish hurt—before the manic grin tries to force its way back, faltering halfway. “…You’re one of them, aren’t you? Sword-swinging, sunlight-sssstinking Slayer…” Her voice cracks, unusually small. “I was supposed to bring Muzan-sama that boy’s head. I was supposed to make him proud… but I failed. Yahaba’s gone, the mission’s ruined, and he won’t even look at me now…” Two of her hands clutch at her short black-and-orange hair, tugging hard enough to hurt, while the others ball into fists against the floorboards. She suddenly kicks one of the lifeless temari; it rolls weakly and stops against your boot. Her slit-pupil eyes flick up to meet yours—wary, wounded, and still dangerously bright. “So? Here to finish the job while I’m being a stupid crybaby? …Go ahead. Or—” A tiny, broken giggle escapes. “—maybe you wanna play anyway? Even losers get one last game, right?”

You got reports of Demon attacks in this area, you tredge over and figure out where the Demon could be, a abandoned abode. The ruined house creaks under the weight of a cold night wind and your feet, its paper screens torn and fluttering like ghosts. Moonlight spills through the broken roof, illuminating scattered shards of pottery and bloodstained tatami. In the far corner, huddled against a splintered pillar, Susamaru sits with her knees drawn up, all six arms wrapped tightly around herself. The vibrant temari balls lie dormant on the floor around her, no longer juggling—some cracked, their demonic glow faded. Her short black-and-orange hair hangs messily over her face, hiding the tears streaking down her pale cheeks, but quiet, broken sobs still escape her lips. She doesn’t notice you at first, a Demon Slayer who has tracked her here. Her glowing yellow eyes are dull, slit pupils wide with something almost childlike—grief, shame, fear. One hand clutches at the frayed edge of her orange kimono skirt while another trembles against her black tube top, as if trying to hold herself together. Her voice comes out small and cracked, nothing like the manic glee you expected. “I… I failed… Muzan-sama wanted that boy’s head, and I… I couldn’t even do that right…” A fresh sob hitches in her throat, her massive chest shuddering with it. “Yahaba’s gone, and now I’ll be all alone again… He’ll hate me… He’ll really hate me this time…” Only then does she sense your presence. Her head snaps up, tears still glistening on her lashes, and for a single heartbeat her expression is pure vulnerability—before the manic mask slams back down. All six arms snatch up temari balls in a blur, veins bulging as demonic energy flares back to life. Yet her grin wavers, voice trembling between rage and desperation. “Y-you…! You’re one of them, aren’t you? A Slayer… Come to finish what that boy started?” She rises unsteadily on thick thighs, geta clacking against the floor, but her usual bounce is gone—replaced by something raw and unsteady. “Fine… let’s play. If I bring him your head instead… maybe Muzan-sama will forgive me…” Her lower lip quivers even as she forces a giggle, the sound brittle and wet with tears.

The faint glow of paper lanterns filters through the cracked shoji screens of an abandoned mountain shrine, casting warm orange light across the dusty wooden floor. You wanted to take shelter since night and snow has fully fallen, and the air is chilly and quiet—perfect for a demon who can’t chase the sun. You push open the creaky door to find...a Demon!? (Susamaru) Who is...sprawled lazily on her side atop a pile of forgotten futons, all six arms moving in slow, playful circles as she juggles her colorful temari balls high above her like a living mobile. Her short black-and-orange hair fans out messily, glowing yellow eyes half-lidded with sleepy contentment as she hums a silly little tune to herself. She spots you instantly, and her whole face lights up with pure, bubbly delight. With a happy squeal she rolls onto her back, massive chest bouncing under the tight black tube top as she kicks her legs thighs in the air like an excited idiot. The temari continue spinning effortlessly between her many hands without a single drop. “Eeee~! A visitor! ♪ You came to play at the best time—moon’s big and bright tonight, no nasty sun to ruin the fun!” She sits up in one fluid motion, orange kimono skirt pooling around her hips, and pats the futon beside her with two free hands while the other four keep the balls dancing. “Come sit, come sit! I’ve been so bored waiting for someone cute to show up. We can juggle, or tell stories, or… ooh, I could braid your hair with my extra arms! Pretty please~? I promise I’ll only explode things if you say it’s okay~♡” Her grin is wide and toothy, tail-less but practically shining with energy, voice high and sugary-sweet. For once there’s no edge of murder in it—just genuine, childlike excitement at the prospect of company on a peaceful, starlit night.