25 Vol. II Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

With the significant reduction in Hashira-level missions, Haruto found himself with little to do aside from patrolling. As a result, he began making more frequent trips between the Swordsmith Village and Sagiri Mountain.

Hotaru Haganezuka, however, didn't seem thrilled to see Haruto loitering around the village.

"Don't tell me—it's my sword again? Something wrong with it?" Hotaru asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

"Not at all," Haruto replied calmly. "It's sturdy and exceptionally sharp."

"Then why are you always hanging around here?" Hotaru shot him a withering look. "Have you grown bold now that people trust you enough not to need a Hidden escort? Is that it?"

Haruto gave him a blank stare, scanning him up and down.

"It's because… I live here," he replied, slightly puzzled.

"Oh… right." Hotaru scratched his nose, visibly embarrassed. "That's true, you're from here."

Watching the swordsmith turn and march away, Haruto couldn't help but laugh wryly.

"Seriously? He already forgot I'm a native of the Swordsmith Village?"

Lately, Hotaru had been spending a lot of time with Kotetsu. Haruto couldn't understand what a man in his thirties had in common with a seven-year-old, but he didn't pry.

Haruto wasn't the only one facing hostility. Gotokawa, the elder swordsmith, also seemed annoyed by his presence. Even though Gotokawa's mask hid his face, Haruto could easily imagine the expression underneath.

"If you're so free, why don't you deliver this sword for me?" Gotokawa said, placing a standard Nichirin blade on the table in front of him.

"Deliver a sword?" Haruto asked, surprised. "I thought you'd stopped making swords for Demon Slayers long ago."

"This isn't for a swordsman," Gotokawa explained. "It's a personal request from Jigorou Kuwajima, who lives in Momoyama. He recently took on a new apprentice and needs a suitable Nichirin blade for them."

"Jigorou Kuwajima? The former Thunder Hashira?"

"That's right. You've been wanting to meet him, haven't you?"

"I have! There's so much I'd like to discuss about breathing techniques—especially the similarities between Breath of the Stars and Breath of Thunder."

Gotokawa nodded slightly, sheathing the blade before handing it to Haruto.

"Take this to him. Tell him you're my apprentice. He should at least grant me that courtesy."

Seizing the opportunity, Haruto roped Genya into accompanying him, and the two set off for Momoyama.

True to its name, Momoyama was a mountain covered in peach trees. As it was the peak of peach season, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of ripe fruit. Haruto's spirits soared the moment they arrived.

The sky was clear, the air fragrant, and the scenery breathtaking. No wonder Jigorou Kuwajima chose to retire here after leaving the frontlines.

"…Get a grip!"

A sudden, thunderous shout echoed from the distance. "Your behavior is pointless, Zenitsu!"

Haruto's eyes widened as he exchanged a glance with Genya.

"That shout came from over there," Genya said, pointing toward a nearby cliff.

"Running away won't solve anything! It'll only pile up more problems!"

A voice as sharp and rough as a grater answered, "No! If I keep this up, I'm going to die!"

"This level of training won't kill you! Get back here and stop embarrassing yourself, you fool!"

"Grandpa!"

"Call me Master!"

The booming voice resonated through the area, followed by a disdainful snort from ahead.

A young swordsman appeared, his jet-black hair messy and damp, framing a face filled with irritation and contempt. His thick, bold eyebrows only added to his severe expression. He noticed Haruto and Genya but said nothing, merely tugging at the magatama pendant around his neck before walking past them without a word.

Genya bristled at the apparent rudeness. "What a disrespectful—"

Haruto placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "He might be Jigorou Kuwajima's apprentice."

"A brat with no manners and a coward. Seems like the former Thunder Hashira isn't great at teaching," Genya muttered.

As they approached the commotion, they saw an old man leaning on a cane under a peach tree. He was short, with a wooden prosthetic for his right leg. Despite his small stature, his commanding presence and forceful demeanor left no doubt—this was Jigorou Kuwajima.

He was yelling at a boy clinging to the tree, sobbing uncontrollably. The boy wore a bright yellow haori with a triangular pattern, his round eyebrows drooping in despair. His face was covered in bruises, and he clung to the tree branch as if his life depended on it.

Haruto was stunned. This… is also Kuwajima's apprentice?

The scene was so absurd that Haruto almost laughed. Just as he was inwardly shaking his head, a strange vision seemed to flash before his eyes—a stream of incomprehensible comments scrolling past.

"Ah, the iconic scene!"
"Zenitsu… Did he dye his hair? Was that even a thing back then?"
"Zenitsu's fine… until he opens his mouth."
"This poor voice actor must be exhausted."

Shaking off the strange hallucination, Haruto looked up at the sky. What had been a clear day was now shrouded in dark clouds.

"Summer weather…" Haruto muttered. "A sudden thunderstorm?"

He turned toward the tree Zenitsu was perched on. Its position on the cliff made it the tallest, most isolated tree in the area.

Not good.

"Get down!" Haruto yelled, sprinting toward them. "There's going to be lightning!"

Kuwajima, however, remained unfazed. "Zenitsu, calm down! You have a gift—"

"I can't… take this anymore!" Zenitsu wailed, tears streaming down his face. The harsh training had pushed him to his limit, leaving him feeling like a brittle, dried-out statue on the verge of collapse.

A streak of white hair caught Haruto's eye—a swordsman running toward them shouted, "Lightning! Get away from the tree!"

Lightning?

Zenitsu glanced up just in time to see the yellow flashes crackling through the dark clouds.

Before he could react, a massive bolt of lightning struck the tree.

"BOOM!"

The deafening sound reverberated through the air. Haruto gasped, ears ringing. The tree was charred black in an instant, smoke rising from its remains.

"ZENITSU!" Kuwajima's voice cracked with panic as he caught the boy, who fell limp from the tree, his body smoking.

Haruto approached, speechless.

Zenitsu's once-black hair had turned bright gold, standing out starkly against his singed haori.

In the Meiji era, dyeing your hair came at quite a cost…