40 Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

By the time they descended the mountain, the sky had already darkened.

Himejima's imposing figure seemed to amplify everything about him—even the volume of his tears. It took quite some effort to calm him down. Meanwhile, the Butterfly sisters finished their conversation with the village chief, reaching a consensus on the sword design. However, they noted that further research was required to refine the wisteria poison.

"Patience," Tecchin Tetsuzuka reassured them. "Innovation in demon-slaying methods takes time."

"So, they'll have dinner in the village kitchen? And stay overnight in the village lodging?" Gotokawa marveled, pausing mid-motion as he carried a dish to the table.

"Yep," Haruto replied, his cheeks bulging with sticky rice dumplings coated in syrup. "Oh, by the way, Master, why'd you make so much food tonight? Are we expecting guests?"

The small table before them was crammed with lavishly prepared dishes, a sight that made Haruto's eyes gleam with excitement.

"This is tasty! Oh, and this one—wow, this is even better!"

Gotokawa's hand trembled as he resisted the urge to tug at Haruto's white hair.

What am I going to do with this boy? At this rate, he's more likely to marry food than a girl someday…

The thought of marriage brought Gotokawa back to the fleeting idea he had earlier that afternoon. Slowly, he sat down, his wrinkled face creasing into an expression of exasperated contemplation as he watched Haruto wolf down his meal.

"Haruto, you're seventeen now, aren't you?"

Haruto paused, glancing up at his master's uncharacteristically serious expression. He immediately sensed there was more to this question than met the eye.

"Yes. I just had my birthday recently."

"Seventeen… In all this time you've spent outside the village, have you never met a girl who caught your eye?" Gotokawa emphasized the word girl with deliberate weight. "You're close with the Ubuyashiki-sama, aren't you? He's got a family—children, even."

"Oh, right." Haruto nodded thoughtfully. "Shortly after I left, Lady Amane gave birth to a boy. Kagaya-sama wrote to me about it. His name is Kiriya."

"And?" Gotokawa leaned forward, eager. "What about you? Any special girl? Someone you met on the battlefield? In the Demon Slayer Corps, perhaps?"

Haruto put down his chopsticks, feigning a pensive expression. "Well… there is someone."

"Really?!" Gotokawa's eyes lit up. "Whose daughter? How old is she? Where's she from? Is she a Slayer?"

Haruto pressed his lips together, pretending to consider his words carefully. Then, with exaggerated seriousness, he said, "Her name's Tamayo. She lives in Asakusa. She's not connected to the Demon Slayer Corps, but… you probably wouldn't approve."

Gotokawa waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense! Your master isn't some rigid old relic. Age isn't an issue for me. Older women tend to be more considerate, and childbearing is usually easier for them— Wait, she's just a bit older, right?"

Haruto's face remained deadpan. "A bit older, yeah. About a century or so."

The room plunged into stunned silence.

Haruto finally looked up to meet Gotokawa's thunderstruck expression, his face as dark as the bottom of a charred pot.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No, Master. It's just… a complicated situation." Haruto sighed, putting down his bowl. "But really, why the sudden rush to marry me off? I'm so curious, I've lost my appetite."

"Don't lie to me." Gotokawa snorted, his expression softening slightly. "You've been eating like a starved wolf."

The warm light of the lantern cast shadows on Gotokawa's face, highlighting the deep lines of age and weariness. Despite his usual lively demeanor, he suddenly seemed much older.

"You know I never wanted you to train as a swordsman, right?"

Haruto nodded. It was no secret. Gotokawa had been adamantly against Haruto picking up a blade, which was why he didn't start formal training until he was almost twelve.

"Dangerous demons lurk outside the village," Gotokawa would warn him time and time again.

Even after Haruto began his training, Gotokawa constantly criticized his supposed lack of talent and warned him he'd never make a decent swordsman. On the eve of the Final Selection, his master had even tried to persuade him to drop out.

If Haruto had been an ordinary child, such relentless discouragement would have crushed his spirit. But Haruto wasn't ordinary. Beneath Gotokawa's stern demeanor, he could see the truth—his master was scared.

Scared of losing him.

Scared that he'd leave the safety of the Swordsmith Village.

Scared that he'd become a Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, destined for a dangerous, fleeting life.

"When I saw you at your great-uncle's funeral, I knew I had to keep you here, in the village, forever." Gotokawa's voice wavered. "You… You're too much like your grandfather, Haruto."

"My grandfather?"

Gotokawa nodded, his tone grim. "Takasago Kazuma. His looks were a blessing—and a curse. For thirty years, the Takasago family has been plagued by tragedy, all because of that face."

The tale began to unravel, a haunting story that stretched back to the early Meiji era.