After watching for a moment, Hajime looked away and focused on his own training.
He had already made a decision regarding Kaigaku, though.
This routine continued for half a month.
Finally, the swordsmiths from the Swordsmith Village delivered the sword Hajime had requested.
That day, Hajime spotted a figure climbing toward him from the mountain’s base.
A Hyottoko mask covered the person’s entire face.
He wore a plain haori with no decorative patterns and carried a rectangular, cloth-wrapped bundle on his back.
A swordsmith from the Swordsmith Village had come all this way personally to deliver a newly forged Nichirin blade into Hajime’s hands.
Hajime invited the man into the cabin.
Jigoro was already there, and he had summoned Kaigaku as well to witness the event.
Kaigaku looked extremely reluctant, his resentment toward Hajime deepening by the minute.
The presence of an outsider kept him from making it too obvious.
The swordsmith, named Sosuke Hagane, sat down in the cabin and unwrapped the rectangular bundle from his back.
He had specially prepared a wooden sword case to protect the Nichirin blade during transport.
Sosuke drew the blade from the wooden case and offered it to Hajime with both hands, treating the moment with deep reverence.
Hajime understood Sosuke’s solemnity.
Swordsmiths couldn’t fight, so they poured everything into forging Nichirin blades to support the Demon Slayer Corps.
To a swordsmith, a sword was like their own child.
Hajime accepted it with equal reverence, both hands gripping the hilt, then drew the blade in one swift motion.
Visually, it was a standard-sized uchigatana.
The handle and sheath were black, the blade silver.
The Nichirin blade in Hajime’s hand began to change.
Starting from the section near the handle, the silver steel gradually shifted into a pale gold.
A true golden glow.
Jigoro and Sosuke both watched, as if this was exactly what they’d expected.
The Color-Changing Sword altered its hue according to its owner, reflecting the Breathing style suited to the wielder.
Hajime had trained under Jigoro and learned Thunder Breathing, so his exclusive Nichirin blade naturally turned gold.
Hajime suddenly remembered the sword Jigoro had given him before he left for the Final Selection.
He still had questions about it.
He took the opportunity to ask.
“A chipped, rust-covered Nichirin blade?
What nonsense are you spouting, brat?”
Jigoro, overjoyed that his disciple had become an official swordsman, dropped his stern expression and scolded Hajime.
“I prepared a Nichirin blade for you to take to Mt.
Fujikasane, but you refused to bring it!
You ran off so fast I couldn’t even catch you.”
The scolding only deepened Hajime’s confusion.
“I did bring it.”
“Like hell you did!”
“It wasn’t hell.
I brought the sword you prepared for me.
Look, it’s right here.”
He drew the rusted Nichirin blade from his waist, the one that had accompanied him through the Final Selection and drunk the blood of demons, and set it on the floor.
At the same moment, Jigoro produced a sword and placed it on the floor.
The master and disciple stared at the two blades, both frozen.
“Where did you get that sword?”
“Didn’t you leave it for me?”
They looked at each other in bewilderment, failing to notice Kaigaku subconsciously lowering his head, his eyes darting shiftily.
He was the one who had done it.
That rusted sword was something Kaigaku had stumbled upon on Mt.
Momoyama during a training session.
He had planned to ignore it, but the thought of Hajime, heading off to the Final Selection made him deliberately swap that sword with the one Jigoro had prepared.
The reason was simple.
Hajime had entered the dojo before him.
In talent and effort, he was stronger.
This meant that if Hajime joined the Demon Slayer Corps early, he might become a Hashira before Kaigaku.
Naturally, Kaigaku, who believed he alone was destined to replace their master and become the new Thunder Hashira, could not tolerate this.
(A/N: A Thunder Breathing user that reaches the rank of Hashira is dubbed the ‘Thunder Hashira’, as mentioned in Manga Volume 17.)
So he deliberately swapped the sword, hoping Hajime would die in the Final Selection.
What he hadn’t expected was for Hajime to come back alive.
Fortunately, no one had discovered his sabotage.
Sosuke, who had been sitting quietly to the side, suddenly spoke up.
“Excuse me, could I take a look at your sword?”
Hajime considered, then handed the sword over.
Sosuke drew the blade from its sheath and took one look.
He gasped.
“What the hell…”
The edge was covered in nicks, and the blade itself was densely packed with fine scratches.
But what Sosuke found most unbearable was the rust covering nearly the entire sword.
The rust had spread across the blade like cancer cells.
“Hajime, did you pass the Final Selection with a sword like this?” Jigoro’s gaze shifted toward Hajime, and guilt formed on his face.
If only he hadn’t left the Nichirin blade in the wooden cabin that day, and had instead placed it in Hajime’s hands himself.
He absolutely could not imagine how Hajime had managed to slay demons on Mt.
Fujikasane with such a weapon.
Hajime nodded, unconcerned.
“It might not look like much, but it’s actually quite sharp.
Most importantly, it handles really well.”
It really did handle well.
Compared to the Nichirin blade Sosuke had delivered to him, this old one was noticeably more comfortable in his grip.
“Hajime, may I take this sword back to the Swordsmith Village?”
Hajime blinked in surprise.
“As a swordsmith, I absolutely cannot tolerate a sword being reduced to this state.
Please allow me to take it back for polishing and repairs.”
Hajime hesitated.
A sick person needed a doctor, just as a rusted sword needed polishing by a swordsmith.
Besides, he had already received his delivered Nichirin blade, so there seemed to be no reason to refuse.
Just as he was about to agree, Sosuke let out a yell and tumbled backward.
He lost his grip on the sword.
It dropped to the floor and slid right up to Hajime’s feet.
“Are you alright?” Jigoro startled, hurrying over to check on Sosuke.
The swordsmith’s palm was covered in blood.
Blood poured from the wound, and the shape of the cut was bizarre, as if he had been bitten by some wild beast.
But ever since he had started handling the sword, Sosuke’s hand hadn’t touched anything else.
All three of them cast uncertain, suspicious gazes at the rusted sword on the floor.
After the Nichirin blade was delivered, Sosuke declined Jigoro’s invitation to stay.
Taking advantage of the early hour, he departed Mt.
Momoyama and set off back to the Swordsmith Village.
Standing outside the wooden cabin, Jigoro watched the swordsmith depart, then turned his gaze to the Senpai beside him.
“Hajime, are you really going to carry that peculiar sword?”
Following the previous ordeal, Jigoro had repeatedly suggested Hajime discard that strange blade.
In this country, legends of cursed blades and evil swords were never in short supply.
To Jigoro, this sword of unknown origin was unmistakably cursed.
The Taisho Era had arrived, and for decades, the flame of “science” from the West had burned across this land.
Over a millennium of darkness had taken root here, driving it away entirely was no easy task.
Since ancient times, countless rumors had circulated about the Golden Age of Demons in the Heian Era and the Chaotic Times of the Sengoku Era.
Most people dismissed those as mere superstition and hearsay.
But was that truly all?
The truth lay deeply buried.
Those who only learned of that history through word of mouth or books could never say for certain how things truly unfolded.
Some scoffed at these rumors, others believed it was better to be safe than sorry.
Jigoro belonged to the latter.
He felt Hajime should discard that wicked sword, preferably throw it into the ocean, where no one would ever find it again.
Hajime insisted on keeping it.
He knew there was more to the blade than met the eye, but the assistance it provided was tangible.
Cursed blade or evil sword, it mattered not.
If it could slay demons, it was a treasure.
Unable to sway him, Jigoro let Hajime do as he pleased.
Hajime was usually polite and easygoing, but he possessed an iron will.
Once he made a decision, he pursued it without hesitation, never altering his course based on the opinions of others.
Do you like it?