Leaving the Shiba-ryu Dojo, Hajime entered a ramen shop on the street and ordered a hot bowl of Chicken Shoyu ramen.
His food arrived shortly after.
It contained a few slices of chashu, a piece of chicken, some bamboo shoots, and a soft-boiled egg.
Golden noodles rested quietly beneath the broth, blended perfectly with soy sauce and chicken fat.
Looking closely, he could see the wheat texturing the noodles.
Finishing his meal, Hajime paid and stepped outside.
He hadn’t walked far before he realized he was being followed.
With his current physical stamina, shaking off the clumsy pursuers would be effortless.
But he had no intention of doing so.
He wanted to see who was following him.
He deliberately avoided crowded areas.
After walking for a while, he entered a sparsely populated, narrow alley.
Walking deeper in, he confirmed he would not be disturbed, stopped, and turned around.
He immediately recognized the tail, the bitter disciples from the Shiba-ryu Dojo.
None of these men were very old, the oldest was barely in his early twenties.
Hajime looked at the disciples of the Shiba-ryu Dojo in their traditional kendo gi and geta.
“Have you been following me all this way for a specific reason?”
The other youths stayed quiet, their eyes drifting to the oldest among them.
He stepped forward, puffing out his chest.
“Brat, you’re coming back with us.
Right now.
You’re having another match with the Shihan, and this time you’re only going to lose.” (Shihan means is a Japanese term translating to “master instructor”, could also be referred to as master in simpler terms.)
Hajime crossed his arms, a mocking look crossing his face.
“Shiba-ryu’s Shihan Showakawa, one of the Eastern Top Five, and this is how much pride he has?
Can’t handle a single loss?”
Victory and defeat were common occurrences for any strategist or warrior.
A match was a match.
Winning and losing happened naturally.
But as mentioned before, given the Shiba-ryu’s reputation, Showakawa couldn’t possibly be so petty.
Hajime could guess with his eyes closed that this was the disciples acting entirely on their own.
They probably thought their actions on this trip were righteous, hoping to earn Showakawa’s praise and validation by bringing back their master’s disgraced opponent.
Fans convinced of their own righteousness dragging their idol down with them, how incredibly familiar.
Hearing the boy talk like that, the young men instantly lost face.
The leader snapped, “Shut up!”
He jabbed a finger aggressively at Hajime.
“How could master lose to you?
You must have used some despicable trick!”
“If you win it is honorable, but when someone else wins, it’s despicable.
Right.
Very villainous.” Hajime nodded.
“Whatever else you want to say, just spit it all out now.
I’m in a hurry.”
The leader reached into his kendo gi and pulled something out, pointing it directly at Hajime.
“You’re awfully arrogant.”
“A gun?”
The object was a heavy revolver.
That made Hajime see him differently.
In the Taisho era, civilians were strictly forbidden from carrying guns, only high taxpayers like businessmen or members of the kazoku could possess them, and then only for use within their own homes.
Taking them outside was absolutely prohibited.
This guy wasn’t a commoner.
His family had serious backing.
“Scared now?” The leader laughed, highly pleased with himself.
“I’ll give you a chance.
Come back with us, do as we say, and I won’t kill you.”
Hajime’s hand rested on the Nichirin blade at his waist, his thumb lightly touching the tsuba.
“I’ll give you a chance too.
Leave right now, and I’ll let you walk out of this alley alive.”
“Has your brain rotted from practicing the sword?”
The leader hadn’t expected Hajime to still act so arrogant with a barrel in his face.
The nerve of him.
Did he really think he wouldn’t dare pull the trigger?
The leader pulled the hammer back with his thumb, disengaging the safety with a loud click.
“You think you can defy a gun with a mere sword?
Who do you think you are, Tsukahara Bokuden?
Kamiizumi Nobutsuna?
Miyamoto Musashi?”
Hajime replied calmly.
“I will not say this a second time.
Now.
Leave.
Do not test my patience.”
The leader spat on the ground.
“I don’t think you grasp the situation.
It’s you who shouldn’t test my patience.”
Hajime sighed.
“I warned you.”
Couple minutes later, Hajime walked out of the alley alone.
His red haori was stained with fresh crimson blood, and after he departed, no one else ever came out of the alley behind him.
Hajime did not plan to return to the Wisteria Family Crest house today.
The so-called House with the Wisteria Family Crest referred to households bearing the wisteria crest on their gates, families that had once been saved by the Demon Slayer Corps.
They would unconditionally accommodate any swordsman of the Corps.
For the two months Hajime had been in Tokyo, he had always stayed at the Wisteria estate.
After all, as the capital, the cost of living in Tokyo was ridiculously high.
Even though the Demon Slayer Corps paid salaries on time every month, Hajime was only at the “Mizunoto” rank, the lowest of the ranks.
This meager salary made it impossible to stay in expensive hotels every day.
But right now…
Hajime felt no reason to linger in Tokyo any longer, so he might as well visit a hot spring before leaving the prefecture.
In his previous life, financial constraints had kept him from ever visiting Japan or soaking in a hot spring.
Now that he had transmigrated into this world, it would be a true pity not to experience one.
He hailed a rickshaw and rode to a hot spring hotel within Tokyo.
It wasn’t particularly famous nationwide, but Hajime wasn’t someone who cared about prestige.
He changed into the yukata the hotel provided, then followed the wooden signs to the men’s hot spring.
No one else was there.
It was as if he’d booked the entire place just for himself.
He stretched out in the warm water, letting the gentle current lift him.
The hot spring held a special kind of magic.
Soaking in it, he felt his deep fatigue melt away, and even his mind grew wonderfully calm.
No wonder the Japanese loved hot springs so much.
He closed his eyes and dozed off.
When he woke, the sky had gone completely dark.
After finishing, he stepped out of the men’s bath wearing his yukata, rubbing his stomach and planning to find food.
That’s when he noticed a small figure standing among the decorative rocks and shallow pools outside.
A little girl, about ten years old.
She had black hair, tied into a side ponytail with a delicate butterfly ornament.
Her purple eyes were wide open.
She stood there blankly, completely motionless, like a doll.
Hajime froze.
He searched his memory and found the name: Kanao Tsuyuri.
Compared to the unsmiling, taciturn girl in his memories, the figure before him was noticeably shorter and younger.
But there was absolutely no doubt, this was the same girl.
But why would she, still just a child right now, appear here?
He couldn’t figure it out.
So he stopped overthinking it.
Yet having already seen her, Hajime couldn’t pretend he hadn’t.
As far as he remembered Kanao was from an abusive family.
He might as well take a potential Hashira and someone to look after Jigoro while he was at it.
Especially since she reminded him of his sister.
If her abusive parents are nearby they are getting Kaigaku treatment,
Kanao stood there, completely unresponsive to Hajime’s approach.
If she were an ordinary child, suddenly approached by a strange adult, she would likely react, assuming a defensive posture, or if bolder and unafraid of strangers, taking the initiative to say hello.
The little girl just stood there, watching Hajime walk over with big, dark eyes.
Hajime walked up to Kanao and crouched down to her eye level.
“Hey, little girl, are you here all alone?
Where is your family?”
Kanao said nothing, just staring at Hajime without blinking.
“My name is Hajime.
You can call me Big Brother Hajime, or just Big Brother.
What’s your name?”
“…”
“You’re so cute.
Can I pat your head?”
“…”
“If you don’t say anything, I will take that as a yes.”
“…”
Hajime carefully reached out and placed his hand gently on Kanao’s head.
Kanao still showed no reaction, though the look in her eyes shifted slightly.
She tilted her head, watching Hajime, as if trying to understand what he was actually doing.
“You’re so cute.
So, as a thank-you for letting me pat your head, I will tell you a story.”
Just then, a gentle voice rang out from behind Hajime.
“My, my, may I listen too?”
Hajime answered without thinking.
“Why wouldn’t you?
Just sit down and listen with us.”
The moment the words left his mouth, something felt slightly off.
He turned and saw a delicate face.
Warm pink eyes.
Smooth dark hair falling like a waterfall.
Purple butterfly hairpins on both sides.
She wore a yukata from the hot spring hotel, decorated with large, blooming flowers.
Hmm…
‘Quite large flowers indeed.’
Hajime focused on her face and froze completely.
It’s her.
Kanae Kocho waved her hand lightly in front of him.
“Hello, do we know each other?”
Hajime hesitated, then decided against hiding it.
“Hello, Lady Kanae.
I am a tenth-rank swordsman of the Demon Slayer Corps, Mizunoto Rank, Hajime Hiroda.”
Kanae covered her mouth and laughed at Hajime’s sincerity and straightforwardness.
“There’s no need for that.”
“Huh?”
“This isn’t the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters.
There’s no need to be so serious.
Right now, I’m just like this child, I just want to hear your stories.”
A Hashira, without a trace of arrogance.
A beauty, without a trace of a princess complex.
Simply far too gentle.
A good woman like this must never be allowed to die at the hands of that monster.
Do you like it?