12 Vol. II Demon Slayer: Floating Comment

"Haah!"

The wooden sword struck the training post with a resounding thud. Shirtless, Haruto's movements were unpredictable, weaving around the post with an almost eerie grace.

Elbows, knees, fists…

His attacks weren't limited to the wooden sword. Every part of his body capable of inflicting damage was utilized. Under the storm-like barrage, the sturdy training post trembled precariously.

During these days of waiting for Haganezuka Hotaru to finish forging his blade, Haruto had turned the experience he gained from his battle with Dōma into personal strength.

Demon Slayers grew stronger by facing powerful opponents. Those who survived fights with high-ranking demons often emerged with sharper techniques, whether in breathing forms or swordsmanship.

Haruto discovered that his previously stagnant swordsmanship had grown significantly sharper after that intense battle.

Behind a nearby tree, a small head peeked out, the face concealed by a fireman mask. Kotetsu had been hiding and watching for a while.

As the training neared its end, Haruto flicked his sword tip, sending a half-ripe peach flying from the ground straight toward the boy.

"Smack!"

The peach landed squarely on Kotetsu's head, startling him into adjusting his mask hastily.

Haruto chuckled softly, slinging his uniform jacket over his shoulder with the tip of his sword and sauntering over.

Sweat-drenched hair clung to his forehead, and the crystalline beads of sweat traced down his muscular torso.

Kotetsu shook his head disapprovingly. "What is it with you guys on this mountain? Did you all turn into savages? Why don't you wear clothes? You're like this, and so is Haganezuka-san!"

"Hmph." Haruto ignored the comment, instead flexing his biceps. "How's my swordsmanship?"

"It's… average."

"Average?" Haruto glanced at him sideways. "Just so you know, even Himejima couldn't beat me in pure swordsmanship."

"Well, Himejima-san doesn't focus on swordsmanship, does he?"

This kid's sharp tongue could really make someone want to rip it out.

Haruto shook his head dismissively. "You're so stubborn."

"I am not!" Kotetsu planted his hands on his hips and turned away, the pout on his fireman mask almost comically exaggerated. "I've seen swordsmen a hundred—no, a thousand times better than you!"

"You're six. You've barely left the village. Where could you possibly find a swordsman a thousand times better than me? Stop exaggerating."

"I'm not exaggerating!" Predictably, Kotetsu couldn't resist the taunt. With barely any prodding, he spilled the family secret like beans from a torn sack. "My family has a mechanized doll handed down through generations! It can execute 108 unique techniques. It's the strongest swordsman I've ever seen!"

"Show me."

Kotetsu immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. "No way! It's a family secret!"

Haruto clicked his tongue and turned to walk down the mountain.

"Huh?"

Kotetsu was taken aback by how easily he gave up. He hurried after him, catching up in just a few steps. "You're not going to press me about it?"

"Would you tell me if I did?"

"…No."

"Then there's no point." Haruto shrugged. "I have no interest in prying into someone's family heirlooms."

The mountain wind brushed against his sweat-soaked skin, sending a shiver down his spine. As he pulled on his uniform, Haruto noticed Kotetsu still hesitating, a conflicted look on his face.

"What's your deal? Did you just come here to tease me with half a story?"

"Uh… Gotokawa-sama finished making lunch and asked me to call you." Kotetsu scratched his head awkwardly.

Gotokawa and Kotetsu's father had been good friends. Ever since Kotetsu's father passed away, Gotokawa often invited him over for meals.

On their way past the village chief's house, Haruto spotted an unfamiliar, peculiar swordsman.

The man had shoulder-length hair and wasn't very tall. One of his eyes was a striking blue, the other a shimmering gold, giving him a distinctive appearance. If Uzui Tengen were here, he'd surely exclaim, "So flamboyant!"

The swordsman wore a striped haori draped over his shoulders, but his face, from the nose down, was wrapped tightly in layers of bandages.

Nestled among the bandages was a dazzling white snake, its scales almost glowing.

"Who's that?"

"Oh, him? That's the Snake Boy," Kotetsu answered casually, resting his hands behind his head.

A small child, barely three or four years old, ran past the heterochromatic youth, tripping over a stone and falling face-first to the ground.

The seemingly aloof swordsman immediately crouched to pick the child up, gently dusting off the dirt on him.

When the child, on the verge of tears, opened his mouth to thank him, the youth suddenly withdrew, regaining his distant demeanor.

"Is… tsundere a personality type that can be mass-produced?" Haruto mused aloud, stroking his chin.

"Huh?" Kotetsu blinked, not understanding.

"Never mind… Why call him Snake Boy? Just because of the snake around his neck?"

"His real name is Iguro Obanai," Kotetsu explained. "The elders in the village say he was rescued by Shinjuro-sama from the clutches of a snake demon a long time ago. That's all I know."

"He seems cold and eccentric, but he's actually kindhearted. Although, I heard he has OCD and extreme shyness about showing his body. Even in hot springs, he sits in a pool far from everyone else."

(T/N: Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is a mental disorder in which people have unwanted and repeated thoughts, feelings, ideas, sensations (obsessions), and behaviors that drive them to do something over and over)

Haruto didn't linger on Obanai for long. However, hearing Shinjuro Rengoku's name made him think of the two bright-eyed boys from the Rengoku family.

Kyojuro had written him a letter, proudly stating he'd mastered all the Flame Breathing techniques and was ready to take this year's Final Selection.

As expected of the Rengoku family, their talent in Flame Breathing was extraordinary. It was a pity Senjuro lacked talent in swordsmanship, though perhaps that was a blessing in disguise—avoiding the fate and grudges tied to the Demon Slayer Corps might be a kind of happiness.

"Haruto… ," Kotetsu hesitated, turning to face him. "Don't you really want to see the mechanized doll?"

...

After lunch, Haruto followed Kotetsu to the warehouse where the family stored the mechanical puppet.

"A relic from the Sengoku era, and it still works with such precision? No jams, no breakdowns… What kind of advanced craftsmanship is this?"

Kotetsu grunted, shoving open the slightly rusty iron door. "I mean, Haruto, you could help me out a little here!"

Inside, the warehouse was packed with mechanical components. Some were covered with dust cloths, while others were bare but spotless, clearly maintained with care.

"Huff… Every time I open this door, I feel out of breath. I guess I'm really not cut out to be a swordsman."

Kotetsu wiped at his eyes beneath his mask as he looked around at the room filled with family heirlooms, his voice tinged with sadness.

"If I can't even become a smith, then it'll be like I've ruined our family's legacy."

"You're six, not sixty! Life is full of surprises—don't sell yourself short!" Haruto said, placing a hand on Kotetsu's head and ruffling his hair roughly.

"I hope you're right," Kotetsu muttered, walking over to a corner and pulling back a dust cloth.

"Here it is."

[Whoa, a legendary find!]
[It's Muzan's heart-stopping puppet!]
[Seriously, creating this kind of robot in the Sengoku era? No doubt, Demon Slayer's world isn't on the same level as reality…]

As the veil was lifted, the mechanical puppet's long-dormant form was revealed.

Haruto's eyes widened. "This is…"

Kotetsu nodded solemnly. "Yes, this is the combat-type puppet created by my ancestor…"

"Yoriichi Type Zero."

Beneath the dust cloth sat a man-like figure in a meditative pose, each of its six arms clutching a Nichirin blade. The paper sun earrings hanging from its earlobes swayed gently as the cloth settled back down.