"I am the greatest creator of Nichirin Blades~! Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, oh-my, four-my, three-my, Nimaiya Ouetsu!"
"....."
"....."
A man wearing a Hyottoko mask had appeared out of nowhere, striking a bizarre pose and speaking in a strange rhythm.
What is this... Why is every single person I meet missing a few screws...?
At this point, wouldn't it be faster to search for the cause within myself?
"Please, come inside. I shall serve you something to drink."
Uzui offered the man a refreshment. I turned to follow, thinking we would continue the conversation indoors, but the man's next action was an absolute spectacle—one beyond my wildest imagination.
Thump.
"This is the Nichirin Blade I have created-DA."
"..."
"..."
Ignoring us entirely, he flopped down onto the dirt ground and began rummaging through the long bundle he carried on his back.
Inside the long bundle were two wooden boxes, presumably containing my Nichirin Blade and Uzui‘s. Setting aside the mystery of how he managed to carry those...
"The iron sand and ore used as raw materials for the Nichirin Blade are gathered from the mountain closest to the sun-GI."
The problem was the TMI pouring out of the man‘s mouth like water from a broken dam, even though no one had asked.
And that accent at the end of his sentences was incredibly grating. Is this person truly a man of the Sengoku period?
If I left him be, he‘d probably unpack everything right there on the dusty ground.
"Uzui."
"Yes, Boss."
Uzui grasped my intention instantly and seized both of Nimaiya Ouetsu‘s arms. I grabbed the man‘s legs, shouldered the bundle with the two wooden boxes, and carried him inside the house.
"'Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand' and 'Scarlet Ore' are metals that absorb sunlight! Mount Yoko is a peak bathed in sun all year round, where clouds never gather and rain never falls-AH! It is the most optimal location-GI!"
I‘ll give him that much.
I wanted to offer a silent tribute to that mouth, which refused to stop even while being carried like a piece of luggage in such a ridiculous fashion.
"Is someone here?"
Yoriichi and Uta emerged from the inner room, sensing the commotion.
Nimaiya Ouetsu‘s gaze fixed upon Yoriichi, and he abruptly ceased his lecture on the blades.
Finally, he stopped.
"To see a Child of Bright Red here, of all places-YA!"
"A Child of Bright Red?"
What on earth is that?
"It refers to one whose hair and eyes possess a reddish hue-GO. Such children are born into households that work with fire, and they are known to bring great fortune-GI."
Is that so... Wait, we come from a samurai lineage; we've never worked with fire.
By then, we had reached the room, and I let go of Nimaiya Ouetsu‘s legs.
Uzui released his arms as well. Nimaiya Ouetsu took the bundle from me, unwrapped it immediately, and slid open the lids of the wooden boxes.
"In any case.... these are the blades I have forged-DA."
Inside were a single katana and a pair of blades connected by a heavy chain.
Initially, I had considered an Odachi... but since I was already accustomed to the standard katana, I had ordered a regular size.
My Nichirin Blade was based on Rengoku's, modified to compensate for the shortcomings I felt when using his and refined into a form that harmonized perfectly with Moon Breathing. Uzui‘s blades were shaped exactly like her favorite personal weapons, but since she utilized explosives, I requested they focus more on durability than sheer cutting power.
"Take a hold of it, young man-GO."
Nimaiya Ouetsu handed me the blade.
This is my Zanpaku—no, my Nichirin Blade.
They say the color and characteristics of a Nichirin Blade change depending on the style suited to the owner‘s aptitude. I wondered what color mine would be. Blue? Or perhaps the same color as Rengoku‘s?
As I gripped the hilt and lifted it, the color of the blade began to transform.
The color that manifested, devouring the cool silver sheen characteristic of a sword, was....
"Hmm?"
"This cannot be-GA! I have never seen this color before!"
It was purple.
I knew that Nichirin Blade colors typically corresponded to specific styles: 'Flame' was a deep red with flame patterns, 'Water' was blue, 'Thunder' was yellow with lightning streaks, 'Wind' was green with jagged patterns, 'Stone' was grey, and 'Mist' was a pale blue-white.
But purple... Did this mean having an aptitude for Moon Breathing resulted in purple?
Even Nimaiya Ouetsu, who had forged many blades and witnessed countless transformations, seemed to be seeing purple for the first time. He shut his talkative mouth and stared intently at my purple-hued Nichirin Blade.
"You said the boy's Breathing—that is to say, his style—was Moon Breathing-GI...? So Moon Breathing turns the blade purple-GA... Hmm... Regardless, give it a swing-GO. I have performed the test cuts, but the owner has yet to swing it himself, have you-AH?"
Nodding at Nimaiya Ouetsu's words, I stepped out into the courtyard and performed the forms of Moon Breathing, from the First to the Sixth.
With every swing, moonlight carved through the air accompanied by a crisp, resonant tone.
It was far more comfortable and felt much better in my hand than when I had swung Rengoku‘s blade.
That old man... his personality and behavior might be eccentric in the extreme, but it seemed his skill as a swordsmith was the real deal.
"Lord Michikatsu."
"Yes, Uzui. Come to think of it, what color is yours?"
"The color has not changed."
"..."
"..."
"Just so you know, the color does not change for those who lack talent in any style-GO..."
My poor Uzui really does have no talent for Breathing...
@@@
"That is truly magnificent! To think young Michikatsu's Nichirin Blade turned purple!"
Not even a full day after I sent Mikazuki to the Rengoku estate, Rengoku arrived in person.
Always energetic, with that bright smile. Truly, I can never get used to that hairstyle no matter how often I see it.
I followed Rengoku as he guided me toward the headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps.
"By the way, young Michikatsu! Thanks to you, we have discovered another astonishing fact!"
And what fact would that be... The fact that I was just an utterly common mediocre man?
"The fact that those with the same Nichirin Blade color possess the same aptitude for a specific Breathing!"
Isn't that the same thing he told me back then?
"Well, isn't it just that swordsmen with the same color have talent for the same style?"
"That is not it! The premise itself was flawed! What the Nichirin Blade's color indicates is not the style, but the Breathing itself! In fact, those whose Nichirin Blades did not change color had no aptitude for any Breathing at all!"
Ah, so he‘s saying, for example, the reason a blade turns deep red with flame patterns—like Rengoku‘s—is not because the owner has talent for the 'Flame Style,' but because of their aptitude for Flame Breathing.
That would explain why Uzui‘s blade didn‘t change color. Uzui lacked talent for the Breathing techniques themselves.
She‘s currently extremely sulky because of that. I should boil some chicken for her when I get back.
However, this is the Sengoku period, an era that prizes tradition and honor. Can the members of the Demon Slayer Corps really accept this so readily? It seems like it would be a bit difficult...
"But isn't the tradition of the various styles too long for them to accept that so easily? The styles have existed for four or five hundred years, whereas Breathing was only introduced less than a month ago... Won't there be significant internal backlash?"
"The other Hashira have acknowledged it, and most importantly, it is a matter the Master himself has recognized! Therefore, you need not worry about backlash!"
Ah, so they're just going to suppress them with their rank?
This 'Master' must truly be an incredible person. To think that everyone would be convinced just by the statement that the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps acknowledged it. I wonder who he really is.
"I know not how such techniques were discovered, but! My heart overflows with awe for the one who found them!"
A terrifying truth: to someone out there, that's just a simple breathing exercise.
Exchanging such talk as we walked, Rengoku and I eventually arrived at our destination—a certain mansion.
It was a grand estate, so magnificent that the Tsugikuni estate where I was born could not even compare.
As a servant of the house opened the gate, Rengoku turned to me and spoke.
"This is the command headquarters of our Demon Slayer Corps! The residence where the head of the Ubuyashiki family, the Master, resides! Welcome to the Hashira Meeting, young Michikatsu!"