"Azure Tide"!

After leaving Oyakata-sama's residence, Giyu Tomioka returned to the medical department to pick up his modest luggage.

A member of the Kakushi had been waiting at the meeting point for a long time.

"Lord Giyu."

The member bowed respectfully and spoke concisely.

"The journey to Swordsmith Village is divided into several legs, and different people will guide you along each one."

"You're already a Hashira, so you won't need a blindfold, but please follow your guides and don't wander off on your own."

Giyu nodded to show he understood.

Secrecy was an ironclad rule. He understood that.

The first leg of the journey was by carriage.

Inside, his guide was a middle-aged member of the Kakushi.

He sat across from Giyu, secretly glancing at his exceedingly young face, his eyes hiding a shock he could scarcely believe.

News of a "thirteen-year-old Hashira" had already spread quietly throughout the Demon Slayer Corps.

The transfer point was a secluded clearing in the woods.

A young female member of the Kakushi took over as his guide.

When she saw Giyu step out of the carriage, she froze.

His white haori, patterned with mountains and rivers, was spotless. His black hair was tied back, with a few loose strands falling over his forehead.

His features were sharply defined, his nose had a high bridge, and his lips were pale.

Most arresting of all were his ice-blue eyes. They were as calm as a pool of still water, revealing no emotion and lending him an air of cold detachment.

The young woman's face turned red in an instant. She hurriedly lowered her head, her voice as thin as a mosquito's whine.

"L-Lord Giyu, this part of the journey is along a mountain path. Please stay close to me."

She turned to lead the way, but there was an indescribable stiffness to her steps, and her heart was pounding like mad.

Giyu followed behind her at a steady pace.

He noticed her sudden blush and slightly hurried movements, but thought nothing more of them.

His attention was focused more on his surroundings: the slope of the mountain path, the types of trees, and the humidity in the air all fell under his calm scrutiny.

As a Hashira, he was allowed to know the route. It was both a privilege and a responsibility.

In this manner, he changed guides three or four times.

Every Kakushi member who guided him was exceptionally respectful, and the occasional glances they cast his way were a mixture of curiosity and awe.

Giyu remained silent throughout, simply following along.

When the last guide stopped and stepped aside, clearing his view, the whole of Swordsmith Village appeared before him.

Surrounded by mountains, the village spread out along their slopes.

The clang of hammering rang out without cease, like a very distinctive kind of metal music.

The air carried the smell of charcoal fires, the steam from quenching, and a faint metallic chill.

"You must be the newly appointed [Water Hashira], Lord Giyu Tomioka!"

A booming voice rang out.

At the village entrance, a swordsmith wearing a Hyottoko Mask hurried forward to greet him.

"The village chief has personally finished your Nichirin Blade. Please follow me!"

Giyu gave a slight nod and followed him into the village.

Along the way, many swordsmiths stopped what they were doing to look at him.

His white haori and exceedingly young face stood out in this village of sweat and flames.

Curious, appraising, and awed gazes gathered on him, but no one came over to disturb him.

They arrived at a somewhat imposing residence in the middle of the village.

The masked swordsmith led Giyu inside and past a folding screen painted with pines and cranes.

On the tatami in the inner room, a short old man wearing another Hyottoko Mask sat cross-legged.

A sheathed longsword lay horizontally on the floor before him.

"You must be Giyu Tomioka, the young genius who became a Hashira in just half a month!"

The old man's voice was filled with amazement.

Giyu's steps faltered.

He wasn't used to such praise, especially the word "genius."

His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He looked calmly at the old man with his ice-blue eyes and said nothing.

After a moment of silence, he spoke directly, his voice cool.

"My sword."

The old man seemed taken aback by his bluntness. A low mutter came from beneath his mask.

"Rude brat... This old man went without sleep or rest for three days and three nights..."

Despite his complaints, the old man's movements were exceedingly solemn.

He turned, lifted the sword from the rack with both hands, and turned back to Giyu, as solemn as if he were presenting some divine artifact.

"Take it."

The old man's voice grew deep and resonant.

"This is the finest sword that can be forged at present, made with the finest materials and the finest craftsmanship. Its name is [Azure Tide]!"

He held the sword out to Giyu.

"May this sword help you slay every demon and protect the innocent."

Finally, he offered a swordsmith's blessing in a deep voice.

"May fortune favor you in battle!"

Giyu accepted it with both hands.

The scabbard was made of purple sandalwood so dark it was nearly black, and felt smooth and warm to the touch.

The hilt was wrapped in specially made cord, its base color as pure white as snow. From the bottom of the hilt upward, a tranquil indigo gradually spread through it, reaching the top in a gradient where snow and blue blended together.

The sword guard was a carefully forged, symmetrical six-pointed star with exceptionally sharp lines.

As his fingertips brushed the hilt, he felt a strange, seamless fit.

Giyu gripped the scabbard with his left hand and slowly closed his right hand around the hilt.

It felt unbelievably good, as if it had been made for him.

"Clang—!!!"

With a clear ring, a chilling gleam poured from the scabbard.

The blade was as clear as an autumn lake.

Giyu focused, and the rhythm of his breathing subtly changed.

As his breath flowed into it, the blade began to change color.

Near the spine, the color settled into a deep, dark blue like the depths of the sea;

Toward the edge, it shifted to the blue of a clear sky;

The cutting edge itself became a pure white without a trace of impurity, radiating sharpness.

The three colors formed distinct layers!!!

Near the guard, four sharp-edged characters appeared—

"Destroyer of Demons"!!!

Even the strokes seemed to radiate killing intent.

The air around the blade seemed to grow moist and cool.

Then, a dark blue current of water appeared, visible to the naked eye. Like a soft, flowing ribbon, it wound slowly around the blade.

The current was extraordinarily solid, its radiance subdued, carrying immense water vapor and a tranquil pressure.

Though there was no wind in the room, the faint sound of ocean tides seemed to echo through it.

"This... What is this?!"

The village chief abruptly straightened his back, his eyes surely wide behind his mask.

In more than fifty years of forging swords, he had never seen water imagery so pure and solid, as though the power of the entire ocean had been given form!!!

It had almost momentarily manifested the "essence" of a Breathing Style!

"What... transcendent Water Breathing!"

The village chief murmured to himself, overwhelmed with shock.

He was certain that this silent boy's understanding of and affinity with Water Breathing had already reached a frightening level.

Surpassing those who came before him is probably only a matter of time!!!

Giyu himself was stunned for a moment.

He hadn't expected the new sword to react so strongly.

But he quickly reined in his breath, and the dark blue water imagery slowly vanished with it. Only the magnificent, chilling longsword remained, held quietly in his hand.

He carefully returned the blade to its scabbard, his movements meticulous.

Then he looked at the village chief, who was still dazed, and asked,

"The hot spring. Where is it?"

"Huh? Oh..."

The village chief came to his senses and raised a hand to point behind the residence.

"Go out and head toward the mountain behind us. When you see the stone path with a wooden sign marked 'Bath,' follow it up. It's an open-air rock pool, and the water is excellent."

"Thank you."

Giyu offered a brief word of thanks, bowed slightly, and turned to leave. His white haori swept through a clean arc.

The village chief watched his retreating figure.

His back was straight, but his age and his still-slender shoulders gave him the look of a boy.

Black hair, white clothes...

The old man's gaze lingered on that black hair for a moment.

Only when Giyu disappeared behind the screen did the old village chief let out an almost inaudible sigh and murmur to himself,

"He really is remarkable... [Azure Tide] won't be wasted in his hands."

He shook his head.

"What a pity."

His voice held a mixture of admiration and a trace of complicated feeling.

"He doesn't look like a 'Child of Bright Red'~~~"

In the hazy understanding passed down among swordsmiths from generation to generation, the "Child of Bright Red," whose hair was the color of flames, always seemed bound to a more dazzling fate.

But the path ahead of this newly appointed Water Hashira seemed shrouded in a different kind of mist.

Following the directions, Giyu crossed the village, ignoring the various gazes, and found the stone path.

A wooden sign marked "Bath," blackened by steam, hung from a rough post beside the path.

As he followed it uphill, the sounds of hammering grew more distant, while the sound of water and the smell of sulfur grew stronger.

He rounded a thicket of dense, thick-leaved shrubs, and the view suddenly opened up before him.

A natural hot spring rock pool appeared.

The pool was enclosed by gray-black volcanic rock, its clear water a pale milky blue. Steam rose from it, mingling with the cool mountain air to form wisps of white mist.

The rocks beside the pool were covered in slick green moss. In the distance, a small waterfall tumbled down a high cliff, its gentle murmur making the place even more tranquil.

Giyu walked onto a flat rock beside the pool and carefully propped his new sword, [Azure Tide], within arm's reach.

He took off his white haori, folded it neatly, and placed it beside the sword.

He stepped into the hot spring.

The temperature was just right. As the slightly hot water enveloped his body, the fatigue from his long journey seemed to be gently soothed and washed away.

He slowly sank until the water covered his shoulders, then leaned against the smooth rock at the pool's edge and closed his eyes.

The swirling steam dampened the loose strands of hair on his forehead and his long eyelashes.

The sound of the waterfall was steady and peaceful, with an occasional birdcall from the surroundings.

He let his breathing gradually slow, as though becoming one with the hot current of the spring and the water vapor around him.