The Librarian Takes in a Child: Kagaya Ubuyashiki Dies / Searching for Michikatsu Tsugikuni: An Encounter with Muzan

Without giving it much thought, Scribe silently followed behind Yoriichi.

Being Yoriichi's friend, he had already roughly guessed the man's identity.

After Scribe and Yoriichi left, the town of Youshui welcomed another visitor.

The newcomer was a woman of exceptional beauty with long black hair.

Her black hair was parted down the middle and arranged into a large, low bun secured with a floral hairpin.

A faint sadness hung on her face, and her brows were filled with worry.

Had Scribe left a little later, he would certainly have cried out the moment he saw her.

Miss Tamayo!

The demons here had actually all died?!

As Tamayo strolled through Youshui, her beautiful face was filled with shock.

What exactly had happened here, and who had killed them?

There was no pity in her eyes, only curiosity and confusion.

Although she was also a demon, Tamayo did not have the slightest fondness for these so-called kin.

It could even be said that Tamayo wished for every demon in the world to disappear.

A human figure suddenly appeared ahead, and Tamayo immediately turned around and headed elsewhere.

She feared that she would be unable to suppress her craving for humans and do something she would regret.

When she reached a corner, Tamayo suddenly furrowed her delicate brows.

Is something wrong?

Though no one stood beside her, Tamayo spoke as if she were conversing with someone.

Yes, I understand.

After a short while, the conversation seemed to end, and a look of disgust appeared on Tamayo's face.

Despite her reluctance, she still went to work according to the instructions in her mind.

Meanwhile, Scribe and Yoriichi had already arrived at the foot of a mountain.

Following the direction from which smoke drifted, master and disciple found a small courtyard.

Pointing at one of the houses in the courtyard, Yoriichi said,

"If nothing unexpected happens, they should all be there."

As they approached the house, Scribe saw a woman sleeping inside the room.

For some reason, the child who should have been soothed to sleep had woken up and was bawling loudly.

Faced with the crying child, both Scribe and Yoriichi were at a loss.

Neither of them had any experience in this area. They were complete novices when it came to caring for children.

Thus, the two stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"You go. If she doesn't listen, call me over."

His master had spoken, so Scribe could only steel himself and walk over.

Unexpectedly, the little girl stopped crying the moment she saw Scribe.

Taking care of a child didn't seem all that difficult?

That thought flashed through his mind, and he suddenly felt like he had this under control.

Watching the child wave her tiny hands around, Scribe subconsciously leaned his face closer.

The next second, the child's soft little hand grabbed Scribe's face and began kneading it without hesitation.

Feeling the pain on his face, Scribe sucked in a breath.

Treating Scribe's face like a toy, the child played with it for quite a while before finally letting him go.

"I was wrong. I apologize for what I thought earlier."

Rubbing his reddened cheeks, Scribe wished he could slap his past self.

With a yawn, the child, exhausted from playing, fell asleep again.

Looking at the child's peaceful sleeping face in his arms, Scribe felt as though what had just happened had been a dream.

"Is that Mister Yoriichi?"

A voice rang out, followed by a man running over from nearby.

He had black hair, deep red eyes, and a bright smile on his face.

Scribe recognized him the moment they met.

Kamado Tanjiro's ancestor, Kamado Tanjuro.

Yoriichi nodded, his expression showing little change.

Other than Scribe, it was difficult for anyone else to see Yoriichi display emotional fluctuations.

"It's been a long time. I'll go make some tea."

After setting down the basket he had used to carry charcoal, Kamado Tanjuro planned to make tea for Yoriichi.

Just then, he noticed Scribe beside him.

Seeing how harmoniously Scribe and Yoriichi got along, a strange guess appeared in his mind.

"Could it be?"

As if he had guessed Tanjuro's thoughts, Yoriichi shook his head.

"Scribe is my disciple, but..."

Yoriichi reached out and stroked his disciple's head, a hint of tenderness flashing through his eyes.

"He is like my child."

Slowly laying down the child who was still sound asleep in his arms, Scribe said to Tanjuro,

"Nice to meet you, Mister Tanjuro. I am Master Yoriichi's disciple, Scribe."

"So you're Mister Yoriichi's disciple..."

A delighted smile appeared on Tanjuro's face as he patted his chest.

"Hello, Scribe. I'm Kamado Tanjuro, a charcoal seller."

After greeting him, he ran into the kitchen.

Not long after, he came out carrying a small tray.

On the tray were several steaming cups of tea and some small snacks.

"I'm terribly sorry for making our guest help look after the child."

Looking at the child sleeping soundly in Scribe's arms, Tanjuro's face showed a trace of apology.

"Don't worry about it. You must be exhausted. After all, bearing and raising a child is very difficult."

Yoriichi picked up his teacup and took a small sip.

"We'll leave after we finish our tea. We can't stay here and live off you for nothing."

"How could you say that? You're our lifesaver. Otherwise, this child would not have been born safely."

Hearing that Yoriichi would be leaving soon, a look of panic appeared on Tanjuro's face.

Yoriichi continued drinking his tea without answering Tanjuro.

For a moment, the atmosphere became somewhat awkward.

Tanjuro tilted his head and looked at Yoriichi, seemingly trying to read something from his face.

Yet Yoriichi's expression remained as calm as ever, as though he did not care about Tanjuro's gaze at all.

Unable to keep watching, Scribe spoke up.

"We still have matters to report, so we won't disturb you any longer, Mister Tanjuro."

"If we have the chance in the future, we'll come visit again."

Tanjuro blinked twice, wearing an expression that said he did not quite understand, but somehow seemed to understand anyway.

"Come to think of it, Mister Yoriichi, you finally don't have to worry about finding a successor anymore."

Tanjuro smiled at Scribe, sincerely happy that his friend had found a successor.

"I had originally planned to suggest that I pass down your deeds."

"Though I'm only a charcoal seller."

By the end, Tanjuro scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly.

Knowing that his dear friend was thinking of him, Yoriichi gave a slight shake of his head and said,

"Tanjuro, you do not need to treat me as someone special. You and I are merely grains of sand in history."

Leaving those words behind, Yoriichi drank the last of the tea in his cup.

"Seeing you so happy, I can rest easy."

With that, he walked outside.

Scribe gave Tanjuro a slight apologetic nod before following Yoriichi out.

After leaving Tanjuro's home, the two returned directly to the Demon Slayer Corps, intending to report the matter to Ubuyashiki Kagaya.

However, the moment they entered, their attention was drawn to the funeral procession ahead.

After asking around, they received a shocking piece of news.

The leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, had been declared dead yesterday due to his worsening condition.

He was twenty-two years old.

The position of leader of the Demon Slayer Corps had been inherited by his eldest son, the six-year-old Ubuyashiki Waya.

The image of Ubuyashiki Waya flashed through Scribe's mind, and he was somewhat surprised.

He had not expected Waya, who looked only four or five years old, to already be six.

It seemed that, tormented by the curse, the Ubuyashiki family's bodies and appearances had both been affected to some extent.

Arriving at the residence, Scribe, who was responsible for reporting the news, knocked on the door.

"Come in."

A childish voice came from inside. One could tell at once that it was Ubuyashiki Waya's voice.

Pushing open the door, Scribe saw Waya sitting upright in the center of the room.

Although Ubuyashiki Waya's appearance had not changed much, his entire demeanor had undergone a tremendous transformation.

His father's death had likely forced him to mature in a short time.

"Mister Scribe, your body has not suffered any serious harm, has it?"

Compared to the mission, Waya cared more about whether Scribe had been injured.

It had to be said that the Ubuyashiki family's way of handling matters naturally made people feel favorably toward them.

"There is no serious harm. The mission has also been completed."

Scribe nodded and gave him a rough account of the mission.

"Is that so? So many demons had gathered in one place. Fortunately, they have already been eliminated."