Demon Slayer: Starting with the Great Swordmaster System, My Master Is Tsugikuni

His face grave, Waya had not expected the intelligence to differ so greatly from reality.

If there was nothing else, I would head back and rest first.

All right. Please take care.

Just as Mister Scribe turned to leave, Waya suddenly called out to him.

Mister Scribe, have you seen Mister Tsugikuni Iwashiro recently?

No. Is something wrong with my martial uncle?

Only after hearing Waya say that did Mister Scribe realize that he truly had not seen Tsugikuni Iwashiro in quite some time.

The last time they had met seemed to have been when Tōshirō died.

He had been absent from the Demon Slayer Corps for so long. What exactly had he gone off to do?

As Mister Scribe wondered, Waya handed him a slip of paper.

A simple route was drawn on it.

Several scattered sentences had been written beside the route.

The last time the Kakushi found Mister Iwashiro, he was at this location.

Yes, I understand. I will go find him.

Immediately understanding Waya's meaning, Mister Scribe tucked the note into his clothes.

A second before closing the door, he suddenly stopped.

Master, I am also deeply saddened by what happened to your father.

But no matter what, please stay strong. Everyone in the Demon Slayer Corps is still waiting for your leadership.

With that, Mister Scribe gently closed the door.

Waya froze slightly, and his eyes reddened within moments.

A few seconds later, understanding Mister Scribe's meaning, the emotions Ubuyashiki Waya had suppressed for so long suddenly erupted.

Facing the direction Mister Scribe had left in, he performed an extremely solemn kneeling bow.

I truly made you worry.

Tears from his eyes mixed with the snot from his nose, and Waya's emotions finally found an outlet.

After releasing all the regret, sorrow, and pain in his heart, he wiped away his tears and put on a resolute expression once more.

At that moment, he truly changed from a son into a Master.

After leaving the estate, Mister Scribe first went to discuss the matter with Yoriichi.

As for searching for his own brother, Yoriichi did not show much opposition.

Of course, neither did he show much support.

If you want to go, then go. Perhaps you can help Elder Brother see reason.

For the most part, Yoriichi hoped Mister Scribe could persuade Tsugikuni Iwashiro to return.

Mister Scribe sincerely felt that such a task was impossible.

To persuade Tsugikuni Iwashiro, who was single-mindedly determined to surpass Yoriichi, to abandon that notion—unless the two brothers had never existed in this world from the beginning.

Otherwise, Iwashiro would spend his entire life with the goal of surpassing Yoriichi.

And he would surpass him by any means necessary.

After several days of travel, Mister Scribe arrived at the location marked on the note one evening.

It was an exceptionally prosperous town with a very developed economy.

Stalls lined both sides of the road, with small vendors beside them shouting out their wares.

Most of the buildings were two or three stories tall, and the passersby wore all sorts of splendid clothing.

Comparing the few sentences on the note, Mister Scribe arrived at the last place Tsugikuni Iwashiro had appeared.

A brothel.

When he discovered that his final destination was actually a brothel, even someone as composed as Mister Scribe was left dumbfounded.

He found it hard to imagine that someone like Tsugikuni Iwashiro, who was practically as lifeless as stagnant water, would come to such a place voluntarily.

Little brother, this isn't somewhere you should be.

A seductively dressed, scantily clad woman spotted Mister Scribe standing at the entrance and kindly reminded him.

If you really want to come, wait a few more years. Big Sister will be waiting for you.

After saying that, she even gave Mister Scribe a flirtatious wink.

It should have been an extremely alluring gesture, but when performed by a woman weighing over two hundred pounds and looking like a chimpanzee, the effect was completely different.

With his excellent eyesight, Mister Scribe could even make out the pockmarks and freckles beneath the thick layers of powder on her face.

A wave of nausea rose from his stomach, and he felt as though he might not be able to hold it back.

The Scribe hurriedly waved his hands and ran off like a rabbit with its tail on fire.

After reaching an empty corner and vomiting his guts out, he finally felt a little better.

If he had to fight demons or clash blades with powerful enemies, the Scribe could charge in without changing expression.

But whenever he thought of what he had just seen, a chill ran down his back.

Nope. Absolutely not. A Woman like that was not someone he could afford to provoke.

Just as the Scribe silently prayed that he would never run into that Woman again, a figure suddenly appeared around the corner ahead.

She had delicate features, rosy red lips, and long, silky black hair.

Her curvaceous body radiated an irresistible allure.

Any ordinary man standing here would have had his attention captured in an instant.

And naturally, so did the Scribe.

But it was not her figure or her face that caught his attention.

It was her identity.

Drawing on memories from his previous life, he recognized at a glance that she was not human.

She was the Progenitor of Demons in female form, the root of all chaos.

Kibutsuji Muzan!

Why was this bastard here?!

His right hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his Nichirin Blade as the Scribe's mind raced, trying to figure out why Muzan had appeared here.

Was it a chance encounter? Or had she come with some scheme?

Who was her target? Tsugikuni Iwashiro, himself, or someone else?

After considering it for a while, the Scribe released his grip on the sword.

He did not know why Muzan was here, but judging from what had just happened, she was not hunting for food.

If Muzan had wanted to feed, the man who had been walking beside her would have been the unlucky one.

No sneaking after her. No drawing his blade.

Planning to tail Muzan and investigate her intentions, the Scribe slowly followed after her.

The longer he followed, the more something felt wrong.

He had the distinct feeling that he had walked this road before.

In the end, Muzan and the man entered a shop.

Standing beside it, the Scribe was instantly dumbfounded.

This was actually that brothel from before!

At that moment, the Scribe was completely stunned.

First, the intelligence said Tsugikuni Iwashiro had appeared here. Now Kibutsuji Muzan in female form had entered as well.

Did these two beings, who were practically incapable of human emotion, actually need to come to a place like this?

Just as the Scribe was considering whether he should find a way to sneak in, a voice drifted over.

"Little brother, why are you here again?"

The instant he heard that voice, the Scribe froze solid.

His neck slowly, stiffly lifted like a rusted machine.

Sure enough, it was that gorilla woman again.

With a seductive smile, the gorilla woman licked her lips, then swayed her body.

"Do you like big sister that much? You've come to see me again and again."

I've only come twice, damn it, and neither time had anything to do with you!

For an instant, the Scribe wanted to grab the gorilla woman and tell her why he was really here.

But he forcibly restrained himself.

Seeing the Scribe clench his fists and lower his head as though suppressing his emotions, the gorilla woman's eyes suddenly reddened.

"Even after big sister said all that, you still refuse to give up? I'm so touched."

"If you're willing, big sister can support you."

As she spoke, she pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket.

"This can serve as our token—"

"No need. My stomach is perfectly fine; I don't need to live off a woman."

Leaving those words behind, the Scribe hurried away.

He had already made up his mind. He would just wait for Muzan to come out.

No matter what happened, he would never take the initiative to approach the brothel again.

After buying some food and water, Scribe climbed onto the roof of a tall building beside the brothel.

He stayed there for three days.

On the night of the fourth day, Muzan still had not appeared.

With a yawn, Scribe wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

He was somewhat surprised. He had no idea why Muzan had stayed inside the brothel for so long.

Could Muzan have that kind of fetish?

His supplies were nearly gone as well. Perhaps he should buy more tomorrow morning.

Just then, Scribe suddenly sensed a familiar presence.

It was somewhat similar to his Sun Breathing, yet it was not one of the five fundamental Breathing Styles.

This feeling was Moon Breathing.

His pupils widened instantly. Scribe had not expected that before Muzan emerged, Tsugikuni Iwashiro would come out first.

He concealed himself in the shadows of a corner, exposing only his eyes as he watched the outside.

Soon, Scribe spotted Tsugikuni Iwashiro on the roof of a building.

He wore a black samurai uniform, with a single ponytail tied behind his head much like Yoriichi's.

His face was expressionless, without the slightest visible ripple of emotion.

Compared to before, Tsugikuni Iwashiro felt even colder, more detached, and more lifeless.

After observing for a moment, Scribe realized that the other man also seemed to be waiting for someone.