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

After leaving the forest, the two of them traveled by moonlight toward the nearest town.

Finally, before dawn arrived, they reached a bustling town.

A town called Nen'yūki.

Buying Clothes for Tamayo, the Demon-Slaying Gentleman of Years Past

Nen'yūki?

Muttering the strange name of the town, Scribe stepped inside despite his doubts.

Before the sun rose, they arrived at an inn and rented a room.

"I want to take a bath."

Scribe did not refuse Tamayo's sudden request.

After all, according to Tamayo, she had not bathed in several months.

No matter what, she was still a woman.

She had been able to endure it before because she had been on the run with no other choice, but now that conditions allowed it, she naturally did not want to remain dirty.

"Do you have any spare clothes?"

After casually asking, Scribe suddenly realized something was wrong.

Tamayo had not bathed for months, so naturally she could not possibly have a change of clothes.

And she could not exactly wear her old clothes to buy new ones, leaving only one possibility.

He had to buy clothes for her!

Sure enough, after hearing Scribe's question, Tamayo's face reddened.

"No."

Rubbing her fingers together in embarrassment and nervousness, Tamayo's voice even came out a little warped.

"Um, if it isn't too much trouble, could you buy me a few outfits?"

"I can, but... what size should I get?"

Before one problem had settled, another arose.

Faced with Scribe's new question, Tamayo blushed all the way from her ears to her neck.

She waved a hand, signaling Scribe to come closer.

Standing on tiptoe, her *** little hand grabbed Scribe's ear as she leaned in close.

Then, Tamayo told Scribe what he needed to know to buy clothes that fit her figure.

Warm breath brushed against his ear, making Scribe feel numb. He nearly failed to hear what Tamayo was saying.

"All right, that's roughly it."

After saying that, Tamayo took several steps back, the flush on her face becoming even more apparent.

This was the first time she had shared such private information with someone else. In the past, she had always bought them herself.

"Ah, all right. You go bathe. I'll go buy them right away."

Scratching his nose, Scribe coughed twice before leaving the room.

Watching Scribe flee in disarray, Tamayo could not help laughing.

She had never expected this Demon Slayer, so cold and ruthless toward demons, to have such a side to him.

After covering her mouth and chuckling for a while, Tamayo slowly removed her dirty clothes and prepared to take a proper bath.

Meanwhile, Scribe had already reached the nearest market after leaving the room.

Entering the shop with the most customers, he intended to buy Tamayo a few nicer outfits.

After selecting several garments of suitable size, color, and style, Scribe carried them over to the shopkeeper.

"That'll be two kan."

Nodding, Scribe reached into his pocket.

Then, all at once, he froze.

He suddenly realized that he seemed to have no money.

The money he had saved hunting demons for the Demon Slayer Corps had long since been spent clean over the past several decades.

After that, he had always been alone. Whenever he finished hunting demons, someone would treat him to food and lodging.

As a result, he could not even produce a single mon now.

Seeing Scribe's strange expression, the shopkeeper spoke up.

"Did the samurai forget to bring money? You can leave these with me for now and come back for them later."

The moment those words were spoken, Scribe did not hesitate in the slightest. He shoved the clothes in his hands back toward the shopkeeper.

Then he rushed out of the store and ran deeper into town.

Yes, Scribe planned to take a job here and earn enough money to buy clothes.

Perhaps it was time for him to make some money.

Money was not everything, but having no money was absolutely impossible.

To live in this world, one needed money.

Although Scribe now understood what it meant for a single penny to stymie a hero, that did not mean he could find temporary work.

Just as this was giving him a headache, he suddenly spotted a statue.

It was a bronze statue standing before an imposing-looking courtyard.

Judging from the offerings before it, the family clearly held the statue in great respect.

The statue appeared to depict a child, though years of wind and sun had worn away its features.

The only memorable detail was the sword hanging at the child's waist.

The longer Scribe looked, the more familiar the bronze statue seemed.

Stopping a passerby, Scribe asked him about the statue and the wealthy household.

The courtyard's owner was Youbiando, a descendant of Youbisheng, the founder of this town.

This town had once suffered a terrible disaster, during which the vast majority of its people died for unknown reasons.

At the time, Youbisheng had been only three or four years old, yet instead of despairing, he worked hard and learned the art of business.

After achieving success and fame, he returned here, rebuilt the town, and gave it its current name.

Afterward, he devoted himself heart and soul to the town's prosperity, until he finally fell ill a few years ago.

Despite receiving the best treatment, he had now reached the end of his life.

As for the bronze statue, according to Youbisheng himself, it had been erected to commemorate a great swordsman.

Though calling a child a great swordsman sounded rather laughable, the older residents here unanimously approved of Youbisheng's decision.

He had once frankly stated that without that child, there would be no him today, nor would there be this town.

What was the town called before that?

Faced with Scribe's question, the middle-aged man scratched his head, looking somewhat anxious.

The renaming had happened forty or fifty years ago. He had been young then, so his memories were naturally rather vague.

After thinking for a long time, the middle-aged man suddenly stomped his foot and said, I remember now. This town used to be called Youshui.

Youshui!

The instant he heard that name, Scribe immediately recalled what had happened back then.

From encountering the Tentacle Demon to joining forces with Yoriichi to hunt demons, from slaughtering a hundred demons to that little boy from back then.

Wait, could it be?!

A possibility arose in Scribe's mind. He hurried to the bronze statue, seemingly searching for something.

At last, he found what he was looking for on the statue's base.

Though the inscription was blurry, he could still make out its meaning.

In memory of Demon Slayer, the hero of Youshui Town.

The moment he saw the words "Demon Slayer," Scribe understood.

The little boy who had asked for his name back then was the town's current founder, Youbisheng.

That little guy had grown up too.

Sighing inwardly, Scribe recalled how Youbisheng had looked back then, held in his father's arms as he asked for Scribe's name.

Perhaps he should go see him one last time.

With that thought, Scribe thanked the middle-aged man and walked toward the gates of the Youbi family estate.

After he knocked, a middle-aged man in his mid-thirties emerged and asked, I'm Youbiando. Who are you looking for?

With a faint smile, Scribe said, I'm looking for your father, Youbisheng.

Upon hearing Scribe's intention, Youbiando gave a cold laugh.

Ever since his family had become a renowned wealthy merchant family, more and more people had come pretending to be Demon Slayer, their family's benefactor.

The previous ones had at least been old men in disguise. Now, a young man had actually come.

Having already decided how to teach Scribe a lesson, Youbiando stepped aside and said, My father is sunning himself in the courtyard. Please, go ahead.

Thank you.

Seemingly unaware of the other party's intentions, Scribe did not stand on ceremony and walked straight in.

Watching Scribe's retreating back, Youbiando was already planning to gather his men and give him an unforgettable memory.

As soon as he entered the courtyard, Scribe saw an old man in his sixties lying in a chair, basking in the sun.

The old man's face was marked by the ravages of time, his cheekbones protruding as he gave off an air of decay.

His life would likely come to an end within the next few days.

Sensing someone approach, Youbisheng did not turn around and spoke directly.

Duo'er, haven't I told you not to disturb me when I'm thinking?

I think you may have mistaken me for someone else.

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Youbiando immediately turned his head, about to shout.

Yet the moment he saw Scribe, he froze.

Though he knew full well that he had never met this young man before, something deep within him told him that this was the very person.

His dry, pale lips trembled slightly, and Youbisheng's eyes brimmed with surprise and excitement.

Mr. Demon Slayer, is that you?

Sixty Years Ago: Salvation—May You Forever Be as Magnificent as the Sun

Though he was somewhat curious about how the other man had recognized him, Scribe generously admitted his identity.

It's been a long time, Youbisheng.

I never expected that little fellow your father carried in his arms back then would grow into this.

The moment he heard those words, Youbisheng became even more certain that the young man before him was the Demon Slayer from back then.