Tendo Hiruma

Peach Mountain.

The March wind was gentle, brushing over the peach groves blanketing the mountains like a mother's hand. Peach blossoms bloomed and fell, fluttering like butterflies.

A pink petal landed on the nose of the boy beneath a peach tree. With both hands behind his head, he breathed evenly, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth as he occasionally mumbled in his sleep.

"Shinobu, snuggle with me, hehe!"

"Dumbass Muzan, eat this whip coated in wisteria, plus a Crimson Blade windmill and a vicious sunbath package..."

It was another beautiful day for Tendo Hiruma to daydream.

He had short dark-red hair and fair features, looking utterly harmless.

"You little brat, slacking off again! Are you trying to piss your master to death?!"

A thunderous roar rang out. Immediately afterward, a wooden sword flew from the lush peach branches in the distance, its force sweeping up waves of peach blossoms.

Just as Tendo Hiruma was about to be struck in the head, he tilted his head slightly. The wooden sword embedded itself deep in the peach tree. His brilliant golden eyes slowly opened, and he stretched lazily.

"Old man, it's always the same few moves. What the hell am I still training for?"

"I could run through a whole set of that stuff in my sleep!"

"And are you really my master?!"

"You're trying to kill me!"

With a helpless expression, he pointed at the wooden sword beside his head. It had sunk deep into the trunk; if it had hit his head, it would definitely have killed him.

"If I'm not your master, then who is? Why did I pick you up in the first place, to feed you for free?"

"You little punk, I know you're talented, but if you don't work hard, you'll waste all that talent!"

"Go practice your sword!"

An old man appeared in Tendo Hiruma's field of vision, about as tall as twelve-year-old Hiruma.

The old man had thick brows and large eyes, along with a long walrus mustache. His hair and beard were completely white, and he looked like the sort of person no one should provoke. His right leg was prosthetic, so he could only walk with a cane.

The old man was Kuwajima Jigoro, the former Rumble Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. After losing his right leg, he had secluded himself on Peach Mountain and become a trainer.

Twelve years ago, he had found an infant at the foot of Peach Mountain. That infant was Tendo Hiruma.

What the old man did not know was that the tiny baby's body housed a soul that did not belong to this world.

"Grandpa, I'll practice later!" Tendo Hiruma pleaded with a pitiful smile.

Perhaps because he was a transmigrator, he possessed extraordinary talent in swordsmanship. Coupled with his sharp senses, it would not have been an exaggeration to say he had been born for the sword.

"No. If you don't swing your sword a thousand times today, you don't get to eat!"

"Swinging the sword is the foundation. If your foundation isn't solid, your blade won't be steady..."

Sensing that the old man was about to start nagging again, Hiruma decisively chose to run.

"Grandpa, I finished my swings this morning. It's rest time now. Bye-bye!"

At that, Kuwajima Jigoro's mouth twitched. He remembered the scarecrow on the mountainside, dressed in clothes and holding a wooden sword. If he had not gone to check for himself, he might actually have believed it.

Everything about his disciple was good, except that he was far too carefree and lazy.

"You tried to fool me with a moving wooden dummy!"

"I don't know how you figured out how to make those little people move, but you're using your talent for the wrong things. I have to beat you!"

Hiruma's face darkened. Oh no, he found out. Run!

The moment he took off, a streak of brilliant golden lightning carved a bold trail through the peach grove.

"Grandpa, you have no sense of fair play! You're even using sword techniques? That's cheating!"

Hiruma's little face crumpled as he protested.

"This old man may have a crippled leg, but catching you is still easy!"

Kuwajima Jigoro pressed a hand onto his disciple's shoulder with a kindly smile, a wooden sword in his other hand. His stern tone carried the vigor of a hero who had not yet grown old.

Hiruma unleashed his ultimate technique: clinging to a thigh, hoping to awaken his master's compassion.

"Master, it's been just you and me depending on each other since I was little. If you beat me to death, who'll take care of you when you're old?"

"Master, my kind, strong, loving, and handsome master!"

Tendo Hiruma wept and wailed, appealing to both emotion and reason.

Kuwajima Jigoro felt that something was off. How had this suddenly turned into talking about caring for him in old age?

"You brat, can't you wish me well for once?"

"Today, I'll show you what it means for a strict master to produce outstanding disciples. Thunder Breath: First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"

"Aaaah! Ow, ow, ow!"

Soon, waves of agonized screams echoed through the peach grove.

"Master, Master..."

""It hurts, it hurts!""

"Grandpa, if you keep this up, then we need to have a talk about you drinking tea with Granny Yamamoto from the town at the foot of the mountain!"

Since he was getting beaten anyway, Hiruma began digging up the old man's dirty laundry.

"I was helping her, and she thanked me! What's with that tone? It sounds like I did something shameful..."

Kuwajima Jigoro immediately refuted him, while the wooden sword in his hand moved even faster. Still, he was not seriously attacking; otherwise, how could a little kid possibly remain so lively while being pursued by a Hashira?

"It's fine. I don't mind having a master's wife. Granny is quite nice, and she makes me delicious food every time!"

Hiruma added fuel to the fire.

"Thunder Breath: Second Form..."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the old man's sword technique grew even fiercer. Hiruma could barely dodge, and getting thoroughly beaten was not far off.

"Aaaah!"

"Murder! Arson! Robbery..."

No matter how hoarse Hiruma screamed himself, no one would hear him. After all, the vast Peach Mountain held only this master and disciple.

Although the old man's sword grew faster and faster, every strike had a purpose. He was training Hiruma's reaction speed.

He had to admit that this boy's perception was simply inhuman.

Having served as a trainer for decades, he knew that Tendo's talent was terrifying, practically as if he were the son of a god.

"Grandpa, that's going too far. I'm going to..."

"What are you going to do, you rebellious disciple?!"

Old Master Kuwajima had a fiery temper and could not stand it in the slightest. He and Yukiko were completely innocent.

"I'll just dodge. It's not like you can hit me more than a few times!" Hiruma turned his head, stuck out his tongue, and spoke with a hint of mockery.

"Oh? You dare mock me now? Looks like you've gotten bold!"

As the sun set, delicate peach blossoms donned a layer of crimson frost.

On the mountaintop, the little one ran while the old one chased him with a sword.

That was a day of loving master-disciple harmony on Peach Mountain.

At last, Tendo Hiruma was tired from running. More importantly, he was hungry.

He plopped down on the ground. In a soft, childish voice, he smiled and said:

"Grandpa, I was wrong!"

In an instant, the wooden sword stopped in midair. The old man turned away, his cheeks slightly red, and snorted in a tone that pretended to be angry.

"Hmph!"

"I'll beat you again tomorrow. Go home and eat!"

Kuwajima Jigoro turned and headed toward the wooden cabin halfway up the mountain, delighted inside at being called Grandpa.

He had raised the child with his own hands. This was the very word he had been waiting to hear.

Hiruma chuckled to himself. That was just how the old man was: stern on the surface, but soft-hearted underneath.

One "Grandpa" worked every time.

Ah, this tsundere old man.

He dusted off his butt and stood, quietly considering how to kill that bastard Kaigaku. Better yet, he would make sure Kaigaku could never become the old man's disciple.

Having Zenitsu as his fellow disciple was enough.