Heading to Hachijojima Island

Rengoku Shinjuro sat down at the table in the yard. He had come to deliver a sword to Jigoro Kuwajima—a task his father had entrusted to him before dying.

He had just finished a mission and happened to pass by Peach Mountain, so he decided to pay a visit.

The master and disciple's breakfast was simple: white congee with pickled vegetables and rice balls. The only thing that made one's jaw drop was the sheer quantity.

"Senior, you've got quite the appetite!"

Looking at the two pots of congee and a basin of rice balls on the table, Rengoku Shinjuro praised with a laugh.

"My disciple eats a lot. Help yourself to whatever you want—make yourself at home."

"By the way, how's your father been lately?"

Jigoro Kuwajima smiled, making casual conversation.

Hearing this, Shinjuro's brows drooped, and sorrow crept into his eyes.

Seeing this, Jigoro Kuwajima let out an imperceptible sigh. Grief welled up inside him, but he kept his face composed, continuing to eat calmly as if nothing were wrong.

His old friend had gone ahead first.

"It's my fault. I should have gone to see him!" Jigoro Kuwajima said with a bitter smile, self-reproach in his voice.

"Senior, Father left with a smile. Please don't dwell on it!"

Rengoku Shinjuro quickly offered comfort, his tone as blazing as the sun. He remembered his father's words—to live on with a smile.

"This sword is for you. It was Father's blade."

"Before he died, he insisted I hand it to you personally."

He drew another sword from his waist and offered it to Jigoro Kuwajima.

Just then, a lazy young voice broke the somewhat heavy atmosphere.

"Yo!"

"We've got a guest!"

"Now that's something new!"

Tendo Hiruma rubbed his eyes, sat himself down at the table without ceremony, grabbed a pot of congee, and started devouring it.

Jigoro Kuwajima gave his disciple a sharp rap on the head and scolded him irritably.

"You brat, no manners! Call him uncle!"

As he looked up, the congee Hiruma had in his mouth sprayed out.

The resemblance! It was just too damn similar—this had to be Big Brother's father.

He'd just woken up and hadn't paid attention, but on second thought, he didn't recall the Rengoku Family having any connection with the old man.

Whatever. This was a new world; a few small differences made sense. No big deal.

Hiruma didn't care about minor changes like this, especially since it was a good thing.

"Young man, you sure can eat! Eating well is a blessing!"

Seeing the boy staring at him, Rengoku Shinjuro didn't feel annoyed at all. Instead, he praised him with a laugh.

"My own son is about your age. You two should get to know each other sometime."

"Uncle, we definitely will!"

Hiruma grabbed Rengoku Shinjuro's big hand with excitement. That was Big Brother, after all—how could he not want to meet him?

"You brat, no respect! Get your ass off the table!"

Jigoro Kuwajima kicked Hiruma, who had climbed onto the table, clean off. He was furious—if not for the guest, he'd have started swinging.

"Old man, give me a little face in front of company, will you?"

Hiruma shot the old man a resentful glance and rubbed his sore rear.

"I knew your uncle's father. He's not an outsider."

Seeing his disciple, the old man's grief eased a little.

The departed were gone. He had to cherish those before him.

Rengoku Shinjuro watched the master and disciple with a warm smile. Their bond was strong—that put his mind at ease.

Still, just as his father had said, Senior Kuwajima had a fiery temper and didn't stand on ceremony.

Rengoku Shinjuro stayed at Peach Mountain until noon. After lunch, he prepared to take his leave.

Suddenly, a black Kasugai Crow landed on his shoulder. These small animals served as the Demon Slayer Corps' messengers, highly intelligent and capable of human speech.

"Rengoku, Rengoku! Hachijojima Island, west-northwest! A Demon is eating people!"

"Understood!"

Rengoku Shinjuro patted the Kasugai Crow's little head and immediately set off for Hachijojima Island.

Hiruma had also heard the intelligence brought by the Kasugai Crow. He turned to his master, his face serious, and asked in a firm tone:

"Master, can I go with Uncle?"

Hachijojima Island—he had a reason he had to go, because the future Serpent Pillar was there.

According to the plot's progression, he would be saved by the previous Flame Pillar, Rengoku Shinjuro, but a small shift in the timeline made Hiruma a little afraid.

He had come to erase regrets. He didn't want to leave any behind, and even less did he want accidents to happen.

Jigoro Kuwajima froze. In these twelve years, this was the first time he had seen his disciple wear such an expression.

He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it must be important to the boy. No matter how reluctant he felt inside, a fledgling eagle always had to soar the skies.

"Be careful yourself. Stick close to the Flame Pillar, and don't overdo it!"

"I know you're talented, but your strength probably hasn't reached Pillar level yet. Whatever you do, don't push yourself!"

"Huh?!"

"Old man, you're agreeing?" Hiruma was a bit slow to react.

Jigoro Kuwajima shot his disciple a glare and said grumpily, "Wait for me!"

Soon enough, the old man tossed him a bundle and a Nichirin Blade. Inside the bundle were rice balls made fresh this morning and some money.

"Master, you planned this all along!"

"As expected of my master—crafty and calculating! Your disciple is in awe!"

Hiruma took the bundle with a grin, tossing out a few weird flattering remarks. By the time the old man caught on, he had already slipped away.

"You rebellious brat! I don't believe you're never coming home! Just you wait!"

The old man stood at the doorway, cursing and glaring at the receding figure of his wayward disciple. Only when Hiruma's silhouette vanished did he seem to shrink a little.

"You little shit, stay safe!"

Jigoro Kuwajima knew that kind of talent was born for slaying demons, but how could a grandfather not worry when the child he treated as his own was heading off on a journey?

Such was the complicated feeling unique to an elder.

On the path leading to the foot of Peach Mountain, a golden-red bolt of lightning stirred up ripples in the air. The speed of a Pillar-level swordsman was too fast; Hiruma could only keep up using his sword techniques.

He knew in his heart that training alone was useless—only real combat was the best teacher.

"Uncle, wait for me!"

Rengoku Shinjuro rubbed his ear and muttered to himself, "Huh? I thought I heard Makoto's voice?"

"Rengoku, Rengoku, look behind you!" the Kasugai Crow called out loudly.

"Oh?"

He turned his head, and a shocking sight met his eyes. A figure wreathed in golden-red lightning was racing toward him at an astonishing speed.

Battle spirit?

To have forged battle spirit at such a young age—Rengoku Shinjuro burst into excited laughter and shouted:

"A genius!"

"Jigoro-senpai's disciple is a true genius!"

He slowed his pace, and Hiruma finally caught up.

"Uncle, can I go with you on your mission?"

Shinjuro looked Hiruma over and asked, "But you haven't even participated in the Final Selection yet?"

"Killing demons means putting your life on the line!"

He wasn't exaggerating—the Demon Slayer Corps had a very high mortality rate.

"As long as I can rid the world of all demons, this life is worth throwing away!"

Hiruma said calmly, the determination in his eyes startling Rengoku Shinjuro.

This kid was truly extraordinary.

"Uncle, only real combat lets me grow. I won't cause you trouble!" Hiruma promised.

"Hahahaha! Good man, that's the spirit! Let's go!"

"But don't expect Uncle to go easy on you!"

Rengoku Shinjuro laughed heartily, moved inside. The Demon Slayer Corps had worthy successors.