Demon Slayer: My Eyes Can See Floating Comments

Haruto's new blade arrived thirteen days after his selection.

It seemed that his previous remark about "terrible craftsmanship" had struck a nerve, as Hotaru Haganezuka had gone to great lengths to refine the design this time.

The guard had been slimmed down, the tang lengthened, making it easier to wield with both hands. The hilt was wrapped in alternating lavender and white threads, while the sheath was a pristine white, perfectly matching Haruto's silvery hair.

"A blade this beautiful should belong to a Mist or Water Breathing swordsman," Hotaru declared loftily as he handed it over. Then, with a glare, he added, "Treat it well, or I'll personally kill you!"

Haruto unsheathed the sword and performed a series of moves in the courtyard. Under the sunlight, the blade gleamed with a sharp, silvery brilliance.

Now that he had passed the selection, received his sword, and was officially a Demon Slayer, he expected assignments to follow soon. But even after more than a week, there were none.

Sors, the parrot, simply circled in the sky each day as if severed from HQ.

Baffled, Haruto intercepted Himejima Gyomei one morning as the towering man prepared to leave for the hot springs. Haruto had heard from Gotokawa that Himejima, ever calm and kind, had recently been appointed the new Stone Hashira.

Standing before Himejima's imposing figure, Haruto, despite his well-developed physique, felt his own 170 cm height utterly insufficient.

Dressed like a monk with a shaved head and enormous prayer beads around his neck and wrists, Himejima's presence was serene yet commanding. His unseeing eyes were always closed, but his awareness of his surroundings rivaled—or surpassed—those of the sighted.

"Is something the matter?" Himejima asked, his hands pressed together in a polite gesture.

"Congratulations on becoming the new Stone Hashira," Haruto replied, offering a respectful bow.

"And congratulations to you for passing the Demon Slayer selection," Himejima responded warmly.

Though they had met a few times before, they weren't close. Himejima's demeanor, while kind, often carried an undertone of mistrust toward Haruto.

Perhaps he'd suffered some deep-seated trauma in his youth, Haruto thought, brushing it off. After all, many who joined the Demon Slayer Corps carried heavy burdens of their own.

But now, with Rengoku absent from the village, Haruto decided to address the matter directly.

"Himejima-san, it's been almost a month since I joined the Corps, and it's been over ten days since I received my sword. Why haven't I been assigned a mission yet?"

Himejima clasped his hands again, his voice calm and steady. "The Buddha teaches that all things have their time and place, not to be questioned or rushed. But this... I can answer."

He paused, then explained, "It's because there are too many of you."

"Too many?" Haruto raised an eyebrow.

"This batch of newly ranked Mizunoto has over twenty members, and there simply aren't enough missions suitable for your level."

Haruto was speechless.

He had heard the Corps was severely understaffed. How could there now be a surplus?

Himejima continued, his tone softening, "Haruto, waiting is also a form of training. If you feel your Breathing techniques have stagnated, then use this time to strengthen your body."

Is this advice... concern? Haruto wondered.

Despite his initial doubts, he felt a flicker of gratitude and smiled faintly. "Thank you."

The next few days saw Haruto training relentlessly in front of the forge. He ran with boulders strapped to his back, split wood for the swordsmiths, and practiced his swordsmanship tirelessly.

His sweat poured like rivers, soaking into the ground as he pushed his body to its limits.

From a distance, Gotokawa watched Haruto's routine, arms tucked into his sleeves.

"Himejima... That big monk who came here about a year ago. Ubuyashiki-sama personally brought him in," Gotokawa murmured to himself.

"I heard he used to be a temple monk, taking care of orphaned children. But one day, a demon slaughtered them all. After he killed the demon, the surviving children accused him of the crime, and he was nearly executed. If Ubuyashiki-sama hadn't intervened, he would've died."

"No wonder..." Haruto muttered, switching hands for another set of one-armed pushups.

So that's why Himejima had been so wary of him. It all made sense now. But his attitude had softened because Haruto had proven himself through the Demon Slayer selection—no longer a mere child but a warrior who could stand beside him.

Still, Haruto remained silent, channeling his thoughts into his training. Once his muscles were fully strained, he grabbed his blade and began practicing forms. Each movement was precise, the blade cutting through the air with sharp, resonant whistles.

Gotokawa sighed, the memories of the past weighing heavily on him.

Thirty years ago, another swordsman, Ryoji, had stood here, training just like Haruto. That same demon who killed Ryoji...

Gotokawa clenched his fists, trembling. He couldn't tell Haruto the truth. The boy was too kind-hearted, too inexperienced. He would throw his life away for revenge.

No. This was Gotokawa's burden to bear.

That night, Sora—the parrot swooped down with a message.

"Chihei region! Fishermen have been disappearing! Over fifteen reported missing. Suspected demon activity!"

Haruto listened intently as the bird relayed the mission. Five Mizunoto swordsmen had already been dispatched.

Gotokawa nodded silently, retreating to prepare Haruto's travel provisions.

"Be careful," he whispered under his breath. If you meet a powerful demon... run. Run as far as you can.

As Gotokawa disappeared into the house, Haruto sighed, sensing the unspoken worry in his mentor's posture. He turned to Sora perched on his finger and smiled wryly.

"We'll come back safely, won't we, Sora?"

"Not so sure~" the bird chirped cheekily.

"Say something encouraging for once!" Haruto retorted, laughing despite himself.

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