Demon Slayer: My Eyes Can See Floating Comments

"Master! I'm back!"

Before Haruto even stepped off the transport at the entrance to the Swordsmith Village, he waved enthusiastically in the direction he remembered his home to be.

Wearing a fiery mask, Gotokawa looked up and tapped the railing with his iron rod. "This way."

Haruto immediately turned around, waving again. "I'm back!"

The attendant escorting him removed Haruto's blindfold and earplugs before exhaling heavily.

"Takanashi-san, this is as far as I'll take you."

Haruto rummaged in his pack, pulling out a small gift wrapped in oil paper. With a cheerful smile, he said, "You can just call me Haruto, mysterious attendant-san."

The escort accepted the package, recognizing it as mitarashi dango. "Thank you… Haruto. I'll enjoy this."

After sending off his escort, Haruto unpacked his belongings, taking off his haori and swapping it for the lightweight underlayer hanging nearby.

Then, grabbing a shovel, he ran to the charcoal storehouse, filling an entire basket before neatly stacking the fresh charcoal in a corner of his house.

Behind his fiery mask, Gotokawa's expression was unreadable. Only after Haruto dusted himself off did he finally speak.

"Was the food at Urokodaki's place that good?"

The question was laced with pettiness.

Haruto stifled a chuckle, answering with mock seriousness, "Urokodaki-sensei lives up in the mountains, so supplies are limited. But the mountain trout from the spring water? Absolutely delicious. I ate twenty-four in one sitting."

"And?"

"Oh, and there's a girl at his place. She's really cute."

Gotokawa fell silent.

He glanced between Haruto and the village before muttering, "That's... nice. What's her name? What year was she born? What are her parents like? Is she training to be a swordsman too?"

The barrage of questions made Haruto sweat. "Her name's Makomo. I think her last name is Urokodaki too… Uh, as for the year… I'm not really sure…"

The air around Gotokawa grew heavier. Finally, his frustration exploded.

"You remember eating twenty-four trout, but you didn't bother asking the girl's birth year?!"

"Well, it was our first meeting! How could I ask something like that?!" Haruto protested.

"You're hopeless! Go marry a rice barrel for all I care!"

Haruto, who had only recently passed the swordsman selection and received an audience with the Master, had zero defense against Gotokawa's ear-pulling tirade.

For reasons unknown, Gotokawa was deeply invested in Haruto's "life prospects." Especially after Haruto mentioned that one of his childhood friends got married at thirteen!

If there had been any eligible girls in the village, Haruto was sure Gotokawa would've already arranged his marriage. He'd be married off—not married to someone.

"Kanamori's been fuming ever since your white parrot delivered word you'd be delayed," Gotokawa said after finally letting Haruto go. "He thinks you're wasting his precious time."

"I brought plenty of mitarashi dango to make up for it," Haruto replied.

He slapped his forehead suddenly. "Right!"

Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a pair of gifts for Gotokawa: a new pair of geta sandals and a beautifully embroidered haori in blue-green mountain patterns, similar to his own but tailored for an elder.

Gotokawa eyed the gifts suspiciously. "Did you get something for that Makomo girl too?"

"Of course."

"Good. The Takanashi family's future rests in your hands."

"Master…" Haruto sighed. "With my looks, it's hard not to get married."

Wait. Why did I say "married"?!

"… I mean, hard not to find a wife!"

Gotokawa studied Haruto's striking features for a moment before growling, "That face of yours is the problem…"

Haruto crossed half the village carrying a large box of mitarashi dango before arriving at Hotaru Haganezuka's workshop.

Haganezuka was infamous for his eccentric personality, often dismissed by swordsmen for being too difficult to work with.

If Tomioka Giyuu's issue was poor communication, then Haganezuka had a terminal case of it.

But Gotokawa always said Haganezuka's focus on forging Nichirin blades justified his social quirks. "Talented people are never perfect," he'd explained.

Haruto found Haganezuka outside his wooden house, talking to another swordsmith, Kanamori Tetsuzuka, while poring over blueprints.

"To make it sharper, we'd have to thin the blade. But if it's too thin, it risks snapping."

"That'll require precision forging—thin but unbreakable. A tall order."

"Damn that brat. Such great sword skills, but his breathing technique is garbage. He should just stay a trainee forever!"

Huh? Who's that supposed to be about?

Haruto pouted before announcing himself loudly. "Excuse me! Kanamori-san! Haganezuka-san!"

Haganezuka turned, his masked eyes narrowing. "Finally, Takanashi boy. You're back."

They didn't like their names or surnames—Haganezuka hated being called "Haganezuka," and Haruto didn't care for "Takanashi." But after stomping on each other's nerves so much, they'd reached an odd truce.

Haruto set the mitarashi dango on the table before leaning in to look at the blueprints.

"Is that my sword?"

"Yes! And no swordsman has ever been as much trouble as you!" Haganezuka exclaimed, tearing into a dango skewer. His mood visibly brightened as the sweet soy glaze worked its magic.

"Don't let him fool you," Tetsuzuka whispered. "He was thrilled to win the contract for your blade from Gotokawa. He stayed up all night drafting these designs."

The blueprints were worn, edges frayed from countless revisions.

"Can you even understand it?" Haganezuka asked, shoving another skewer into his mouth.

"The blade's thinner?" Haruto pointed to the specs.

"To maximize your swordsmanship skills in battle," Haganezuka confirmed.

Knowing his flaws, Haruto sighed. "You're the expert. I can't offer much advice. Just one thing…"

"What?"

Haruto tapped the drawing of the hilt and tang. "Can you make it… look cooler? I'm questioning your taste."

Haganezuka froze, glaring at him like a boiling kettle before erupting.

"You DARE insult me?! I'LL KILL YOU!!"

"Unforgivable!!"

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