Sunlight filtered through the wisteria trellis in the Butterfly Mansion's courtyard, scattering fragments of gold across the ground.
Kamado Tanjiro held a wooden practice sword, swinging it slowly and deliberately. It was his first full training session performing the Hinokami Kagura since recovering from his injuries. The arc of his strikes was steadier than before, his movements more controlled. The faint red scar on his forehead—left behind after his mark awakened—still lingered, reminding him of the brutal battle two months ago.
"Oi, Red Taro! You're way too slow!"
Hashibira Inosuke's voice rang out from the side. Bare-chested, he was lifting a pair of stone weights in the courtyard, muscles flexing under the morning light. His scars hadn't fully faded, but his energy was as wild as ever.
"Keep swinging that slow, and next time we face that black-haired hedgehog, you'll get sent flying again!"
"Inosuke, stop rushing him," said Agatsuma Zenitsu, sitting under the wisteria trellis with a whetstone in hand, carefully sharpening his chipped Nichirin Sword. His hair was shorter than before, and there was a sharper focus in his eyes that hadn't been there months ago.
"Tanjiro's wounds just healed. He needs to take it easy. Besides," Zenitsu added, inspecting the edge of his blade, "your sword's bent too. Once we get to the Swordsmith Village, you'll need a new one just as badly."
Tanjiro paused his swings, wiped the sweat from his brow, and smiled at them. "Thanks. How's Tō doing? When I checked on him earlier, he was still practicing one-handed sword techniques."
The mood in the courtyard dimmed a little at the mention of Tō.
Two months ago, during the fight with Mushiki, Tō had lost his left arm. His body had been mangled, and though he survived, his limb couldn't regenerate. He had to relearn everything with just one hand.
Zenitsu set down the whetstone and said softly, "I visited him earlier. He's already managed to perform the first three forms of Storm Breathing one-handed. It just takes time for him to adapt."
"That's amazing," Tanjiro said, admiration in his voice. "Tō-san never gives up."
He turned toward them again. "Oh, by the way—one of the Kakushi came by earlier. Our request to have our Nichirin Swords repaired got approved. We can leave for the Swordsmith Village first thing tomorrow morning."
"The Swordsmith Village! Finally!"
Inosuke dropped the stone weights with a heavy thud, his face lighting up. "I've heard the smiths there can forge blades that cut through iron like paper! This time, I'm getting the sharpest sword ever made!"
Zenitsu sighed. "Don't get too excited. The Kakushi said the village is hidden deep in the mountains. It'll take two days on foot, and we have to follow a guide the whole way. No wandering off."
"I got it, I got it!" Inosuke waved him off impatiently, already picking up the stone weights again. "If it means getting a new sword, I'll walk for three days if I have to!"
Tanjiro laughed quietly as the two bickered.
In the past two months, the atmosphere in the Butterfly Mansion had finally begun to lighten.
Kocho Shinobu and Kocho Kanae were still busy in the lab, researching a new serum to counter Muzan's power, but they often came out to supervise their training. Tokito Muichiro's wrist had healed, and he'd returned to his sword drills. Uzui Tengen and Himejima Gyomei had recovered as well, already back on patrol.
The only one everyone still worried about was Giyu.
Since that night, Mushiki—no, Tomioka Giyu—had vanished without a trace. The Kakushi had searched multiple times but found nothing.
Sometimes, Tanjiro thought of him—of the quiet man who used to bring dorayaki when he visited them as kids. He believed Giyu-san would return.
At dawn the next day, the sky barely lightened when the three of them stood ready at the Butterfly Mansion's gate.
Their assigned guide was a young Kakushi named Aya, dressed in a gray uniform with a pack full of maps and supplies slung over his back. He looked calm and efficient.
"Honored swordsmen, please follow me," Aya said with a polite bow before turning toward the mountain path to the east.
"The Swordsmith Village lies deep within the mountains. We'll have to take this trail. Wild animals sometimes appear, so please stay alert."
Inosuke immediately unsheathed his damaged blades—the edges still jagged but sharp enough to fight with. "Wild beasts, huh? Perfect! I'll take care of them!"
Zenitsu hurried after him, eyes darting nervously around the dense trees. "Inosuke! Don't start anything stupid! If something strong shows up, we'll have to protect the guide, remember?"
Tanjiro followed at the rear, carrying a cloth bundle. Inside was a small gift for the swordsmiths—a bottle of wisteria flower oil prepared by Shinobu herself, said to prevent rust on Nichirin blades.
The trail wound steeply through thick woods where sunlight barely reached. Only the sounds of birds and crunching gravel filled the air.
After about two hours of climbing, Aya stopped and pointed ahead. "Up there—see the waterfall? The entrance to the Swordsmith Village is behind it. Beyond the waterfall, there's a hidden cave that leads straight into the valley."
Inosuke bounded forward at once, splashing cold water over his hands. "Whoa, it's freezing! Are you sure there's a cave back here?"
"Of course," Aya replied with a small smile, stepping into the waterfall. The water ran down over him but didn't soak his uniform.
Behind the cascade was a narrow, hidden stone door. Aya pressed against it, and it creaked open, revealing a dark tunnel beyond.
Tanjiro lit a torch, its orange glow flickering against the stone walls.
The tunnel wasn't deep—after about fifty steps, they saw daylight again.
When they emerged, all three of them stopped in awe.
A wide valley opened before them, dotted with dozens of wooden houses. Smoke curled from every rooftop, the air thick with the scent of iron and coal. From the distance came the rhythmic sound of hammering steel—clang, clang, clang—and the laughter of children playing.
"So this is the Swordsmith Village?"
Zenitsu's eyes went wide. "It's way livelier than I expected!"
Aya led them down the path into the village, and immediately several children in rough work clothes ran up, staring curiously at their Nichirin Swords.
Just then, a white-haired old man stepped out of the largest workshop, wiping his hands on a soot-stained cloth.
The old man wore an apron covered in iron dust, a hammer in one hand. His wrinkled face was marked by years of work, but his eyes were still bright and sharp.
"Aya, these are the three swordsmen who requested blade repairs?" the old man asked, his voice deep and strong.
"Yes, Master Tetsuido," Aya replied, bowing respectfully. "This is Kamado Tanjiro, this is Agatsuma Zenitsu, and this is Hashibira Inosuke."
Master Tetsuido nodded, his gaze shifting toward their Nichirin Swords. His brows furrowed slightly. "Let me see your blades."
Tanjiro stepped forward first, handing over his sword. The blade was covered in cracks, the edge dulled and close to breaking. It had been damaged by the sword aura of Moon Breathing during the battle with Mushiki.
Zenitsu passed over his weapon, which had a large chip on one side, while Inosuke's dual blades were curved out of shape, their surfaces dented and uneven.
"A real shame," Master Tetsuido murmured as he ran a rough, calloused hand across Tanjiro's sword. His tone carried genuine regret.
"This one was forged from crimson scarlet iron sand—it's usually very sturdy. For it to crack this badly… you must have fought a powerful demon."
The three exchanged glances and nodded in silence.
Master Tetsuido let out a long sigh. "More and more slayers are coming in with damaged blades lately. All of them were wounded by demons. Repairing yours will take time."
He pointed at each sword as he spoke. "Tanjiro's blade will need a full reforging. Zenitsu's must be patched and resharpened. Inosuke's pair must be heated and straightened again. It'll take at least one week."
"One week? That's fine by me!" Inosuke said eagerly, his eyes gleaming. "Old man, can you add some serrated edges to mine this time? Makes cutting demons easier!"
Master Tetsuido scowled. "Nonsense! The design of a Nichirin Sword matches the user's breathing style. Add serrations, and you'll ruin the balance—you'll end up cutting yourself instead!"
Inosuke tilted his boar mask forward, ready to argue back, but Tanjiro quickly stepped in.
"Master, please don't worry. Take your time. We'll stay in the village and wait until the swords are ready."
"Hmph," Master Tetsuido grunted, then turned toward the workshop door.
"Hey, Kotetsu! Take our guests to their quarters and get them something to eat!"
A boy about ten years old came running out. He wore a small apron just like the old man's, his face smudged with soot and his hands gripping a small hammer. "Got it! This way, please!"
Kotetsu led them toward several small wooden cabins near the edge of the village. "These are your rooms. Each has a bed and blankets—you can rest for now. I'll come get you when it's time for dinner."
"Thanks, Kotetsu," Tanjiro said with a warm smile before stepping inside one of the cabins.
The room was simple—two beds, a table, and a pair of chairs—but clean and well kept.
Inosuke dropped his pack immediately and darted out again. "I'm going to watch them forge swords!"
Zenitsu groaned softly and followed after him. "I'd better go too. Someone has to make sure he doesn't cause trouble for the smiths."
Left alone, Tanjiro sat by the window and watched the sunset spill over the valley. The light turned the sky a soft orange-red, and the steady rhythm of hammers mixed with children's laughter—it all felt peaceful, almost nostalgic.
He thought of his family, of Giyu, of Tō.
"I have to get stronger," Tanjiro whispered, clenching his fist. "Not just for myself, but to protect everyone in the Corps."
That evening, Master Tetsuido invited them to dinner with several swordsmiths from the village.
Over warm rice and steaming soup, conversation turned serious.
"Something strange has been happening lately," Master Tetsuido said, setting down his chopsticks. "At night, we've been hearing noises from the far side of the valley. Sounds like beasts growling… or demons crying. But every time we send someone to check, there's nothing there."
"Probably just wild animals," said a younger blacksmith with a laugh. "The weather's warming up—beasts are getting more active."
Master Tetsuido shook his head. "No. It's different. That sound… it's too unnatural. Feels like something's watching this village."
Tanjiro's expression tensed. He remembered what one of the Kakushi had said before—that several demons had been spotted in the surrounding mountains.
He kept silent but made a note of it in his heart. If there really are demons near here, I'll protect this place no matter what.
After dinner, night fell quickly over the valley.
Inosuke collapsed into bed, snoring almost immediately. Zenitsu sat on the edge of his own, carefully wiping down his sword under the dim lamplight.
Tanjiro stood at the window, looking out over the flickering lights of the village below. His chest swelled with determination.
In just a few days, our blades will be reforged, he thought. When that happens, we'll be stronger than ever—ready for whatever battles come next.
From deep in the valley came a faint, distant roar. Tanjiro's hand tightened on the wooden sword at his side, his eyes sharpening.
Tomorrow, he decided, he'd ask Master Tetsuido exactly what that sound was.
The first night in the Swordsmith Village passed quietly—but beneath that calm, something unseen stirred.
For Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke, this journey to the Swordsmith Village was not just for new blades. It was the beginning of new trials.
And the secret buried deep within the valley… was about to awaken.