Tomioka looked at Iguro with cool eyes.
Breaking the explosive tension, the fusuma door flew open with a bang.
“Never fear, Iguro, Kanroji! I’ll handle things from here!”
Shinobu wasn’t sure when he had slipped out of the room, but Kyojuro Rengoku was now standing in the open doorway. He charged into the room with high spirits, and the moment Shinobu saw a pair of unfamiliar glasses on top of his head, the world spun around her.
“Tomioka, have you seen my glasses? I’ve been looking for them all over, but I can’t find them anywhere!”
Tomioka stared at him in disbelief. “They’re on your head,” he muttered. “Did your brain get worse along with your eyes?”
Rengoku froze on the spot.
“Mm,” he groaned, then shouted, “It’s impossible! Not a person alive could make Tomioka smile!”
No, Rengoku. I’ve got my doubts about this gimmick too.
Shinobu resisted the urge to say this and instead asked, “Did you always wear glasses?”
“Nah! I can see perfectly, thirty years into the future. I went and got these just now!” he replied with a cheery smile. He wasn’t the least bit concerned that the joke he’d so carefully prepared had flopped. He never spoke in a quiet voice.
Five of them were still left to go—Iguro, Muichiro, Himejima, Shinazugawa, and Shinobu—but Iguro was currently the embodiment of anger. He was in no state to make Tomioka smile. In fact, he wanted to kill him. Muichiro hadn’t been on board from the start, and Shinazugawa was absolutely out of the question. Himejima himself had said that he wasn’t very good at making people laugh, so she couldn’t count on him.
For all intents and purposes, she was the only one left to carry out their mission. She stared at Tomioka’s unrelentingly expressionless face. Make Tomioka smile … Did he even know how? She started to think rudely, and a cry slipped out of her.
“Oh!” Actually. If it was just about making him smile, even Shinazugawa could make it happen. She knew of exactly one card they could play.
Shinobu had actually seen Tomioka smile faintly, just once. At the time, he had been eating … She looked around and walked over to Shinazugawa, who appeared ready to explode in irritation.
“Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa.”
“Yeah? What?” he snapped, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes.
“Salmon stewed with daikon,” Shinobu whispered into the ear of her extremely deranged colleague. “Tomioka’s favorite food is salmon stewed with daikon.”
“Huh?”
“He’ll definitely smile if he has some.” She grinned.
Shinazugawa looked like he would rather skewer her. “Are you messing with me?”
“Of course not. I would never mess with you. It’s true. So please invite Tomioka out to get some salmon stewed with daikon.” Shinobu told him in a low voice, while in contrast, Shinazugawa roared, boiling over with rage.
“Whaaaaa?! Why should I do that?! Kocho, you could just ask him yourse—”
“It’s for Master Ubuyashiki.” Shinobu brought out her secret weapon, and Shinazugawa gulped back his next words. She kept going, as if to strike the killing blow.
“Please think about how happy Master Ubuyashiki would be if you could make Tomioka smile. ‘Thank you, Sanemi. You truly are amazing,’ he’d tell you with a grin. I just know it.”
“Ngh.” Shinazugawa’s eyes flew open wide. He was silent for a moment after that, but he eventually looked back at Tomioka.
Shinobu turned her gaze that way too.
Giyu Tomioka had the usual expression on his face that made it impossible to know where he was looking or what he was thinking. He probably didn’t intend it that way, but his face seemed like he was making fun of anyone who spoke to him.
As she’d feared, merely looking at Tomioka’s face made Shinazugawa’s hands shake. Blood vessels twitched on his forehead. But …
“H-hey, T-Tomioka.” He still managed to call out to his colleague because it was the request of Ubuyashiki, who he adored like a father.
His shaking voice rose in anger, and despite the fact that he was so enraged, the corners of his mouth turned up in something like a faint smile. The effort brought tears to his eyes.
“H-how about we go get some salmon stewed with daikon?”
“No.” The response was immediate.
Tomioka. You, why would you … ? Shinobu closed her eyes. She heard the sound of Shinazugawa’s blood vessels snapping from oddly nearby.
“I just had some salmon stewed with daikon,” Tomioka continued, but his voice was drowned out by the bestial, rage-filled roar of Sanemi Shinazugawa.
“So that really happened, huh?” Tanjiro said admiringly.
“Yes.” Tomioka nodded.
Tanjiro sighed. He never got to hear about the Hashira talking with each other. The story featured Kyojuro Rengoku when he was still alive. Picturing his energetic form, Tanjiro’s heart filled with warmth. I’ll have to tell Senjuro about this in a letter.
While he was thinking this, Tomioka murmured absently, “Even remembering it now, I have no idea why Shinazugawa was so angry.”
Tanjiro cocked his head to one side thoughtfully.
“I know!” He clapped his hands together. “I’m sure that Shinazugawa wanted to go eat salmon stewed with daikon with you, Giyu.”
“Shinazugawa … With me?” Tomioka looked a little surprised.
“Yes!” Tanjiro bobbed his head up and down. “So maybe he was sad when you said no?”
“Uh-huh …”
Tanjiro didn’t know what Tomioka thought of his suggestion.
“If we can be friends over ohagi, I’ll invite Shinazugawa out next time,” Tomioka said slowly. “I’ll ask him to go get some salmon stewed with daikon with me.”
“That’s a great idea! I just know you’ll end up being friends,” Tanjiro replied, beaming. Tomioka also looked just a little bit happy. The faint smile that popped up on his surprisingly childish face in profile delighted Tanjiro.
The way Tomioka was now, Tanjiro was sure he’d be able to be friends with everyone. He hoped he would get to see Tomioka laughing with the other Hashira one day. He was fairly awkward and despairingly few of words, but he was honestly a really nice person. How happy he would be too if he could smile and laugh surrounded by friends.
I wish I could show Rengoku that scene.
Actually, he’d want Rengoku to be laughing among them. Remembering the dead man’s smile as bright as the sun, Tanjiro felt a sharp twinge in his nose.
“Tanjiro,” an older trainee called. “We better get back to it.”
“Okay!” Tanjiro sniffled and stood up.
At any rate, right now, he had to get stronger. He’d get stronger and never let anyone or anything be taken from him again. The brisk wind carried the crisp scent of bamboo as Tanjiro gripped the hilt of his wooden sword tightly with both hands.