As a swordsmith, Hotaru Haganezuka was above reproach. He adored swords with a burning passion and devoted his life to honing the techniques passed down in his family through generations.
But as a human being, he left something to be desired. From toddlerhood, when he drove his parents to the point of mental breakdown, he’d been infamous for his aggravating personality and outrageous behavior. He chased Demon Slayers with a knife while shouting threats, throttled other swordsmiths, and even picked fistfights with the Hashira.
“Hotaru’s got me at my wit’s end.” Tecchin Tecchikawahara, seated at the head of the table, let out a sigh as he bit into a mitarashi dango.
The dumplings were a gift to Haganezuka from the Demon Slayer Tanjiro Kamado. Haganezuka had lost his head at Tanjiro for ruining a sword he’d been working on. Ranting about the blood and sweat he’d shed over that sword, Haganezuka had insisted that the boy owed him a lifetime supply of dango.
To Tanjiro’s considerable credit, he was trying to honor this demand. Personally, Tecchin found it shameful that a grown man would hold a grudge against a fifteen-year-old boy. Tecchin was Haganezuka’s godfather and had raised him as a son, and now his shoulders slumped with dejection. “I guess I brought him up wrong.”
“No, no,” Kanamori said gently as he made tea. “You can’t blame yourself for the way he carries on, not when he’s nearing forty. Right, young Kotetsu?”
With the conversation lobbed in his direction, Kotetsu lifted his face from his dumplings. “Yup. Bad with people, short-tempered, stubborn—that’s just the way he is. It’s not anybody else’s fault.”
“Say what you will, but I feel responsible.” Tecchin wiggled in his seat like a child. “Wish we could smooth those edges of his a bit. Any ideas?”
“Nope,” Kotetsu shrugged. “It’d be easier to teach a bear to shake hands than train that guy to show some manners.”
Kanamori, drawing on a wealth of experience from his long life, was slower to admit defeat. “Hmm...let’s see.” He cocked his head. “How about finding him a wife?”
Kanamori’s proposal—“Mission: Get Haganezuka to Settle Down and Become a Slightly Better Person”—received Tecchin’s enthusiastic support. The matchmaking moved forward with surprising speed. Their first concern was that Haganezuka, the target, would tell them to drop dead. But, after a lot of awkward twisting and fidgeting, he agreed to try an arranged marriage. In fact, he didn’t seem entirely displeased. It was decided that a marriage meeting would take place on the first auspicious date.
The date arrived.
Kanamori and Kotetsu lurked in the garden of the high-class restaurant where the meeting was scheduled. Naturally, they were there to spy on the potential couple. Since the swordsmith village was closed to outsiders, they’d had to find a location in a neighboring town. Kanamori had selected the meeting place, so he’d had no problem sneaking himself and Kotetsu onto the grounds.
In the center of a spacious dining room, two figures sat facing each other. They were, of course, Haganezuka and his prospective bride. Tecchin sat plopped between them like a small, squat decoration. The young woman, dressed in finery for the occasion, was lovely. The showy peony pattern on her kimono suited her slender frame.
“She’s really pretty, isn’t she?” Kotetsu whispered. “Lucky Haganezuka.”
“She’s the chief’s type,” Kanamori whispered back. “Take a gander at her face. Doesn’t she look just like Lady Kanroji?”
Tecchin claimed to have chosen the perfect match for Haganezuka after careful consideration and research. But as imperturbable as their chief usually was, and however much authority he wielded with wisdom and ease, Kanamori knew that when women got involved he stopped thinking with his head.
“I can’t believe a beauty like that is willing to consider Haganezuka,” Kotetsu whispered.
“He’s quite the looker himself, you know. I bet they managed to turn him out nicely in his matchmaking photo.”
“Are you saying looks are all that matter?”
“No, no, my dear boy.” Kanamori shook his head firmly. “It won’t matter a jot if there’s no love. Love, my boy, is all.”
Kanamori’s own marriage had started with love at first sight, and now he was in the running for the village’s most doting husband. Kotetsu worried that he would yet again start to passionately extol his wife’s charms, right then and there.
As this whispered exchange continued, the marriage meeting got underway.
“Er...do you have any hobbies, Mr. Haganezuka?” the young woman asked.
After a long pause, Haganezuka said under his breath, “Making swords.”
In the ensuing silence, the kuk-kunk of the bamboo fountain in the garden echoed like a gunshot.
“So...your first name’s Hotaru?” the woman continued. “That’s such a lovely name.”
Another pause. “Thank you.”
“Isn’t it just?” Tecchin interjected. “I gave him his name. But all the boy does is complain it’s too cutesy!”
The young woman covered her mouth with a hand and laughed melodically. “I’m sure he’s just self-conscious about it. He’s so modest, after all.”
Kuk-kunk!
“As for me, my hobby is cooking. Do you have a favorite food?”
“… Mitarashi dango,” Haganezuka grunted.
Kuk-kunk! Impossibly, the clack of bamboo against stone seemed to keep getting louder.
“What do you do on your days off?”
“… eat mitarashi dango.”
“Goodness! You really must love dango!”
“… wish I could eat it every day.”
“You’re adorable, Mr. Haganezuka!”
Kuk-kunk! went the bamboo, as if punctuating the statement.
Kanamori’s eyebrows lifted. “Huh! It doesn’t seem to be going too badly. Although that bamboo fountain is nerve-wracking.”
“It’s even,” Kotetsu ventured, “going...well?”
“It is, isn’t it? I’m sensing sparks! But he’s barely speaking, and I can’t hear a word he says.”
“I think he’s nervous. Look at him squirm in his seat.” Kotetsu frowned. “It’s kind of weird in a grown man.”
“Well, he’s dedicated his entire life to the sword. In his own way, he’s very innocent. At least he’s behaving himself, not putting his shortcomings on display, and the lady seems taken with him.” Kanamori leaned forward, as excited as if he were seated at the table himself. “Our plan might just work out.”
“Well, then!” The chief stood. “Why don’t you young folks take a turn in the garden on your own?” It was a standard suggestion for the second stage of a matchmaking session. The first stage safely cleared, the couple moved outdoors.
It was an eye-catching sight: a muscular man in a Hyottoko mask and a beautiful woman in the blush of youth strolling along a garden path, side by side.