Horitake and Shinobu escorted Senjuro Rengoku all the way to the gates of the Rengoku estate.
Standing before the entrance, Senjuro instinctively moved to invite them inside, eager to show his gratitude and offer them proper hospitality. However, Horitake stopped him with a wave of his hand.
"Better not, Senjuro. Your father isn't exactly the type to welcome guests right now."
Horitake paused, his expression turning slightly grim. "Even if he did let us in, given his current state, I doubt we'd have much to talk about. It's best if we head out. You should get inside and rest. You've been through a lot; take some time to recover and look after your health."
Senjuro hesitated, an uneasy look crossing his face.
This was his home. How could he not invite two guests—especially his life-savers—inside for a cup of tea? It felt fundamentally wrong to let them leave without a proper show of gratitude.
But then, he thought about Horitake's words. He thought about his father's current condition. He realized that Horitake was right; there was a very real possibility that Shinjuro would be anything but welcoming. If a confrontation broke out, it would be a grave insult to his benefactors.
He was caught in a painful dilemma, torn between the duty of a host and the harsh reality of his family life.
Seeing the conflict etched into the boy's features, Horitake spoke up again, his voice softening with understanding.
"Don't worry about it, Senjuro. Truly, it's fine. You're home, you're safe, and that's all that matters. As for your father... it's not my place to say much. I believe he is a man of honor and deep emotion at his core, but he shouldn't have stayed in this spiral of decadence for so long. He's a good man, but he and I likely wouldn't see eye to eye. So, let's leave it at this. You go rest, and Shinobu and I will head back to headquarters. We'll part ways here."
Since Horitake had put it so plainly, Senjuro realized he couldn't push the matter.
The boy bowed deeply—a full ninety-degree gesture of profound respect. His voice was thick with sincere regret.
"I apologize for my lack of hospitality. I am truly, deeply grateful for everything! Because of my father's... circumstances, the house is in no state for guests. I will make sure to ask my older brother to convey our family's formal thanks to you both later!"
Horitake nodded with a casual wave, turning away with a practiced air of nonchalance. Shinobu gave a warm, smiling nod of her own before following him.
The two began a leisurely stroll through the small town, beginning their long journey back to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters.
As they walked, Shinobu's curiosity finally got the better of her. She looked at Horitake, her brow slightly furrowed.
"Horitake, Kyojuro's father—the former Flame Hashira—what exactly is going on with him? Was it really alright to leave like that without even paying our respects?"
Horitake shook his head immediately.
"No, no, no... Sister Shinobu, trust me. Leaving directly was the absolute right choice. If we had met him, his attitude would have surely made you angry, and his reaction would have undoubtedly annoyed me. That man has fallen so deep into despair and alcoholism that even if we were his son's saviors, he likely wouldn't have treated us with any decency. Instead of looking for trouble and causing a scene, it's better to just keep our distance."
Shinobu's frown deepened in confusion. "But he was a Hashira. Is his condition really as dire as you say?"
"It's worse," Horitake said firmly. "Bad enough that even though I know he's a good person deep down, I still have no desire to face him. His current personality is abrasive and gloomy—it only serves to provoke irritation. If you actually saw him, it would utterly shatter the image you have of him as a legendary senior."
Hearing the conviction in his voice, Shinobu didn't press the matter further. She simply sighed, saddened that a man of such prestige had withered away into such a state.
As they trekked toward headquarters, the familiar voice of the System suddenly rang out in Horitake's mind.
[Ding! Senjuro Rengoku's safety confirmed. The host has successfully resolved the negative Butterfly Effect. Mission Complete. Calculating rewards...]
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the reward: The Recipe for the Life Replenishing Potion.]
[System Note: This potion can replenish over-consumed vitality in humans, achieving the miraculous effect of restoring health and returning a person to their original natural lifespan. Additionally, the System assumes the host already knows exactly what this is for, how to brew it, and who needs it most. No further reminders necessary.]
Listening to the System's chime, a slow, satisfied smile spread across Horitake's face.
He knew exactly who this was for.
Sometimes, Horitake felt that his System was like a timely rain in the middle of a drought. Whenever he lacked something, the System provided; whenever he agonized over a problem, the System offered a solution. It was impeccably efficient.
His previous mission reward had allowed him to manifest the Demon Slayer Mark—and a "perfect" version at that, which didn't drain his lifespan.
But while his Mark was harmless, the same couldn't be said for everyone else. Once one person "resonated" and manifested the Mark, the surrounding swordsmen would inevitably follow suit. This meant that the most elite warriors of the Corps were now effectively cursed to die before the age of twenty-five.
Horitake could already envision the future: all ten Hashira manifesting their Marks in the final battles.
Among those Hashira were his closest friends and the women he loved.
How could he stand by and watch them wither away before they even hit twenty-five?
To be blunt, he might be able to accept the fate of others, but what about Shinobu? What about Mitsuri? What had they done to deserve such a cruel fate? Why should they be forced to die in the very prime of their beauty and youth?
Horitake would never allow it.
And now, the System had delivered the solution at the perfect moment. This recipe was the "Timely Rain" that washed away the shadows in his heart.
Horitake began to scan the recipe as it was etched into his consciousness.
I see... so that's how it works.
It required incredibly rare medicinal ingredients, balanced through a precise methodology of "King, Minister, Assistant, and Courier"—the fundamental pillars of traditional alchemy. Together, they formed a flawless formula capable of replenishing the very essence of life.
The recipe felt like a work of divine nature.
The potion produced from this would undoubtedly restore lost vitality and extend a shortened lifespan. If such a secret ever leaked out, it would surely spark a bloodbath.
After all, who could resist the lure of longevity? Even the great Emperors of history, like Qin Shi Huang or Emperor Wu of Han, were obsessed with the pursuit of eternal life. Ordinary men would stand no chance against such a temptation.
Horitake understood the gravity of what he now possessed. This recipe could never, under any circumstances, be leaked.
He began to ponder the future—where this recipe should be kept, and how the potion should be administered once it was brewed.
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