Haganezuka's Judgement
The highly excitable, flower-patterned swordsmith, Haganezuka, had just delivered Tanjiro's sword. He watched with his usual intensity as the charcoal-seller's blade turned a deep, inky black, a color he immediately recognized as unlucky, sending him into his standard dramatic fury.
Then, his gaze drifted to the tall, new figure standing beside the boy: Kanami Reire. Haganezuka instantly stopped mid-rant, his thoughts abruptly derailed by the sheer absurdity of Kanami's presence.
(Haganezuka's POV)
"What in the nine hells is this flamboyant nonsense?!"
Haganezuka narrowed his eyes, hidden behind his large straw hat. He took in Kanami's appearance: the perfectly tailored black and red uniform, the impossible gold dragon patterns sewn into the fabric, and the utterly excessive gold dragon clip holding his hair back. It looked less like a Demon Slayer Corps uniform and more like the costume for a traveling theatrical troupe.
"He has the aura of a Hashira—that clean, overwhelming scent of lethal strength. But I know every single Hashira, and none of them dress like a festival banner! Is this some new, arrogant addition to the Corps? Why wasn't I informed? Do they think I don't need to know the men I'm forging for?!"
Haganezuka noticed the faint, dark Demon Slayer Mark over Kanami's right eye, and the shocking sight of that eye itself. It was the rich, startling color of amber, like a mythical serpent's or dragon's eye from an old folk story, intense and completely unnatural.
"That eye! I've only forged for a handful of slayers who've achieved strength. This brat must be training by smashing his face into boulders and eating raw sun steel! His dedication must be absolutely insane to possess such a volatile power at his age. He probably spends all his downtime doing one-armed pushups on the mountain peak just to annoy the wind!"
His gaze finally fell to the sword Kanami carried. It was a masterpiece: sleek, black, with a distinct, smoky purple wave rippling near the edge. It was unlike any standard Nichirin blade he had seen, and the craftsmanship was beyond even his own.
Haganezuka craned his neck, trying to read the carving near the hilt. He finally managed to make out the strange, angular characters: "Heaven's Devour Them."
"A custom blade! Forged by some unknown master... and it has a self-proclaimed, arrogant name carved into it!" Haganezuka was now beside himself with curiosity and professional jealousy. "This man is a walking insult to the tradition! A ridiculously strong, overly dramatic new Hashira who dresses like a rich peacock and carries a named, custom blade! Who is he? I must find his smith! I must know how he forged a sword with that ominous, blood-consuming aura!"
Ignoring a final, exasperated sigh from Urokodaki, Haganezuka retreated, his mind now completely consumed by the need to identify the ridiculously strong, flashy, and utterly mysterious swordsman known as Kanami Reire.
Haganezuka's Obsession: The Heaven's Devouring Blade
The highly eccentric swordsmith, Haganezuka, was recovering from his shock over Tanjiro's black blade when his attention snapped back to Kanami Reire. He marched right up to the mysterious, dragon-adorned figure.
"You!" Haganezuka barked, ignoring Tanjiro. "The one with the ridiculous uniform and the terrifying aura! Are you a Hashira?"
Kanami, meeting the wild man's gaze, activated his high Charm stat. He maintained a serious, slightly wounded look that evoked sympathy.
"No," Kanami replied simply. "I am not."
Haganezuka recoiled, utterly shocked. "Not a Hashira?! He has the aura of one! And that sword! This is unprecedented! This man is a walking, breathing anomaly!"
Haganezuka then lowered his voice, focusing on his true obsession: the sword.
"Then explain this," he demanded, pointing a rigid finger at the black blade hanging from Kanami's hip. "That Nichirin steel... the flow of that purple ripple... I've only ever seen that pattern of folding in the work of one smith. Tell me, who forged that sword?"
Kanami sighed, his expression turning distant, as if recalling a deeply personal, difficult memory.
"That sword..." Kanami began, weaving his lie with compelling detail. "I found it years ago, after I was left for dead. I stumbled into a remote, hidden mountain village deep in the wilderness, guided only by desperation."
Kanami paused for effect. "An old, masked man there found me. He didn't speak much. He simply took me to a clearing where many swords were stabbed into the ground. He tested me by telling me to draw the blade that called to my soul."
Haganezuka was hanging on every word, his eyes wide with professional envy. "And you drew that blade?"
"I did," Kanami confirmed. "It has the words 'Heaven's Devour Them' carved on the hilt."
Haganezuka took a sharp, gasping breath behind his mask. He recognized the description, and the realization sent his thoughts into a frantic, internal breakdown.
(Haganezuka's POV)
"A hidden village! An old man! A test of the soul! The purple flow... it can't be! That technique, that specific forge method that leaves the steel looking like liquid shadow, was used by only one man in the entire history of the Corps! It was the signature of my grandfather!"
"But my grandfather has been dead for decades! He perished years before this boy was even born! How could he have possibly met him?! Unless... unless that old man was a ghost! The spirit of my grandfather, forging swords in the afterlife, testing worthy slayers?! Good heavens, this man is not just a swordsman; he's on a divine quest from beyond the veil!"
Haganezuka suddenly bowed deeply, shocking Tanjiro and Urokodaki. "I apologize for my rudeness, Reire-dono. You carry the legacy of a great master. I will not bother you further."
He quickly scrambled away, leaving Kanami and the others completely bewildered, his mind now consumed with the dual obsession of fixing Tanjiro's 'unlucky' black blade and locating the hidden village of his grandfather's spirit.