The Man Who Remained — His Second Life Began with a Humble Bow of Apology.

**Unyou’s Replacement—Ahem—Townscape Introduction (Part One)**

“There are customers here – this isn’t the time to be running the shop.”

With that attitude, he casually closed up the store, serving freshly brewed hot tea prepared by the master himself, creating an atmosphere of utmost hospitality. It was an unimaginable sight for Kajyu Mabito under normal circumstances, but Unyou and Haku knew well that, on rare occasions, things like this did happen.

Usually unsociable, using harsh, almost violent language as if ready to throw punches at anyone, Mabito would sometimes become inexplicably kind and even start fussing over others’ needs. It wasn’t directed towards any specific person either – rather, it could happen to anyone, at any time, except Unyou.

He would suddenly become gentle one day, only to revert to his curt, cold self the next. It seemed almost like he had a split personality, though apparently there was a clear reason behind it. Fortunately for Cross and Ellie, today happened to be one of those rare days.

“So, you wanted to ask about swords?”

Seeing Mabito smiling like this, which was so unlike him, sent a slight chill down Unyou and Haku’s spines.

“That does interest me, but… could you also tell me about this Kajyu Workshop?”

“Huh? I don’t mind, but why do you ask?”

“Well, you know… workshops, blacksmiths, masters… it all just sounds so cool, doesn’t it?”

Cross’s eyes sparkled like an excited child. Seeing that, Mabito chuckled softly.

“I don’t know about ‘cool,’ but sure, I’ll tell you. Though it’s not much of a story, so sit tight.”

With that, Mabito began explaining the origins of the workshop.

To those who know Aurafeel, the current Demon King, it may be hard to believe, but monsters are by nature often arrogant beings. To claim the title of Demon King, absolute power is necessary, and in their society, regardless of one’s position, overthrowing those above is always an option.

Moreover, their enemies were merely fragile humans. Given that, it was natural for monsters to become conceited. In reality, however, conflicts between monsters and humans usually ended with humans victorious, their malice far exceeding that of monsters. Yet the arrogant ones refused to see this truth.

As for Hourai’s past – unlike the typical nature of monsters, it never fostered arrogance or hubris. Even more so than Aurafeel now, the people of Hourai lived humbly, constantly honing their strength.

The reason was simple: before they were incorporated into the Demon Kingdom under the name Hourai, they were attacked daily from all directions – by wild beasts, stray monsters, organised bandits, and even nation-level assaults. Despite not being a great power, their lands were rich in food, and when they were still known as Toukou, they were seen as nothing but prey.

They had no room for arrogance – only the desperate will to survive, building mountains of corpses to protect their home up to this day. Even now, with attacks reduced by more than half after becoming part of the Demon Kingdom, Hourai remains vigilant. Day and night, they continue their training, refining their martial skills. Every resident, including children, knows how to wield a weapon or fight. In Hourai, there was no such thing as a person who couldn’t fight.

One such pillar of their continued training is these workshops that pass down skills across generations.

They don’t think only of themselves, but of Hourai’s future, wishing to preserve these techniques for their descendants. It was this almost human-like mindset that led to the birth of the Kajyu Workshop.

“Sure, it’s a human-ish idea, but we wanted to leave this workshop and our techniques for the next generation, and the one after that. That’s what the Kajyu Workshop is about. Though unlike humans, we have longer lifespans, so succession gets pretty intense.”

“Intense?”

“Humans pass the torch when they grow old or weak, right? For us, both are still in their prime. Even the sixth head of the Kajyu Workshop is still active.”

“Then… what’s the condition for inheriting the name?”

At that, Mabito smiled and slapped his brawny arm.

“You beat the previous head at their strongest and take the name by force. That’s the ultimate way to repay your mentor, isn’t it?”

“Woah… that’s awesome.”

Cross grinned widely.

“But, you know, in human blacksmith workshops, it’s not always this one-successor style, right?”

“That so? We always thought that’s how humans did it.”

“It’s not unheard of, but usually there are lots of people working together, each doing their part. It’s just like any normal workplace – though with a lot more hot-headed folks.”

“Hmm, sounds efficient. Here, we usually only have an assistant helping with the forging. Anyway, next is about these swords we Hourai folk use.”

Saying that, Mabito placed a single blade on the table.

“No need to fuss about whether it’s a wakizashi, tachi, or uchigatana today. Just draw it, and feel it. That’s my soul.”

Mabito spoke solemnly to Cross.

Perhaps it wasn’t the right phrase, but Cross felt a certain sacredness in his words – as if he was stepping into a domain he couldn’t enter lightly. That sanctity was built upon countless craftsmen’s dedication, passed down and refined over a thousand years.

It was the soul of steel.

That’s why, just by looking at it, Cross felt a chill down his spine.

“…Is it really okay?”

“It’s not about okay or not. Draw it, and see with your own eyes. Explanations can come later.”

Cross nodded, carefully gripping the beautiful scabbard as though holding delicate glass. He drew the blade from its black lacquered sheath.

It was, without question, a soul.

Thinner than any sword he normally carried, it somehow appeared short despite its standard length. Yet it was heavy – far heavier than his swords that were twice its size.

That weight – sharp, beautiful, and overwhelming – made him realise:

“I see. This really is a soul. But… there’s no way I could ever use this.”

He returned it to its sheath and handed it back to Mabito.

With a broad smile, Mabito accepted it.

“You understand. This isn’t a weapon just anyone can use. I’m not belittling your swords – in fact, weapons like yours that anyone can handle are superior in their own right. It’s because these blades are inferior in practicality that they suit us Hourai folk.”

Saying so, Mabito drew the sword again, moving so lightly it was as though the weight didn’t exist.

“A weapon only Hourai can wield… so that’s its true meaning.”

Ellie’s words drew a nod from Mabito.

“Well put. It’s not that only Hourai can use them – it’s just that it takes years of training to handle them properly. Want to know more about that?”

Seeing Cross and Ellie nod eagerly, Mabito swung the sword with incredible grace. Each movement, from start to finish, was precise and dignified – it was no longer just swordsmanship, but an art form.

With a single, perfect slash, he cleaved an empty chair in two.

“No matter the shape, if you’re talking about swords as souls, you can’t ignore the act of cutting.”

Thus, Mabito began his proud lecture on blades.

The swords Cross used prioritised durability, built to withstand prolonged combat. Even if chipped, they remained functional, and minor damage could be repaired on the field. Their two basic functions were cutting and thrusting – though their ‘cuts’ were really closer to forceful chops, using sheer arm strength. That was their design.

If one were to use a Hourai blade the same way, even the finest sword would shatter in a single strike. In terms of toughness, Hourai blades were inferior to mass-produced swords. Forceful chops would snap them instantly. Moreover, Hourai blades were not particularly suited for thrusting – though it was possible, it was treated as secondary.

So what could they do? Only one thing:

Cut.

That was their sole purpose.

Unlike Cross’s blades that chopped, Hourai swords severed. True cutting – slicing clean through. In that single aspect, no renowned sword could match them.

Their extreme thinness, achieved by countless folded layers, produced an edge beyond compare. The curve was engineered to facilitate slicing, like a chef’s knife. That devotion to cutting alone gave them an unparalleled sharpness.

“They don’t break easily, of course – they’re forged absurdly tough. But used poorly, they’ll snap without hope of repair. That’s one of their key traits.”

“I see… that’s fascinating.”

Ellie nodded alongside Cross, both engrossed in this wealth of knowledge. As warriors, such insights were invaluable.

“Well, they chip easily too, and once they do, their cutting ability plummets… but anyway…”

Mabito continued his explanations with a mix of lecture and casual conversation. Cross and Ellie listened intently, encouraging him further until before they knew it, the sun was setting.

“It’s about time…”

Haku spoke hesitantly, and Mabito blinked, looking out at the darkening sky.

“Damn. I wasted the day even after changing clothes.”

Scratching his cheek, he then brightened up.

“Ah well! Forget it. Since you’re all here, I’ll feed you dinner and let you stay the night!”

He declared it as if it were only natural, his smile broad. Incidentally, despite their long acquaintance, Unyou had never received such an offer.

“Sorry, but they need to meet the village chief now.”

At Unyou’s words, Mabito’s face fell slightly.

“Tch. Well, can’t be helped. Give my regards to the chief. Oi! Our guests are leaving! See them off! I’ll be forging tonight – see you, Cross, Ellie.”

With that, Mabito disappeared into the back. In his place, the tanned young woman from earlier appeared to guide them out.

“Forgive him. He acts on impulse, always.”

She said with an awkward smile.

“It’s fine. Isn’t that how all blacksmiths are?”

Cross’s reply made her bow her head slightly.

At the entrance, she turned to them once more.

“Let me apologise in advance. Next time you come, he’ll probably treat you harshly, so please don’t take it personally.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Mabito-sama dislikes socialising. Today was special. Normally… well, to put it mildly, he’s extremely curt with everyone.”

“So it’s not like his memory reset or anything?”

“No. It’s more like a charm or ritual for him. Only those who pass his ‘standard’ on a given day see his friendly side.”

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind… Hah, he’ll go cold again, huh? That’s something to look forward to.”