[Moon Breathing].
It is the first derivative of [Sun Breathing], the root of all [Total Concentration Breathing], and a style I brought forth as if it were my own child.
Five hundred years have passed since Total Concentration Breathing began, yet unlike the countless other variants that sprang up like bamboo shoots after a rain, a purple [Nichirin Blade] has never again appeared to signify a new bearer.
Even [Sun Breathing] saw many practitioners over time, but as if proclaiming [Moon Breathing] to be my exclusive domain, I remained its sole wielder.
Of course, I have spent over five centuries outside the Demon Slayer Corps, severed from their ranks, so I cannot wholly dismiss the possibility that a purple [Nichirin Blade] emerged within their midst...
But really, does any of that matter now?
Before me now stands someone bearing the very same aptitude I possess.
A human capable of inheriting the build I have cultivated through the ages.
It feels as though an endgame veteran has encountered a newbie equipped with a fully loaded weapon chest.
Yet...
Something is off.
The Total Concentration Breathing he is using is not Moon Breathing.
The steady rhythm of his breath continues, unwavering.
It did not falter when I charged, when I called his name, nor when I assumed a defensive stance.
That boy maintains his Total Concentration Breathing unceasingly.
The very breathing one typically reserves for the execution of techniques is being sustained continuously in his everyday life.
It is an utterly brute-force method, yet it stands as proof that he has reached the first condition for assured mastery: the mid-stage of Total Concentration Breathing.
To reach the mid-stage at such a young age is truly remarkable, but…
From the sound, the style he employs is Water Breathing.
Though [Water Breathing] is said to be easier to learn and less taxing than other styles, that boy’s innate disposition is for Moon Breathing.
A breathing style that does not suit one’s body is worse than a rusty blade; it is either unusable or far less effective than a style that aligns with one’s nature.
And yet, he manages to sustain the mid-stage of Total Concentration Breathing with a style unsuited to him...
Fascinating, is it not?
Sustaining the mid-stage of Total Concentration Breathing with a style ill-fitted to one’s constitution.
He mirrors my own past foolishness, back when I wielded [Sun Breathing] recklessly.
“I have decided.”
I took a step toward the youth.
The kid flinched at my movement but held his stance, refusing to draw his sword.
I never imagined the day I would utter such words.
Could this, too, be part of Ubuyashiki’s plan?
Well, what does it matter now?
I met the gaze of the eyes behind his fox mask and spoke.
“You will become my disciple.”
“No. Why would I?”
…
He flatly refused.
I had attempted to imitate that other man’s manner, but apparently, that was not the right approach.
Was mimicking him a mistake? Well, he didn't succeed either…
**
It had been roughly seven days since I arrived here.
As expected, Urokodaki Sakonji was once a swordsman who rose to the rank of Sui-shu, mastering the pinnacle of [Water Breathing].
Therefore, as a mentor, Urokodaki instructs only in [Water Breathing].
I succeeded in making it my own in just a few days.
Besides being the easiest among the breathing styles to learn, the Tenth Form of [Moon Breathing] is the epitome of [Water Breathing]; once I observed the forms and mastered them, little time was required.
In other words, I have already achieved the purpose of coming here.
All that remains is to depart, take the exam, and put Ubuyashiki’s worries to rest—but another purpose has arisen, so I cannot leave just yet.
It has to do with that kid swinging his wooden sword over there.
I’ve been turned down about seven times so far.
He insists on fighting with [Water Breathing].
Yet I cannot simply give up.
As the saying goes, ‘a tree not felled in ten chops will fall on the eleventh’—three attempts remain.
“So you’re here.”
The voice came from below.
“Master.”
It was the fox-masked swordsman, Urokodaki Sakonji.
“You still call me that?”
“Once one has received sword instruction, one’s master is eternal.”
I descended from the tree.
“Master, I have never had a disciple like you. I have never truly taught anyone.”
“That matters not. I have decided to call you that.”
“Is that not mere affectation?”
“To hide it from a master who can sniff out emotions would be pointless, would it not?”
Urokodaki’s eyes widened as though I had struck a nerve.
“Did Himejima tell you?”
“Compared to others, Master, your nose moves in a way that struck me as unusual. I know someone like that.”
Sumiyoshi had said as much.
I have not encountered anyone with that constitution in the five hundred years since Sumiyoshi.
I wondered if Urokodaki might be a descendant of Sumiyoshi, but to my regret, no trace of Sumiyoshi’s cells remained in him.
“Does that not unsettle you?”
“Do you even consider a demon’s feelings?”
“Do not answer a question with a question.”
Urokodaki’s demeanor made the corner of my mouth lift without my realizing it.
“Since I have nothing to hide, it is rather easier for me. There is no need to tack on needless explanations.”
“Is that so?”
A moment of silence passed, broken only by the thud of the boy swinging his wooden sword.
“That child is strong. Sabito is.”
It was Urokodaki who first shattered the stillness.
“I know.”
Even with the simplest [Water Breathing], to maintain the mid-stage of Total Concentration Breathing when it does not suit his constitution…
His sword spirit is fierce beyond his years.
By talent alone, he might rival our generation.
Even if the Final Selection from five hundred years ago continued unchanged to this day, that boy might pass.
He possesses a talent that might earn him the rank of Sui-shu without ever using [Moon Breathing].
However.
“Yet no matter how strong, if one stubbornly clings to a breathing style that does not suit them, they will eventually hit a limit.”
I nodded in agreement with Urokodaki.
“That is his second sword. His first broke during his third mission.”
He pointed to Sabito’s [Nichirin Blade].
“He believes the blade snapped because he was weak.”
The blade broke for another reason.
Granted, I, too, have snapped a blade against the Upper Moons—blades can break when faced with a powerful adversary.
After all, [Nichirin Blade]s are not unbreakable.
But that boy has not faced the Twelve Kizuki, so let us move to the second hypothesis.
A blade’s transformation is not merely its color.
Its unique characteristics change as well.
There is a reason a [Nichirin Blade] is treated as a unique weapon.
A [Nichirin Blade] morphs according to its first owner’s aptitudes.
A purple blade adapts to [Moon Breathing], reacting to produce a perfect synergy.
Conversely, it cannot respond to other styles.
A Total Concentration Breathing style unsuited to the blade places undue strain upon it.
The result is inevitable damage.
During combat, such a blade may shatter.
For a swordsman, losing one’s blade on the battlefield spells death.
“His insistence on using [Water Breathing] will lead that boy to his death.”
“I agree.”
“I wish I could break his stubbornness, but as for why he clings to it…”
“I once saved that child from a demon. That was our first meeting.”
Urokodaki began to tell the story, his gaze fixed on the scar on the boy’s cheek.
“When he became my disciple and first split the rock, he made a promise to me. He vowed that he would ascend to the rank of Sui-shu with the sword that saved him, like a man. That promise may be what binds Sabito.”
“Is it admiration?”
But he split a rock? Well, someone was grunting at an immovable boulder.
“What the...!”
It felt like a hallucination, but…
“Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding.”
Even so, I cannot let his stubbornness prevail.
For I cannot let a novice I met after five hundred years perish before his time.
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