After training at the Butterfly Mansion ended, Asuka would lean alone against a corridor pillar, close his eyes, and quietly review everything he had practiced that day.
Footwork like this could not be mastered overnight. He could not rely on Shinobu Kocho's guidance forever. He had to learn to summarize his own experience and reinforce the results of his training at all times if he wanted to truly gain something.
"Asuka-san!!"
Tanjiro's heavy footsteps approached from afar before stopping in front of him, his breathing ragged.
Because of his injury rehabilitation, he had been working hard these past few days and had barely had a chance to speak with Asuka.
He stood straight, his bangs damp with sweat and clinging to his broad forehead.
His bright eyes looked directly at Asuka, burning with pure gratitude. "I haven't had the chance to properly thank you! At Mount Fujikasane, if you hadn't stepped in to help, Nezuko and I probably would have... Thank you so much!!"
Tanjiro suddenly bent forward in a deep ninety-degree bow, utterly sincere.
Asuka opened his eyes. He did not particularly care how heartfelt the thanks were and simply asked calmly,
"Are your injuries better?"
"Thanks to everyone here at the Butterfly Mansion, I'm slowly recovering!"
"Good. There's no need to thank me. It was a transaction." He nodded and pointed at the wooden training sword in his hand. "If your body's better, then pay what you owe."
Tanjiro straightened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Even if it was a transaction, you still saved us! I'll never forget that kindness!"
His eyes shone. "Do you want to learn the Hinokami Kagura now? You've trained all day. Shouldn't you rest a bit first?"
"It's fine."
Tanjiro said no more. He took a deep breath, steadied his panting, and walked to the sunniest open space in the courtyard.
There was no drumbeat, no accompaniment.
The boy lowered his stance, knees bent, hands loosely clasped as if holding invisible drumsticks and kagura bells.
He slowly began.
Each movement carried the solemn rhythm of an ancient ritual—steady and fluid.
Arms sweeping, waist twisting, toes pressing against the ground.
His steps shifted within a confined space, drawing powerful arcs in the air.
This is the fire sword form?
Asuka's brows knit silently.
His gaze followed every movement Tanjiro made—the stretch of muscle, the shift of weight, the rise and fall of his spine. Nothing escaped his observation.
And yet... no matter how he looked at it, it was merely an ancient ceremonial dance.
Before long, Tanjiro, whose body had not fully recovered, stopped halfway through the dance, breathing hard.
He scratched his head sheepishly and smiled awkwardly at Asuka. "I'm really sorry, Asuka-san. I'm still a bit..."
"It's fine." Asuka was not unreasonable enough to nitpick over such things. "Is this your sword form? Why is it different from what I saw that night?"
He mimicked the movement Tanjiro had just completed—both hands raised as if offering a sacrifice.
"There's nothing particularly special about the movements themselves. How do they produce such a powerful slash?"
"A powerful slash..." Tanjiro panted, confusion appearing on his face.
To be honest, I don't fully understand it either.
"When Father taught me, he only said it was the 'Kagura Dance' passed down through our ancestors. It's a ritual to show reverence and gratitude to the Fire God, to pray for divine protection..."
"It also includes a special breathing method. The breathing and the dance are completely integrated. I think... maybe that day I accidentally combined it with Water Breathing. That's why I could perform that move."
Combined...
Asuka fell into thought.
Can different breathing styles really be fused together?
Come to think of it, the current breathing styles all evolved from the original one. Perhaps there is a way to find a point of synergy between them as well.
"I understand. Rest for a while and show me the full sequence slowly."
"Yes!"
After that, every few minutes of rest, Tanjiro would demonstrate another portion of the Kagura dance. Asuka watched carefully, occasionally copying the motions, trying to grasp the key to it.
However—
When Asuka attempted a movement that required a wide rotation of the body, with breath circulating along with it, the Wind Breathing within him—usually as obedient as his own limbs—suddenly faltered.
It was like a surging torrent slamming into an invisible dam. His breath instantly reversed course within his chest and abdomen.
A muffled groan slipped from his throat before he could stop it.
Instinctively, he pressed a hand beneath his ribs, his expression darkening.
The rebounding force was not strong. With his physique, he suppressed it in an instant. But the raw sense of obstruction and conflict made one thing clear—
This path would not work.
It seemed the Kagura dance was a key that did not match the lock of Wind Breathing within him.
He would have to start from the inherited prayer breathing of Tanjiro's family instead.
Just then, a startled cry and the clang of a wooden basin hitting the ground came from the other end of the courtyard.
A Mizunoto member, not yet fully recovered and still unsteady on his feet, had fallen awkwardly. The overturned basin soaked his pant legs and the surrounding ground.
"Ah! Oda-san!"
Tanjiro's attention was instantly drawn away, genuine worry appearing on his face.
He did not even spare a word for Asuka before rushing over.
"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" Tanjiro quickly crouched down and carefully supported the arm of the member named Oda. "Here, slowly."
Half supporting, half lifting, he helped him to a dry spot under the corridor. Then he swiftly picked up the wooden basin and efficiently wiped up the spilled water.
"I-I'm really sorry to trouble you, Tanjiro," Oda said, his face full of apology and gratitude.
"It's nothing!" Tanjiro's smile was bright. "Just sit still. I'll go get a fresh basin of water!"
With that, he dashed off again.
This was not the first time Asuka had noticed it. The boy always showed extraordinary concern for others.
Retightening the bandages of an injured member, talking with a discouraged young swordsman, helping a Kakushi carry heavy medicine boxes—
During his days at the Butterfly Mansion, Asuka had observed that sweat never seemed to leave Tanjiro's forehead. He did not look like a wounded patient at all.
His eyes always shone. Every time he helped someone, that pure warmth capable of dispelling gloom would naturally bloom into a smile on his face.
The strong prey upon the weak. Equal exchange.
Behind every kindness, there could be a trap. Every helping hand required a clear price.
That was how the world should function.
Asuka could understand Tanjiro risking his life to protect Nezuko. That was a bond of blood—perfectly natural.
But this—
As if there were an inexhaustible furnace within him, burning himself just to warm every irrelevant stranger...
It was almost incomprehensible. Even dangerously foolish.
When Tanjiro finished cleaning up the basin for Oda and hurried back, Asuka spoke, puzzled.
"Why?"
Tanjiro paused for a moment. Seeing Asuka's gaze, he immediately understood what he meant.
He leaned against the pillar beside Asuka, lifted a water jug, and took several large gulps, his smiling face still flushed from the exertion.
"Are you talking about me helping everyone, Asuka-san?"
Asuka did not nod. His eyes alone confirmed it.
Tanjiro set down the jug and looked at the members in the courtyard—some supporting each other, others practicing rehabilitation alone. His gaze was gentle yet firm.
"Because everyone's having a hard time... When you're hurt, it hurts. It's tough. If someone needs a hand and I can help, then I should."
He paused, then turned to Asuka. In those flame-clear eyes, the afternoon sunlight was reflected.
"Father used to say: when you take joy in helping others, in the end, you'll receive something in return too!"
"I think helping someone and seeing them smile in relief makes my own heart warm too. That happiness is the best reward."
Taking joy in helping others?
Asuka rolled the phrase over in his mind. It felt strange.
"...I see."
Confusion crept like vines, quietly growing over his hardened heart.