The night hung heavy like ink-soaked cotton pressing over the old street.
The bluestone road shimmered faintly pale, and the thick bronze locks on the wooden doors gleamed dully under the weak moonlight.
Even the liveliest taverns had gone dark. Only a broken lantern swayed at the alley's mouth, its flame flickering as if about to die at any moment.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the still night as Kamado Tanjiro and his companions walked on, their soles tapping sharply against the stones.
It was past three o'clock in the morning—no inn still open—so they headed toward the stone bridge not far ahead.
"Here should do!"
Rengoku Kyojuro was the first to stop, patting the bridge's stone pillar. The tips of his orange-red hair glowed warmly under the moonlight.
"The space under the bridge blocks the wind. We can make a small fire and rest."
Hashibira Inosuke immediately dashed forward, crouching beneath the arch and rummaging for dry branches, quick and nimble like a small beast.
"I'm the best at lighting fires! Watch me!"
He grabbed two sticks and began rubbing them together furiously, white smoke curling up in puffs.
Agatsuma Zenitsu shot him a look full of disdain. Pulling a pair of flints from his pocket, he struck them violently over a bundle of straw.
"Inosuke, watch carefully! This is how modern people make fire!"
Inosuke snorted dismissively without looking up and kept rubbing the wood.
Seeing that, Zenitsu's movements grew faster, unwilling to lose. He was determined to start the flame first!
"Thunder Breathing: Flint Strike!"
Meanwhile, Tanjiro took out a lighter, pressed it gently, and with a soft click-click, sparks bloomed into a steady flame.
The dry twigs caught instantly, orange-red fire spreading, the warmth driving away the chill of the night.
"Ah, with technology, even making fire has become easy," Tanjiro said, smiling.
Zenitsu and Inosuke froze on the spot.
…
Beside the fire, Inosuke suddenly stood, rolling up his sleeves to show off his firm arms. His muscles gleamed sharply in the light.
He stretched his back dramatically toward the fire. "Look! After all that training, my muscles are even harder now! Next time we see a demon, I'll crush its head with one punch!"
"Stop bragging!"
Zenitsu hugged his knees near the fire, rolling his eyes with deep irritation.
"Last time during training, Rengoku-san sent you flying with one hit—you landed face-first in the mud! Now you're showing off again."
"What did you say, blondie?!"
Inosuke's hackles rose at once, lunging to grab Zenitsu by the hair.
Zenitsu refused to back down, poking his fingers straight into the holes of Inosuke's boar mask.
Tanjiro quickly pulled them apart, still smiling kindly.
"All right, all right. You've both improved a lot.
Inosuke, your Beast Breathing has become faster, and Zenitsu, your Thunder Breathing is steadier than before. Last time you hit the practice dummy demon in one strike—that was impressive."
Zenitsu's ears turned red. He scratched his head awkwardly and muttered,
"Th-that's obvious… But the training was really tough. My legs still ache. If only I could find a bed to sleep on right now…"
"Let's eat something first."
Kyojuro laughed heartily, pulling a few oil-paper bundles from his pack and handing one to each of them. They were still faintly warm.
"Senjuro made these plum rice balls. He knew we had a mission, so he made extra."
He unwrapped one for himself, took a huge bite, and nodded while chewing.
"Mm! Delicious! The sour plum balances the flavor perfectly, and the rice is chewy. Senjuro's cooking just keeps improving!"
Tanjiro opened his own packet, and a faint scent of plum drifted up.
He bit into it, the soft rice mixing with the sweet-sour taste of the pickled fruit.
Tanjiro felt a gentle warmth inside. "It's really good, Rengoku-san. By the way, your training method is special—making us practice breathing under heavy load every day. I feel like my control over the Hinokami Kagura has gotten much better."
Tō, sitting beside Tanjiro, nodded seriously. "Yeah, the weight training pushes our limits. When I use Storm Breathing now, I can maintain it for ten more minutes than before."
"That's great to hear!"
Kyojuro's eyes lit up. He set down his rice ball, leaning forward slightly, his tone full of fiery passion for swordsmanship.
"Actually, Flame Breathing originally had only nine basic forms, passed down from my Rengoku ancestors. Over the years, through battle, I created two new ones of my own—one is 'Flame Breathing, Tenth Form: Blazing Flame Wheel.' The horizontal spinning strike forms a rotating fire ring—it's great for fighting groups of demons, trapping them all inside the flames.
The other is 'Flame Breathing, Eleventh Form: Burning Sun,' an all-out attack that gathers every breath into the blade. The heat of the flames can ignite the air itself. I used that technique last time to shatter the shell of a Lower Moon with tough defense."
"Whoa! That's amazing!"
Tanjiro's eyes widened. He put down his rice ball and clapped enthusiastically.
"Creating your own breathing form sounds impossible! Just mastering the basics takes so long, and you actually invented new techniques!"
Tō nodded with admiration. "I once tried adjusting a move from Storm Breathing, but it kept breaking my rhythm. I had to give up. Rengoku-san, you really are incredible."
"This isn't something special!"
Kyojuro waved his hand, still smiling, though his voice turned earnest.
"Breathing techniques aren't fixed—they're alive. Every swordsman's body and fighting habits are different. Once you understand the essence of breathing—that it unites perfectly with your body—then combine it with real battle experience, you'll naturally discover your own techniques."
"Red Hawk!"
Inosuke suddenly leaned in, eyes gleaming as if he'd found a new goal. He grabbed Kyojuro's arm eagerly.
"Teach me! I'm gonna make new forms for Beast Breathing too! I'll make a super strong one—a punch that can blast an Upper Moon straight into the sky!"
Kyojuro's arm tightened under Inosuke's grip, but instead of getting angry, he burst out laughing.
"All right! But you can't rush it. You've got to master every base form first—know the strengths and weaknesses of each move. During battles, observe—watch the demon's movements, watch your own reactions, find the power method that fits you best. Once you've built enough experience, you'll be able to create your own ultimate move without me teaching you."
"Really?"
Inosuke's eyes shone brighter. He released Kyojuro's arm and squatted near the fire, swinging his hands around excitedly.
"Then I'll start tomorrow! I'll train 'Pierce Thrust' to be even faster, and mix it with my fists. That'll make something awesome!"
Zenitsu glanced over and pouted, but didn't mock him this time. He knew Inosuke might be impulsive, but once he decided to do something, he always followed through. Which meant—he couldn't slack off either.
The fire crackled, casting warm light across their faces.
Tanjiro finished the last bite of his rice ball, then sniffed the air instinctively.
Amid the scent of smoke and plum, there was a faint trace of blood—so light it was almost hidden—but his sharp nose caught it.
He looked up toward Kyojuro, and their eyes met.
Kyojuro gave a slight nod. The warmth in his gaze faded, replaced by focus and seriousness—they both understood. That faint scent of a demon was their target tonight.
"Everyone, rest for ten minutes."
Kyojuro stood, brushing off the dust on his haori. His Nichirin Sword glinted coldly at his waist.
"After ten minutes, we'll split up and search the streets. Keep your distance from each other. If you find any trace of a demon, use the flare to signal—don't fight alone."
"Yes!"
They answered together. Inosuke stopped swinging his arms and gripped his Nichirin Sword tightly, eyes shining with excitement.
"Beast Rush! Beast Rush!"