Simply by listening to Tanjiro's explanation of "breathing," and watching him perform the Hinokami Kagura a few times, Soma had already grasped the essence of the Sun Breathing.
Such a thing would have been utterly impossible for him in the past.
When he had first learned the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū, it had taken immense effort—countless lessons under Kenshin's direct guidance, repeated sparring sessions, and painstaking practice—before he could claim even a basic level of mastery.
And yet now…
Almost unconsciously, his thoughts drifted inward, toward the status panel that seemed etched deep within his mind—a presence that rarely changed, yet always reflected his true condition.
...
Name: Soma
Race: Demon
Lifespan: Infinite
Abilities: Immortality (Complete), Rapid Regeneration, Enhanced Physique
Weaknesses: None
Status: Perfect
Blood Demon Art: Devour (Perfectly acquires the talents, abilities, and Blood Demon Arts of consumed targets)
Swordsmanship: Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū
Breathing Technique: Sun Breathing
Physique: 3.1 (Average adult: 1)
Agility: 3.2 (Average adult: 1)
Strength: 3.1 (Average adult: 1)
Mental Strength: 5.5 (Average adult: 1)
...
For the first time in a long while, that seemingly unchanging panel had shifted. A new entry had appeared—Sun Breathing—clearly listed among his abilities.
Though the panel itself served no direct function, it had always been an accurate reflection of his state. Its appearance here meant only one thing: he had truly mastered the Sun Breathing. This was no illusion.
What had once been impossible had now become effortless.
The cause was obvious.
Ever since he had consumed the Blue Spider Lily and evolved into what could only be described as a "perfect lifeform," everything about him had changed. It wasn't merely that he had overcome his weakness to sunlight or gained control over the hunger for flesh—those were only the most visible transformations.
Something deeper had shifted.
His talent. His comprehension. His very capacity to understand.
These changes were subtle, almost impossible to notice under normal circumstances. If not for this moment—this sudden, effortless mastery—he might never have realized just how much he had evolved.
"So this… is what it means to be perfect."
The thought lingered as a quiet sense of awe stirred within him.
Looking up, he saw Tanjiro still immersed in the Hinokami Kagura, repeating its flowing movements again and again. A faint smile touched Soma's lips.
"That's enough. You can stop now."
Tanjiro came to a halt, his breathing slightly uneven. While performing the dance, he too had been thinking, trying to piece together its meaning. Now, a spark of realization had begun to form within him.
"I think… I've figured out something."
"Oh?"
Soma's smile deepened. Without another word, he drew the Nichirin Sword from his waist and handed it to Tanjiro.
"Try it."
"…Alright."
Tanjiro accepted the sword without hesitation.
Though he was more accustomed to the weight and balance of an axe, the unfamiliar feel of the blade in his hand only heightened his excitement. He couldn't help but examine it closely, his gaze tracing along its length.
As sunlight streamed in through the window and fell upon the blade, it seemed—just for an instant—that faint flames flickered along its surface.
Tanjiro froze.
When his grip tightened slightly, the flickering light vanished, and the blade grew dim, as though the fire had been snuffed out.
"Th-this…?"
A flicker of unease crossed his face.
"Don't worry about it," Soma said with a quiet chuckle. "That's a Nichirin Sword—made specifically for slaying demons. Its color changes depending on its wielder, reflecting the breathing style they're suited for. For example, someone who uses the Sun Breathing will turn the blade black—a very rare color—while the Water Breathing turns it blue."
As he spoke, a trace of confusion flickered in his own eyes.
He remembered that once a Nichirin Sword changed color, it rarely shifted again. This particular sword had belonged to someone who practiced the Flame Breathing, which was why it had always carried that vivid, fiery hue—like dancing embers. Even when Soma wielded it, it had shown little change.
And yet today… it had reacted differently.
Tanjiro, however, paid no mind to this inconsistency. Gripping the blade firmly, he stepped outside.
In his mind, the movements of the Hinokami Kagura replayed once more, each motion unfolding with growing clarity. Slowly, guided by instinct and newfound understanding, he began to swing the sword—letting the rhythm of the dance guide his strikes.
Though he had never undergone formal sword training, nor practiced any structured techniques, the boy's grip on the blade was steady, and the force behind each strike carried a natural strength that felt almost instinctive.
It was as if he had been born for the sword.
The sharp whistle of steel cutting through the air soon drew the attention of the Kamado family. Kamado Kie paused in the middle of washing dishes and looked up, while Nezuko, who had been watching over her younger siblings, turned her gaze toward her brother. Takeo, Shigeru, and Hanako stopped their play as well, their eyes fixed on Tanjiro as he practiced.
With each movement, Tanjiro grew more exhilarated.
He was still a boy, after all—and what boy had never dreamed of becoming a wandering swordsman? Though the era of samurai had long since faded under the Sword Abolishment Act and the passage of time, that only seemed to deepen their allure. The image of a true swordsman, free and unbound, wielding a blade to mete out justice and vengeance, held an undeniable charm.
To carry a sword… to decide life and death with one's own hands—such thoughts stirred something fierce and bright within him.
At that moment, with the blade in his grasp, Tanjiro felt as though he had truly become a swordsman.
He swung again.
The air itself seemed to howl under the force of his strike. The Nichirin Sword—its color gradually darkening into black—began to emit a faint, scorching aura, as though heat shimmered along its edge.
This was the burning effect unique to the Sun Breathing, a power especially devastating to demons—one of the reasons it stood above all other breathing styles.
Lost in his own world, Tanjiro failed to notice the passage of time—
Until a calm, gentle voice reached his ears.
"Shift your left foot forward just a little more… and press down slightly when you grip the sword."
Almost instinctively, Tanjiro followed the instruction even as he continued his movements. When he adjusted his stance, he was startled to realize how much more stable he felt, his feet grounding him more firmly against the earth. When he lowered his grip slightly, the sword seemed to respond more naturally in his hand, as though it had become an extension of his body.
A wave of astonishment surged through him.
"Let your strike extend just a bit further… and when you jump, keep some strength in reserve while you're in the air."
The man's voice continued, calm and precise.
Tanjiro followed each instruction in turn. Though it was his first attempt, he found himself able to execute them with surprising ease, as if his body instinctively understood what was being asked of it.
With every adjustment, something shifted.
Whether it was the motion of his blade or the rhythm of his breathing, the explosive power building within him—fueled by the Sun Breathing—seemed to flow more smoothly, releasing itself with far greater efficiency.
He struck again.
And this time, the movement felt complete.
Panting heavily, Tanjiro finally came to a stop. Turning around, he stared in astonishment at the man standing by the doorway.
"Very good, Tanjiro."
Soma stood there, lightly applauding, a faint smile on his face.
Tanjiro should have felt proud—yet instead, a trace of embarrassment crept into his expression. Compared to the man before him, his own progress felt insignificant.
"…Compared to you, Sir… I'm still far from enough."
He stepped forward and respectfully presented the Nichirin Sword with both hands.
"You've already done very well." Soma smiled and patted his shoulder in praise.
Feeling that firm, reassuring touch, Tanjiro couldn't help but lift his head. The man's figure seemed tall and steady, and for a fleeting moment, it overlapped with the image of his father standing before him long ago.
Soma gave his shoulder another light pat before turning his gaze toward the children who had gathered nearby—Nezuko, Takeo, Hanako, Shigeru…
"Would you like to train like your brother as well?"
His tone was gentle, inviting rather than commanding.
"I do!" Takeo, the second eldest boy after Tanjiro, mustered his courage and spoke up.
"Then from now on, you can join the training too."
Soma smiled warmly.
"Sir… can girls join as well?"
Hanako, the second eldest girl after Nezuko, raised her hand hesitantly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Looking at her face—so similar in its softness to Nezuko's—Soma nodded without hesitation.
"Of course. Girls can become beautiful and strong swordswomen as well."
At those words, Nezuko couldn't help but lift her head slightly, a faint glimmer of longing appearing in her bright eyes. Her gaze drifted toward the delicate girl standing quietly beside Soma.
Kanao stood within his shadow, silent and composed. Sensing Nezuko's gaze, her pale pink-violet eyes flicked toward her.
Startled, Nezuko shrank back at once, instinctively lowering her head.
But after a moment, perhaps realizing how timid she must have seemed, she slowly raised her head again. Seeing that Kanao was no longer paying attention, she stuck out her tongue ever so slightly—just a small, playful act of defiance.
...
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