Night fell quietly.
Inside the modest house, Sakonji Urokodaki and Makomo sat by the hearth, sharing a simple meal. Aside from the occasional crackle of burning firewood and the soft sounds of eating, the room was steeped in silence—still, almost heavy.
And yet, in stark contrast—
From beyond the door came bursts of lively noise.
Bang!
A sudden explosion shattered the calm.
Both Urokodaki and Makomo instinctively looked up, their gazes turning toward the window. Beyond it, the dark sky was suddenly lit by bursts of brilliant color. Fireworks bloomed against the night, their glow dancing across the mountain as the newly arrived family set off firecrackers.
Children's laughter echoed freely, accompanied by the rhythmic clapping of small hands and the gentle, warm calls of a woman's voice. The scene outside was full of life—bright, bustling, and full of warmth.
Once upon a time, Mount Sagiri had known such liveliness too.
Back then, there had been no fireworks or firecrackers, but there had been laughter—the disciples gathered around a campfire, talking and joking late into the night.
But over time… fewer and fewer people remained.
Now, only the teacher and Makomo were left.
Well… and one more—Giyu Tomioka, who rarely ever returned.
"How noisy," Urokodaki muttered under his breath after taking a sip of porridge.
Makomo glanced at her most respected teacher. Without his mask, his face looked gentle, yet she clearly caught a fleeting trace of envy—and beneath it, a quiet sorrow—lingering in the corners of his eyes.
Lowering her gaze, Makomo thought of Sabito… and of all those disciples from before. Silently, she too took a sip of her porridge.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps approached from outside—steady, synchronized.
Almost at the same instant, both Urokodaki and Makomo reached for the masks placed beside them and put them on.
Moments later, Soma entered, accompanied by Tanjiro and Kanao.
"Ah, Urokodaki-san, you've already started eating?" Soma greeted with a smile as he stepped inside. "Lady Kie made some dorayaki today. I brought some over for you to try—you might like them."
Beside him, Tanjiro quickly set down a large bowl of still-steaming dorayaki in front of the two.
With their masks on, neither Urokodaki nor Makomo's expressions could be seen, but neither made any move to stop them. That alone was answer enough—they didn't object.
Once the plate had been placed properly, Soma smiled again. "We're not interrupting, are we?"
"It's fine."
From beneath the tengu mask, Urokodaki's voice remained calm and even. His eyes, however, stayed fixed on Soma, filled with quiet suspicion. He didn't ask anything outright, but the doubt was there.
"This time, we came to Mount Sagiri because strange incidents—rumors of demons—have been happening near our hometown," Soma began to explain.
Behind the mask, Urokodaki watched him closely. His nose caught something… the faint scent of a lie. And yet, he couldn't be certain. After all, earlier that day, he had also smelled something else on this man—the unmistakable scent of a demon. Even now, that thick, ominous aura lingered in his senses.
"We chose this place not only because we heard that a powerful demon slayer resides here—making it relatively safe—but also because…" Soma continued, his tone steady, "we want to take part in hunting demons ourselves. We hope to ask Urokodaki-san to teach us how."
Before Urokodaki could respond, Makomo frowned and spoke first.
"Demon hunting is extremely dangerous. One wrong step, and you'll lose your life."
"I know," Soma replied with a nod. "But if all of you can do it… why can't I?"
"Heh..." Makomo let out a cold, light laugh, her voice so airy it lacked any perceived weight. . "You don't understand what demon hunting really means."
"And what does it mean?" Soma looked at the small girl in the smiling fox mask.
"It means you will die. Do you not understand even that?" Her voice sharpened, the calmness laced with something deeper. "Not only you—everyone you want to protect will die as well. You're an outsider. You can't possibly comprehend the weight of what this path carries."
Images of those who had walked this road—and fallen upon it—flashed through her mind: her seniors, her fellow disciples.
Behind the mask, the girl stared at Soma, her voice growing heavier with each word.
"You have no idea… what kind of price must be paid."
"But we… no longer have a choice."
Soma spread his hands, a bitter smile tugging at his lips as he spoke.
"We've already been targeted by a demon."
"What…?"
Makomo shot to her feet, unable to hold back her reaction, while Urokodaki's eyes narrowed slightly beneath his mask.
"Where is the demon?"
Her small hand moved instinctively to the hilt of the sword at her waist. A sharp, killing intent flickered in her eyes—completely at odds with her petite, delicate appearance. Yet despite her vigilance, she sensed no trace of a demon nearby.
Under that oppressive aura, Tanjiro felt a chill run down his spine. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, his fists clenching tightly as unease crept into his chest. He cast a worried glance at Soma, afraid that his true identity as a demon might be exposed.
And yet, Soma remained perfectly calm.
He simply nodded toward Tanjiro. "Show Urokodaki-san the 'Breathing Style' you've been practicing."
Tanjiro nodded and steadied himself. Then he began to breathe.
With each deep inhale, large amounts of oxygen flooded into his body, and his physical capabilities surged in a short burst, his entire presence subtly shifting.
Seated upright moments before, Urokodaki now leaned forward slightly.
As someone who had practiced Breathing Styles for many years, he could immediately tell—what Tanjiro was using was different.
More than that… it felt overwhelming.
This wasn't a gentle or balanced style; it was forceful, domineering—demanding an exceptionally strong body to withstand its strain. Even from where he sat, Urokodaki could sense a faint, scorching heat emanating from Tanjiro's breathing.
"This Breathing Style…" he murmured, his voice low with contemplation. "It's unlike any I've seen before. Is it a new branch derived from the five main styles?"
At the side, Soma raised his gaze slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. He hadn't expected Urokodaki to fail to recognize the Sun Breathing.
After all, the man had once been a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps—one of its core pillars, even in retirement. And yet, even he was unaware of it.
That alone spoke volumes about how much knowledge of the Sun Breathing had been lost over time.
Once, swordsmen who practiced it had been the main force against demons. But as the years passed, it had all but faded into obscurity. Aside from the Kamado family—and perhaps faint traces within the Rengoku lineage—there was almost nothing left of it.
"A powerful breath," Urokodaki continued after a moment of observation. "Against demons… it would likely be especially effective."
Even at a glance, he had grasped its core nature.
There was no doubt—it was a form of breathing that held exceptional advantage against demons. But at the same time, he could clearly sense the immense burden it placed on the user's body.
"An ordinary swordsman wouldn't be able to withstand the strain this breath imposes. I imagine only a very small number of people could ever hope to master it."
After offering his assessment, he shifted his gaze back to Soma.
"You said a demon is targeting you. Is it related to this Breathing Style?"
"I'm not sure," Soma replied with a slight shake of his head. "But there is definitely a demon searching for us… and I believe it has been watching us from the shadows all along."
"You're certain?"
Urokodaki's expression turned grave. It would explain why he had caught traces of a demon's scent on them—perhaps it was connected to this very matter.
If a demon truly existed, he had no hesitation in dealing with it personally.
He might be old, but he wasn't dead.
And he certainly hadn't lost the ability to slay demons.
While facing one of the Twelve Kizuki might prove difficult now, ordinary demons—even those wielding Blood Demon Arts—would still pose little challenge to him.
"I can't be certain," Soma admitted. "It's just a feeling… that something has been watching us."
Urokodaki studied him closely.
Once again, he caught the faint scent of deception.
It made him hesitate.
Truthfully, he had been wary of this group from the moment they suddenly appeared on Mount Sagiri. It was only because most of them were women and children that he had lowered his guard, if only slightly.
Aside from the man standing before him—whom he couldn't see through—the others seemed simple enough, their intentions not particularly complex.
"With the strength demons possess, they wouldn't need to lurk in the shadows. If they had truly set their sights on you, they would have acted already. By now, you would likely have become their prey."
Ordinary people had no real chance against demons.
Urokodaki shook his head.
"…That may have something to do with the Kamado family's legacy." Soma lowered his voice and spoke in detail to Urokodaki Sakonji about the Kamado family—their inherited Hanafuda earrings, and the legacy of will left to them by Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
"Yoriichi Tsugikuni..."
After listening in silence, Urokodaki fell into deep thought, the name stirring a faint sense of familiarity in his mind, as though he had encountered it somewhere long ago.
It took him quite some time before realization finally dawned.
Back when he had first become a Hashira and gained access to the deeper secrets of the Demon Slayer Corps, he had once seen that name recorded in a classified document.
If he remembered correctly, the record described Yoriichi as the most powerful swordsman of his era—so far beyond his peers that no one in the Corps could compare. He had even been capable of facing Muzan Kibutsuji alone.
By all rights, such a man should have been revered, his name passed down and honored by every member of the Corps.
And yet… the truth was far from glorious.
The records painted a far more complicated—and tarnished—picture. In the end, Yoriichi had been expelled from the Demon Slayer Corps.
According to the document, there were three main reasons for his expulsion.
First, despite having the chance to kill Muzan Kibutsuji, he had allowed him to escape.
Second, he had spared a demon named Tamayo, one of Muzan's subordinates.
But in Urokodaki's eyes, neither of these was the true cause.
The real reason… lay elsewhere.
Yoriichi's older brother, Michikatsu Tsugikuni, had become a demon.
It was the first time in the Corps' history that a swordsman had fallen so far, transforming into the very thing they existed to destroy—a disgrace the organization had never endured before.
And it didn't end there.
Michikatsu had gone on to behead the Corps' leader at the time, then carried that severed head as an offering when he defected to Muzan.
It was an unparalleled humiliation—one that cut deeper than any loss in battle.
The Demon Slayer Corps did not fear sacrifice. Death, after all, was a constant companion on their path.
But disgrace… that was something they could not accept.
Some among them had even begun to suspect that Yoriichi himself might follow in his brother's footsteps—that he too might seek immortality and betray humanity. At one point, there were even voices demanding that he take his own life in atonement.
Because of this, all records concerning Yoriichi had been sealed away. Only those who reached the rank of Hashira could access such knowledge. To the outside world, his name had long since faded into obscurity.
Urokodaki had never expected to hear it again—least of all here.
"So… the Breathing Style you're practicing now originates from Yoriichi Tsugikuni?"
"Yes," Soma replied calmly. "The 'Sun Breathing' we practice is his legacy."
"…The Sun Breathing."
Hearing the name, Urokodaki finally understood.
As a former Hashira, he was not entirely unfamiliar with it. But the style had long since vanished from the Corps, to the point that he hadn't even considered the possibility at first. Instead, he had assumed it was a newly derived style branching from one of the five major Breathing Styles.
He had even wondered which style could possibly give rise to something so domineering—something that surpassed even the ferocity of Flame Breathing.
"So that's why…" he murmured. "No wonder it's so aggressive and demanding. It's the 'First Breathing' style."
Unable to remain seated, Urokodaki stood up and stepped closer to Tanjiro, who was still maintaining his breathing. As he approached, the heat grew more intense, as though the air itself might ignite.
A look of astonishment crossed his face as he felt it more clearly.
"No wonder… no wonder the records said that those who practiced the Sun Breathing were the true backbone in the fight against demons."
His voice carried a rare note of awe.
"This Breathing Style even carries a trace of scorching heat… I can't help but feel that, if one were to reach a high enough level with it—"
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as the thought fully formed.
"—they might not even need a Nichirin Sword to kill a demon."
If it truly was the Sun Breathing… then the possibility of being targeted by demons was far from unlikely.
As he spoke, Urokodaki's tone gradually grew more animated, a rare spark of excitement surfacing in his voice. "If the Demon Slayer Corps had more swordsmen practicing the Sun Breathing, then dealing with demons would undoubtedly become far easier."
Only after a long moment did he finally rein himself in. Realizing that Soma was still watching him, he gave a small, slightly embarrassed cough and sat back down.
"So," he continued, regaining his composure, "you came here not only because you believe this place is safer, but also to learn how to hunt demons… and ultimately kill the one that's been watching you?"
"You could say that," Soma replied with a nod.
Urokodaki fell silent for a brief moment, thinking it over before speaking again. "I can teach you how to hunt demons, and I can also guide you in your Breathing Style. However…" He paused, his gaze sharpening slightly. "I would need to report your situation to the Corps. What you've told me is extremely important. It's possible that the Master may hold more crucial information regarding the Sun Breathing. What do you think?"
As he spoke, Urokodaki continued to observe Soma closely.
His nose still picked up traces of deception from the man—faint, but unmistakable. And yet, there was no scent of danger.
In truth, Urokodaki did harbor some doubts about Soma's intentions. But after a moment's thought, he chose not to pursue them further.
Everyone had their own secrets. Even if he pressed for answers, there was no guarantee he would receive them.
"I have no objections," Soma agreed without hesitation.
Urokodaki nodded, then glanced between the two of them. After a brief hesitation, he added, "Actually, hunting demons doesn't always mean facing them directly. In some cases, there are roles that contribute far more than simply slaying a few demons."
"Oh?" Soma raised an eyebrow slightly.
"For example, you could become a Kakushi—support personnel who assist Demon Slayers behind the scenes. Or you could go to the Butterfly Mansion and take responsibility for treating injured swordsmen and helping them recover. You could even join the swordsmith division, forging powerful weapons for the fighters. Or…" he paused briefly, "…you could become a trainer—someone who trains new recruits, ensuring a steady flow of fresh talent into the Corps."
As he finished, Urokodaki looked directly at Soma, his tone turning more earnest.
"In my opinion, if you are able to pass down the Sun Breathing and nurture more swordsmen who can wield it, that would be worth far more than killing one or two demons—ten times, a hundred times more."
He held Soma's gaze, letting the weight of his words settle.
"What do you think?"
...
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