Dinner that night was unusually lavish.
At Soma's suggestion, Tanjiro invited Urokodaki-sensei and Makomo over as well, and soon everyone gathered around a steaming hot pot.
Since they were eating, both Urokodaki and Makomo removed their masks.
Soma had long since seen Makomo's delicate, gentle features beneath her mask, but this was the first time he had seen Urokodaki's true face.
It was… unexpectedly soft.
Nothing like the fierce tengu mask he wore—his features were calm, even somewhat refined, almost feminine in their gentleness. It suddenly made sense why he chose to hide behind such a fierce mask. With a face like this, going out to hunt demons might invite more ridicule than fear.
Takeo, Hanako, and the others had always been a little afraid of him because of that intimidating mask. They had imagined a terrifying face hidden beneath it.
But now that they had seen the truth, their curiosity only grew. They kept sneaking glances at him, unable to hide their fascination.
Being stared at so openly, Urokodaki felt slightly uncomfortable. He tried to put on a stern expression, but his naturally gentle features simply refused to cooperate.
In the end, he gave up.
And the moment he did, the children rushed over without hesitation—Shigeru even threw himself straight into Urokodaki's arms.
As usual, Soma picked out the plumpest chicken leg and placed it into Kanao's bowl. Perhaps because the first thing he had ever given her was a chicken leg, it had since become her favorite.
They sat together around the fire, eating and drinking. At first, with Urokodaki and Makomo present, there was a slight stiffness in the air—but it didn't last long.
Gradually, everyone relaxed.
Laughter filled the room.
The children played and joked, their voices bright and carefree. The woman smiled warmly, her expression filled with quiet contentment. The young girl laughed as well, dimples forming on her cheeks, her joy unmistakable.
"Sensei, have a drink with me,"
Soma raised a cup of sake and gestured toward Sakonji Urokodaki from afar.
Sakonji Urokodaki raised his cup.
He drank a cup of sake, ate a bite of hot food, and listened to the children's joyful sounds, their playful shouts, and the woman's serene smile. Everything felt familiar.
A long, long time ago, in this very place, there had once been such a lively scene. Once, there had been so many lovely children.
Thinking of those days, tears welled unbidden at the corners of the gentle old man's eyes. He poured himself another cup of sake. In his mind, he saw faces that had once been so familiar but could never be seen again.
He took a large gulp, and a touch of melancholy settled in his heart.
"Let's step outside for a bit, Urokodaki-sensei."
Noticing his state, Soma picked up a sake flask and cup, smiling as he spoke.
"Alright."
Urokodaki agreed without hesitation.
The children were still eating inside. Kanao wanted to follow, but Soma stopped her and entrusted her to Kamado Kie. It so happened that Kie had sewn a few garments for the girl, so she invited her to try them on.
The night on Mount Sagiri was a little cold. As soon as they stepped outside, the cold wind made Sakonji Urokodaki shrink back slightly. But for Soma, a demon, the cold wind felt quite refreshing.
Urokodaki noticed this and chuckled.
"Young people really are full of vitality. Unlike me—I'm already old."
"Everyone grows old eventually."
Soma shrugged casually before adding,
"I long to buy osmanthus flowers and go boating with wine, but in the end, it's not the same as when we were young."
Urokodaki was momentarily startled.
From youth to middle age, and now into old age… time had passed so quickly.
Now, as he drank again, he could clearly feel it—
He was no longer young.
That line struck him deeply.
And with it came another thought—
His disciples.
Those children who had once admired him so much… they would remain forever young in his memory.
A quiet sense of loss settled in his heart.
The mistakes he had made in the past had become regrets that could never be undone. And every time he thought of them, an indescribable heaviness filled his chest.
"Have another drink."
Soma tilted the flask toward Urokodaki's empty cup.
The old man let out a light, self-deprecating laugh.
"To think I'd let a young man like you see me like this… making a fool of myself."
With that, Urokodaki handed over his cup.
Soma filled it to the brim. The gentle-faced old man raised it and drank it down in one bold gulp, then lifted his head to look out over Mount Sagiri at night. Just like always, as darkness settled in, the mist began to rise, and a faint haze now lingered in the air.
The two of them walked aimlessly along the mountainside. Before they knew it, they had arrived at a clearing deep within the forest—standing before that massive boulder.
Urokodaki gazed at it, as though he could see every disciple who had once stood here, carving their marks into its surface with their blades before leaving.
"Makomo told me… the Hand Demon's neck was harder than stone. She couldn't cut through it," he murmured quietly. "Most of my disciples… likely fell because of that."
"It was," Soma agreed. "Its neck was incredibly tough. If I hadn't been unusually strong, I doubt I could've severed it either."
"A neck as hard as stone… that's no ordinary demon," Urokodaki said, his voice heavy. "If my disciples were defeated by such a creature, then perhaps it wasn't unjust. But if I had known… if I had known such a demon existed, they would never have lost."
"Maybe so."
Soma nodded and poured him another cup.
"It feels like… your disciples would like to have a drink with you right now."
Urokodaki paused, then instinctively looked around.
The mist had grown thicker, drifting through the forest until everything was shrouded in pale white. Yet there was no one there—no familiar figures to be seen.
A gentle breeze stirred, brushing the mist across the old man's face… across his wide, searching eyes.
"A toast to them." Soma said softly.
He poured himself a cup and spilled it before the great boulder in offering.
Urokodaki froze for a moment, then slowly turned back to the boulder.
For an instant—just an instant—he thought he saw them.
The boys wearing the masks he had carved with his own hands, standing together, raising their cups toward him.
His vision blurred.
With trembling hands, he lifted his own cup and drank it in one go.
The wind passed.
And when he opened his eyes again, there was nothing there.
Only the silent, empty boulder.
"I wish… I could go back," Urokodaki said, his voice thick with regret. "Back to that night. Back to the moment when that demon devoured his brother… back to when I stood there, hearing the brother beg me not to harm him… watching that demon, full and yet drowning in pain and sorrow…"
He clenched his fists slightly.
"Even if I could feel its suffering again… no matter how much pain or regret it carried… I would never hesitate this time."
His face was filled with quiet desolation.
"Life was never meant to be perfect," Soma said calmly. "People make mistakes. Some of those mistakes become regrets that last a lifetime… but so what? Who among us is truly flawless?"
He poured another cup for Urokodaki.
"This one… drink it for yourself."
The old man looked up at him.
Soma stepped forward, placing a hand lightly against the carved surface of the boulder, tracing the marks left behind.
"Everyone longs for the past," he continued. "They want to go back to the time before their mistakes, back to when they could have changed everything. But that's something that can never be done."
He let out a quiet breath.
"Why torment yourself over things that have already passed? I doubt that's what your disciples would want."
"Their deaths are tragic, yes… but they died hunting demons. They made that choice. They wouldn't regret it, and they certainly wouldn't blame you as their teacher."
He turned slightly, his voice steady.
"You may be old now, Urokodaki-sensei, but as the saying goes—'Though the mulberry trees fade in the evening, the sky still glows with sunset clouds.' Time spares no one, so what matters is to cherish what remains."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Tell me… should you really still be drowning in the past?"
Urokodaki looked at him in silence.
"Youth has its own scenery. So does middle age. And old age… has its own path as well," Soma continued. "The dreams your disciples couldn't fulfill—shouldn't you, as their teacher, carry them forward?"
With a soft motion, he drew his Nichirin Sword slightly from its sheath. The edge gleamed coldly in the night.
"To fulfill their wishes… and the long-standing mission of the Demon Slayer Corps—to purge the demons from this world… to finally kill Kibutsuji Muzan."
He turned fully toward Urokodaki, his gaze sharp.
"Isn't that what you should be doing now?"
A pause.
"Tell me, Urokodaki-sensei… in all these years, as a 'trainer,' how many disciples have you truly raised?"
His voice remained calm, but his words struck deep.
"If you stop here… wouldn't that be the real betrayal of those who died?"
...
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