It was true that he hadn't taught Total Concentration at all, but it wasn't because he was holding anything back.
Rather, it was because entry-level demon slayers simply didn't need to learn it; it was an ability that only those aiming to become Hashira needed to master.
Using it forcibly before one's strength reached that level would instead make it easy to lose focus in battle, making it impossible to properly balance swordsmanship and breathing.
Generally, only after a swordsman had completely mastered their Breathing Style and gained a certain amount of combat experience would a master decide whether to teach Total Concentration based on their natural talent.
But this little fellow had been maintaining Total Concentration the entire way here; he had assumed it was just a characteristic of his Breathing Style.
"The so-called 'Total Concentration' refers to maintaining the Total Concentration Breathing state twenty-four hours a day, at every single moment."
Sakonji Urokodaki gave a simple explanation, then ordered, "Try it now. Maintain the breathing rhythm you had just now."
Shirakawa said with a bitter expression, "I… I can't try it, Master. Back in the room… I was just breathing naturally. I wasn't trying to maintain anything specific."
His words were only half true.
Within five meters of Nezuko, Total Concentration activated automatically; he didn't need to do anything at all.
But away from Nezuko, he really didn't know how to use it.
At least, not for now.
Sakonji Urokodaki's brow furrowed even tighter.
He carefully observed Shirakawa's breathing; it was indeed messy and ordinary, completely different from the steady, deep, rhythmic breathing he had shown earlier inside the house.
"Then the form you used before—can you still use it now?" Sakonji Urokodaki pointed to a wooden post across the clearing. "Use your full strength."
"No problem!" Shirakawa took a deep breath and settled into a stance.
Pink currents of air rose from around his body, quickly wrapping around the blade and dyeing the straight edge a vivid pink.
The aura began to extend, condense, and take shape…
But this time, the speed of extension was noticeably slower.
In the end, the giant pink blade condensed on the sword was only four meters long—less than half of the ten-meter blade from earlier that morning.
Its momentum was also much weaker.
Shirakawa felt it clearly—the power had diminished, yet the strain on his breathing hadn't decreased at all.
As expected… without Nezuko by his side, even the power of his forms was reduced.
Color Breathing… you really are brutally honest.
But he didn't show it. Instead, he let out a loud shout:
"Color Breathing, First Form: Heroine!"
The giant blade slashed downward.
A pink arc of light cut through the air and struck the wooden post.
"Crack!"
The post split instantly and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
A shallow trench was also carved into the ground, about half a foot deep and two meters long.
The power was decent.
But compared to the strike from earlier today…
It was far too inferior.
Shirakawa sheathed his sword and panted; this time he wasn't pretending—he was genuinely a bit tired.
Beside him, Sakonji Urokodaki's brow was tightly knit. He could clearly see that Shirakawa had used his full strength both times without holding back.
But this difference in power…
"What's going on?" he asked in a low voice. "Why is it so different compared to last time?"
Shirakawa wiped the sweat from his forehead and continued to play dumb. "I don't know either, Master… I just felt… something was off. I didn't have that… hmm… effortless feeling from before."
Something was off.
Sakonji Urokodaki felt his temples throb.
He forced himself to calm down, mentally reviewing the process of Shirakawa awakening his Breathing Style, his use of forms, and the appearance and disappearance of the Total Concentration state…
All the clues quickly connected in his mind.
That pink aura… he called it Color Breathing.
If this "color" didn't refer to appearance, then what kind of "color" was it?
His Breathing Style awakened when he was pinned down by Nezuko—during close physical contact…
When using that move, his desire to show off was no different from a male peacock spreading its tail to attract attention.
On the road, while carrying Nezuko on his back, his breathing was steady; he could even maintain Total Concentration automatically.
It was the same inside the room—Total Concentration never stopped.
But the moment he left the room and Nezuko's side, Total Concentration broke, and even the power of his forms plummeted.
He even said it himself—it "felt wrong."
What felt wrong?
If there was truly any difference…
Between these two situations, there was only one variable!
Nezuko!
When Nezuko was there, this kid excelled at everything!
When Nezuko wasn't there, he immediately became weak!
This… this…
Could it be that his Breathing Style… draws in…
An extremely absurd, utterly ridiculous hypothesis—one that felt like it desecrated the very concept of a Breathing Style—began to grow uncontrollably in his mind.
No… impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
Breathing Styles are supreme arts used to slay evil demons and protect humanity!
They are the culmination of countless swordsmen's dedication and refinement!
How could it be... how could it be so lewd?!
Sakonji Urokodaki shook his head vigorously, trying to throw the thought away.
But once the seed of doubt was planted, it spread like wild weeds.
He suddenly grabbed Shirakawa's arm with such force that Shirakawa winced in pain.
"Let's go! Back!"
"Eh—eh—Master, slow down! I can walk!"
Sakonji Urokodaki practically dragged Shirakawa back to the front of the small wooden hut.
He didn't open the door immediately. Instead, he stared intently at Shirakawa's face—especially his mouth and nose.
"Open the door and go in," Sakonji Urokodaki commanded, his voice tense and slightly trembling.
Shirakawa didn't understand what his master was so nervous about, but he obediently pushed the door open.
A faint, sweet scent drifted out through the crack.
It was Nezuko's natural fragrance.
For an ordinary person, it would be extremely faint—almost impossible to notice.
But for Shirakawa, who possessed Color Breathing…
It was incredibly clear.
In the next instant, that pale pink aura naturally flowed from his mouth and nose again, and his breathing rhythm instantly became deep and steady.
Total Concentration Breathing—Constant, activated automatically.
Sakonji Urokodaki: "!!!"
He saw it clearly!
The moment before and after stepping through the door, Shirakawa's breathing state was completely different!
The last trace of hope was shattered.
Sakonji Urokodaki felt like he was about to collapse.
His voice trembled slightly as he spoke with the last hint of denial, "You… stay right here! Face outside the house and use that form again."
"Ah? Right here?" Shirakawa glanced at the narrow doorway.
"Face outside and use it!"
"Alright, alright…" Shirakawa turned toward the doorway and swung his sword again.
"Color Breathing, First Form: Heroine!"
The pink-purple giant blade appeared again, this time about seven meters long. Although not as large as the first time, it was clearly longer and more solid than the four-meter version from earlier!
The blade swept across the clearing outside, carving a deeper and longer trench than before!
Shirakawa panted and wiped his sweat. "Phew… Master, this time felt a bit more… effortless. But using it consecutively is exhausting—I couldn't perform at my best."
Sakonji Urokodaki stood stiffly at the doorway, looking at the trench on the ground, then at Nezuko sleeping peacefully inside, and finally at Shirakawa, who was panting while looking completely "innocent."
How could he possibly believe any of those words?
Near a woman… power increases…
Away from a woman… power decreases…
I wasn't wrong!
Our Breathing Styles draw in the air…
But this kid's Breathing Style… draws in…
A young girl's fragrance!!!
The words "a woman's scent" exploded in Sakonji Urokodaki's mind, leaving him dizzy as the world spun around him.
No—!!!
There's no way it could be this indecent!
This absurd!!
This unreasonable!!!
As the former Water Hashira, who had devoted his life to slaying demons and valued honor above all else,
Even Sakonji Urokodaki—who could remain calm in the face of terrifying demons—felt his very soul tremble for the first time.
He… imagined the future…
Shirakawa finishes his training, joins the Demon Slayer Corps, and goes on missions.
When others slay demons: drawing their swords with dignity, breathing like flames, moving like lightning.
When Shirakawa slays demons: First, find a female member to stand beside, then take two deep huffs of her body like a pervert.
Then, with a face full of excitement, he draws his sword and charges forward, howling!
What a disgrace!
What a disgrace!!
What a disgrace!!!
At that very moment, Sakonji Urokodaki's knees began to weaken.