Moriyama Akira thumped his chest, drunkenly roaring his vows of eternal brotherhood. As the saying goes: A man who is thirty percent drunk will act well enough to make you cry.
Ryousuke didn't take it to heart, simply offering a dismissive smile. "Right, right. I get it."
The rowdy noise of the Izakaya gradually faded behind them. The night breeze carried a pleasant chill, sweeping away the feverish heat of the alcohol. Ryousuke didn't return to a cramped inn; instead, he leaped easily onto a nearby roof to rest under the stars. Moriyama followed clumsily, and within minutes, the boy was sprawled out beside him, snoring rhythmically.
The world went silent. Above them was the night sky—vast, star-studded, and bisected by the brilliant ribbon of the Milky Way. It was far clearer and more magnificent than the light-polluted city skies of his previous life.
Ryousuke rested his head on his arms, a rare sense of melancholy drifting into his heart. In his past life, he was a solitary, detached "stone" in the corner of a city. His parents died early, his relatives were distant, and his work was mechanical. His only solace was the cold glow of a screen in a rented room.
Socializing? That was a burden. Life was a stagnant pond. He lived simply because he hadn't died yet.
But now... Ryousuke could almost smell the soil and peach blossoms of Momoyama. He could hear Rika's chirping concern and see Gramps' stern yet loving eyes. He felt Shota's awkward rivalry, saw Tamayo's gentle, tearful face... and now, there was Moriyama.
Vivid faces flickered through his mind.
Sure, the game started on "Hell Mode."
Sure, the system is a scammer constantly eyeing my lifespan.
Sure, I have to face grotesque, terrifying demons...
But this path of the sword, carved out with his very life? It didn't seem so bad. At least he wasn't alone anymore. He had a home to return to, comrades to fight beside, and a shared purpose. This life wasn't just about surviving; it had weight. It had things worth grasping and protecting.
He glanced sideways at the drooling Moriyama. The guy was tactically useless but a top-tier "lucky charm" with a good heart. A faint smile touched Ryousuke's lips. He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion and the lingering sake pull him into a deep, steady sleep.
The next morning.
Moriyama let out a pained groan. His hangover was so bad he wanted to bury his head in the dirt. "Ugh... is it morning already?"
He sat up bleary-eyed and saw Ryousuke already standing at the edge of the roof, facing the rising sun. Ryousuke was practicing his breathing—rhythmic, deep, and radiating a monumental surge of vitality. Moriyama shook his head; Ryousuke seemed different today. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he looked... healthier. Rejuvenated.
"Awake?" Ryousuke didn't turn around. "Pack up. We're moving."
"Ah? Oh! To Mt. Sagiri!"
Morning at Mt. Sagiri was soaked in thick fog and sweat. The mist pressed against the mountainside, smelling of damp earth and pine. Through the haze, silhouettes of young boys darted back and forth in training.
Ryousuke watched them, deep in thought. Compared to Thunder Breathing, Water Breathing was more moderate and arguably the easiest style to pick up. Consequently, Sakonji Urokodaki had far more students than Jigoro. The training philosophies were polar opposites: one focused on explosive speed and lethality, the other on endurance and fluidity.
"Back at Momoyama, we focus on the instant," Ryousuke mused. "It's like gambling with your life. One wrong dash and you fly off a cliff. Mr. Urokodaki's style... feels more like a slow, grueling grind."
"That's exactly it," Moriyama nodded with a bitter smile. "I suffered plenty during my training here."
Ryousuke smiled but stayed silent. You have no idea. He would never forget the agonizing sensation of his liver tearing itself apart during his early days of training.
They rounded a mist-covered grove into a clearing. Several boulders, twice the height of a man, stood there. Two boys were relentlessly striking them with wooden swords.
One had medium-length, peach-colored hair and silver eyes. A prominent scar ran across his right cheek. It was Sabito. Every swing of his sword carried the sound of breaking wind, sending stone chips flying.
Beside him was a black-haired boy, far more silent. Giyu Tomioka's features were sharp and handsome, his expression void of emotion. Unlike Sabito's fierce power, Giyu's strikes were like a flowing stream—seemingly soft, yet carrying immense weight.
"Sabito! Giyu!" Moriyama waved and shouted.
The wooden swords stopped simultaneously. Sabito turned, his eyes crinkling into a bright smile. "Senior Moriyama!" He greeted him boisterously and jogged over. Giyu sheathed his sword silently and followed.
"Is the mission over? How was Yamagata?" Sabito's voice was full of youthful energy as his curious gaze landed on Ryousuke.
"Uh... the demon was tricky, but we handled it," Moriyama said, scratching his head awkwardly. He hadn't done much; Ryousuke had soloed the thing.
"And who is this?" Sabito asked.
"Oh! Right!" Moriyama introduced him with unhidden pride. "This is Yasui Ryousuke, a student of Mr. Jigoro Kuwajima from Momoyama. A Thunder Breather! We owe him everything from Final Selection!"
His voice rose with admiration. "He cleared out most of the demons in the forest by himself and even killed the Hand Demon! If not for him, almost none of us would have made it out alive..."
Sabito studied Ryousuke, his gaze shifting to one of deep respect. "So it's you! Yasui Ryousuke!"
Sabito's voice was thick with emotion. "Senior Moriyama and the others mentioned you when they returned. To clear the forest alone... to protect the lives of so many comrades..."
He took a deep breath and bowed deeply to Ryousuke. "Sabito is profoundly moved by your merit and your sense of responsibility! Thank you!"
Ryousuke looked at the boy who, in the original timeline, should have been a ghost long ago—a mere "buff" for Tanjiro and Giyu. Seeing him standing here, vibrating with life, Ryousuke felt a strange, soaring sense of achievement.
"You overpraise me," Ryousuke said, reaching out to catch Sabito's arm and stopping the bow.
I'm not that great. I simply did what you would have done.
At that moment, the silent Giyu Tomioka raised his deep blue eyes, staring intensely at Ryousuke. He spoke with absolute, crushing sincerity.
"You are very strong. To kill so many demons and not die... that is impressive."