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🕑 Added 2025-06-15 16:05:24 +0000 UTCChapter 71: All About That Crash Course
Urokodaki Sakonji was a man of action. He immediately penned a letter and sent it off to headquarters. Truth be told, he’d already written one before, but it no longer sufficed to explain the current situation, so he had to draft a new one.
After finishing the letter, Urokodaki turned his attention to Riku. The kid was already back at it, swinging his blade with unwavering focus.
“You’re improving fast,” Urokodaki remarked after observing for a bit, his tone brimming with admiration.
Riku had been practicing since last night, and the number of swings he’d racked up was equivalent to what a normal human might achieve in over ten days of training. If it were an ordinary person, their arms would’ve given out long ago—no way they could handle such a grueling workload.
Urokodaki silently gave thanks that not every demon was like Riku. With this kind of training intensity, even if someone didn’t become a master, they’d at least power through a crash course. In just one night, Riku was already looking the part. Watching him swing his blade, you’d never guess that just yesterday he was a total rookie who didn’t even know how to grip a sword properly.
“Building a solid foundation is the most important thing. How you respond in any situation depends on your basics,” Urokodaki said, stepping beside Riku to guide him further. His tone was dead serious, and Riku could feel the weight of it.
“I get it,” Riku replied with a nod. Through the relentless sword swings, he could sense a clear change in himself. The most noticeable was his control over his strength. Wielding a sword wasn’t just about raw power—it was a skill. It wasn’t about blindly throwing all your force into a swing. Even coordinating your body to fully utilize its strength was a craft in itself.
A beginner with brute strength might only tap into seventy or eighty percent of their potential. But if the current Riku faced off against the Riku from yesterday in a head-on clash, he was confident he’d send his past self sprawling.
“You need to learn control—control over your body. This isn’t just about swordsmanship,” Urokodaki continued, placing a hand on Riku’s shoulder.
Whack!
Riku felt a surge of force. Under its influence, his body lifted off the ground and crashed down uncontrollably.
“If a regular Demon Slayer fell like that while facing a demon, they’d be as good as dead,” Urokodaki said, looking at Riku, who was sprawled out on the ground. The kid wasn’t just clueless with a blade—he genuinely had no combat experience.
This old man’s strength is unreal. You’re telling me he’s over seventy? Riku thought as he picked himself up, grumbling inwardly. Urokodaki had tossed him to the ground with ease. The old man’s technique was masterful, which made sense, but his strength was outright absurd. Who’s the demon here?
Riku now understood that compared to weaker demons, he wasn’t exactly a pushover. His strength and agility gave him a clear edge. But against this old man? He felt completely outclassed, just like that night when Urokodaki’s attacks were too fast for him to even react.
“That’s the power of Breathing Techniques. Demons have superior physical abilities, but Demon Slayers counter that with Breathing,” Urokodaki explained, sensing Riku’s confusion.
Without Breathing Techniques, slaying demons would be nearly impossible for Demon Slayers. Four hundred years ago, the Demon Slayer Corps wasn’t so much slaying demons as it was hiding and surviving. It wasn’t until Tsugikuni Yoriichi introduced Breathing Techniques that the Corps’ combat prowess soared, allowing Slayers to take down demons in droves.
“Can I learn this Breathing Technique?” Riku asked. As expected, Demon Slayers had a special training method, and this Breathing Technique was exactly what he wanted Urokodaki to teach him.
“You can—once you learn to fall properly,” Urokodaki replied with a nod. It was possible, but not yet.
“What’s a proper fall?” Riku asked, feeling a headache coming on, reminiscent of yesterday’s talk about “moderation.” He’d heard of the proper way to apologize—showing your belly, was it?—but a proper way to fall?
“The proper way is to get back on your feet as quickly as possible,” Urokodaki said, grabbing Riku and tossing him again.
Riku rolled with the momentum, landing on his feet. Got it. It’s about redirecting force. He hadn’t seen pigs run, but he’d definitely eaten pork. “Rolling when you fall reduces the impact,” Urokodaki nodded approvingly. In midair, controlling your body to adjust your fall and minimize damage was a lifesaving fundamental.
Ordinary people just flop when thrown, landing wherever fate decides. But a Demon Slayer who slacks like that in a fight is as good as dead.
“Toss me around as much as you want!” Riku said earnestly. It felt like his first day at the gym, itching to try every piece of equipment, brimming with enthusiasm.
Urokodaki didn’t hold back. He threw Riku around in every way imaginable, helping him hone the instinct to control his body midair, training his reflexes. Riku tumbled through the air, experimenting with poses to minimize damage and get up faster. It was a risky training method, but it undeniably sharpened body control.
For Riku, safety wasn’t much of a concern. He tried everything, even snapping his neck once by accident.
“…”
Watching Riku train, Urokodaki silently marveled, Thank goodness not all demons are like this. Thank goodness the Demon King doesn’t train this way. Riku’s progress was visible to the naked eye. No ordinary person could train like this—it wasn’t training for them; it was a death sentence.
After a while, Urokodaki left to tend to Kamado Tanjiro, preparing some medicine and massaging the boy’s muscles to speed up his recovery. Though Urokodaki was harsh with Tanjiro, his strictness stemmed from care. Demon slaying wasn’t a game, and Tanjiro wasn’t Riku—snapping a neck wouldn’t just heal right up. Urokodaki’s tough love was his way of ensuring Tanjiro survived longer.
With Urokodaki gone, Riku went back to swinging his blade, grinding his fundamentals. While others might aim for 1,500 swings a day, he went for ten times that, all in the name of a crash course.
Chapter 72: Are You For Real?!
“Don’t stretch your arms too straight, but don’t bend them too much either! No tucking your elbows in, and no flaring them out! Keep your stance solid, but don’t lock it up too tight!”
On the open ground in front of the wooden cabin, Riku was smacking Tanjiro Kamado’s arms with a sword sheath, while Tanjiro looked like he was about to give up on life.
I don’t get it! I totally don’t get it!
It was now their third day at Urokodaki Sakonji’s place.
On the first night, Tanjiro, utterly exhausted, had barely passed the test of descending Sagiri Mountain. The traps set by Urokodaki left him covered in cuts and bruises.
So, the entire first day, he didn’t wake up until dinnertime that evening.
During that night and day, Riku swung his blade 25,000 times and got knocked to the ground thousands of times, steadily building his foundation.
That evening, Tanjiro saw how hard Riku-san was working. Aside from occasionally nibbling on his own fingers to satisfy his hunger, Riku-san barely ever put down his sword.
That night, Tanjiro focused on recovering his strength. By the second day, his training was still climbing up and down Sagiri Mountain.
Sagiri Mountain wasn’t exactly small, and the air up there was thin—tough for most people to handle. Luckily, Tanjiro, having grown up in the mountains, had the rugged mountainfolk physique to barely keep up.
The point of making Tanjiro climb up and down the mountain was twofold: first, to build his lung capacity and teach him to control his breathing, using the least amount of air for the greatest effect; second, to sharpen his sense of smell, forcing him to sniff out the traps. If he couldn’t detect them, he’d have to endure the pain of getting caught.
This training was tailored specifically to Tanjiro’s natural talent by Urokodaki Sakonji. For a kid without his heightened sense of smell, this training could literally be deadly, given the traps Urokodaki had set.
The reason Riku wasn’t put through this training was mainly because he lacked Tanjiro’s olfactory gift. Of course, the fact that the traps didn’t pose much of a threat to him was another reason.
On the second day, Tanjiro spent the whole day climbing up and down the mountain. By evening, he was completely wiped out. After dinner, he still had to attend cultural lessons. Once those were done, he crashed almost immediately.
Before lights out, Tanjiro caught sight of Riku-san still swinging his sword in the open area, moonlight glinting off his blade and body.
On the third day, Tanjiro continued his mountain-climbing routine until around three or four in the afternoon. That’s when Urokodaki called him back, tossed him a sword, and told him to start the most basic sword-swinging training.
Riku, who’d only been training for three days himself, became Tanjiro’s teacher, tasked with guiding him through the fundamentals of sword swinging.
Riku hadn’t expected the role reversal to come so quickly. Now he was the one preaching about “finding the right balance.”
“Swing it a thousand times first.”
After correcting Tanjiro’s various mistakes, Riku gave him the assignment, as instructed by Urokodaki.
“Yes, Riku-san!”
Tanjiro’s expression was dead serious. The power of a role model is endless, and Riku was his, constantly pushing him to keep going.
“Riku, come here for a sec.”
Just as Riku was about to resume his own training after instructing Tanjiro, Urokodaki’s voice called out from inside the cabin.
“Got it, coming!”
Riku sheathed his sword and stepped inside. Urokodaki was sitting at the table, holding a mask that looked like a fox.
“This is for you. A Saiyaku Kitsune-men.”
Urokodaki handed the fox mask to Riku.
It was a standard fox face, but where there would typically be three whiskers on the cheeks, there were three vivid red slashes instead. The base color was painted silver, symbolizing the night and the moon, like a silver fox.
“You wear a mask during the day to cover your mouth and nose, right? So I made this for you. It’ll bring good luck.”
Urokodaki explained, his skilled woodworking allowing him to craft the mask in no time.
“Thank you, I really appreciate the effort.”
Riku was momentarily stunned as he took the mask. He’d noticed the small fox carvings and masks in Urokodaki’s room and figured the old man had a knack for this kind of thing, but he hadn’t expected him to make one just for him.
[Acquired Special Item: Saiyaku Kitsune-men]
[Saiyaku Kitsune-men: Luck +0.01]
To Riku’s shock, the moment he took the fox mask, the [Limit System] reacted.
Wait, what?! You’re serious?!
“Bringing good luck” wasn’t just a nice sentiment?!
But… +0.01 luck? Isn’t that a bit too small?
And where did this “luck” stat even come from? It’s not listed in the six attributes. A hidden stat you can’t see?
Riku glanced at the system panel, but there was no “luck” attribute. Instead, there was a new [Items] section.
Well, damn. Now he had to wear it. Even a tiny boost was still a boost!
Sure, 0.01 seemed negligible, but who knows? It might just turn the impossible into the possible, shifting a 0% chance to a 0.01% chance.
“In our culture, foxes symbolize good fortune and luck. They’re often used in divination rituals. Wearing a fox mask can help you better seek the protection and guidance of the gods.”
Urokodaki hadn’t made the Saiyaku Kitsune-men on a whim. He felt it was necessary.
The Saiyaku Kitsune-men was commonly worn in sacred rituals to commune with the gods, and since Riku was favored by the divine, wearing it might help him better receive their guidance.
“Thank you. I’ll keep it with me always.”
As Riku spoke, he took off his regular mask and put on the Saiyaku Kitsune-men. It fit perfectly and felt surprisingly comfortable.
Urokodaki’s craftsmanship was incredible. He hadn’t even measured Riku, yet the mask hugged his face flawlessly.
“I’m glad you like it. The favor of the gods is unpredictable, but as long as we steadfastly follow their guidance, that’s enough.”
The Oyakata-sama had said that the Ubuyashiki clan’s curse could only be broken by defeating the Demon King, a path laid out by the gods.
Since then, the Ubuyashiki clan had never wavered, steadfastly pursuing that divine goal.
Urokodaki believed that Riku, being favored by the gods, must also carry some kind of responsibility.
“Uh, I understand.”
Riku nodded. He didn’t have any divine guidance to follow—he just trusted his own heart, which felt more reliable than any god’s direction.
“Good. Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you the Kokyuho (Breathing Techniques).”
Seeing Riku wear the Saiyaku Kitsune-men, Urokodaki felt a sense of satisfaction. Riku’s maturity meant he didn’t need much guidance, so this was one of the few ways Urokodaki could help.
Chapter 73: Kokyuho (Breathing Techniques)
“The breathing technique I’ve mastered is Mizu no Kokyu (Water Breathing), one of the five foundational breathing styles derived from the original breathing technique.”
On the open ground in front of the wooden cabin, Urokodaki Sakonji, wearing his tengu mask, held a sword in his hand. As he spoke, he gave the blade a casual swing.
It was just a simple motion, but to Riku, it felt different—like the blade was wrapped in flowing water.
Of course, it was only a feeling. There were no special effects on the sword itself, just a sense of momentum, like the gentle flow of a stream.
“Compared to the other breathing styles, Mizu no Kokyu is the gentlest and the easiest to master. Over the years, the Mizu-bashira (Water Pillar) position has never been vacant. No matter how quickly they fall, there’s always someone to take their place.”
Urokodaki continued, though his rather grim phrasing left Riku momentarily speechless.
Whoa, hold up. Is Mizu no Kokyu some kind of quick-and-dirty crash course? It’s not some knockoff version, is it?
“There’s no such thing as a stronger or weaker breathing style. The one that suits you is the best.”
As if reading Riku’s doubts, Urokodaki spoke up to clarify.
“What about the original breathing technique, then? If there’s no stronger or weaker style, that’s just talking about the derived breathing styles, right?”
Riku raised a question. The “original” breathing technique, the one that gave rise to all the others, sounded like it had to be something pretty epic.
His question left Urokodaki momentarily silent.
“The original breathing technique… it’s different, naturally. It’s a powerful force beyond the comprehension of modern people. Unfortunately, it’s been lost because no one could pass it down.”
After a pause, Urokodaki let out a sigh. Sometimes, being too extraordinary isn’t always a good thing.
When someone is so exceptional that their peers—or even the next generation—can’t even touch the soles of their feet, passing down their legacy becomes impossible.
“Uh…”
Hearing Urokodaki’s words, Riku immediately thought of Tanjiro Kamado. No question about it—this original breathing technique was practically made for that kid. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.
A powerful force meant to fight against demons, lost to time? Yeah, that’s got “main character cheat code” written all over it!
Riku had initially thought Tanjiro’s super-sniffer nose was his big advantage, but since Urokodaki had a similar ability, that edge suddenly seemed less unique.
Now, this “original breathing” thing pops up—something so powerful that only its founder could use it, and even passing it down was impossible, leaving only the “knockoff” derived versions.
Man, no need to guess—this is totally for the protagonist.
The question was, could Riku learn this original breathing technique?
He couldn’t help but wonder. And then there was Tanjiro himself—would he even awaken to it? Riku made a mental note to subtly probe Tanjiro about it later.
Either way, with Tanjiro’s personality, if Riku wanted to learn it, that kid would definitely be willing to teach him—as long as Riku could actually pull it off.
“Let’s get back to Mizu no Kokyu.”
After his brief lament about the original breathing technique, Urokodaki steered the conversation back on track.
“Mizu no Kokyu is suited for those with a clear mind, calm and steady, with an inner peace like still water.”
Urokodaki looked at Riku. After observing him for the past few days, he’d concluded that Riku had the potential to learn Mizu no Kokyu.
The training period before formally teaching a breathing technique was also a kind of test for the students.
Their attitude during training and their personality in daily life were all factors to consider.
Of course, failing to meet the personality requirements didn’t mean immediate disqualification or losing the chance to learn a breathing technique entirely.
If one style didn’t fit, there were other options. Not every style would be unsuitable.
For someone cheerful and passionate, with a heart burning like fire, Mizu no Kokyu might not work, but Hono no Kokyu (Flame Breathing) could be a perfect fit.
For someone with exceptional physical ability and a heart full of fervor, swift like lightning, Kaminari no Kokyu (Thunder Breathing) would be ideal.
For someone who despises evil and has a temperament as wild as a storm, Kaze no Kokyu (Wind Breathing) would suit them.
And for someone diligent and resolute, with a will as unyielding as stone, Iwa no Kokyu (Rock Breathing) would be the way to go.
But if none of the styles matched their personality, well, they’d be out of luck and eliminated.
Among the five foundational breathing styles, some are harder to learn than others. Comparatively, Mizu no Kokyu and Kaze no Kokyu are the most accessible for ordinary people, with less demanding requirements.
To learn Hono no Kokyu, you’d need not only a fiery, sincere heart but also the approval of the Rengoku family, as they’ve passed down Hono no Kokyu for generations.
As for Kaminari no Kokyu, the training process is tough, and the physical demands alone would weed out most people.
Iwa no Kokyu? That’s the hardest of the five foundational styles to master.
Compared to explosive physical prowess, finding someone with the diligence and rock-solid willpower required for Iwa no Kokyu is even rarer.
“I see.”
Riku nodded. No wonder Mizu no Kokyu was said to be the easiest to learn.
Compared to Kaze no Kokyu, which suited those with stormy, impulsive personalities, people with clear minds and calm demeanors were naturally better suited to dive into the practice.
“Honestly, with your personality, besides Mizu no Kokyu, you’d also be a good fit for Iwa no Kokyu. But I can’t teach you that one.”
Urokodaki was straightforward. If he had to say, Riku’s personality was actually best suited for Iwa no Kokyu.
His diligence was undeniable. Even though his body didn’t tire, not many could train day and night without pause like Riku did.
And his willpower? As a demon who refused to eat humans and instead sustained himself with his own flesh and blood—that went beyond mere resolve.
“No, I’ll stick with learning Mizu no Kokyu from you.”
Riku shook his head. After Urokodaki’s explanation, he realized that Mizu no Kokyu and Iwa no Kokyu were indeed the best fits for him.
If he had to stretch it, maybe Kaminari no Kokyu could work too—his physical ability was definitely up to par, and he could get pretty passionate when he let his rationality slip.
As for Kaze no Kokyu or Hono no Kokyu? He didn’t think he was the type to hold grudges against evil or have a heart burning with sincerity.
But here’s the kicker: the biggest issue was that Urokodaki only specialized in Mizu no Kokyu.
If Riku wanted to learn another style, he’d have to find another trainer.
For other kids, that might just mean “switching schools” and training under a different cultivator.
But for Riku? That was a nightmare waiting to happen. Not every cultivator had a nose like Urokodaki’s.
How was a demon as conspicuous as him supposed to gain the trust of retired Demon Slayers—people who’d spent their lives killing demons or retired due to injuries sustained fighting them?
Rely on Urokodaki’s introduction? Yeah, that sounded way too risky.
Better to stay put and learn Mizu no Kokyu—plus, he could keep an eye on whether Tanjiro would awaken that original breathing technique.
“Alright.”
Urokodaki wasn’t surprised by Riku’s decision.
This was exactly why he thought Riku was suited for Mizu no Kokyu. When faced with a problem, this kid could stay calm and think things through.
Chapter 74: Waterfalls Are the Way, Essential for Training
“Relax your upper body, keep your lower body steady, and breathe,” Urokodaki Sakonji said calmly, standing beside Riku.
“Huuu—pfft!”
Riku had barely inhaled halfway when Urokodaki’s palm struck his abdomen. The heavy blow cut his breath short, leaving him gasping.
“If your breathing can be disrupted this easily, you wouldn’t last a second against a demon, even with ten lives,” Urokodaki said, shaking his head. Even with a demon’s enhanced physique, mastering the knack of Breathing Techniques required rigorous training. It wasn’t easy—it went against every human instinct, like defying the heavens themselves.
“Again,” Riku said, undeterred. He wasn’t some genius; his learning ability was decent but nothing extraordinary. The Breathing Techniques Urokodaki described sounded so abstract he hadn’t even grasped the basics yet. For now, he was just “dry-breathing,” mimicking the motions without understanding.
Maybe I should’ve pumped some points into intelligence, Riku thought. Higher smarts might help me wrap my head around all this cryptic, abstract nonsense. Based on his years of gaming experience, stats like intelligence or perception were usually tied to mystical stuff. Heck, even charisma might have some connection to the supernatural.
Too bad his intelligence and perception were still at average human levels, and his charisma had taken a hit after becoming a demon.
“Feel it. Feel it with your heart. Let your breath flow like water, coursing through your limbs and every cell in your body,” Urokodaki said, continuing to disrupt Riku’s breathing rhythm with slaps while spouting more cryptic phrases.
“Let your breath become like a gentle stream, ceaseless and unbroken, unshaken by storms or frost,” he went on, smacking Riku’s abdomen repeatedly, making him wheeze. It was tough to endure, but Riku was starting to get used to it. The real problem? He couldn’t make heads or tails of these instructions. A stream? How the heck do I breathe like water?!
In his mind, Riku was screaming. Isn’t this just plain old inhaling and exhaling?! Where’s the water flow? How do I breathe with a water effect?! The metaphors were too abstract, impossible to grasp beyond their literal meaning.
“Looks like you need to feel actual water to get it,” Urokodaki said, noticing Riku’s struggle. He wasn’t surprised—few could grasp the essence right away. Teaching someone to feel the “Water Breathing” and stabilize their breath was something he had a tried-and-true method for.
“Follow me,” Urokodaki said, leading Riku into the depths of Sagiri Mountain.
They trekked until they reached a waterfall. Sagiri Mountain was steep and rugged, and this waterfall was no gentle trickle—its roaring “RUMBLE” was like a mountain deity’s bellow, awe-inspiring.
Japan’s terrain, high in the center and low at the edges, gave rise to short, swift rivers and countless waterfalls. But this one? It wasn’t your average backyard cascade.
Here it comes! The classic waterfall training! Riku thought, chuckling to himself. What is this, a timeless trope? Was a waterfall some kind of magical training ground with a built-in power-up buff? It seemed like every skill worth learning involved a waterfall scene.
“Go. Feel the water. Become one with it,” Urokodaki instructed, pointing Riku to stand under the waterfall for its “baptism.”
Riku wanted to ask, You call THIS a “water flow”? But on second thought, it wasn’t wrong—the waterfall was just a super-sized, extra-strength version of a “flow.” Still, would this really work? Doubt crept into his mind.
It’s like weighted training, right? Just with a bunch of unpredictable factors, he reasoned. Though skeptical, Riku waded into the water to give it a shot. Good thing his demon body was waterproof—otherwise, Water Breathing would’ve been off the table.
RUMBLE!!!
The torrential water crashed down with overwhelming force, a testament to nature’s raw power. Even with Riku’s superhuman physique, it took him a while to plant himself firmly under the cascade. This wasn’t a shower—the relentless water slammed into him, delivering a punishing impact. The slick, water-worn rocks beneath made footing treacherous for anyone without experience.
“Hold reverence in your heart, and through purification, clear your mind to cast out impurities,” Urokodaki called from a cliff above, his voice barely cutting through the RUMBLE of the water, sounding faint and ethereal.
“Takigyo—waterfall meditation—purifies and washes away sins, letting you shed distractions and unite body and soul,” Urokodaki’s voice drifted down, almost otherworldly, like a divine chant.
Riku stood motionless under the waterfall, adjusting his breathing. “Takigyo fosters a connection with nature, linking you to the myriad forms of the world, achieving harmony with the universe,” Urokodaki continued.
The RUMBLE drowned out everything else in Riku’s world, leaving no room for stray thoughts. Urokodaki watched from the cliff. Takigyo was a practice of mountain ascetics to commune with spirits and banish distractions, perfectly suited for Water Breathing. Believers held that with a sincere heart, the trees, streams, and peaks would lend their aid.
Whether Riku was getting help from some mystical force, he didn’t know—the waterfall’s roar was too loud to hear Urokodaki’s words clearly. Even if he had, he’d probably scoff. Riku was a “test-result theist,” only believing in spirits when exam scores came in. Otherwise, gods were just unexplained natural phenomena or life forms beyond human understanding.
But under the waterfall, Riku was undeniably focused, blocking out all distractions. Following Urokodaki’s guidance, he breathed in and out, trying to feel his breath seep into every cell. The air beneath the waterfall was oxygen-rich, each breath refreshing, not toxic but invigorating, as if merging with nature itself.
“Take your time to feel it,” Urokodaki said, turning to leave. He could tell Riku was starting to get the hang of it. The kid didn’t need babysitting—even if a boulder fell from the waterfall and cracked his skull, he’d be fine. Urokodaki’s presence wasn’t for theatrics or cryptic posturing—it was a safety precaution.
Chapter 75: The Lord Wants to Meet You
It had been two days since Tanjiro Kamado last saw Mr. Riku since he began practicing the Breathing Techniques.
Tanjiro had asked Master Urokodaki about it, and all Urokodaki told him was that Mr. Riku was training.
Honestly, Tanjiro sometimes felt a bit jealous of Mr. Riku—jealous of how fast he progressed in his training.
While Tanjiro was still stumbling through basic exercises, getting battered and bruised every day, Mr. Riku had already moved on to mastering Breathing Techniques. They started their training around the same time, but their progress couldn’t be more different.
Of course, Tanjiro felt ashamed of these thoughts. Mr. Riku probably wasn’t thrilled about his own situation. His rapid progress came at the cost of relentless, day-and-night training and the excruciating pain of consuming his own flesh. The suffering he endured was beyond what most could imagine.
If he had a choice, Mr. Riku probably wouldn’t want this, right? Just like Nezuko. She must have fallen into a deep sleep because she couldn’t accept the reality of being a demon, right?
Ever since arriving at Urokodaki Sakonji’s place, Nezuko Kamado had been in a deep sleep, not waking even once.
Urokodaki had called in a doctor he often worked with. The doctor said there was nothing wrong with Nezuko’s body. Even though it was his first time treating a demon, he was certain of that much.
Tanjiro was deeply worried. He feared Nezuko might never wake up, that he might lose the only family he had left.
So, he wanted to ask Mr. Riku, a demon himself, if he knew anything about what was happening to Nezuko.
After finishing his training for the day, Tanjiro descended the mountain. As he approached the wooden cabin, a smile spread across his face—he caught Mr. Riku’s scent.
“Sword skills, sword techniques—it sounds complicated, but it’s really just a combination of basic movements,” Tanjiro heard Master Urokodaki’s voice as he neared the cabin.
“I’m back!”
Tanjiro pushed the door open and, sure enough, saw Master Urokodaki and Mr. Riku inside.
“Welcome back, Tanjiro. Go eat first,” Urokodaki said with a nod. The food was already prepared, still warm.
“Tanjiro, I checked on Nezuko’s condition. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what’s going on,” Mr. Riku said as Tanjiro entered. He genuinely couldn’t help with this.
“I see. Thank you for trying,” Tanjiro replied, disappointed but sincerely thanking him.
“Don’t worry, Tanjiro. I think this might be a good thing. Think about it—Nezuko sleeping like this means she doesn’t have to endure the pain of craving human flesh, right?” Riku offered, trying to comfort him. In his mind, he marveled at how special Nezuko was. Sleeping instead of eating humans? How do you even manage to sleep like that?!
“Thank you,” Tanjiro said, feeling a bit better. Mr. Riku’s words made sense, especially since he had the authority to speak on such matters.
For Nezuko, being awake might not be better than sleeping. Awake, she’d have to fight the torment of not eating humans.
As Tanjiro started eating, Riku and Urokodaki continued discussing Breathing Techniques.
After spending two days and nights by the waterfall, Riku had finally grasped the basics of Breathing Techniques and officially crossed the threshold.
That day, Urokodaki had taught him all ten forms of Water Breathing, marking the completion of his initial mastery.
Water Breathing Lv1: A training method used by the Demon Slayer Corps. When activated, it enhances physical abilities, granting +4 to strength, agility, and endurance.
The Water Breathing he’d learned had become a skill—an “active skill” that needed to be consciously used to take effect.
The stat boosts from Water Breathing weren’t as strong as those from Demon Transformation, but they were still impressive. Even an ordinary human, once they mastered Breathing Techniques, could become superhuman.
Someone using Breathing Techniques could snap an ordinary person’s bones with a casual twist.
Riku now understood that some weaker demons, freshly transformed, didn’t necessarily surpass human limits in strength or agility. They relied on their immortality to hunt humans.
But a Demon Slayer who had just mastered Breathing Techniques already possessed this level of strength. No wonder Master Urokodaki said the Demon Slayer Corps only began hunting demons in large numbers after mastering Breathing Techniques.
These Breathing Techniques were really something. It seemed even the weakest Kinoe-ranked Demon Slayer was likely stronger than an average demon.
While demons could grow stronger by eating humans, Breathing Techniques also had room for growth—though it was undoubtedly harder than a demon’s method.
According to Master Urokodaki, the highest state of Breathing Techniques was called Total Concentration: Constant.
This was a state where one could maintain perfect focus and control over their breathing, even while sleeping—a “passive skill,” essentially.
Mastering Total Concentration: Constant was the minimum requirement to become a Hashira. Few could achieve it, as it required immense talent.
Most Demon Slayers progressed slowly due to talent limitations. Some peaked right after learning the basics, unable to improve their Breathing Techniques further.
Demons, meanwhile, could hit a ceiling if the concentration of Muzan’s blood in them was too low. This created a strange balance between the two sides.
The Demon Slayer Corps had ranks—Kinoe, Kinoto, Hinoto, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Kanoe, Kanoto, Shinoto, Shinoe, Hinoe, and Mizunoe—plus the Hashira. Demons had their own hierarchy: fodder demons, those with Blood Demon Arts, Lower Moons, and Upper Moons.
Low-ranking Demon Slayers took on fodder demons. Higher-ranking members handled demons with Blood Demon Arts. Hashira fought Lower Moons. As for Upper Moons? They killed Hashira.
The Hashira were the Demon Slayer Corps’ strongest fighters, but they were replaced quickly, dying fast—because of the Upper Moons.
When a Hashira faced an Upper Moon, victory was rare. Even escaping was a long shot.
“Riku, we got a reply from headquarters,” Urokodaki said inside the cabin. The Kasugai Crow had delivered the message that afternoon, later than he’d expected.
“Oh? What’d they say?” Riku paused, curious. His story was bizarre enough—what would the Demon Slayer Corps think?
“The Oyakata-sama wants to meet you,” Urokodaki said after a moment, revealing the final decision. The reply had likely been delayed because of heated debates at headquarters.
Meeting a demon? Based solely on Urokodaki’s word, the Hashira probably didn’t believe it. Oyakata-sama’s decision must have faced plenty of opposition.
“Where’s the meeting?” Riku asked, not too surprised. It wouldn’t be a one-on-one meeting, that much was certain.
But whether he should go was something he needed to think about carefully. Not everyone was as understanding as Urokodaki Sakonji or Tanjiro Kamado.
By the way, anyone playing Ronin: The Wandering Merchant? Are the bugs still bad?
(End of Chapter)
