Chapter 5 – Giyu Tomioka
The appearance of the Water Hashira—Giyu Tomioka—didn't surprise Hikaru.
In fact…
It was something he had planned.
Of course he was aware of the weapon restrictions enforced in this era.
Since the fall of the samurai and Japan's entrance into the modern era after Meiji, civilians had been strictly forbidden from carrying swords. That applied even to the Demon Slayer Corps, which had long since slipped from public record into the shadows.
Reckless use of a Nichirin Blade wasn't just a minor offense—it was a dangerous act that could draw unwanted attention from the government.
But even before that, it was bound to provoke a response from the Corps' higher-ups.
Hikaru knew this.
And he also knew… the crow watching from the skies wasn't just a bird.
It was a Kasugai Crow—a surveillance familiar used by the Corps.
So Giyu's arrival?
Predictable.
Expected.
Desired.
For someone as low-ranking as Hikaru, a direct meeting with a Hashira was almost impossible.
This was the only way he could force one to notice him.
And although he had managed to intercept and counter Giyu's probing attack a moment ago…
That didn't mean he was stronger.
No.
It was because—
First: Giyu had underestimated him.
Second: Hikaru had acquired special traits through hunting wild animals—and all living creatures, no matter how different, followed certain rules.
Third: the Demon Slayer Corps had strict commandments:
Do not draw your sword on fellow members.
Do not use breathing techniques to harm another member.
Nichirin Blades and Breathing Technique existed for one purpose: to slay demons. Not to turn on comrades.
Even so…
Forcing a Hashira to step back, if only for a moment—was proof enough that Hikaru's technique was real.
"…So it was you," Giyu said calmly, standing tall under the moonlight. His eyes were sharp and unreadable, like a frozen river.
The evening dew clung to the forest floor.
Hikaru narrowed his eyes, listening carefully to the wind—to the pattern of breath around him.
"You've broken Corps rules," Giyu continued, his tone cold and clipped. "Using your sword for personal matters is a serious violation."
But his voice remained steady—calm, like a blade chilled in snow.
"Still… I'll give you a chance to explain."
Hikaru gave a faint, almost sly smile.
"Do I really need to explain?"
Giyu paused.
No.
He didn't.
From that single clash alone, Giyu—one of the most seasoned demon slayers alive—had gleaned more than enough.
Every Corps member was forged through brutal trials. From hundreds of candidates, only a handful made it. And from hundreds of active slayers, only nine held the title of Hashira.
The Hashira were no ordinary humans.
And Giyu had seen it clearly—
The technique Hikaru used wasn't meant to harm people.
It was crafted to bring down beasts—to exploit the reflexes and instincts of animals.
But even so…
"Then," Giyu said, his breath fogging slightly, "show me through action."
Words were never enough.
And even though he had witnessed the boy's control, Giyu, ever cautious, needed to feel it for himself.
Hikaru didn't object. If anything—this was what he wanted all along.
To stand before a Hashira.
To be seen.
To be acknowledged.
If he could do that… he might gain the chance to learn more.
To touch a higher tier of strength.
So that he could survive.
So that he could grow.
This wasn't a true battle. They wouldn't draw blades.
But the pressure was suffocating all the same.
Even without using a Breathing Technique, Giyu's baseline body control and physical mastery placed him far beyond any ordinary man.
He lowered his head.
Bent his knees.
His muscles coiled.
A silent beast preparing to strike.
Hikaru's face tensed.
He could feel it.
The crushing pressure radiating from that lithe frame was like standing in the presence of a stalking predator—calm, quiet, and infinitely lethal.
Then—
The earth cracked.
Giyu vanished from sight, rushing forward like a collapsing wave.
Even without a Breathing Technique, the raw speed of a Hashira bends the laws of motion.
In an instant, he was beside Hikaru.
A punch flashed toward his side.
The wind roared. The air distorted into white rings from the pressure.
Hikaru didn't have time to dodge.
But—
He moved.
His hand snapped up—as if waiting for the strike.
Caught.
Locked.
Redirected.
[Trait Activated: Anti-Agile-Type (F)]
A trait earned through hunting nimble prey.
Not a counter of speed with speed—
—but control with composure.
"What…?"
Giyu's eyes widened.
Before he could shift his posture, his own momentum was twisted.
His body lifted—
And he was thrown.
The Water Hashira spun in midair, landing neatly on his feet several meters away, his expression unreadable.
Hikaru clapped his hands lightly.
"How's that, Water Hashira-sama? Was that explanation enough?"
Water flows without shape—but it can be guided.
That's what he had done.
He didn't overpower Giyu. He didn't have that strength.
He simply borrowed Giyu's force, turned it back on him, and let the Hashira throw himself.
Unlike before, when Giyu had been caught off guard, this time he'd been ready.
And yet—
The result was the same.
Giyu stood still.
Silent.
But in his eyes…
Acknowledgment.
"…So this technique," he asked slowly, "you developed it by hunting animals?"
His voice was still icy.
But something had changed in his gaze.
Interest.
The kind of curiosity he rarely showed to anyone.
"That's right," Hikaru replied, nodding. "And I'm willing to share it."
Though the system called them "traits," what Hikaru received wasn't supernatural power.
It was a distilled technique—born of experience.
And because of that… it could be taught.
Passed on.
The Heroic Spirit Accomplishment System didn't bind him.
Didn't hoard his growth.
Everything he gained could be shared freely.
That was why he believed in it.
And why he dared to stand before Giyu like this.
"You're willing to teach it…"
Giyu's words trailed off, lost in thought.
Then he nodded.
"Very well. Then your violations—are forgiven. But don't let it happen again."
His tone sharpened slightly.
Then he added, a little more solemnly:
"…But the final judgment doesn't rest with me."
Because what Giyu had just seen—
Wasn't a Breathing Form.
But a technique that, with training, anyone could learn.
Even those too weak to master breathing styles.
And in Giyu's mind…
That possibility shimmered like morning mist.
This technique—
Could be a new power.
A method for the next generation.
A way to help those who could not stand on their own.
A way to turn the tide in a war they were slowly losing.
The lower ranks had suffered too much lately.
The Corps needed fresh blood.
And perhaps—
This boy was the key.
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