He already got the hang of it?
A cypress now had a bowl-sized hole clean through it—big enough to stick your head in without getting stuck. Sabito and Makomo were a little dazed…
Even though they'd prepared themselves—knowing that once Rōichirō started Breathing, his talent would make him rocket ahead—
learning the forms in half a day was still a bit much.
"He really is born for the sword," Sabito could only comfort himself that way.
"Not just that~ didn't you notice? Rōichirō's breathing has stabilized…"
Makomo pointed at Roy's chest. With each inhale and exhale, he was secretly syncing to the waterfall's pounding—ebb and flow, rhythmic—like he'd grasped something…
"It's the rhythm of water." Since reuniting with his disciples, Urokodaki had known they were always at his side. His deep eyes watched Roy, pleased—and with a sigh: "I let him start too late."
Half a day to gain the shape; a day to touch the intent…
Hands folded behind his back, the old man felt it in his bones: it wouldn't be long before he could teach Rōichirō Total Concentration: Constant . His whole heart was tied to this boy now.
Giyu wrote often that he wasn't a worthy Water Hashira—that if Sabito hadn't saved him back then, he'd have died on Mt. Fujikasane and never passed the exam, unfit to inherit the title. He never said much beyond that, but Urokodaki knew the child had always hoped he'd find another disciple to raise well…
Now—
"I wonder what he'll think when he meets Rōichirō?" Urokodaki couldn't help picturing it—perhaps a master's thoughts can fly, or longing calls to longing…
"Caw—Lord's letter!" The courier crow arrived before Giyu, bearing Kagaya Ubuyashiki's own hand.
Urokodaki blinked, unfolded it—and then stared.
Makomo peeked in. "Eh—Giyu-nii is coming back!"
Sabito's mouth tipped up; Shinsuke, Fukuda, Shimizu, and the rest squealed at the crow's cry.
"Really? Lemme see—" A cold wind unfurled the letter and sent it floating from ghost to ghost. Soon all knew: Tomioka Giyu is returning to test Rōichirō.
Shinsuke split his face in a grin. "Great news—great! Master's been fretting over a final test for Rōichirō—here it is!"
For once Fukuda agreed, circling the letter and slapping his thigh. "A Hashira as a touchstone—perfect. The brat hides too deep and pops out to scare us now and then—time to probe his limit and take him down a peg, so he doesn't get cocky and walk out into the world thinking demons don't count and get burned."
Whsshh— The letter drifted back into Urokodaki's hand. He folded it away and looked again to the boy under the falls—lost to the world, blade and breath as one. His short blade flowed with the torrent—another silken Striking Tide—settling into the groove…
[Notice: Swordsmanship +50]
[Swordsmanship: Lv3 (160/10000)]
[Water Breathing: Beginner (78/100)]
At dusk, sunlight struck the falls in sheets of glaze…
Roy loosed a final cut—Water Breathing: Tenth Form: Constant Flux—braiding the fall into a water-dragon that roared across the pool—
Boom! The pool erupted; water arrows fanned out—tok-tok-tok… punching neat holes through one cypress after another along the bank.
He stood beneath the falls, short blade planted, feet on a great stone polished slick by years of water. Eyes shut, thinking—unsated…
"What's he thinking?" Makomo had gone back with Urokodaki to cook. Shinsuke hovered by Sabito, eyeing Roy. Is he… dissatisfied?
Learning every form in a day—what's left to want?
Shinsuke didn't get it.
"That's where the mediocre will never match a genius," Sabito said. He couldn't read it, but he knew: "Rōichirō's sensed something…"
A gap—"Water Breathing" is far more than ten forms. There should be an Eleventh, a Twelfth—more and more…
Roy thought of Tomioka Giyu's 'Lull'—a simple "domain of water" centered on self, turning water from form to formless; it stopped Lower Five Rui's Blood Demon Art—"Cutting Thread Rotation"—and fit his calm, taciturn nature like a glove. Something clicked…
"Nen," "sword technique," even "Blood Demon Arts"—in the end, they return to the user.
What is my nature? What do I want? As Father Silva said, "Question your heart," then practice Ren—only then can you develop the Nen most suited to yourself… So then—how to tie "Sun" to "Water"?
He'd heard Urokodaki's line—"the rhythm of water." He knew his native gift wasn't Water Breathing—it was his mastery of Sun Breathing propping him up.
From "Sun" sprang the five foundational breaths—"Wind," "Thunder," "Water," "Flame," "Stone"—and from those spread the lesser paths—"Serpent," "Beast," "Love," "Mist"… That's why he could take in the first ten forms so quickly.
But no further. To craft a "Form Eleven" like Tomioka's would take time and a moment of fate…
"Sun and water…" Roy murmured. He opened his eyes to the sky aflame with sunset, drew a long breath, and sheathed the blade.
"Rōichirō—Rōichirō—" Sabito, Makomo, and the rest waved; Roy smiled gently, sprang off the water, and headed home.
That night he dined with Urokodaki—sashimi over rice, a little wild-greens sushi—and lay down with a belly full of thought. Sleep came quick…
Training makes time vanish—no joke.
He'd worked all day; the familiar drop arrived on cue. When Roy woke again—
he had left Demon Slayer and returned to Hunter. Before his eyes: nothing but deep blue sea, pressed under a sheet of black cloud…
Rrr-rrrumble~
Thunder rolled, eardrums aching.
"What time is it now?"
"Six a.m., young master."
"Six?" If Gotoh hadn't said it, Roy would've thought six p.m.
It wasn't dark like this for no reason.
"It's a storm," Kuraging said, eyes hard on the cloud bank. She drew a breath. "A storm is coming."