Chapter 112: Astonishing Training Speed × The Storm Descends
So fast already?
A hole the size of a bowl opened in the cypress. A head could fit through without getting stuck. Sabito and Makomo were a little dazed.
They had braced themselves, knowing that once Eiichiro began learning a Breathing Style, his talent would carry him forward at speed.
But learning forms in half a day was excessive.
"He was born to wield a blade," Sabito managed, consoling himself.
"Not only that. Did you notice? Eiichiro's breathing has stabilized," Makomo said, pointing at Roy's chest. With each inhale and exhale, his rhythm quietly matched the waterfall's hammering rise and fall.
There was cadence there. He had grasped something.
"It is Water's rhythm," Sakonji Urokodaki said. Ever since reuniting with Sabito, Makomo, and the others, he had known they were by his side. His deep eyes rested on Roy with quiet satisfaction. "I taught him late after all," he sighed.
Half a day to capture the form. One day to grasp the intent.
Hands clasped behind his back, the old man felt it in his bones: before long he could teach Eiichiro Total Concentration, Constant. His heart now rested entirely on the boy.
Giyu often wrote that he was not a worthy Water Hashira. If Sabito hadn't saved him at Mount Fujikasane years ago, he would have died and failed the Final Selection, unfit to inherit the Water Pillar's name.
He never said it aloud, but Urokodaki understood. The child had always wanted him to choose another disciple worthy of careful training.
Now—
"I wonder what he'll think when he sees Eiichiro," Urokodaki could not help but imagine. Whether it was a harmony between master and student, or longing reaching across distance—
Caw. "A letter from the Master," cried the returning Kasugai crow, beating its wings to Sagiri Mountain a step ahead of Giyu Tomioka with Ubuyashiki Kagaya's own hand.
Urokodaki blinked, unfolded it, then paused in surprise.
Makomo popped her head forward to read. "Oh. Giyu is coming back."
Beside her, Sabito's mouth curved up; at the caw, Shinsuke, Fukuda, Shimizu, and the rest buzzed with delight.
"No kidding. Let me see," someone said as a chill breeze flipped the letter. It fluttered among the ghosts for everyone to read. When they learned Giyu was coming specifically to test Eiichiro's mettle, Shinsuke threw back his head and laughed. "Good. Perfect. Master was fretting over how to arrange a final test for Eiichiro. Now look who arrives."
For once, Fukuda agreed with Shinsuke. He circled the letter and slapped his thigh. "Let a Hashira be Eiichiro's touchstone. Couldn't be better. The kid's kept too low a profile, then jumps out and shocks us every time. This time, we'll see how deep the well runs and take him down a peg if needed. Better that than let pride fester and meet a demon without fear."
The paper swayed downwind and slipped back into Urokodaki's hands.
He folded it, tucked it into his sleeve, and looked to the boy beneath the falls. Roy had submerged himself in swordcraft, deaf to the world, focused on his forms. A short stroke linked the flow, and the waterfall spilled into a smooth Striking Tide as he slid deeper into the state.
[Reminder: Swordsmanship +50]
[Swordsmanship: Lv3 (160/10000)]
[Water Breathing: Beginner (78/100)]
At dusk, the sun gilded the falls in shimmering spray.
Roy finished with a final arc. "Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux." The cascade joined into a coiling water dragon that roared into the pool.
Boom.
The pond burst. Water arrows fanned out. Thock, thock, thock—each pierced a different tree along the bank and left a neat little hole.
The boy stood beneath the falls, bracing his short sword on a big blue rock polished slick by years of water. Eyes closed, he seemed unsated, thoughts running through his mind.
"What's he thinking?" Makomo had gone with Urokodaki to cook. Shinsuke flitted to Sabito's side, eyeing Roy. He thought Eiichiro looked, somehow, dissatisfied.
Learning every form in a single day—what was there to be dissatisfied with?
Shinsuke didn't get it.
Which is why—
"That's where we dullards can never match a prodigy," Sabito said. He could not read it, but he knew. "Eiichiro may have sensed something."
Something still felt incomplete. Water Breathing could not have ended at ten forms; there had to be an eleventh, a twelfth—perhaps even more.
Roy recalled Giyu Tomioka's Eleventh Form, Dead Calm: a still-water field unfurled with the self at its center, where all motion collapses into silence and the tangible dissolves into the formless. Within that quiet, Giyu had erased Lower Rank Five Rui's Blood Demon Art, Cutting Thread Rotation, as if it were nothing at all.
The technique fit Giyu's calm, unshaken nature—and that same faint spark of insight quietly rose within Roy.
It fit Giyu's quiet, unshakable nature—and the same thread of understanding quietly stirred awake inside Roy.
Nen. Sword arts. Even a Blood Demon Art. In the end, all of this depends on the user.
What is "me"? What do "I" want? As Father Silva said, ask your heart, then train. Only then can a person develop a Nen ability that truly fits. Which raised the question: how to link Sun and Water?
He had not missed Urokodaki's "rhythm of Water." He knew all along his gift wasn't in Water. His base lay in a master's grasp of Sun Breathing, which held the line beneath him.
From Sun came the five basic Breaths: Wind, Thunder, Water, Flame, Rock, and then rarer branches like Serpent, Beast, Love, Mist. That was why Roy could pick up Water's first ten forms so quickly.
But that was the limit for now. To develop an eleventh like Giyu's would take time and a fated moment.
"Sun and Water…" Roy murmured. He opened his eyes to see the heavens bathed in red cloud and let out a long breath, then sheathed his blade.
"Eiichiro. Eiichiro," the senior brothers and sisters, Sabito among them, waved from shore. Warmth touched Roy's mouth. He stepped out of the water and made for home.
That night, he ate with Urokodaki—sashimi with rice and a few wild vegetables rolled into sushi. His belly full of thoughts, he lay down with his clothes on and soon slept deeply.
Time flies when you're training.
After a day's fatigue, the familiar drop returned as promised. When Roy woke again—
The Demon Slayer world fell away. Back in the Hunter world, a blue sea lay ahead, pressed beneath a sheet of dark cloud.
Rumble.
Thunder rolled, dulling the ears.
"What time is it?"
"Six in the morning, Young Master."
"Six?" If Gotoh hadn't said it, Roy would have thought it was six at night.
This darkness wasn't normal.
"A storm," Rika said, eyes narrowed at the black clouds. She drew a breath. "A storm is coming."