Chapter 121: Giyu, "I Name You the Strongest" × Two Eleventh Forms
Tanjuro's face, his voice, and his gentle smile seemed to hover just before Roy's eyes. He had always looked at his son with such warmth, like a quiet orchid blooming in the first touch of spring.
That small home would remain under his father's watch. As for the wider world outside it, Roy tightened his grip on the blade.
He swept it horizontally. "Water Breathing - Fourth Form: Striking Tide."
River water surged and coiled into a lashing ribbon that roared toward Giyu Tomioka.
Giyu heard the word "father" and thought of his sister. She, too, had always looked at him with the same soft, water-like gaze. He reached out and caught a single droplet between his fingers. Then he stepped forward, burst from beneath the waterfall, and answered with his own Striking Tide.
The two collided.
Everyone guards something different. Women keep the house and care for children and elders. Men shoulder the burden of work and earning. The Demon Slayer Corps hunts demons and defends the realm.
Everyone fights to stay alive.
Clang, clang, clang.
Steel rang like pearls falling onto jade, one after another without pause.
Blade light devoured everything around them. Trees split, water burst, stones shattered. Shinsuke, Fukuda, Shimizu, Watanabe, and the others stared, eyes stretched as wide as they could, only to find they still could not keep up with the tempo of the fight. It grew harder and harder to track.
"They are too fast. Senior Giyu is a Hashira, so his strength makes sense, but what is up with Eiichiro?"
Solo training against wooden posts could never compare to the visual impact of two masters clashing at full tilt.
When Shinsuke and Fukuda first learned Giyu was coming, they had schemed to take Roy down a peg or two—teach him a lesson so he would not get cocky when he left the mountain and take a nasty fall. Now, the two of them looked at each other, speechless.
The fight was even. Who was teaching whom remained to be seen.
The key point: "Eiichiro is not even using a Breathing Style yet," Makomo said, struggling to track Roy's movements. His chest rose and fell with power, but nowhere near as violently as Giyu's. The boy was fighting entirely on his own strength.
"Water Breathing - Third Form: Flowing Dance. Fifth Form: Blessed Rain After the Drought. Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin. Ninth Form: Splashing Water Flow, Turbulent"
Form after form clashed. The battle blazed white-hot. Giyu's breathing grew visibly heavier.
Sabito was the strongest among the siblings. In life, he too had mastered a Breathing Style. Though he had never reached Total Concentration Constant the way Giyu had, his eyes were sharper than Makomo's, Shinsuke's, or the others'.
So when he noticed Giyu beginning to pant, Sabito's expression tightened. His feelings were complicated—pride in Giyu's strength, shock that Roy had matched him this long without losing ground, and a deep, full swell of relief.
"They are both incredible," he murmured. He opened his mouth to call a halt. The "inspection" had already gone far enough.
But as a swordsman, he could not bring himself to speak. He understood what it meant to meet an equal match.
The proof was plain: both fighters had grown more excited, their strikes coming faster and faster.
"Water Breathing - Tenth Form: Constant Flux."
A roar.
Blade drew water. Water became a dragon. Roy and Giyu moved in perfect sync, each calling a dragon of their own and driving it forward with a roaring slash.
Clang.
A shriek tore the air, sharp enough to pierce eardrums, and swept outward in every direction.
Roy and Giyu separated in a flash, each landing on the tip of a birch tree.
Boom.
The waterfall, split along its centerline, exploded.
Water sprayed everywhere, raining down like a brief storm that soaked the clearing.
Giyu let out a long breath and looked across at the boy. Roy's heart did not race. His breathing was steady, his movements relaxed, his posture easy. His condition was far better than Giyu's own.
By all rights, the "inspection" had already gone far enough. To fight a Hashira to this point, Giyu could already imagine the Master Ubuyashiki's expression when he heard the news.
He might smile gently, as always, but Giyu knew that inside, his feelings would be far from calm.
The waterfall reformed behind them, roaring anew.
Giyu drew a deep breath and reset his stance. He fixed his gaze on Roy. "Eiichiro. Among those your age," he said gravely, "I, Giyu Tomioka, name you the strongest."
"You are too kind, Senior," Roy replied, holding his short blade in one hand, tip angled down. He studied Giyu with quiet appreciation. Beneath the cold exterior, his senior was far warmer than he let on.
In the original story, it had been Giyu and Urokodaki who vouched for Tanjiro at the Hashira meeting and saved Nezuko's life. Even though the present was not the same as the past, Roy remembered that kindness. He would never disrespect this man.
Giyu shook his head. "I never joke."
He met Roy's eyes, gripped his Nichirin Blade with both hands, and angled the tip down to mirror Roy's stance. "I have one more strike," he said calmly. "Would you like to see it?"
"The Eleventh Form?"
"Yes."
"Hey, hey, do not just have a private conversation without us," Shinsuke and Fukuda shouted, dumbfounded.
They had trained in Water Breathing under Urokodaki for years. There were only ten forms. When did an eleventh suddenly appear?
"It must be a technique Giyu created himself," Sabito said, gazing at Giyu with something like wonder. The crybaby of years past had grown beyond even Sabito's reach. "Once the Eleventh Form is unleashed, even Master might not know how to counter it."
Makomo rushed to Urokodaki's defense. "Master is older now. It is normal that he is not as strong as Senior Giyu. After all… no matter what, Giyu is the current Water Hashira."
Sabito smiled and said nothing more. He turned his head toward Roy.
The boy's expression stayed calm. In truth, he had been curious for some time. He wanted to see the technique that, in the Natagumo Mountain arc, had severed the head of Lower Moon Five, Rui, in a single strike. He wanted to know just how magnificent Dead Calm truly was.
He grinned. "If Senior wants to show me, of course I will watch. And what is more…"
Roy leaned on the short blade, letting the tip rest against his toes. He narrowed his eyes at Giyu. "Junior also has one strike. I ask that Senior offer his critique."
Huh?
Shinsuke slapped Fukuda across the face. "Did I hear that wrong?"
Slap, slap. Fukuda returned two blows. "You did not."
The ghosts stared at Roy, unsure whether his words were bluster meant to shake Giyu's composure or if he truly meant them. They gaped at him, frozen.
Makomo's mouth hung open. She reached over and poked Sabito. The fox-masked youth was clearly just as stunned. It took him a long moment to recover. He and Makomo traded a look, both at a total loss.