If it were just a matter of the breathing technique being ridiculous, Urokodaki could have endured it. He would have sighed with resignation and moved on. At the end of the day, not all breathing styles were born equal.
But the problem...
The REAL problem was that HE was his master!
The one who took him in. The one who trained him.
And suddenly, as if fate decided to take it out on him, the visions started coming.
First, the introduction. He imagined a ceremony, or a meeting, or simply a conversation:
"This is the disciple of the former Water Pillar, Urokodaki Sakonji. He uses the Breath of Desire."
And the spectators, initially impressed, would open their eyes with admiration: "Ooh! Disciple of the Water Pillar! As expected, a legendary master who produces disc—"
And then they would stop.
"Huh?"
"Wait?"
"Breath of... Desire?"
"THAT swordsman?! The one who kills demons by sniffing women?!"
Then would come Tomioka.
Giyuu would send him a letter. Urokodaki knew his disciple well. The letter would have no insults, no reproach. Just that flat tone:
"Master, the new breathing technique you taught the younger brother is certainly very powerful. However, considering that you are already of advanced age, I ask that when you come down from the mountain to 'collect reference material' for training, please take care of your health."
Then... his former colleagues from the Slayer Corps. He could see them clearly, pointing at Marcus in the middle of a mission, surrounded by female hunters, doubled over laughing:
"LOOK!! That's the new disciple Sakonji trained!!"
"HAHAHAHA, he needs to bring girls along to kill demons!? Sakonji, you old dog, don't tell me you've been training him in the pleasure district!"
"Who would have thought... I always assumed he was a serious man..."
"I didn't know Urokodaki was THAT kind of master."
But the worst... was imagining Jigoro Kuwajima.
That damn old man who had spent decades looking for any excuse to make fun of him.
The letter he would send wouldn't even need words. He would open the envelope, unfold the paper, and find an entire page covered with one single thing:
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."
No signature. No return address. It wouldn't be necessary.
And even Ubuyashiki... even the supreme leader... would probably receive him with that kind and serene smile.
"Mr. Urokodaki... your disciple's breathing technique is... most interesting."
'Interesting.'
That word coming from Ubuyashiki would be his social death sentence.
"..."
Sakonji Urokodaki.
Seventy two years old.
Former Water Pillar. One of the most senior and most respected instructors in the entire Demon Slayer Corps.
A life of unbreakable discipline. A life of impeccable integrity. Every day, every decision, every breath dedicated to a single purpose: shaping the next generation and annihilating the demons that threatened humanity.
And now...
Now he could see it with horrifying clarity.
His name, etched in the records of the Slayer Corps, would be tied forever to a single line:
"The master who trained the disciple with the perverted breathing technique."
A hundred years from now, when future generations opened the records, turned the pages, and found the name "Sakonji Urokodaki"...
They wouldn't think first of the warrior who dedicated his life to protecting humanity.
They wouldn't remember the Water Pillar who annihilated countless demons.
They wouldn't honor the master who trained some of the finest swordsmen of his generation.
No.
The first thing they would think would be:
"Oh! It's HIM! The one with the disciple who needed to smell women to fight!"
And then...
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Thud
His knees hit the dirt.
He collapsed. Like a building stripped of its foundations, they crashed into the ground and his fingers dug into the wet earth, clawing with desperation.
His shoulders began to tremble and then... the mask fell, revealing what he always kept hidden. An aged face that, at this precise moment, was disfigured by the purest and most uncontainable panic.
"My... reputation of a lifetime..."
?
Marcus stood frozen beside him.
'What's wrong with him?'
Crouching down and with all the gentleness in the world, he gave him a little tap on the shoulder.
"Master...? Are you alright?"
But Urokodaki didn't respond and didn't lift his head either. He just kept mumbling into the dirt.
"...my reputation..."
"...there's no saving it..."
"...finished..."
"..."
As he listened and watched, Marcus suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.
Because yeah, this old man was insufferable. He had tried to kick him out a million times over the past months, complained about his stupidity, made his life miserable with hellish training sessions and comments dripping with pure exasperation.
But also...
He had also taught him everything he knew about the body and the sword. Fed him. Given him a roof. Protected him from demons, without asking for anything in return.
And now, seeing him suddenly transform like this... he felt bad.
Seeing him like this... hurt.
'But why...? What made him snap like this all of a sudden...?'
'Could it be...?'
And then, like a bolt of lightning, a flash of understanding crossed his mind.
'I GET IT!'
Everything made sense.
'He's sad because my breathing technique is too powerful and he wasn't the one who taught it to me...'
'He probably thinks he held me back for eight months... That his training hurt me instead of helping me!'
The emotion rose through his chest.
'Aw, master~...'
'How can he be so sensitive?'
'...BUT NO!'
'I can't allow this! Without him, today's Marcus wouldn't exist! I can't let him live carrying that guilt! I can't let him sink!'
Standing up, he stepped back. He brought his feet together and with a solemnity he had never shown before... he gave a deep bow.
And when he raised his head, his face was a poem of moving gratitude. His eyes were shining, reddened, genuinely on the verge of tears.
"M-Master!" His voice trembled with emotion. "Please, don't get like this!"
"..."
Urokodaki finally raised his head slowly, his gaze empty.
Rushing over, Marcus approached him, took him by the arms, helped him to his feet, and grabbed his hands.
They were ice cold. Like the hands of a dead man.
But he didn't falter. On the contrary. He squared his shoulders, hardened his expression, and looked him straight in the eyes with solemnity.
"It was you, master! You were the one who discovered my talent!"
"It was thanks to your patience, your teachings, those eight months of hellish training, that I had the foundation I needed to create my own breathing technique!"
He squeezed Urokodaki's hands tighter.
"And it was you who brought me out into the world! Who pushed me to face reality! That's what created the opportunity for a new breathing technique to be born!"
"Even though the technique I use is different from yours, none of that changes what you meant in the process!!"
"PLEASE DON'T DROWN IN DESPAIR!!"
"Because you are a good master!! THE BEST!! You are my dear and most cherished master!!"
He turned toward the sunset. "THAT'S WHY, PLEASE, BELIEVE ME!! I will explain it to everyone!! To every single person who crosses my path!! That my breathing technique was born from your Water Breathing!!"
"The origin of the Breath of Desire is YOU!! YOU, SAKONJI UROKODAKI!!"
"IN THE FUTURE, WHEREVER MY NAME APPEARS, YOURS WILL BE RIGHT NEXT TO IT WITHOUT FAIL!! I SWEAR IT!!"
The breeze ruffled his hair. The setting sun lit up his silhouette.
'With that, the old man should feel a little better.'
"..."
Urokodaki was staring at him.
On that aged face there was no expression whatsoever. No gratitude. No relief. No comfort. Nothing. Just a void that slowly transformed... very slowly... into something much worse.
Ashes.
Because he had just understood what Marcus was promising him.
This kid was going to MAKE SURE all of humanity knew the shame belonged to him.
"Give me... glory...?"
Marcus nodded with his eyes sparkling with emotion: "YES, YES, YES!! I will absolutely..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
Urokodaki's eyes closed in a terrible peace and he collapsed backward.
Thud
"Master...? MASTER?!"
Marcus dropped to his knees beside him, grabbed his shoulders, and gave him a little tap on the cheek.
"Don't just lie there, the ground is cold and you're going to catch a cold."
Nothing. Not even a groan.
He brought his hand close to his nose.
"..."
He was breathing.
'Did he... fall asleep?'
'From joy, maybe?'
________
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