Chapter 24: First Meeting with Urokodaki Sakonji
By the time Makomo led Akira up the winding path of Mount Sagiri, the sun was already a fiery smear against the horizon. Even as twilight bled across the sky, the sharp, whistling cuts of wooden swords slicing through the air echoed from the courtyard ahead.
As they drew closer, they saw an elderly man with stark white hair, his back turned to them. He wore a simple, light blue kimono patterned with clouds and, covering his face, a distinctive red Tengu mask. With his enhanced vision, Akira could also clearly make out the two young boys standing before the old man, their entire beings focused on the repetitive motion of swinging their wooden swords.
One boy had a thick mane of pale, peach-colored hair. His features were delicate, almost refined, yet held a sharp, determined edge. That natural beauty, however, was marred by a hideous scar that ran jaggedly across his right cheek. This was Sabito.
The other boy had straight black hair and cool, handsome features. But his sea-blue eyes were clouded with a deep gloom, entirely lacking the vibrant energy a boy his age should possess. He seemed lost in a world of his own, a deep-seated isolation clinging to him like a second skin. This was Tomioka Giyuu.
"Master Urokodaki, I'm back!" Makomo's cheerful voice rang out the moment she saw the familiar masked figure, and she was already waving happily.
"Makomo? You passed the Final Selection?!" Urokodaki Sakonji spun around, his voice thick with a sudden, raw excitement. He took a quick step forward, his gaze fixed so intently on the smiling girl that he completely overlooked Akira standing beside her. He looked her up and down, a frantic energy in his movements, only letting out a long, shuddering sigh of relief when he confirmed she had no obvious injuries.
"Yes..." But at the mention of the Final Selection, the light in Makomo's eyes dimmed. The memory of the Hand Demon surfaced, casting a shadow over her triumphant return.
Still, some truths had to be spoken, especially to the old man who poured his heart and soul into training his disciples.
After a brief, heavy silence, Makomo recounted the events on Fujikasane Mountain. She spoke of the Hand Demon, of Akira's life-saving intervention, his overwhelming talent and strength, and finally, his reason for coming to Mount Sagiri.
Urokodaki listened, his posture growing more rigid with every word. He heard how the very demon he had personally captured and imprisoned on that mountain had become the butcher of his children. He heard how the warding masks he'd carved for them, meant to protect them from calamity, had instead become a death sentence—a marker for that demon to hunt them down.
The revelation struck him like a physical blow. The spirited old man from moments ago seemed to shrink, his shoulders slumping as a wave of dejection washed over him.
Fortunately, his will was forged of iron. It didn't take long for him to wrestle his emotions back under control. He straightened his back and finally turned to look at Akira, who had remained respectfully silent throughout the exchange.
"You are Kanzaki Akira?" It wasn't the first time Urokodaki had heard the name, but this was indeed their first meeting.
"That's right, Senior Urokodaki. It's a pleasure to meet you. My family's little old man... ah, no, my master should have mentioned me in his letters to you." Akira's serious demeanor cracked, revealing the playful nature just beneath the surface.
Accustomed to the strict hierarchy and respect of the Demon Slayer Corps, Urokodaki didn't quite approve of Akira's flippant nickname for his master. However, he wasn't about to bicker with a boy over such a triviality—especially since he wasn't his own disciple.
At that thought, he glanced at Makomo standing nearby, then turned his head to look at Sabito and Giyuu, who were taking the opportunity to slack off.
'Well,'he thought,'at least my own disciples still call me 'Master' properly.'
Wait a minute. Were those two slacking off?
Urokodaki snapped back to the present, his gaze sharpening as he noticed Sabito and Giyuu had paused their training while he was distracted. He shot them a glare so intense it could have frozen water, and the two boys immediately scrambled to swing their swords with renewed, desperate vigor.
'Poor kids…' Akira thought with a silent chuckle.
"Kuwajima did indeed mention you in his letters," Urokodaki said, his attention returning to Akira. "He was full of praise for your talent."
"Really? How did he praise me?" The words almost tumbled out of Akira's mouth instinctively, but his rational mind slammed the brakes, changing his response to a more modest: "It's nothing, really. I just have a little bit of talent."
"Kuwajima wrote that your eyes are special," Urokodaki pressed, a flicker of keen curiosity in his voice from behind the mask. "That you are capable of remembering and replicating any move after seeing it just once. Is that true?" He knew his old friend wasn't one for exaggeration, but a talent like that sounded almost too formidable to be real.
This was the first Makomo had heard of it as well, and she looked over at Akira, her eyes wide with surprise. Even the two boys behind Urokodaki, while appearing focused on their sword swings, had clearly angled their ears to catch every word.
"Of course, it's true. I can demonstrate right now," Akira nodded, then drew his Nichirin Blade. "These are moves I saw Makomo use during the Final Selection."
His stance shifted in an instant.
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."
The blade carved a clean, horizontal arc through the air, perfectly level and fluid.
"Third Form: Flowing Dance."
He transitioned smoothly, his body twisting and flowing like a river current as his blade weaved an complex, defensive pattern. He had learned these two forms simply by watching Makomo during their time on the mountain; she had dispatched every demon she'd encountered with just these two techniques.
When Akira finished and sheathed his blade, everyone present—including Makomo herself—was staring at him in a stunned daze. She hadn't even realized he had 'stolen' two of her techniques just by watching.
Within the Demon Slayer Corps, however, there was no real concept of 'stealing' when it came to the inheritance of Breathing Techniques. Their purpose was singular: to kill demons. As long as the knowledge didn't leak to the outside world and threaten civilians, sharing and learning were encouraged.
Urokodaki looked at Makomo for confirmation. She gave him a small, bewildered nod, acknowledging that those were indeed the forms she had used most frequently on Fujikasane Mountain.
"What an astonishing talent," Urokodaki finally murmured after a long moment of silence, his voice filled with genuine amazement. "In that case, you should have no problem learning any sword technique. However," he added, his tone becoming instructive, "if you want to grasp the true essence of a technique, you will still need guidance."
Through his expert observation, Urokodaki had noticed that Akira's movements had only mastered the 'form'. Perhaps due to his high comprehension, there was a faint glimmer of 'spirit' behind them, but his level was still a far cry from Makomo's. He couldn't be considered a true master of the style yet.
"That is indeed the case. Senior Urokodaki has an extraordinary eye."
"Enough," Urokodaki said, shaking his head slightly. "There's no need for you to keep acting so formal in front of me, kid." He paused, a new thought occurring to him. "By the way, Kanzaki, let me ask you: have you already mastered Total Concentration: Constant?"
It was only when Akira demonstrated the Water Breathing forms that Urokodaki had noticed the subtle shift in his respiration. To use the techniques, Akira had to alter his breathing pattern. But because he hadn't systematically learned Water Breathing, the change from the Total Concentration Breathing he was originally maintaining was significant enough for an expert like Urokodaki to detect.
"Yes, I mastered it not long ago." Akira felt no discomfort from the temporary switch. He had already experimented with this privately on Fujikasane Mountain; otherwise, he wouldn't have come here with the confidence to learn an entirely new Breathing Style.
"Your talent isn't just in your eyes, then," Urokodaki spoke slowly, the words heavy with meaning. "That fellow Kuwajima is truly lucky." A faint, unmistakable hint of envy colored his tone.
"Alright, it's getting late," he announced, clapping his hands together. "Let's eat first. I'll begin teaching you Water Breathing tomorrow."
"Thank you, Senior Urokodaki."
As if to celebrate Makomo's safe return, Urokodaki had already prepared a feast's worth of ingredients. His cooking was surprisingly excellent, and Makomo moved around the kitchen with a familiar ease, helping him as if she'd done it a hundred times before.
Meanwhile, Akira went to chat idly with the two boys, who were now sprawled on the floor like discarded puppets, their training finally over.
Of course, he was really only chatting with Sabito. Giyuu was already lost in his daily state of self-imposed isolation, a silent island in the middle of the room.
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