The demon threat was spreading—its tendrils creeping further across villages and towns. Yoriichi, though still grieving, understood something clearly now:
He could not carry this burden alone.
Beneath the mountain sky, he gathered the five swordsmen who had joined the corps. None bore the same strength or rhythm of breathing as him. But Yoriichi saw something deeper in each of them—potential.
"Not all can wield the sun," he said, "but from it, other paths may bloom."
And so, he began to guide them—one by one.
Kazuyoshi Iwamoto stood silently, like a boulder that could not be moved. Yoriichi observed his patience, his firm footwork, his rooted stance.
"Yours is the stillness of stone," Yoriichi said.
Stone Breathing was born. Every swing of Kazuyoshi's blade now struck with the weight of the earth.
Shin Kaminari was erratic, always shifting, laughing even in combat. He darted like lightning, his grip unpredictable.
"Your breath is thunder," Yoriichi told him.
Thus came Thunder Breathing, and Shin's strikes moved faster than the eye could see—electric and wild.
Enjuro Rengoku, passionate and proud, burned with a sense of honor. His strikes carried raw heat, fiery emotion, and unshakable resolve.
"You are flame, blazing in the dark," said Yoriichi.
Flame Breathing took form, fierce and bold—his sword roaring like a wildfire with each swing.
Takeshi Hayate, unruly and savage, fought like the wind—wild, untamed, and free. His swordplay howled with unpredictability.
"You ride the wind," Yoriichi observed. "So let it become your weapon."
And thus, Wind Breathing emerged—slashing, spiraling, always moving forward.
Yusuke Mizuhara, tranquil and observant, adapted like water. He changed with his opponent, always flowing.
"You carry the stillness and force of rivers," Yoriichi said.
From him, Water Breathing was born—fluid, elegant, but no less deadly.
By the month's end, the Demon Slayer Corps had something it never had before—form, direction, and legacy. No longer were they scattered swords. They were breathing in harmony with nature—becoming one with it.
And Yoriichi stood among them, proud—but solemn.
"These are only beginnings," he said to the wind. "From these breaths, generations will rise."
But in the shadows, his brother watched in silence.