Hearing Urokodaki's question, Horitake gave a firm nod.
"Yes. I came to see how Tanjiro and Nezuko are faring. And, of course, there's the matter of the Final Selection. Since Tanjiro has resolved to participate this time, I naturally wanted to check in on him."
At the mention of the Selection, Master Urokodaki fell into a heavy silence.
Even through the Tengu mask, Horitake could sense the conflict churning within the old man. Tanjiro was his disciple; Urokodaki had poured his heart and soul into the boy's training. He didn't want Tanjiro to go to that mountain—and even more, he couldn't bear the thought of another student losing his life.
Yet, he knew that if Tanjiro were determined, there was nothing a master could do to truly stop him. That was precisely why he had set the impossible task of slicing the boulder.
After a long pause, Urokodaki finally spoke, his voice low. "The Final Selection... I see. Tanjiro decided on this long ago. However, I felt his strength was still lacking, so I set a final trial for him."
At that moment, Tanjiro took a step forward, his back straight and his expression solemn.
"Master Urokodaki," he said clearly, "that boulder... I have cleaved it in two!"
Urokodaki's frame shifted slightly in surprise. "You cut it? With a single strike?"
"Yes. It is split clean down the middle. If you wish, Master, I can take you to see it right now."
Urokodaki made a motion as if to stand and see the massive stone for himself. But halfway through, he stopped. He sat back down, appearing somewhat defeated, and nodded with a complicated sigh.
"I see. Tanjiro... I believe you. If you have sliced that stone with one blow, then you have passed my trial. It is proof enough that your strength has reached the necessary level. Go, then. Go and take part in the Final Selection."
Finally receiving his master's recognition, Tanjiro felt a surge of pure joy. Two years of grueling, agonizing training had not been in vain. He was finally one step closer to his goal.
Seeing the old master looking so forlorn, Horitake felt the need to offer some comfort. He sat down casually on the tatami mats, facing Urokodaki. His relaxed, open posture naturally bridged the formal gap between them.
"Master Urokodaki, I know you fear for Tanjiro's safety," Horitake said softly. "But Tanjiro is destined to join the Slayer Corps. He is destined to endure these trials. Some things simply cannot be avoided. I understand your desire to protect your disciples—you've already suffered more loss than any man should have to bear."
He paused, then added, "But perhaps you didn't know who has been guiding Tanjiro during this period of rapid improvement?"
As he spoke, Horitake cast a subtle glance at Tanjiro. The boy caught the signal immediately.
"Master Urokodaki," Tanjiro said, his voice soft with reverence, "actually, during this time, I've been under the care of Makomo and the guidance of Sabito."
The words hit the old man like a physical blow. The former Pillar's composure shattered. "That... that's impossible! Sabito and Makomo... they are... they're..."
His voice cracked as he spoke, the mention of those names clearly striking a raw, painful nerve.
Tanjiro rushed to explain, his tone urgent. "It's true, Master! Please, listen to me. I truly met them. They helped me immensely. If it weren't for them, I never would have been able to complete your trial."
For the next several minutes, Tanjiro recounted his experiences in vivid detail. Horitake would occasionally chime in to fill in the gaps.
As the story of the two spirits unfolded, Urokodaki, who had been so agitated, grew quiet. He became still—devoid of movement, as if he were holding his breath. When the tale finally reached its conclusion, a long, heavy silence filled the small hut.
Horitake and Tanjiro watched the old man, who sat perfectly still. Because of the Tengu mask, they couldn't see his face, but they could feel the turbulence of his emotions.
Urokodaki had invested everything into his students, only to watch them vanish one by one. He never could have imagined that Sabito and Makomo, out of love and worry for him, had refused to pass on. Their souls had lingered on Mount Sagiri for years, simply to keep him company in his solitude.
It was tragic and ironic—he had spent every day in mourning, never realizing his children had been right beside him all along.
Finally, Urokodaki spoke, his voice strained. "So... you're saying Sabito and Makomo have finally... moved on?"
Tanjiro didn't know how to offer words of comfort for such a profound thing. He simply gave a slow, firm nod.
"I see," Urokodaki whispered. "Moving on is good. That is their true destination. That is... truly wonderful."
It might have been an illusion, but Horitake felt as though the old man's silhouette seemed to wither and shrink even further in that moment. Yet, as that sense of desolation passed, something else took its place—a sense of peace, as if a great weight had been lifted.
"It is for the best," Urokodaki murmured. "Knowing this... I feel I can finally face my students again. The ache in my heart has eased, if only a little."
He then looked at Tanjiro with renewed focus, his expectations for the boy now higher than ever. "Tanjiro, are you certain you want to do this?"
"I must," Tanjiro replied, his resolve unshakable.
"Very well! Tanjiro, you must pass that selection! You must return to this house alive!"
"Yes, Master!"
The master had accepted the disciple's path; the disciple had given his master a vow. It was a moment of perfect harmony between teacher and student.
With that settled and the emotional knot untied, Horitake's gaze drifted toward the corner of the room. There, in the shadows, Nezuko lay peacefully beneath her covers.
Horitake stood up, walked over, and sat down beside her. He looked at her intently. She had been asleep for two years now. Her body had matured slightly; she seemed a bit taller than he remembered.
But she was still Nezuko—still perfect, still undeniably cute.
Even with her eyes closed, she was a picture of serene beauty. Her long hair was spread across the pillow, her eyelashes were dark and delicate, and her skin was fair and smooth. She looked like a perfect, porcelain doll.
Looking at her, Horitake couldn't help himself. He reached out a finger and playfully poked her cheek.
Wow. The sensation was incredible—her skin was both firm and incredibly soft.
She really is too cute, he thought. Unable to resist the temptation, he reached out and poked her cheek a few more times.
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