Tōjurō blinked twice, as if his mind had stalled for a moment, before finally reacting.
"The victor… Shishu!"
That simple declaration was like tossing a lit match into a barrel of gunpowder. The air exploded with noise. Cheers erupted like a thunderclap, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Half the Demon Slayer Corps' compound seemed to tremble from the roar.
"What the hell did I just see?"
"He defeated Chizhong in a single move?"
"I only blinked and it was already over!"
While the crowd's astonishment grew louder, Shishu himself seemed dissatisfied.
"Congratulations, host. You have defeated Chizhong. Reward: Breathing Points, fifty."
"Current level: Novice Breathing (9750/10000)."
"Only fifty?"
Shishu's eyelids twitched in mild disappointment. He had felled Chizhong in a single instant, yet the system gave him a reward so small.
Did this mean that Chizhong's entire strength was worth nothing more than fifty points?
The thought lingered, but soon he smirked. Perhaps this was the system's way of driving him forward, pushing him to fight again and again.
His gaze slid toward Chizhong, sharp and unreadable.
"I wonder… could I exploit this by repeatedly defeating him?"
With that in mind, he stepped slowly toward his fallen opponent.
Chizhong stirred. His hand clutched at his bruised throat as he forced himself upright, his breath ragged. When his blurry vision cleared, he saw a familiar silhouette approaching.
"Who is… wait!"
"Shishu!"
Recognition struck him like lightning. Fear burned in his eyes. He leapt up as if fire had been set beneath him.
"Stay away from me!"
His face twisted with terror, his expression ugly and broken, as though he had been scarred for life. Without hesitation, he turned and fled the training grounds, stumbling as he went.
Shishu watched him vanish and lost interest. A man who had abandoned his own will to fight was not even worth using as an experiment.
"Tch. Better to prepare myself and set out to hunt demons."
Muttering quietly, he turned and strode toward the edge of the square.
The crowd parted instantly. Those gathered instinctively stepped aside, opening a path through the sea of bodies.
Without hesitation, Shishu walked out, his back straight, his pace steady.
Beside the square, Tōjurō did not stop him. Instead, his eyes followed the youth's retreating figure with admiration.
"So young, yet so composed. Bold, talented, and unarrogant. Such a person is a rare jewel. I must report this to our master immediately."
After delegating the dispersal of the crowd to a few men, he himself left at once, heading directly to the residence of the Corps' leader, Ubuyashiki Kagaya.
At the entrance of the house, Tōjurō requested an audience. Though he was a Hashira, the Flame Pillar of the Corps, he never neglected the proper courtesy.
Permission came swiftly. Yet when he entered, he was surprised to discover another guest had already arrived.
"Yoriichi… here as well?"
His brows lifted. Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the man who had taught the Hashira the art of Breathing, was rarely seen. Though he had instructed them, he never demanded to be addressed as their teacher. To him, they had never truly been disciples.
Though puzzled, Tōjurō entered respectfully.
Inside, kneeling in formal posture, he bowed low before raising his head.
There, framed by dim light, sat Ubuyashiki Kagaya. His black hair fell slightly over his ears. His pale face, riddled with scars and pitted with sickly blemishes, bore the marks of long years of suffering.
Beside him, Yoriichi sipped tea slowly, his presence calm and immovable.
"Master, your health…" Tōjurō began, but Kagaya lifted a frail hand and interrupted.
"Do not worry about my body."
He coughed softly into his sleeve, his face turning even paler. Yet his eyes remained gentle.
"Tell me instead, Tōjurō. What matter brings you to me so suddenly?"
Encouraged, Tōjurō recounted the events of the square in detail.
"It happened while I was teaching breathing techniques. Among the gathered youths, a boy named Shishu…"
As the Flame Pillar spoke, Kagaya's expression shifted. Calm gave way to curiosity, curiosity to amazement, and amazement finally bloomed into delight.
Even Yoriichi, who had been silent, quietly set down his teacup, his attention captured by the name.
"In the Corps, such a child truly exists?"
A faint smile crept across Kagaya's lips. His voice carried rare warmth.
"It seems that within a few years, among my children, another remarkable figure will rise. Perhaps he will even become a Hashira. Perhaps the strongest of them all."
The master of the Demon Slayer Corps had always called his slayers his children. It was tradition, and with his extraordinary kindness and dignity, he earned the loyalty of all.
Now he looked like a father seeing the brilliance of his child's future.
Turning slightly, he asked softly, "Yoriichi, what are your thoughts about this boy?"
Tōjurō also looked toward him, his curiosity sharp. What would the strongest swordsman, the man who had given them the art of Breathing, say of the youth he had just praised?
For a moment, silence stretched. Yoriichi's expression remained tranquil, as unreadable as still water.
The air grew tense. Both Tōjurō and Kagaya thought that, once again, Yoriichi might say nothing at all.
But then his words fell, calm yet heavy as stone.
"Shishu is my disciple."
The room froze.
Even the fiery Rengoku Tōjurō was struck speechless, staring at Yoriichi with wide eyes full of shock.
Kagaya leaned forward, his voice quickening. "Disciple? You mean… this is the child you took in seven years ago?"
Yoriichi nodded slowly.
"He is diligent. Gifted. Just as Tōjurō described, he has the makings of someone extraordinary. He will grow to support the Corps with his strength. And…"
His voice lowered.
"In him, I see the possibility of surpassing even myself."
When those words ended, silence reigned again. Yoriichi calmly lifted his cup and resumed sipping tea, as though nothing unusual had been spoken.
Tōjurō rubbed his chin, still stunned. "Wait. Then all these years, the boy you asked me to watch over… that was Shishu?"
"That is correct," Yoriichi replied. "The child I entrusted to you was none other than him."
Only now did Tōjurō realize why Shishu had seemed oddly familiar. The boy he had once sheltered was indeed the same youth who had just astounded them all.
But while he pieced things together, Kagaya's mind clung to Yoriichi's last words.
Surpass Yoriichi? Surpass the man who had given the Demon Slayer Corps its very foundation?
Could such a future truly exist within that child?
Unbelievable as it sounded, the words had come from Yoriichi himself. That alone made them impossible to dismiss.
"Surpass Yoriichi…"
Kagaya murmured, his dim eyes suddenly lit with a spark.
If Shishu truly carried that potential, then perhaps he was the key, the one who could break the centuries-long curse of tragedy upon the Ubuyashiki line.
While Tōjurō, Kagaya, and Yoriichi discussed the youth, Shishu himself was already preparing to depart.
He carried only a small cloth bag on his back and a sturdy wooden sword at his hip. Though simple, they were all the belongings he had.
Stepping outside, he paused to look once more at the place he had lived for seven years.
"This is the beginning. My first true step into this world."
"Let us go… toward the land where demons dwell."
He closed the door gently behind him. Without looking back again, Shishu walked toward the gates of the Demon Slayer Corps, the weight of destiny pressing firmly at his back.