The night after his first encounter with the Demon Slayer Corps, Yuta lay awake in the small barracks room they had given him. The futon beneath him was unfamiliar, the air thick with the scent of ink and sharpened steel. Rika hovered at his side, half-visible, her sorrowful eyes fixed on him.
"They don't trust you," she whispered, her voice echoing in the hollow silence of his mind.
Yuta turned his head slightly, staring at the faint outlines of wooden beams above him. "I know. I wouldn't trust me either."
The silver-haired slayer, whose name Yuta had learned was Tokugawa Jiro, had spoken kindly enough, but the others—those who'd accompanied him—were not so easily convinced. They had stared at Rika with open suspicion, hands hovering near their blades even after the battle was over.
To them, Rika was not a cursed spirit bound by love and pain. To them, she was just another demon.
Morning came swiftly, and with it the sharp bark of orders. Yuta was summoned to the training grounds. Rows of recruits stood in formation, their breaths puffing out in the cool morning air. Swords glinted under the pale sun, and the rhythmic sound of footwork echoed across the dirt.
Jiro stood at the front, arms folded, his presence commanding without effort. When his gaze found Yuta, he beckoned.
"This one is new," Jiro announced to the group. "Okkotsu Yuta. He comes from far away." His tone was even, but the lingering weight in his words stirred whispers among the others.
Far away. That was one way to put it.
A younger slayer-in-training stepped forward, his expression fierce. "If he's with a demon, he shouldn't be here. We kill demons, not fight beside them."
Yuta felt Rika bristle beside him, her form flickering more violently than usual. He raised a hand to calm her. "She's not a demon," he said firmly. "She's… different."
The boy scoffed. "Different? Look at her."
The tension was broken when Jiro raised a hand. "Enough. Okkotsu will prove himself in combat. That is the way of our Corps." He turned his eyes back to Yuta. "If you cannot fight as we do, you won't last a day."
Yuta nodded. He had expected nothing less.
The training was grueling.learning Breathing techniques, sword forms, relentless sparring. Yuta's cursed energy gave him an edge, but this world demanded something else—**total mastery of one's breath**, a strange art that infused the body with strength. He struggled to imitate the rhythm of their lungs, the flow of their strikes. Each attempt left him coughing, his chest burning as though fire had taken root in his ribs.
"Too stiff," one instructor muttered after striking him across the shoulder with a wooden sword. "Your breathing is wrong."
Still, Yuta endured. Rika hovered protectively, her eyes darting to every blade that came near him, but she did not interfere. She seemed to understand he needed this.
That night, as Yuta sat alone, bruised and exhausted, Jiro approached. He carried no lantern, yet his silver hair caught the moonlight like steel.
"You fight well," Jiro said, lowering himself to sit across from Yuta. "But you're not like us. not like a beginner."
Yuta hesitated. Should he tell the truth? That he came from another world, one ruled by curses and sorcerers? That he had killed because he had to?
He met Jiro's calm gaze. "…Where I come from, monsters aren't called demons. They're curses. And Rika… she's one of them. But she's also my friend."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Finally, Jiro exhaled, slow and steady.
"Whether demon or curse, strength is strength. But strength without control is a blade turned inward. If you wish to fight with us, Okkotsu, you must learn our breathing. Without it, you'll never reach your true potential here."
Yuta clenched his fists. He remembered Gojo's teachings, the endless drills, the weight of Rika's love binding him to this path. This world was foreign, yes, but the burden was the same.
He bowed his head. "Then teach me."
Jiro smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly. "Very well. Tomorrow, we begin with Water Breathing."
As the cicadas droned in the distance and the moon peeked through the clouds, Yuta realized something he hadn't since arriving: this world might not just be a prison. It might also be a chance.
And so began his second life as both cursed child and demon slayer.