Mitsuri was looking at him!
What a jealous glare… His En spread out in a rippling dome over the courtyard like an upside-down bowl, silently covering everyone present. Roy glanced once at Iguro Obanai and easily caught the other man's inner voice. Around Iguro's neck, the white snake Kaburamaru flicked its tongue, slit pupils flaring…
It stood in for Iguro's nearly blind right eye, staring fixedly at Roy. But the boy's gaze simply swept past, skimming over him to pause, one by one, on the other Pillars, before finally settling on Tomioka Giyu.
"Senpai," Roy said.
Giyu's hand rested on his Nichirin blade. He gave a tiny nod in return.
Roy ignored everyone else, planted his sword, and stood off to the side alone, eyes closed, quietly regulating his breathing.
At some point, he heard—
Under the eaves, where Gyōmei Himejima had been silently weeping and chanting sutras, the man brought his hands together.
"Amida Buddha. The Master has arrived."
"All—!"
Whether they'd been lounging, standing, or perched in trees, every Pillar snapped to attention, tossing aside all lazy postures. They arranged themselves in a row, dropped to one knee, and bowed to the man slowly approaching with his wife Amane's support.
"Greetings, Master!"
For a thousand years, since Muzan first became a demon, the Ubuyashiki family had borne the curse and fought him. After countless battles, a natural authority hung around them. And the current head, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, cherished his subordinates, had backbone and resolve, and was deeply loved by the Pillars. So when he appeared, not a single person could remain standing straight.
Which made Roy, still standing off to the side, all the more conspicuous—
A lone crane standing among a flock of chickens, completely out of step.
What a massive attitude problem…
He doesn't bow to the Master—who does he think he is?
I don't care if he's a "genius," who wasn't a genius once?
If you join the Final Selection, you're part of the Corps. Show the Master at least basic respect!
Dozens of gazes and their simmering thoughts skewered Roy at once, an invisible pressure slamming down on him.
Tomioka Giyu frowned. He'd known this would happen. He opened his mouth to explain—
but Himejima's heavy clap stole everyone's attention.
"Kamado Roy joined the Selection only for revenge. He has never joined the Demon Slayer Corps."
His voice rumbled.
"Between him and us, it is cooperation. Nothing more."
Cooperation?
Faces around the courtyard shifted, each of the Pillars reacting in their own way.
Then Kagaya, his pale eyes almost blind, lifted them in Roy's direction and smiled.
"Roy, thank you for coming."
Just like that, he set the tone for their relationship.
To Kagaya's lower right, a tall man with hair like white bristles and several scars across his face stood in a white haori over his Corps uniform—Shinazugawa Sanemi, the Wind Pillar. He snorted twin streams of air from his nose, glaring up at Roy, who seemed almost absentminded—only nodding slightly to Kagaya's arrival.
"Master," Sanemi said, hand on his Nichirin sword. "I won't oppose your decision, and I won't pick a fight just for the sake of it. But…"
He drew his blade with a ringing clang, tip leveling straight at Roy.
"Cooperation or not, that still makes him an ally. I need to know whether this guy has the strength to be worth trusting my back to!"
"Ha ha!"
Rengoku Kyōjurō, golden mane flaring like a lion's, laughed loud and bright, flames dancing in his eyes.
"Sanemi—count me in!"
"Fsssss…"
Kaburamaru spit its tongue—that hiss was Iguro Obanai's answer.
Uzui Tengen rested two swords across his back, finger tapping in anticipation. The flash of battle in the air was very flamboyant, and his eyes gleamed, itching to join in.
On either side of him, the Insect Pillar said nothing; the Love Pillar turned her head back and forth like a bobblehead, looking at one, then another, completely lost.
Tomioka Giyu moved, ready to intervene—
and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Kagaya himself, supported by Amane, bow toward Roy.
"I apologize," Kagaya said gently. "For my failure to restrain my subordinates, I offer you my sincerest apology."
Then, with effort, he sank back down onto his knees.
Shinazugawa, Rengoku, Iguro…
Even through Himejima's constant tears it was obvious—everyone froze.
This was the first time they'd seen the Master, head of the Ubuyashiki line, extend such courtesy to anyone.
Could it really be, as that retired Water Pillar Sakonji Urokodaki had claimed—
that this boy in white, with flame-colored hair and a breathing style all his own, truly possessed the power to slay the Demon King, Kibutsuji Muzan?
A breeze stirred the courtyard.
Wisteria petals swirled down in the wind.
Silence ruled the Ubuyashiki estate.
Roy lifted his hand and, with a flick of magnetic force, helped Kagaya back up. No wasted motion.
"This is a good thing," he said lightly. "There's no need to apologize, Head Ubuyashiki."
His gaze slid around the ring of Pillars—past Rengoku, past Iguro, past Uzui—
and finally settled on Shinazugawa Sanemi.
He swept his sleeve back and smiled.
"If it were me, suddenly seeing someone join a meeting this secret, I'd be suspicious too. So they haven't done anything wrong. Why not let them go ahead?"
His hanafuda earrings chimed softly in the breeze.
"Will you all come together," he asked, still smiling, "or line up one by one?"
Himejima's prayer beads paused in his huge hands as he quietly intoned another Buddha's name.
Sanemi, half-checked by Kagaya a moment ago, raised his sword again. Stepping forward, he said, "I'll go."
Before anyone else could act, he bowed with his blade held upright. Roy appreciated the directness, returned the bow, and raised his head just in time to hear the wind roar.
A knife-edge gale wrapped around steel came screaming for his face. Inside Sanemi's mind, Roy heard the name of the form and the rhythm of Wind Breathing.
"Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!"
If you ranked the nine Pillars by strength, Shinazugawa Sanemi could easily claim a spot in the top three. In the canon of this world, it had been he and Himejima together who slew Upper Rank One, Kokushibō—the elder brother of the progenitor himself, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
"Whoosh!"
Blade called wind, wind called blade—a storm snapped toward Roy. Even before it reached him, it had his flame-red hair whipping backward.
Within his En, Roy tasted the structure of Wind Breathing, felt its pattern. Calmly, he lifted his hand and slapped the empty air.
Magnetic Repulsion.
A transparent magnetic wall shimmered into existence in front of him. In an instant, it bounced every wind blade away.
"What school is that breathing from?"
Under an eave, Murakami—one of the Hidden attached to the Master—stared, dumbstruck. He knew most styles in circulation, at least by name or form.
This was the first time he'd seen someone block Sanemi's gale without even drawing a sword—just by lightly patting the air.
"Roy's improved again," Tomioka Giyu murmured.
He saw Rengoku and Uzui trade a meaningful look, as he once had himself when facing Roy—a single exchange was enough for masters to gauge each other.
For those on that level, a fight wasn't won by flashy back-and-forth. A difference measured in hairs could decide everything in an instant.
Iguro gently stroked Kaburamaru's head, calming the restless snake. Watching Roy brush away Sanemi's attacks so effortlessly, his own heart was anything but calm.
He stole a glance at Mitsuri.
The Love Pillar, who had joined the Corps dreaming of a husband stronger than herself, clenched her fists, face shining with excitement—
and somewhere deep inside, her heart quietly cracked.
"Amida Buddha… a new school," Himejima murmured.
Just like Muichirō's Mist, or Mitsuri's Love, or Iguro's Serpent, this was something new.
The Stone Pillar had been with Kagaya the longest. His understanding of breathing techniques ran deepest. Just from the resonance alone he could tell—Roy's airy slap belonged to a style that had never existed in this world.
And, ever since the boy had stepped into the courtyard, Himejima had felt his heart restless, as if someone had opened a hole in his chest and was staring in from outside. Even reciting the calming sutra did nothing.
That, too, was the boy's doing.
Kagaya could barely see anymore, but from Himejima's quiet descriptions he had more than enough sense to realize Roy had once again done something that defied expectation.
Well, the Head thought, after a good fight, perhaps we can sit down and talk properly.
As Roy had said himself—since he was here, this clash was inevitable.
"Zzzzt… zzzzt…"
Sanemi's First Form winds ricocheted off the invisible wall and dissolved.
The Wind Pillar wasn't stupid, whatever his temper. In fact, his combat intuition was brutal. In the original tale, he'd used Genya's gunshots at just the right moment to block a fatal strike from Kokushibō.
So when his probing attack failed to breach Roy's defense, he immediately shifted up another gear.
"Wind Breathing, Eighth Form: Primary Gale Slash!"
He darted in low, stabbing to close the distance, then slipped past, blade twisting in a reverse arc—a follow-through cut meant to attack from behind, circumventing the wall and hunting for an opening.
But Sanemi's spirit was wide open to Roy's En. From the instant he moved, every thought was laid bare.
Roy simply guided the magnetic wall behind him to intercept.
Steel met invisible force; Sanemi was launched away like a rag doll.
Wind… and the sun…
Roy didn't even look back this time. His hands remained at his sides. He continued to quietly digest Sanemi's understanding of wind.
The serene confidence in his bearing left everyone watching at a loss for words.
"He's got a wall in front of him," Muichirō said suddenly.
Ever since losing his brother and then himself to grief and injury, Tokitō usually wore a blank, hazy look. But now the empty eyes showed a faint ripple.
Staring at Roy, he said, "He can move the wall. If you can't break it, you can't hurt him."
A wall, huh…
"What a weird breathing style—totally not flamboyant enough," Uzui muttered, arms folded, stroking his chin.
In all his missions, the most troublesome enemies were always the turtle types—
those with shells so thick that oil slid off and blades couldn't bite.
"Yeah," Rengoku nodded seriously. "It is hard! Sanemi's getting pissed."
With eyes widening and scars writhing like centipedes across his face, Sanemi bared his teeth. Two forms had achieved nothing, and his temper flared. Refusing to accept it, he charged again, this time pouring everything into his breathing.
"Wind Breathing—Total Concentration Constant!"
White vapor blasted from his nostrils, body temperature spiking as his heart doubled its rhythm. In an instant his power doubled as well. Now he was serious.
"Wind Breathing, Second Form: Claw-Purifying Wind! … Third Form: Clean Storm Wind Tree! … Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm!"
"Whooosh!"
The courtyard exploded in wind. Faces stung under the force of it.
Blades of air and sand whipped into a roaring tornado. Everyone shielded their eyes, peeking through splayed fingers.
Roy stood in the heart of the storm.
As Sanemi gave form after form, Roy rode the rhythm, letting the Wind Pillar's breathing pattern deepen his own grasp of wind. A spark of understanding ignited.
"Ken," he whispered.
The magnetic wall flared with a thin purple sheen, Ken wrapping it in a hardened coat. Roy's feet dug into the earth like roots. No matter how Sanemi's winds battered him, he did not budge.
Somewhere in the chaos, his eyes lit up. Within his En he caught the shape of Sanemi's intent and traced it back to its source.
All conditional phenomena
Are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows,
Like dew or a flash of lightning;
Thus should you regard them.
Breathing techniques were born from Sun Breathing, splintered off into schools of Wind, Water, Flame, Stone, Sound, Mist, Love, and Serpent, but they could never escape the Sun's reach.
On a physical level, the sun was the main engine of wind—its radiation unevenly heating the earth's surface, setting air into motion.
In other words, wind was nothing more than a side-product of sunlight kissing the world.
Slash after slash, Sanemi hammered uselessly at the wall. Frustration grew. He gritted his teeth, leaped high above Roy, and unleashed his ultimate technique—the last card in his deck.
"Wind Breathing, Ninth Form: Idaten Typhoon!"
"WhoooOOOOSH!"
A towering cyclone rose, threatening to tear the courtyard apart.
Murakami, caught flat-footed in the back, felt the pressure spike and panicked. He tried to run, but he was a half-step late. His feet left the ground, body blown off like a leaf.
"Whoa—!"
Rengoku Kyōjurō was quicker. Flame Breathing flared, and he shot up like a streak of fire, catching Murakami around the waist before he could face-plant, just barely saving him from a very unflamboyant crash.
"Amida Buddha, we've gone far enough…" Himejima murmured.
He edged Kagaya further behind him, prayer beads flowing through his huge fingers. Tears streamed down his face as always, but his voice carried a note of firm warning. He was about to call an end to the match—
When, all at once, another typhoon slammed down into the courtyard, from nowhere.
The wind was fiercer than Sanemi's own.
~~~
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