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Chapter 49 - Mastery of Swordsmanship × Yamato Nadeshiko’s Seven Transformations

"Can Eijiro hear us talking?"

The ghosts all jumped, only relaxing when they realized Roy was speaking directly to Urokodaki. Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the others breathed a collective sigh of relief. False alarm. But inside, they couldn't help feeling a little disappointed…

"Mm." Urokodaki, back turned to Roy, brought the food over.

Still miso soup and a small bowl of rice, but this time with a small plate of sliced leftover boar meat arranged neatly.

"Eat first." The old man, wearing his tengu mask, picked up a slice of boar meat and popped it into his mouth.

Roy followed with a sip of miso soup to warm his stomach. After a few bites, he accepted the hot tea Urokodaki handed him.

"Tell me about the battle." Tea steam curled upward as Urokodaki knelt by the kotatsu, listening intently to Roy's recount.

The conclusion matched Roy's own review from last night…

"Your idea to loosen the sleeve seams and tie the handle was clever, but still a trick."

"Tricks are the last resort of the weak…"

Urokodaki remembered his clashes with powerful demons. Thank goodness Roy's opponent had been his own father—had it been one of the Upper Moons, no amount of trickery would have saved him.

"So you must train more. Train harder. Eat more. When the sun rises and sets, that will be your time to strike."

"That's my thought too." Roy smiled, downed the tea, then without another word grabbed the short practice blade from the wall, pushed open the door, and strode into the snowy depths of Misty Mountain.

His figure sank step by step into the storm… Urokodaki silently watched him for a moment, then took knife and wood, beginning to carve a mask.

"Master's carving a mask for Eijiro."

"That means Eijiro's earned his recognition."

Makomo noticed Urokodaki's movements and whispered softly. Beside her, Sabito gripped his sword hilt in silence.

"Twenty-three thousand one hundred twenty-eight…"

"Twenty-three thousand one hundred twenty-nine…"

Sunday—24,000 strikes. Monday—26,000 strikes. Tuesday—28,000 strikes. The night before departing to see the doctor…

Roy swung once more, sending a crescent slash flying, completing his third 'Ten Thousand Strikes!'

"Zraa~" The slash separated from the short blade, striking a wooden post three meters away and cleaving it clean in two.

The panel blinked: [Swordsmanship +18]

[Current Swordsmanship Level: 88/100 (Beginner) → 6/1000 (Mastery)]

"Monster!"

"Half a month of training and he can already cut at range?"

Shinsuke yelped, floating up from the splintered post—Roy's slash had nearly cut through him.

The air-splitting 'flying slash' was something he had dreamed of accomplishing while alive.

"At this rate, he's not far from slicing through the Final Selection boulder." Fukuda's eyes tracked the blade's flight, noting it had flown nearly four meters before dissipating after cleaving the post—exactly the distance required for Urokodaki's 'last test.'

In the original, Urokodaki had tasked Tanjiro with cutting a boulder three meters in radius. Roy's slash had already surpassed that.

"He won't." Sabito stood atop a birch tree, eyes shining brighter than ever, seeing deeper than Fukuda.

He drew a slow breath. "Master won't let Eijiro leave the mountain so soon."

"He's not like us—he hasn't reached his limit yet."

"Master has to wring every drop of his potential, or it would waste such extraordinary talent."

'Amazing, Eijiro. If anyone can change this rotten world, it's you.' Sabito thought silently as Makomo tugged his sleeve.

The girl tilted her head up, her bright eyes gleaming. "Ne~ was Giyu-senpai this strong too?"

Giyu Tomioka, the current Water Hashira, was the pride of Urokodaki, Sabito, Makomo, and the other souls. Before Roy appeared, Sabito had been sure Giyu was the most talented disciple.

But now… "Giyu wasn't close to Eijiro." Sabito shook his head firmly. "Before learning Breathing, he couldn't cut at range—let alone four meters on his first try."

"I knew Eijiro was special…"

"He is." Sabito smiled faintly. "Now I'm curious—when he's ready to leave, what test will Master give him?"

A ten-meter boulder? A thirty-meter waterfall? Or perhaps a whole hill?

Sabito's eyes burned into Roy's figure as the boy exhaled, pulled out a prepared handkerchief, and began wiping the short blade.

Snow Walk was a sword, but the short blade was also a sword. It wasn't a person—no need for exclusivity. Roy carefully cleaned it, cultivating a bond with the weapon. Soon came the next day's training plan, as expected…

"Tomorrow, add two thousand more."

Urokodaki emerged from the forest, as always, snow stacked on his shoulders revealing how long he'd been watching.

"Okay." Roy's reply was short.

He finished wiping the blade and followed Urokodaki back to the warm cabin.

Dinner was the wild pheasants he'd caught the day before.

This time Roy didn't just nibble a few bites—he devoured three birds alone, belly full, collapsing onto the futon. At his feet, Makomo stared at him with ghostly resentment…

Seeing but not tasting was too cruel. She longed to remember what 'delicious' felt like—she had been dead so long she had almost forgotten.

"Sssya" A soft snore echoed.

Under Makomo's gaze, Roy fell asleep quickly and deeply. Maybe it was the relief of not worrying about Silva's test for a while—or the calm before his coming journey.

Either way, when he opened his eyes the next morning, leaving the Demon Slayer world and returning to Kukuroo Mountain, the familiar fatigue had eased considerably—even his usual two-minute lazing in bed was gone.

"Dang..." The familiar chime rang.

Daily run—engaged.

He raced from the castle atop the mountain, past the butler's villa, down to the foot.

There, his eyes widened at two familiar faces…

Grandfather Zeno and butler Zippo Nian.

"Good morning, young master." Jieronbo was sharp-eyed—no wonder he'd been gatekeeper for so many years.

From afar he doffed his hat. At once, Zeno and Zippo Nian turned to glance at Roy.

Zippo Nian placed a hand to his chest in salute.

Then his body shifted—transforming into a small sedan.

The door opened. Zeno glanced once at Roy, expressionless, and climbed in. The engine roared and they sped down the mountain.

"Yamato Nadeshiko's Seven Transformations"—truly a handy ability…

Roy watched them vanish, deciding then and there to have Wutong make him one too!

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