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[Ding! Congratulations! Host has completed a Hidden Quest.]
[Hidden Quest: Earn Sakonji Urokodaki's Recognition.]
[Quest Complete. Reward: 7% Interdimensional Energy.]
[Current Interdimensional Energy: 7%]
Seven percent. A small number on paper, but it might as well have been a fortune.
If the system kept issuing quests at this rate, accumulating enough energy to return home was only a matter of time. He could see his mother again. His sister. Even that idiot Hayato.
The catch was that he'd have to wear a stranger's face—live under a different name. But that was a price worth paying.
He just hoped Hayato would still recognize him somehow. That stubborn bastard had always been perceptive when it mattered.
...
The next morning, Kaidō arrived at the training grounds before dawn. Urokodaki was already there, waiting with the patient stillness of a mountain.
Over the past few days, Urokodaki had observed his newest student with growing satisfaction. This boy possessed something rare—not just talent, but the discipline to temper it. If he survived the Final Selection, Kaidō would become one of the finest Hashira the Corps had ever seen.
Urokodaki was certain of it.
"You're here. Good. Today I'll teach you the complete Water Breathing technique."
He drew his sword in one fluid motion, the blade singing as it left the sheath.
"Water is the softest substance in nature, yet it can carve through stone given time. It adapts to any container, flows around any obstacle. Water Breathing reflects this philosophy—every strike follows elegant, flowing arcs. Flexibility and power in equal measure."
Urokodaki's stance shifted.
"I'll demonstrate all ten forms. How much you absorb depends entirely on you."
"Understood, Master!"
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."
"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel."
"Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance."
"Water Breathing, Fourth Form: Striking Tide."
"Water Breathing, Fifth Form: Blessed Rain After the Drought."
"Water Breathing, Sixth Form: Whirlpool."
"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust."
"Water Breathing, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin."
"Water Breathing, Ninth Form: Splashing Water Flow."
"Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux."
Urokodaki sheathed his blade and turned to face his student.
"These are all ten forms of Water Breathing. I don't expect you to master everything immediately, but whatever you do learn, I want you to perfect. And if you can develop an eleventh form through your own insight..." He paused, thinking of Giyu. "That would make you truly exceptional."
"Master Urokodaki, may I demonstrate what I've learned? There are some aspects I'm uncertain about. I'd appreciate your guidance."
Urokodaki nodded, curious but tempering his expectations. Learning even half the forms on the first viewing would be remarkable. Anything more would be...
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."
"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel."
Kaidō flowed through each technique with mechanical precision, his movements mirroring what he'd just witnessed. One form after another, until he'd executed all ten.
He lowered his blade and looked at Urokodaki. "How was that?"
Urokodaki said nothing.
The silence stretched long enough that Kaidō wondered if he'd somehow offended the old man. Then he realized—Urokodaki wasn't angry. He was stunned.
Every form, memorized and executed after a single viewing. The techniques were rough around the edges, yes, but the fundamentals were flawless. This wasn't talent. This was something beyond the conventional definition of genius.
"Master Urokodaki?"
"Ah—yes." Urokodaki's voice carried an unusual tremor. "You've... learned exceptionally well. There's roughness that only practice can smooth out, but with time, you'll master Water Breathing completely. I have nothing left to teach you."
"Actually, Master, I have a problem." Kaidō's expression turned troubled. "Water Breathing feels... wrong. Like my body's rejecting it."
"Rejecting it?" Urokodaki's head tilted. "Explain."
"I can execute the forms, but something's off. Like there's resistance I can't quite overcome. The techniques work, but they don't feel natural."
Water Breathing was the most compatible style in existence—its adaptability was legendary. Even mediocre swordsmen could utilize it without issue. For someone to experience rejection was unheard of.
Unless...
"Kaidō, have you studied another Breathing Style before?"
"Yes. I created my own technique—Dragon Breathing."
Created his own? Urokodaki's mind raced. That explained everything. Once a swordsman developed their own Breathing Style, their body adapted to its specific rhythm and flow. Attempting to learn a different style afterward would naturally create conflict.
"That's why you're experiencing rejection. Your body has already attuned itself to Dragon Breathing. Water Breathing is fundamentally incompatible now."
But that raised an interesting question. Why had Tanjiro been able to use both Water Breathing and Hinokami Kagura without issue?
Kaidō considered this briefly before the answer clicked into place. The Hinokami Kagura was actually Sun Breathing—the original style from which all others derived. Water Breathing was a descendant technique, which meant the two shared fundamental principles. That compatibility didn't extend to completely independent styles like Dragon Breathing.
Besides, Tanjiro was the protagonist. Normal rules didn't always apply.
"Could you demonstrate your Dragon Breathing?" Urokodaki asked, genuine curiosity coloring his tone.
"Of course. Watch closely."
Kaidō's entire demeanor shifted. Where Water Breathing had felt constrained, this was pure, unfiltered power.
"Dragon Breathing, First Form: Dragon's Breath."
"Dragon Breathing, Second Form: Dragon Claw."
"Dragon Breathing, Third Form: Divine Dragon's Tail."
"Dragon Breathing, Fourth Form: Coiling Dragon."
"Dragon Breathing, Fifth Form: Violent Tempest."
"Dragon Breathing, Sixth Form: Tornado Maelstrom."
Each strike carried devastating force, the air itself seeming to roar with draconic fury. Urokodaki watched in silent awe as his student demonstrated a Breathing Style that rivaled anything he'd seen in his decades with the Corps.
"That's Dragon Breathing, First through Sixth Forms," Kaidō said, slightly winded. "I'm still developing the later techniques."
"Good. Good. Good." Three times Urokodaki repeated the word, each iteration carrying more weight than the last.
His student had created a Breathing Style from scratch—one powerful enough to stand alongside the legendary techniques. The Demon Slayer Corps would soon gain another Hashira.
Of that, Urokodaki was now absolutely certain.
"Follow me. There's one final test."
They walked deep into the forest until they reached a clearing. At its center sat an enormous boulder, easily twice the size of the one Tanjiro would eventually face, bound with thick rope.
What the hell? How did they even get this thing up here?
"Split this boulder, and I'll allow you to participate in the Final Selection."
Without waiting for a response, Urokodaki turned and walked away, leaving Kaidō alone with the massive stone.
This test isn't about my strength—it's about my fear. Urokodaki has lost too many students. This boulder is his last line of defense, a barrier meant to keep me safe by keeping me away from the Selection entirely.
But it won't work.
Kaidō raised his blade, preparing to cleave the stone in half with a single strike—then froze. His gaze drifted upward to the boulder's peak.
A small figure sat there, legs dangling over the edge.
He stared for a long moment before lowering his weapon. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
...
Two months passed.
Every day, Kaidō returned to the boulder. Every day, he stood before it, stared at its summit for several minutes, then spent hours training. He refined the existing Dragon Breathing forms and eventually developed a ninth technique.
Dragon Breathing, Ninth Form: Cyclone Pierce — Point the blade forward and spin at high velocity while thrusting straight ahead. The rotational force creates a devastating drill-like attack with explosive linear momentum. (Inspired by Simon's Giga Drill Break from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann.)
Perfect for penetrating defenses or obliterating single targets. Combined with the Eighth Form's speed, this gave him two lethal assassination techniques.
Another glance at the boulder's peak. Still occupied.
He'd return tomorrow.
...
"Why does he keep staring at the boulder?" Sabito's voice carried frustration. "He's strong enough to split it easily. I've watched him train—he should have moved on weeks ago."
"He's not staring at the boulder," Makomo said gently. "He just doesn't want to split it."
"What? Why not??"
"Because he can see us. The first time I met him, I thought he was hesitating out of doubt. But then I realized—every time he prepared to strike, he'd notice me sitting on top and stop. He doesn't want to cut through the boulder while I'm there. So every day, he just... keeps me company until sunset."
Sabito fell silent, processing this.
"He knew we were here the whole time," he finally said. "Otherwise he would have left already."
A grin spread across his face beneath the fox mask.
"He really is something special. Created his own Breathing Style, developed a new form in just two months... During the Final Selection, little junior brother is going to annihilate that bastard for us."
"I'm looking forward to it!" Makomo's voice brightened.
"Let's meet him properly tomorrow. He's ready to complete Master Urokodaki's test. Besides..." Sabito's tone softened. "I want to talk to him. See what kind of person our junior brother really is. And I hope... I really hope he survives. Someone needs to look after the old man when we're gone."
"Me too," Makomo whispered.
...
The next morning, Kaidō arrived at the boulder to find the summit empty. Finally.
Time to finish this.
"Hello there, junior brother!"
Two figures emerged from the tree line. The first was a petite girl with shoulder-length dark green hair and a fox mask decorated with floral patterns covering the upper half of her face.
Makomo.
The second was a young man with salmon-pink hair and silver eyes marked with horizontal lines. A scar ran from the right corner of his mouth to his cheek, partially hidden beneath another fox mask.
Sabito.
Both were users of Water Breathing. Both had died during their Final Selection. Both were technically his senpai under Urokodaki, despite never having met him while alive.
"Hello. I'm Ryūjin Kaidō. And you are?"
"Sabito. Your senpai."
"Makomo. Likewise, your senpai."
"It's good to meet you both." Kaidō paused, glancing at the boulder. "Um, Makomo-san, you're not going to sit up there anymore, right? Because if you do, I'll feel really awkward about splitting it. Especially since... well..."
His face reddened as the memory surfaced—looking up at Makomo sitting on the boulder's peak, the angle revealing a flash of white underneath—
Makomo's face flushed crimson as realization dawned. Sabito, sensing the awkward tension, quickly intervened. "Junior brother, would you spar with me?"
"You're serious?" Kaidō's eyes lit up.
"Of course. Makomo, you'll referee!"
"Alright! Do your best, junior brother!"
They took their positions at opposite ends of the clearing. The moment Makomo signaled the start, both fighters exploded forward—blades clashing with sharp, metallic rings that echoed through the forest. Strike and counterstrike, advance and retreat, their weapons singing a violent duet as they traded blows in a deadly dance.
"Your combat instincts are incredible, Senpai!" Kaidō said, his breathing steady despite the intensity.
"You're no slouch yourself—you've actually got the upper hand!" Sabito's grin was audible even through the mask. "Alright then. No more holding back."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!"
"Dragon Breathing, Third Form: Divine Dragon's Tail!"
CRACK.
Sabito's Nichirin blade shattered, fragments spinning through the air like scattered stars. But instead of disappointment, his face split into the widest, most genuine smile Kaidō had ever seen.
"You win, junior brother." Sabito's voice carried no trace of regret—only pride. "Remember to live well for us. Live the life we couldn't."
"Take care of Master Urokodaki," Makomo added softly, her eyes shimmering behind the fox mask.
"I promise." Kaidō's voice didn't waver. "I'll live for all of us. I'll protect Master Urokodaki. And I'll cut down every demon that crosses my path."
"Then let us witness your journey." Sabito gestured toward the boulder. "Show us you've truly earned this."
Kaidō turned to face the massive stone, drawing his blade in one smooth motion. His eyes narrowed with focus.
"Dragon Breathing, Second Form: Dragon Claw."
The boulder split cleanly down the middle, the two halves toppling in opposite directions with earth-shaking thuds.
"Live well, junior brother!" Makomo called over her shoulder as she and Sabito began to fade into the morning mist.
"I will!" Kaidō shouted back, watching until they vanished completely.
"So you split it after all."
Kaidō spun around. Urokodaki stood mere feet away, having approached in complete silence.
"I never wanted you to take the Final Selection," Urokodaki continued, his voice heavy with conflicting emotions. "But you've proven yourself ready."
"Master Urokodaki..."
...
"Eat up. You'll need your strength to face what's coming."
"Thank you, Master. This is delicious." Kaidō shoveled rice into his mouth with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just split a boulder twice his size.
Urokodaki watched him eat for a moment before speaking again. "Demons are like humans in one respect—the more they consume, the stronger they become. But their food is human flesh. The more powerful the demon, the higher their body count."
He poured tea into two cups.
"Some demons develop Blood Demon Arts—supernatural abilities that make them far more dangerous than ordinary demons. But there are beings even more terrifying. The Twelve Kizuki, divided into Upper Ranks and Lower Ranks."
Urokodaki's voice dropped to something almost resembling fear.
"The Upper Ranks are second only to Muzan Kibutsuji himself—the progenitor of all demons. If you encounter an Upper Rank, Kaidō, I don't care what's happening. Run. Even the Hashira struggle against them. Most who face the Upper Ranks don't survive long enough to report back. Our intelligence on them is virtually nonexistent because everyone who encounters them dies."
"Understood, Master." Kaidō nodded solemnly.
He knew his own limitations. Lower Ranks? He could handle those with his current strength. But Upper Ranks were in a completely different league. Even Upper Rank Six—the weakest of the six—would probably obliterate him before he could draw his sword.
Three months. He had less than three months until the Final Selection. Every day counted. Every hour of training might mean the difference between life and death.
And once he joined the Demon Slayer Corps, the system would issue more quests. More quests meant more Interdimensional Energy. More energy meant—eventually—going home.
...
Time passed in a blur of training and preparation. Before Kaidō knew it, the day of the Final Selection had arrived.
He stood before the small mirror in his room, adjusting his white coat accented with crimson trim. His long white hair was bound neatly, keeping it out of his face during combat. From a distance, he probably looked like some aristocratic young lady preparing for a formal event rather than a demon-slaying trial by fire.
"I prepared this warding mask for you." Urokodaki held out a fox mask—pure white with a single red spider lily painted on the forehead. "It will ward off misfortune and keep you safe."
Kaidō accepted the mask with both hands, treating it with the reverence it deserved. "Thank you, Master. I'm heading out now!"
He positioned the mask at an angle on his head, waved goodbye, and set off down the mountain path.
"Come back alive," Urokodaki whispered to the wind, watching until his student disappeared from view.
...
After a full day of travel, Kaidō finally arrived at Mount Fujikasane.
The sight took his breath away.
Wisteria trees encircled the mountain in concentric rings, their branches heavy with cascading purple blooms that extended halfway up the slope. The air itself seemed drenched in their fragrance—intoxicating, beautiful, and lethal to any demon foolish enough to approach.
"Seeing it in person really is different from watching it in an anime," Kaidō murmured, adjusting his mask properly over his face.
Other participants began filtering up the stone steps, converging on the clearing at the mountain's base. Kaidō did a quick headcount—roughly twenty people, including himself.
Not everyone would leave this mountain alive. The unspoken knowledge hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
"Welcome, everyone, to this year's Final Selection!"
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