"Gulp, gulp…"
"Master, you sure can hold your liquor. Anyway, I've been trying to understand Flame Breathing…"
Hiccup! "Bah! Flame Breathing isn't about flashy moves—it's about this one important thing…"
Half-drunk and totally off his guard, Shinjuro forgot all about his so-called "three question" rule.
Fueled by the alcohol, he just kept talking. And Itsuki, grinning and nodding along, made sure to ask just the right stuff to keep the old man going. Before long, Shinjuro was going off about things that weren't even written in the Flame Breathing manual—tiny tricks and hidden details that only someone with real experience would know.
As Itsuki scribbled notes and looked up like an eager student, Shinjuro started to feel something warm that wasn't the booze—pride. It was like he was a real teacher again. He hadn't felt that way in years. With that fuzzy feeling, he took another swig, slowly getting more and more incoherent.
Eventually, right in the middle of his fourth pot, Shinjuro passed out cold sleeping.
"Lost it halfway through pot number 6. So that's his limit," Itsuki mumbled, shaking his head, but he looked way too pleased. "Gotta say, not bad. Not bad at all."
Yeah… he'd planned this right when he heard he wanted to teach him again.
Three questions? Please. That was just the bait. As long as he got Shinjuro drinking, the answers would come out on their own. All he had to do was keep things casual and steer the conversation the right way. The more drunk the old man got, the more he talked. And honestly? That's when he was at his most helpful.
Itsuki tucked Shinjuro into bed, then stepped outside feeling like he'd hit the jackpot.
Four days passed, and Itsuki spent that time practicing what he'd learned. He could already feel the difference. His grip, his timing, the flow of the Second Form—it was starting to click.
"Rising Scorching Sun, huh?" he muttered, staring at the sky as he swung. "Not just an upward slash… It's like pulling the sun up with your sword."
After running through it a few more times, he felt new questions bubbling up. So, he did what anyone would do—grabbed more booze and went back to his "teacher."
But this time, Shinjuro didn't fall for it.
After waking up hungover from the last session and realizing he'd been tricked, the old man got suspicious. Still, he couldn't exactly blame Itsuki. It wasn't like he forced him to talk. Shinjuro had just… gotten a little too into it.
So, when Itsuki showed up again, the guy refused to drink.
"Tch. I'd rather have a monk tell me to quit than let you talk me into another drink," Shinjuro muttered, arms crossed.
Itsuki didn't argue. He just asked two questions, jotted down the answers, and left.
But that night?
He came back with the last question.
And sure enough, when Shinjuro opened the door, he was already buzzed—just enough to start rambling again. One simple question turned into a mini-lecture, and Itsuki soaked it up.
Slowly but surely, this back-and-forth between the two of them turned into something like… real training. A weird kind of teamwork.
Elsewhere, in the Demon Slayer Corps...
The Demon Slayer Corps had always worked from the shadows—fighting demons, losing lives, protecting people who would never even know their names.
And the one carrying all of it on his shoulders was Ubuyashiki Kagaya.
Kagaya was a man of frail body, average stature, and very pale skin. He had shoulder-length black hair that was parted in the middle. Due to his family's curse, Kagaya looked as if he was rotting alive, with large portions of his skin appearing with a sickly, shriveled pink hue that began from the left side of his forehead and gradually spread across his body. the curse caused him to go blind as it affected his eyes, turning his sclera from white to light purple and his pupils from a dark purple to a light purple, matching his cursed skin.
Like the ones before him, he came from a cursed family. Muzan's bloodline was tied to theirs, and because of that, Kagaya's body was already breaking down. The mark on his forehead was spreading—soon, he'd eventually lose his sight.
But for now, he shoved those thoughts aside and read a short report someone had sent in.
It was about Shinjuro Rengoku.
Everyone knew how far the former Flame Pillar had fallen—drinking all day, lashing out, ignoring missions. Kagaya hadn't done much about it. Shinjuro had earned his respect, and losing his wife was a wound that would never heal easily.
Still, this report surprised him.
He hadn't expected Shinjuro to suddenly take his younger son, Senjuro, to live in a dojo.
Kagaya smiled faintly. Maybe this meant things were changing. Being around others again could help pull him out of that darkness.
Even if he still wasn't doing missions, the dojo master had gone out of his way to give them a place to stay. That wasn't nothing.
"I should write to them both," Kagaya said softly. "Shinjuro needs encouragement. And that dojo master deserves a thanks—and support."
No strength should go unappreciated in the fight against demons.
At Corps HQ...
Kyojuro Rengoku, newly recruited into the Corps, held a letter in his hands.
"Father brought Senjuro to Yoshiwara…? He's staying in a kendo dojo?"
He blinked, stunned at first.
Then his expression hardened—not in anger, but in determination.
"So… he's finally starting to change."
His grip tightened. Part of him wanted to race back and tell his dad everything—about passing the selection, about the Corps, about his dream of being the strongest Flame Pillar. But he couldn't. He had a mission now.
Still, just knowing that his little brother had a new place, and maybe some new friends… that was enough.
Kyojuro breathed in deep, his chest burning with energy.
"I've got to work even harder. Make Father proud. Make Senjuro proud."
Flame Breathing lit up within him—every breath another step forward.
Time passed—two months, in fact.
Now it was deep winter, and Yoshiwara felt colder than ever. People hurried through the streets, bundled up, rushing home. Most preferred to stay inside if they could.
A new type of honeycomb briquette had just hit the market—cheap, easy to light, and way more efficient. Before long, everyone ditched coal and firewood for this new option.
Itsuki's share in the business? Skyrocketed.
He had enough to eat well, buy better sake… and still save a little extra on the side.
"Ding! Host consumed one portion of top tier meals. Skill Point Energy Progress +1.32%."
"Ding! Skill Point Energy Progress has reached 100%. One Skill Point obtained."
Itsuki stretched, patted his stomach, and leaned back in his chair, smiling.
Life was good.
for now