"Tanjiro's been on Mount Sagiri for half a year now and hasn't come down even once," Shin said as he walked beside Urokodaki Sakonji. "He's been working really hard."
At the end of his sentence, Shin couldn't help but praise Tanjiro with a faint smile.
Urokodaki Sakonji, however, shook his head slightly. "Compared to you, his talent is still a bit lacking. This trial was originally beyond his reach."
Hearing that, Shin didn't argue. Nor did he seem worried. After all, Tanjiro was the main protagonist of this world. He would succeed—sooner or later.
"Shin," Urokodaki Sakonji said, "come with me."
The two of them hiked quietly through the snow-laden forest to the summit of Mount Sagiri. Soon, they arrived at the familiar training ground—where the giant boulder stood like a silent gatekeeper.
Tanjiro was already there, facing the stone, katana in hand. His stance was steady. His breathing was calm.
Just as Shin was about to explain what he had observed over the past months, Urokodaki Sakonji raised a hand to stop him. He had no intention of interrupting Tanjiro now.
Shin turned his attention to the boy and focused his senses. His breathing... it's flawless, Shin thought. He's fully integrated it.
He could tell Tanjiro had finally entered a state of perfect Water Breathing—fluid, natural, and deeply rooted in both mind and body. Shin knew that state well. He, too, had once reached it.
Urokodaki Sakonji could see it too. The tension in his posture faded slightly as he silently observed Tanjiro's every move.
Then—it happened.
Tanjiro stepped forward, swift and silent. His blade gleamed as it sliced clean through the boulder. The cut was precise, the stone divided evenly in half with a smooth, glass-like edge.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Urokodaki Sakonji drew in a quiet breath, his eyes briefly wide. Then he nodded and returned to his usual calm.
Tanjiro stared at the boulder, disbelief written all over his face. Had he really done that?
As he stood there stunned, Urokodaki Sakonji and Shin approached.
Hearing the sound of their footsteps, Tanjiro turned around slowly. When he saw them, his lips parted, and the words escaped instinctively:
"Master… Senior Shin!"
Urokodaki Sakonji looked at the split boulder for a long time, then finally spoke.
"I didn't plan to let you join the Final Selection," he said quietly. "I've seen too many children die. I didn't want to see it happen again. I thought… you wouldn't be able to cut that stone."
He stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Tanjiro's head.
"But you worked so hard… and you proved me wrong."
A rare smile softened Urokodaki Sakonji's masked face.
"Tanjiro, you're truly an incredible kid."
With those words, Tanjiro's tears burst forth. The strain of two years of training, the harsh trials, the lonely nights—all of it poured out at once.
Urokodaki Sakonji pulled him into a hug, his arms strong and steady.
"You and Shin must survive the Final Selection and come back. Your sister and I will be waiting here for you."
. . .
That night, the wooden cabin was filled with warmth and the smell of delicious food. The pot on the hearth bubbled with a rich soup base, thick with fish slices, mushrooms, wild yams, and river clams—all gathered by Shin from the surrounding forest and streams.
To celebrate the end of Tanjiro's training, Urokodaki Sakonji himself had caught a large fish. He even sliced the fillets with his own hands—a rare gesture of care.
Around the table, the atmosphere was cheerful. Tanjiro smiled through teary eyes, Nezuko rested peacefully nearby, and Shin ate in silence, feeling strangely content.
At last, after all the hardship—something truly worth celebrating.
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