The air on Mount Sagiri was crisp and clear when Drake reappeared outside Urokodaki's humble wooden house.
He stretched his arms, grinning. "Ahh… back to the grind."
But as he looked around, something felt… off. The front door was open, the interior quiet. Dust drifted through the morning sunlight.
"Huh? It's been, what, a day and a half? Hasn't he come back yet?" Drake muttered, tilting his head.
He stepped inside cautiously, dropping his travel bag near the doorway. "Guess I can relax for a bit—"
Shing.
Cold steel kissed his throat.
Drake froze. A chill ran down his spine.
He could feel the edge — sharp, merciless, ready to cut.
"You little thief…" a deep, familiar voice murmured behind him.
Drake's heart stopped. That voice — that calm, deadly tone — he'd recognize it anywhere.
"W–wait… Sensei?" he stammered. "It's me! Your newly appointed apprentice!"
The blade didn't move an inch.
"A newly appointed apprentice?" Urokodaki said evenly, his voice as cold as the mountain wind. "I don't recall taking one in lately."
Drake gulped. He's going to kill me!
"Y-you don't remember me?! I pestered you for a week straight!" Drake shouted desperately. "Come on, Sensei, it's me!"
There was a moment of silence. Then, slowly, the blade withdrew.
Only for Urokodaki to immediately kick him in the back.
"Oh, right... I took that brat in."
"Yeah—"
"Gah!" Drake hit the floor, rolling onto his back just in time to see the red tengu mask looming above him. Urokodaki pointed his Nichirin blade down at him, sharp and gleaming.
"I was wondering what happened to that brat," Urokodaki said flatly. "When I returned yesterday, he'd vanished. And now you show up — pretending to be him. You even share a few traits… though you should've eaten more before trying to impersonate him."
He raised his sword slightly, ready to strike.
"Wait! Waitwaitwait!" Drake yelled, waving his arms frantically. "It's me! I just— lost some weight!"
Urokodaki didn't move. The silence was suffocating.
Then Drake blurted out, "If you don't believe me — smell me!"
The old man paused. "…Smell you?"
"Yes! You can recognize people by scent, right? Then check mine!"
A faint hum of curiosity escaped Urokodaki's mask. He lowered his blade slightly and inhaled the air.
A moment passed.
"This scent…" he muttered. "It's the same… though cleaner now. That greasy odor of yours is gone."
Finally, he sheathed his sword.
Drake collapsed in relief. "Oh thank god— I thought you were about to slice me in half!"
...
The climb up Mount Sagiri was brutal.
For the last hour, Drake had been trudging uphill, gasping for breath, his legs screaming with every step.
Urokodaki, of course, walked ahead with perfect composure — as if gravity simply didn't apply to him.
"What kind of special training did you do to lose that much weight in… four days, boy?" Urokodaki asked, his tone calm but laced with genuine curiosity.
Drake was panting so hard he could barely speak. "It's… a special… training technique… pant... the only thing I have… pant... left of my family…"
It was pure nonsense. Every word a lie. But maybe — just maybe — it would make him sound tragic enough to earn a bit of pity.
"I see," Urokodaki said after a pause, as casually as if Drake had told him the weather. "You must come from far away. 'Drake'… it's a strange name."
"Yeah…" Drake wheezed, tongue nearly hanging out. "Real far…"
The old man didn't respond. His silent footsteps cut through the mist like a phantom.
Drake dragged himself forward, one step at a time, trying not to collapse.
And then — Urokodaki stopped.
They'd reached a clearing. The fog around them was dense, rolling down the mountainside like waves of white smoke. The forest below looked endless.
"We've arrived," Urokodaki said simply.
Drake bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
Urokodaki turned his masked face toward him. "Return to the foot of the mountain before dawn. Alone."
Before Drake could reply, the man vanished into the mist, silent as the wind.
"…He's gone, huh," Drake muttered, straightening up slowly. His heart pounded.
The trial Tanjiro had faced in the original.
The boulder traps. The hidden pits. The spinning logs of death.
If this were a month ago, he would've died within the first minute.
But now? He had a plan.
During his month back home, he'd rewatched the Demon Slayer first season three times in a row, studying every detail of Tanjiro's test. He couldn't rely on smell like Tanjiro had — but he had something else.
He gripped an imaginary sword and exhaled.
"Sword Mastery… don't fail me now."
As long as he executed sword techniques, Sword Mastery would boost his every movement.
Just as he steadied his stance, the familiar chime rang in his head.
Ding!
[A new quest has been generated!]
[Objective: Pass Urokodaki's test!]
[Reward: Ability — Heightened Senses!]
Drake smirked. "A free ability, huh? Not bad."
He took one deep breath and entered his stance, lowering his center of gravity like a swordsman preparing for battle.
Then he sprinted forward — into the mist.
Every trap position, every direction, every dangerous slope — he'd memorized it all. Even if his timing was off, his reflexes and Sword Mastery would compensate.
His feet moved like he was performing a kata, precise and balanced. Each motion flowed into the next, cutting through the terrain.
The first log trap swung down — he ducked under it.
A pit opened below — he pivoted to the left, rolling to safety.
A barrage of bamboo spikes — he sidestepped, barely brushing past them.
Wind rushed around him as he descended the mountain like a blur of motion.
To be continued...
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