"Alright, Genya—your turn." Haranosuke smiled as he slid the two swords from his back and handed one to him. "I'm your swordsmith, so we'll start with you."
"I've heard that, like the Human Hashira, you're unable to use Breathing Styles. But your fundamentals are solid, and your physique is well above average. So I gave this blade some extra thought—sharpened it to the limit without letting it become too light. Try it out. If anything feels off, tell me. I can adjust it during maintenance or the next time I forge for you."
Genya accepted the sword with visible nerves and bowed deeply.
"Yes! Thank you very much!"
"Go on, then—draw it." Haranosuke rubbed his hands together, barely containing his excitement. "Even if you haven't mastered a Breathing Style, perhaps you have the aptitude for one. Who knows—you might reveal an entirely new color, just like the Human Hashira."
Genya nodded. After taking a steadying breath, he drew the blade and tightened his grip.
A few seconds passed.
The Nichirin Blade remained a clean, snow-white—without the faintest trace of color.
"Hm… looks like Genya's just like us swordsmiths—no talent for Breathing Styles." Haranosuke broke the silence with a light chuckle. "It's a shame we didn't get to see a new color, but take good care of it."
"Yes… I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for. We stay in the village forging blades—you're the one stepping onto the battlefield. That alone makes you far more impressive than us. And besides…" He grinned. "If you think about it, you can technically make your Nichirin Blade any color you want now, can't you? That's not so bad."
Genya tightened his grip on the hilt and nodded firmly.
"I'll work hard—for both our sakes!"
Haranosuke laughed heartily and reached to unwrap the second blade.
"Now then, let's have a look at Takeo's sword. Just so we're clear—I'm only delivering it on behalf of your swordsmith. I didn't forge this one myself. And you might want to brace yourself. Your swordsmith is extremely skilled… but he's notorious for his temper. If you damage the blade, you'll be in for a rough time when he comes in person next time."
"Huh?" Takeo blinked. "Why?"
"Because he's the sort of man who'd actually take a swing at a Hashira," Haranosuke said with a chuckle. "The Village Chief kept him from coming this time—he was worried he'd clash with Mr. Hiru."
"Take a swing at a Hashira…" Hiru frowned slightly. "You mean Haganezuka?"
"Yes, Haganezuka himself." Haranosuke handed the blade to Takeo. "If he knew he was forging a sword for a 'Scorching Child,' he'd be over the moon."
Takeo held the sword and looked up blankly.
"Huh? Me?"
"Yes, yes," Akiha cut in. "Don't your hair and eyes both have a reddish tint? That's considered very auspicious among us swordsmiths. Come to think of it, the Sun Hashira is also a 'Scorching Child.' When his blade changed color, it turned a deep obsidian black—impossible to ignore."
"It's bound to be an auspicious shade as well. Go on—draw it."
Takeo swallowed and exhaled slowly. Then he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and pulled the Nichirin Blade free.
Before the polished edge had even fully emerged from its sheath, a deep crimson hue surged across the steel, swallowing its shine. By the time the blade was completely drawn, the transformation was complete.
"It's red!"
"It's red!"
Haranosuke and Akiha lit up at once, practically teleporting to Takeo's side. They leaned in close, practically vibrating with excitement as they stared at the blade in his hands.
"I thought it would turn the light blue-green of Wind Breathing! Who would've expected such a deep, weighty crimson? It's stunning!"
"It's my first time seeing a blade this shade of red. Haganezuka really hit the jackpot with this one!"
Hiru, who had been standing by the doorway, went still the moment he saw the color.
That shade…
Takeo stood there clutching the Nichirin Blade, looking increasingly uncomfortable as the two overexcited swordsmiths crowded in around him.
Since a Nichirin Blade changes color according to its wielder, it seemed clear that Wind Breathing wasn't truly the path best suited for him.
[Deep crimson… the same color as my brother's hair.]
Takeo gazed at the blade, a faint thread of melancholy slipping into his thoughts.
[But if even the swordsmiths say they've never seen this color before… does that mean there isn't an established Breathing Style that matches me?]
After seeing the swordsmiths off, Hiru sought Takeo out and asked to speak with him alone.
Takeo agreed immediately. In truth, he had questions of his own about the relationship between Nichirin Blade colors and Breathing Styles.
"I don't fully understand it myself," Hiru said, patting the ground beside him to signal Takeo to sit. "But I did want to talk to you about this.
"A Nichirin Blade doesn't simply correspond to a Breathing Style. Its color reflects the person wielding it.
"Take my silver-gray, for example. That color had never appeared before. The closest comparisons were the gray of Stone Breathing and the white of Mist Breathing—one symbolizing steadfastness, the other lightness. Do you think I fit either of those?"
Takeo lowered his head, thinking carefully, then shook it.
"Exactly. My fighting style is neither steady nor light. If I had to describe it… I'm the type who moves first and figures out the consequences afterward."
Takeo looked up, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and mild disapproval.
"…Isn't that just recklessness?"
Hiru: …
"Haha, you're not wrong. But only those who can't handle the consequences are reckless. If someone can bear the outcome of their choices, people usually call that decisiveness."
He smiled faintly.
"You know my brother practices the original Breathing Style. And unlike most people, who can only adapt to one, he could use all of them if he wished. If he truly put his mind to it, he could create a Breathing Style tailored specifically to me."
"Huh? Then why—"
"Perhaps he didn't want to stir up more trouble. Besides… I have my own reasons for not wanting to grow stronger."
[Reasons for not wanting to grow stronger?]
Takeo tilted his head, unable to grasp why anyone would say such a thing.
"Now, back to you." Hiru reached out and ruffled his hair. "Breathing Styles associated with red include Flame, Flower, and Love. So in the language of the Nichirin Blade, red likely represents [drive] or [passion].
"Heavier colors include the deep gray of Stone Breathing and the black of Sun Breathing, which symbolize [steadfastness] and [forbearance]."
"Forbearance?"
"Yes. When any color becomes dense enough, it turns black. Even white, layered again and again, eventually loses its translucence and grows heavy. But black remains simply black."
Hiru withdrew his hand and looked at Takeo with a gentle smile.
"So, taking all that into account, what do you think defines you? Or rather, when you practice swordsmanship and Breathing Styles, what feeling pushes you forward?"
Takeo lowered his head.
A long silence followed.
Hiru simply waited.
"I think… it's [pursuit]," Takeo finally said, lifting his gaze toward the distant horizon. "I've always carried a sense of guilt. When our home was attacked, my brother fought desperately to protect everyone. But I could only hide behind him and do nothing.
"I don't like fighting. But I want to become someone like my brother. I want to protect everyone the way he did.
"I've only been able to keep going because I made my brother the goal I'm chasing."