When Tomioka Giyu finished packing his belongings, the morning mist at the Butterfly Mansion had yet to fade.
His deep-blue haori was neatly folded on top of his bundle, the Nichirin Sword fastened at his waist. The water-patterned scabbard shimmered faintly blue in the early light.
Just as he reached the door, he saw Kocho Shinobu standing in the corridor, holding a small paper packet—clearly waiting for him.
"Tomioka-san."
Shinobu stepped forward and handed him the packet.
"This has poison powder and hemostatic medicine. It's stronger than last time—you can use it when facing demons."
Her fingertips brushed his hand for a moment before she quickly pulled back, a faint blush touching the tips of her ears.
"Your wounds just healed. Don't push yourself too hard. If you can't win, retreat first. The crow will send word—we'll back you up."
"Mm."
Giyu took the packet and slipped it inside his haori. The faint warmth of the paper lingered on his fingers.
"I know."
He looked into Shinobu's serious eyes and added quietly, "You be careful too."
Shinobu froze for a moment, then lowered her head, her voice soft as the wind. "I will."
Silence fell between them again, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the morning breeze.
Shinobu wanted to say something—remind him to eat properly, to come back soon—but the words felt too direct. In the end, she only said, "Be careful on the road."
Giyu nodded, turned, and stepped out of the Butterfly Mansion.
At the gate, a black crow swooped down onto his shoulder, flapping its wings.
"Tomioka Giyu! Three demons spotted in East Village! Other members have gone ahead! Go there immediately!"
"Got it."
Giyu raised his arm for the crow to perch and quickened his pace toward the east.
His deep-blue haori faded gradually into the mist. Shinobu stood in the corridor, watching his figure disappear before letting out a quiet sigh and turning back inside.
In the forest outside East Village, the sound of battle raged fiercely.
Three demons surrounded four Demon Slayer Corps members. Two of the demons were tall, claws glinting cold blue-black in the light. The third moved with incredible speed, darting in to strike at the swordsmen's openings.
Two of the slayers were already injured, leaning against trees and barely holding on. Among the remaining two, one red-haired boy stood out.
He wore a slightly ill-fitting uniform, his hair blazing like fire. The Nichirin Sword in his hands glowed faint orange-red as he fought the demon with clumsy but fierce strikes.
"Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!"
With a shout, the boy swung his blade, firelight flashing like dancing flames as it sliced toward the demon's arm.
But his breathing rhythm was off. The strike was powerful but lacked precision, only leaving a shallow cut on the demon's arm.
The demon roared in fury and swung backhanded. The boy barely dodged, but its claws still grazed his shoulder—blood seeping instantly through his uniform.
This was Rengoku Kyojuro.
From behind a nearby tree, Giyu recognized him immediately—the fiery hair, the burning spirit in his every move. Even with incomplete forms, his passion burned just as bright as the Flame Hashira he would one day become.
Only now, he was still young—his Flame Breathing self-taught from fragments, rough and incomplete.
Without hesitation, Giyu drew his Nichirin Sword. His figure moved like flowing water, gliding forward in an instant.
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
A pale blue flash cut through the air—so fast the demon couldn't even react.
The one that had injured Kyojuro fell instantly, its head severed, black blood spraying as its body turned to ash.
The remaining two demons panicked and tried to flee, but Giyu's blade blocked their path.
"Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance!"
His sword moved in continuous arcs, fluid and unbroken, striking with flawless precision.
Within moments, both demons were cut down, their bodies scattering into black ash across the ground.
Silence fell over the forest, broken only by the ragged breathing of the surviving slayers.
Kyojuro stood frozen, staring at the man who had appeared out of nowhere, then at the water-patterned scabbard and the words engraved on the blade—"Destroy Demons." The calm aura radiating from him left no doubt.
"Are you… the Water Hashira, sir?!"
Kyojuro straightened at once, bowing deeply with a voice that rang like thunder.
"I am Demon Slayer Corps member Rengoku Kyojuro! Thank you for your assistance!"
Giyu sheathed his blade, glancing at the red-haired youth before him. Memories of fighting side by side in another lifetime flashed in his mind. The corner of his lips lifted slightly.
"No need to thank me. Are you all right?"
"We're fine! Just some minor wounds!"
Kyojuro stood tall, eyes shining with admiration. "Your Water Breathing is incredible! Those strikes were so fast I couldn't even see them!"
Then, remembering his own clumsy attacks earlier, he scratched his head awkwardly.
"My Flame Breathing was self-taught from the fragments left at home. I'm still not that good at it. Sorry for showing something so rough."
Giyu looked at Kyojuro's honest face, and a faint warmth rose in his chest.
Kyojuro was always like this—passionate, straightforward, never hiding his flaws, yet always burning with determination.
"Your Flame Breathing has great potential," Giyu said seriously. "You just need to adjust your breathing rhythm and refine your forms."
Kyojuro's eyes lit up. "Really?! Would you be willing to teach me?"
Giyu didn't answer immediately. His mind was already racing.
He thought of the timeline he remembered. Next year, Kyojuro would officially become the Flame Hashira. His father, Rengoku Shinjuro, the former Flame Hashira, would fall into despair after his wife's death this year—turning to alcohol and eventually retiring.
But now, Kocho Kanae was still alive. Kocho Shinobu didn't need to carry the burden of becoming a Hashira early. She could stay at the Butterfly Mansion, keep studying medicine, and live peacefully—without walking that self-sacrificing path of poison and death.
This change convinced Giyu that he could alter more—save more people by shifting the details.
More importantly, ever since he created the Twelfth Form "Raging Surge" by merging Water and Wind Breathing, he had realized that combining breathing styles could release even greater power.
Sun Breathing was the origin and could act as the core of such fusion, but he needed the essence of other styles too—Flame Breathing's explosive force, Stone Breathing's defense, Flower Breathing's precision.
Only by mastering the traits of more breathing styles could he refine his own combat method and prepare for future battles against stronger demons—especially Kibutsuji Muzan.
Right now, what he lacked most was Flame Breathing's raw power.
Water Breathing leaned toward defense and endurance. Wind Breathing emphasized speed and breaking defense. But only Flame Breathing offered direct, overwhelming offense.
If he could grasp its essence, he might be able to create stronger techniques—or even refine his control over Sun Breathing itself.
"I have a favor to ask," Giyu said seriously, looking at Kyojuro. "I want to learn Flame Breathing."
Kyojuro froze, eyes wide. "You… what did you say? You want to learn Flame Breathing?"
He hadn't expected a Hashira-level swordsman to want to learn a breathing style from someone who'd only taught himself.
"Yes," Giyu nodded. "I'm experimenting with combining different breathing forms. Flame Breathing's explosive strength could make up for what I currently lack. But I know it's a Rengoku family style, so I wanted to ask you directly."
Kyojuro's face turned bright red—not from embarrassment, but from excitement and nervousness.
He waved his hands rapidly. "No, no, I can't! My Flame Breathing is self-taught! A lot of the forms are incomplete, and my rhythm's probably wrong! If I teach you the wrong thing, that'd be terrible!"
He paused, then suddenly his expression lit up. "But! My father is the former Flame Hashira, Rengoku Shinjuro! His Flame Breathing is the most authentic and complete there is! If you want to learn, I can introduce you to him! My father's… well, not in the best condition lately, but I'm sure he'd be glad to teach someone as strong as you!"
Giyu's eyes flickered with interest.
Rengoku Shinjuro, the former Flame Hashira—his strength was extraordinary.
Learning from him wouldn't just give Giyu access to the full Flame Breathing style—it might also reveal secrets about the lineage of breathing techniques, perhaps even offering clues about Sun Breathing itself.
"Then I'll trouble you," Giyu said, his tone calm but sincere.
"It's no trouble! Not at all!" Kyojuro beamed, showing a full, bright smile. "Once I handle things here, I'll take you to meet my father! The Rengoku family's Flame Breathing is all about burning one's spirit to the limit. Someone as strong as you will master it in no time!"
He turned and hurried over to the wounded team members, taking out his hemostatic medicine and tending to their injuries.
His movements were practiced, his tone warm and reassuring as he kept encouraging them—"Don't give up," "You'll be fine soon."
Giyu stood quietly nearby, watching the young man's energetic figure, and his plan slowly came into focus.
First, go with Kyojuro to meet Shinjuro and learn Flame Breathing.
Then, once his body was fully recovered, travel north to hunt for Douma's whereabouts.
At the same time, he would keep an eye on the Kamado family, ensuring they safely made it through the coming winter night.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, falling warmly across Giyu's shoulders. He tightened his grip on his Nichirin Sword, eyes steady.
The path to strength was still long, but he was no longer walking it alone.
He had people to protect, comrades he could trust, and a clear goal ahead—that was enough.
Kyojuro soon finished tending the wounded, assigning other members to escort them back to the Butterfly Mansion.
Then he turned to Giyu. "Tomioka-san, let's go now! My home isn't far—half a day's walk at most!"
"All right."
Giyu nodded and followed Kyojuro down the forest path.
The red-haired youth strode ahead with his usual vigor, talking nonstop about the quirks of Flame Breathing and occasionally swinging his sword to demonstrate.
The man in the deep-blue haori followed quietly, saying little but listening attentively, a faint trace of expectation in his calm gaze.
Their figures disappeared gradually into the forest depths, sunlight spilling over the trail behind them—leaving two long shadows stretching forward, like twin paths of light leading toward the same goal.