Tomioka Giyu returned once more to Mount Sagiri—a place both familiar and strangely unfamiliar.
The mountain itself had not changed. But the people… the atmosphere… everything else felt different.
When he had left, Mount Sagiri had been desolate, almost lifeless. Only Makomo and Urokodaki-sensei had remained. Though he hated to admit it, the mountain had felt like a withering flower, slowly fading with time.
Now, as he arrived again, the once-lonely slopes were filled with life. Signs of habitation could be seen everywhere, and clusters of wisteria trees had been planted across the mountain. A gentle breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint fragrance of blossoms, while distant shouts of training echoed through the air.
Following the sound, Giyu soon came upon a group of boys and girls practicing their swordsmanship—training in the very place where he and his senior, Sabito, had once pushed themselves to their limits.
Their youthful energy, their determination and vitality, stirred something deep within him, leaving him momentarily dazed.
"Hey—who are you? What are you doing here?"
A boy in the middle of training approached, eyeing him with caution.
Giyu froze slightly, his gaze lowering instinctively.
He was the shame of Mount Sagiri.
Sabito—his senior—had fought alone, slaying countless demons on Mount Fujikasane, yet failed to pass the Final Selection. Meanwhile, he himself had killed none, had been protected—carried even—by Sabito, and yet he had passed.
He didn't deserve to be called Urokodaki's disciple.
"This place isn't open to strangers," the boy said again, his tone guarded when Giyu failed to respond.
Giyu lowered his eyes further, at a loss. Someone like him… a failure… how could he even begin to explain?
"He is Giyu Tomioka, your senior, not a stranger!"
A soft, airy voice drifted in from behind. A girl wearing a fox mask with closed eyes had appeared at some point without him noticing.
The boy blinked in realization, his expression brightening instantly. "So you're Giyu-senpai! I'm Miura Satoshi, one of Urokodaki-sensei's newer students!"
Giyu paused, caught off guard. Being called "senpai" left him unsure how to respond.
He had never been good with words to begin with, and now, faced with this unfamiliar warmth, he could only stand there stiffly in silence.
"Giyu, come with me."
Makomo stepped in, breaking the awkward tension.
Giyu nodded faintly and followed behind her.
As they walked, he couldn't help but notice how much had changed. The familiar traces of the past were fading, replaced by something new. Even the massive training boulder—once an unyielding obstacle—had been split cleanly in two.
"Tanjiro split that one," Makomo explained gently from the side. "He's an incredible boy. He trained under Sensei as well."
Giyu said nothing, but inwardly, he was stunned. Splitting such a stone was no easy feat—something even Sabito hadn't been able to accomplish back then.
Before long, they arrived at the familiar wooden house.
Several people stood gathered outside. Among them, one man stood out the most—a tall, handsome figure whose presence carried an indescribable weight. Giyu noticed how Makomo's steps seemed to lighten unconsciously the moment she saw him.
"This is Mr. Soma," Makomo introduced. "And this is Kanao, Nezuko, and the boy I mentioned earlier—Tanjiro, the one who split the boulder."
Soma looked at the quiet swordsman before him—the man who would one day become the Water Hashira, Tomioka Giyu—and gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
...
After a brief exchange of introductions, Giyu stepped inside the house.
Urokodaki Sakonji lay there, too weak to rise, his body frail and worn.
Giyu approached slowly, then knelt before his teacher. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something—anything—but no words came.
Urokodaki simply reached out, placing a hand gently on Giyu's head.
"I know you still blame yourself," the old man said softly. "But there's no need to be so harsh on yourself."
As he spoke, Urokodaki Sakonji reached out and rolled up Giyu's sleeve. The sight beneath it was enough to make anyone fall silent—his palms were thick with calluses, and his wrists bore layer upon layer of hardened scars.
If his wrists looked like this, one could only imagine how many wounds were hidden across the rest of his body.
"I'm sorry, Sensei…"
Giyu's eyes shut tightly, pain etched across his face. "My sister… she hid me in a cabinet to protect me, and was killed by a demon the night before her wedding. During the Final Selection on Mount Fujikasane, I lost consciousness. Sabito protected me… he protected everyone… and he died because of it."
"And I… I turned out like this. Useless. I've failed your expectations… failed Sabito's as well…"
Perhaps it was because he had kept these feelings buried for too long. He knew he shouldn't say such things now—his teacher's condition was already so frail—but in the end, he couldn't stop himself.
Urokodaki looked at him quietly. He could see the loneliness in the boy's eyes, could feel the crushing weight of his guilt. After all, when the people closest to you die protecting you… the pain doesn't simply fade.
"So," Urokodaki said at last, gently patting Giyu's head, "are you going to remain trapped in the past forever?"
"Your sister is gone. Sabito is gone. In a few days… I will be gone as well. Must you keep drowning yourself in sorrow and guilt for the rest of your life?"
Giyu's hand moved almost instinctively, gripping his teacher's wrist. The hand he held felt thin and fragile—like a withered vine on the verge of crumbling. Panic flickered through him.
His sister had died before his eyes. Sabito had died protecting him. And now… even his teacher would leave him too.
"You should learn from Kyojuro," Urokodaki continued, patting Giyu's wrist lightly. "Learn from his passion… from the way he lives each day with unwavering spirit."
He spoke at length after that, his voice calm but steady, as though trying to pass on everything he still could.
...
Death drew closer with each passing moment.
Urokodaki Sakonji accepted it with a surprising calmness. He had long prepared himself for this end, meeting it without fear or resistance.
But for the others, acceptance was far more difficult.
Especially for Makomo, who revered him more than anyone.
She knelt at his bedside, trying her best to hold back her tears—knowing she shouldn't cry in front of him—but in the end, she couldn't stop them.
"It seems… I'll have to break my promise," Urokodaki said with a faint smile as he lay there, looking at her. "I won't be able to stay with you to see the rapeseed flowers bloom."
Makomo's voice trembled as she spoke through her tears. "But I… I still wish for Sensei to live a long life…"
Urokodaki shook his head gently. "A person's lifespan is something decided long ago."
"I won't be able to walk the road ahead with you anymore, but I hope that from here on… you'll walk it steadily, and walk it well."
After a brief pause, he added, "As for you and Soma… I don't oppose it. But he… is not the person you imagine him to be. You should be prepared for that."
Makomo blinked in confusion, lifting her head to look at him, unable to understand what he meant.
But Urokodaki said nothing more. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the window, staring quietly at the world beyond.
"I hope… that the eradication of demons will be achieved in your generation."
"It will," Makomo said firmly, clenching her fists. "It definitely will."
Urokodaki let out a soft sigh, tinged with both regret and longing. "It's a pity… I won't be able to see that day."
Yet beneath that sigh lingered another worry—one he could neither confirm nor resolve.
Soma… that demon.
Would sparing him prove to be another mistake, like the one he had made with the Hand Demon all those years ago?
He didn't know.
And he would never live long enough to find out.
All he could do… was hope.
Hope that this time—
he hadn't been wrong again.