Chapter 108: Sun Breathing
As night descended over the mountain, the promised Dance of the Fire God—the Hinokami Kagura—was finally ready to begin.
Out in the open clearing beside the Kamado household, twelve torches, each standing half as tall as a man, had been arranged in a wide circle. The wood crackled, spitting tiny embers into the dark.
Tanjuro had changed into traditional ceremonial attire, the deep red and black fabric absorbing the ambient light. He held a uniquely shaped wooden staff tipped with bells. Standing dead center within the ring of fire, he remained perfectly still. His head tilted slightly toward the star-strewn sky, his eyes closed in silent prayer before the sacred ritual.
The crisp autumn breeze swept through the clearing, making the flames dance and cast long, flickering shadows. Bathed in that warm, shifting glow, Tanjuro's frail figure suddenly carried an aura of untouchable reverence.
Akira stood quietly at the edge of the circle, his sharp gaze tracking every minute shift in the older man's posture.
Nearby, Tanjiro and Nezuko watched with wide, fascinated eyes, while Kie remained inside the warm house, gently coaxing the youngest children to sleep.
Time seemed to stretch, hanging suspended in the cold mountain air, yet it also felt as brief as a single heartbeat.
Without warning, the evening breeze died. The swaying flames of the twelve torches snapped to attention, burning straight up into the night. Tanjuro's chest expanded. His breathing rhythm shifted entirely.
Akira's eyes narrowed. It's starting.
Tanjuro's initial movements were agonizingly slow. He raised his arms, tapped the staff against the frozen earth, and pivoted. Every motion flowed like water, natural and entirely devoid of wasted energy, resembling an elderly man practicing gentle morning exercises.
The surrounding firelight seemed to soften in response, losing its harsh heat. It no longer looked like ordinary fire, but rather the gentle, nascent rays of a morning sun cresting the horizon.
But as the seconds ticked by, the atmosphere shifted. The firelight flared, growing blindingly bright. Tanjuro's movements shed their gentle facade, taking on a razor-sharp, kinetic edge.
Swish. The wooden staff cleaved through the air, looking as though it were slicing the bright moonlight clean in half. As his feet shifted and stomped, crushed autumn leaves exploded upward, caught in the sudden vortex of his momentum.
The flames roared higher. The dance steps accelerated into a blinding blur. Tanjuro's ceremonial robes snapped and fluttered violently, his body moving so fast he began to leave a trail of afterimages in his wake.
In the freezing autumn air, the airflow from his specialized breathing condensed into a thick ribbon of white mist, swirling around his face before vanishing into the intense heat of the torches.
When the fire reached its absolute zenith, Tanjuro's speed broke past the limits of ordinary human perception. Tanjiro and Nezuko blinked, entirely losing track of their father's form.
Then, the dance steps abruptly ceased.
The sudden halt was so jarring that the entire world seemed to plunge into absolute, ringing silence.
Tanjuro lowered his staff and let out a long, slow breath. The white mist dissipated.
Instantly, the world resumed its normal rhythm. The night wind returned, rustling the bare branches. The firelight swayed gently once more, neither blindingly bright nor unusually soft. The intense, almost magical display from mere seconds ago felt like a fleeting hallucination.
Tanjiro and Nezuko stood frozen, looking as though they hadn't quite woken up from a dream.
Akira, however, was wide awake. His eyes gleamed with a sharp, predatory brightness, having memorized every single shift in muscle and breath.
"Mr. Kanzaki, how do you feel?"
Tanjuro's voice broke the silence. He had already slipped out of his heavy ceremonial overcoat and stepped forward. The sound snapped Tanjiro and Nezuko out of their trance, both of them blinking rapidly.
"Incredible," Akira replied, nodding with genuine respect. "Just witnessing this Kagura made the entire journey up this mountain worthwhile."
Tanjuro offered a faint, polite smile, but his eyes remained intensely focused. "Then, Mr. Kanzaki... can you now tell me your true purpose for coming here today?"
He held Akira's gaze. Tanjuro possessed a deep, intuitive wisdom. While he sensed absolutely no malice from this young man toward his family, he wasn't naive enough to believe Akira had climbed a freezing mountain solely to watch a rural dance.
Akira didn't flinch. "If my only goal today was to get acquainted with your wonderful family, then witnessing the Kagura would just be a fantastic bonus from a sudden impulse." He paused, his expression turning deadly serious. "But my ultimate goal... is to take your entire family away from this mountain."
The words dropped like a stone. Tanjuro's gaze locked onto him, the warmth draining from his face. Beside him, the Kamado siblings stiffened, staring at Akira with a mix of shock and sudden uncertainty.
Tanjiro flared his nostrils, instinctively drawing in a deep breath. His natural talent for smell was absolute. He searched the air for the foul, acrid scent of deceit.
There was none. Akira was telling the absolute truth.
Tanjuro glanced at his eldest son. Seeing Tanjiro's subtle nod confirming Akira's honesty, the patriarch turned back, his tone cautious but pressing. "And the specific reason for this?"
"It's a rather long story," Akira said, his voice steady. "Tell me, have you ever heard rumors about demons... and the swordsmen who hunt them?"
Tanjiro blinked, interjecting before his father could answer. "I heard an old man down in the village talk about that once! He said man-eating demons prowl in the dark, and that demon slayers hunt them at night to protect people."
"He was right. That is exactly what happens," Akira confirmed, glancing at the boy. "The true name of that organization is the Demon Slayer Corps. And I am one of its members."
He turned his attention back to Tanjuro. "Within the Corps, there is a specialized martial art that allows ordinary humans to push past their physical limits, granting them the strength to fight and decapitate demons. This technique is called Breathing."
Akira gestured toward the dying torches. "As the name suggests, it is entirely centered around controlling one's breath. Mr. Tanjuro, you are highly perceptive. You must have noticed that my resting breathing rhythm is fundamentally different from a normal person's. Similarly, the Dance of the Fire God passed down through your family requires a very specific, highly advanced breathing rhythm to perform without collapsing."
Tanjuro's eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked together. He had indeed noticed Akira's unnatural physical vitality and strange breathing patterns the moment they met. "Mr. Kanzaki... are you saying that the Kagura passed down in our family is actually a Breathing Technique used for combat?"
"Exactly," Akira said. "More precisely, it is the original Breathing Technique. The progenitor of all others. It is known as Sun Breathing."
He let the name hang in the air for a second before continuing. "Centuries ago, the man who created Breathing Techniques, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, was exiled from the Demon Slayer Corps. Wandering alone, he eventually crossed paths with your ancestor. They formed a deep bond, and Yoriichi passed his Sun Breathing on to him."
Akira crossed his arms, his tone softening slightly. "But your ancestor wasn't a swordsman. He didn't have the martial talent to use the technique in battle. However, he refused to let his dear friend's legacy fade into obscurity. So, he painstakingly memorized every single form, every shift in breath, and passed them down alongside a pair of hanafuda earrings. Through generations of careful preservation, those lethal sword forms evolved into the ceremonial Kagura dance you perform today."
Tanjuro absorbed the heavy history of his lineage in silence. "So," he finally said, his voice tight, "you want to take our family away to prevent this secret Breathing Technique from leaking to the outside world?"
"No. Not quite." Akira shook his head firmly. "My purpose is to relocate you to a heavily guarded, safe location. Because Sun Breathing isn't just the original technique—it is overwhelmingly the most powerful. Its founder, Yoriichi, was the strongest swordsman to ever live. He was so powerful that he nearly eradicated the progenitor of all demons, the Demon King himself, Muzan Kibutsuji."
A cold chill swept through the clearing, completely unrelated to the autumn wind.
"But he fell just short," Akira continued, his voice dropping to a grim register. "The Demon King managed to escape. And while demons possess infinite lifespans, Yoriichi was only human. He eventually died of old age."
Akira stepped closer, his eyes locking onto Tanjuro's. "After Yoriichi's death, the Demon King was terrified. He launched a ruthless, centuries-long purge, hunting down and slaughtering anyone even remotely associated with Sun Breathing. He wiped out every record, every scroll, and every swordsman who knew of it within the Corps."
Akira gestured to the Kamado household behind them. "If Muzan or his upper-rank demons ever discover you... if they catch even a glimpse of Sun Breathing hiding within your Kagura dance... your entire family will be slaughtered in a single night."
Dead silence fell over the clearing. The crackling of the dying torches was the only sound left.
Since Akira had already made up his mind to bring the Kamados under his wing, he saw no reason to sugarcoat the brutal reality of their situation.
Tanjiro stood frozen, his hands trembling slightly. He inhaled deeply, desperately praying to catch the scent of a lie. He wanted this to be a sick joke. He wanted this terrifying story of Demon Kings and massacres to be a fabrication.
But the scent in the air remained pure, heavy, and terrifyingly honest.
Tanjuro closed his eyes, digesting the sheer weight of the danger hanging over his wife and children. When he opened them again, his gaze was resolute.
"So," Tanjuro said slowly, his voice steady despite the revelation. "What you are truly interested in is securing this inheritance. And in exchange for it, you are willing to offer our family your absolute protection."
Akira nodded, but then a faint, complex smile touched his lips as he shook his head.
"Yes. But not entirely."
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me!
Want to read ahead on our official home, or unlock 50 advanced chapters (plus an Ad-Free experience) to feed your addiction? Help keep this shameless translator alive here:
(P.S. Replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
🌐 Official Website: elysianreads[.]com
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters & Ad-Free): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]