Severing Rocks, Makomo and Sabito

It was late autumn on Mount Sagiri, and the morning dew had frozen into frost. Moyu's breath formed fleeting clouds of white mist in the air, then quickly dispersed in the rhythm of his Breathing Style.

Today's training ground had been moved to a cliff face on the back of the mountain. Three enormous rocks stood there. The smallest was taller than a person, while the largest was like a small hill, its surface covered in moss and cracks left by age.

Tanjiro was already standing before a rock, gripping a Wooden Sword in both hands, fine beads of sweat on his forehead. He had spent half a month striking the rock, but had left only faint white marks on it.

"Today, you'll switch to real swords." Urokodaki's voice came from behind them. He held two unsharpened Nichirin Blades—even without an edge, they were made of steel and could not be compared to wooden swords.

Moyu took a blade. It felt heavy in his hand, and the steel was icy cold. But when he channeled breathing Cursed Energy into it, the blade trembled slightly and gave a low hum.

"The essence of Water Breathing is 'severing.'" Urokodaki stood before the two of them. "Severing flowing water is the introduction, severing rock is the foundation, and severing a demon's neck is the goal. These three rocks are your final hurdle before entering the Final Selection."

He looked at Tanjiro. "You still need time. But Moyu—" the Tengu Mask turned toward Moyu, "you will cut through the smallest one before the day is over."

Tanjiro's eyes widened. "One day? Mr. Urokodaki, I've practiced for half a month and still..."

"You're different." Urokodaki cut him off. "Moyu has already found his own 'path.' What he needs now is to test it. Tanjiro, continue practicing with your wooden sword and feel the rock's 'breathing.'"

Though confused, Tanjiro obediently nodded and went aside to continue practicing.

Moyu stood before the smallest rock. It was about two meters tall and a meter and a half wide, with a relatively smooth surface. He activated the Six Eyes, and the rock's internal structure was laid bare in his vision—the paths of its cracks, the distribution of its minerals, and its weakest points were all clearly visible.

This is too easy, Moyu thought. With the strength of breathing Cursed Energy and the weak points found by the Six Eyes, I can do it in one strike...

"No attacking weak points," Urokodaki said, as though reading his mind. "I want you to cut into the hardest part and split the rock in two."

Moyu froze. "The hardest part?"

"A demon won't always expose the weak point in its neck to you." Urokodaki's voice grew stern. "A true swordsman must be able to sever anything he wants to sever. Begin."

This was a more demanding task. Moyu took a deep breath and examined the rock again. His Six Eyes swept over it and marked a spot at its very center—the minerals there were densest, and the crystal structure was most complete.

Right here.

He assumed the opening stance of Water Breathing, First Form, but his movements were slightly different. Breathing Cursed Energy surged through his body, gathering in his arms along specific meridians. An Azure sheen appeared on the blade once more, more concentrated this time, almost forming a thin film of light.

Slash!

The Nichirin Blade tore downward with a shriek. The instant its edge struck the rock, a piercing screech rang out and sparks flew.

A cut about three inches deep appeared on the rock's surface, but it did not split.

The recoil left Moyu's arms numb, and the webbing between his thumb and forefinger ached. He looked at the cut—he had indeed struck the hardest spot, but his strength had not been enough to cut through.

"Your strength was scattered." Urokodaki pointed out the problem. "Breathing Cursed Energy has indeed increased your explosive power, but a slash requires the utmost concentration. Focusing your strength into a single line is far harder than spreading it over an area."

Moyu nodded and raised his blade again. This time, he tried to compress the breathing Cursed Energy as it flowed through his arms. The Six Eyes precisely controlled the flow of every strand of energy, forcibly concentrating it at the very front of the blade's edge.

The process was immensely taxing on his mental strength. Moyu felt his temples throbbing, and the strain on his Six Eyes rose sharply.

The second strike.

The cut deepened to five inches, and a faint cracking sound came from within the rock, but it still did not split in two.

"Continue," Urokodaki said, and nothing more.

Moyu did not stop. He realized this was not merely training in sword strikes, but an ultimate test of his control over breathing Cursed Energy. Every swing was an exercise in meticulously refining his energy.

The third strike, the fourth, the fifth...

Sweat soaked his training clothes, and his breathing began to grow ragged. On the sixth strike, the rock finally gave a strained groan, and a crack spread upward from the cut.

But it still wasn't enough.

Moyu stepped back a few paces and steadied his breathing. He pushed the Six Eyes to their maximum, and every molecular structure in the rock appeared clearly in his vision. He saw it—not a weak point, but the "rhythm" within its crystal structure. No matter how hard a rock was, there was a pattern to the arrangement of its molecules, just as flowing water had currents.

Follow the rhythm, rather than fight it.

The realization flashed through his mind like lightning. Moyu closed his eyes, no longer "seeing" with them, but using breathing Cursed Energy to "feel." The energy seeped into the rock like water, touching its structure and searching for its rhythm.

Found it.

Moyu opened his eyes, a strange light shimmering in his Azure pupils. He slowly raised his blade, his movements as gentle as though he were stroking the air.

Water Breathing, First Form—and yet it was not.

No light shone from the blade; all its power had been contained to the utmost. As it descended, the air seemed to part, yet it made no sound at all.

The blade touched the rock.

Then it sank in soundlessly.

Starting from its hardest core, the rock split cleanly along the interfaces between its molecular arrangements. It was not chopped apart by brute force, but "opened along the grain." The two halves slid and toppled to either side, their cut surfaces smooth as mirrors, even reflecting Moyu's panting figure.

Done.

Moyu dropped to one knee and planted the Nichirin Blade in the ground to support himself. That strike had nearly exhausted all his mental strength and breathing Cursed Energy. The Six Eyes shut off automatically, and a fierce headache struck.

But what welled up in his heart was an unprecedented sense of accomplishment.

[Ding! Breathing Cursed Energy control greatly increased]

[Energy concentration efficiency increased by 40%]

[Reward: gold coins ×300]

The system notifications rang in his mind, but Moyu had no attention to spare for them. He gasped for breath and looked at Urokodaki.

A faint sigh came from beneath the Tengu Mask. "...Faster than I imagined. Half a day."

Urokodaki walked up to the split rock and ran a hand over its smooth cut surface. "This was not a slash of brute force, but a slash of 'unraveling.' You've touched upon a realm beyond the 'forms.'"

He turned and pointed to the larger rock in the middle. "Rest for one hour. Then cut that one open—but this time, I want you to strike from the side and split the rock diagonally."

A harder challenge. Moyu gave a wry smile, but nodded. "Yes."

During his rest, Moyu went to the stream to wash his face. The icy mountain water cleared his head somewhat. He looked at Tanjiro, who was still working hard to chop at the rock nearby. The boy put all his strength into every swing, but the rock did not budge.

"Tanjiro." Moyu walked over. "Want to try a different approach?"

Tanjiro wiped away his sweat. "Moyu, that strike just now... how did you do it? I felt like the rhythm of your breathing changed completely."

"I was trying to go along with it, rather than fight it." Moyu sat down beside him. "A rock has its own 'breathing.' Find it, become one with it, and then... guide it to split."

Tanjiro looked thoughtful. "Like how the Kagura dance has to follow the flow of the wind..."

"Right." Moyu pointed to the rock. "Use your sense of smell. Don't smell the scent on the surface; smell the 'breath' inside it."

It was guidance that defied common sense, but Tanjiro's sense of smell had always defied common sense. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. After a long while, he opened them and said in surprise, "I can smell it... there's a 'dry' smell deep inside the rock. It's different from the 'dampness' on the surface..."

"That's its 'breathing.'" Moyu rose. "Strike along that dry line."

Tanjiro raised his wooden sword again. This time, his gaze had changed. The sword came down, striking an unremarkable spot on the rock's surface.

"Crack."

There was a faint cracking sound. A fissure appeared on the rock's surface. Though shallow, it was damage he had not managed to inflict in the previous half month.

Tanjiro's eyes widened, then he was overjoyed. "It worked! Moyu, thank you!"

Moyu smiled and returned to his own training area. He did not immediately begin the next round of training. Instead, he entered the woods beside the cliff, intending to find a quiet place to regulate his breathing.

But deep in the woods, he saw an unexpected sight.

Two translucent figures sat on a bluestone, seemingly talking. One was a pink-haired boy wearing a fox mask, and the other was a short-haired girl also wearing a fox mask.

Sabito. Makomo.

Moyu's heart gave a sudden leap. He knew the two had been Urokodaki's disciples in the past. They had died fighting in the Final Selection, and their souls lingered on Mount Sagiri, secretly helping the disciples who came after them.

But he had not expected the Six Eyes to be able to see souls.

As though sensing his gaze, both souls turned at once. Sabito's mask faced Moyu. Though Moyu could not make out his expression, he could sense his surprise.

"You can see us?" Makomo's voice was as gentle as the wind.

Moyu nodded and stepped forward. "Mr. Urokodaki's former disciples... Sabito and Makomo, right?"

The two souls exchanged a glance, and Sabito spoke. "You know us? You're no ordinary new disciple."

"My eyes can see some things they shouldn't," Moyu said, stopping three paces away from them. "Souls, and lingering attachments."

Makomo floated closer, studying Moyu's eyes curiously. "Such beautiful eyes... like a starry sky. You also have a special aura about you. It's a lot like a Breathing Style, but different."

"I fused in my own special ability," Moyu answered truthfully. "Have you two... been here all this time?"

Sabito nodded. "We died fighting in the Final Selection. But we couldn't stop worrying about our teacher, or the junior disciples who came after us, so our souls stayed here." He paused. "How many disciples has our teacher had before you?"

"Giyu Tomioka came before me, and Tanjiro Kamado came after me," Moyu said. "Tanjiro is training over there now."

Makomo floated to the edge of the woods and looked at Tanjiro, who was working hard to split his rock. "That child... his aura is so warm. Just like the sun."

"He really is special," Moyu said. "You've been secretly helping the disciples train all this time, haven't you?"

Sabito did not deny it. "We can't interfere directly, but we can guide them in their dreams or slightly affect the training environment—for example, by making a rock's weak points more obvious." He looked at Moyu. "Though you don't seem to need that kind of help. That strike of yours just now already had the beginnings of a Hashira's strength."

"I'm still a long way off." Moyu shook his head. "Mr. Urokodaki's next task for me is to cut a larger rock diagonally from the side. I still have no idea how to do it."

Makomo floated back. "A diagonal slash... Teacher is always like that, giving more difficult challenges to gifted disciples." She thought for a moment. "Perhaps you could try a 'spiral.'"

"A spiral?"

"When flowing water meets an obstacle, it forms a vortex," Sabito continued. "That's water's most powerful form. Set the force of your slash spinning like a drill, and it can penetrate any obstacle."

An idea flashed through Moyu's mind. Rotational force... can breathing Cursed Energy do that?

"Thank you for the guidance," he said sincerely.

Makomo laughed softly. "It feels so nice to be able to speak directly with a disciple. Before, we could only appear in dreams or give hints by using the wind to rustle the leaves."

Sabito looked at Moyu. "Your eyes can see through to the essence of things. But don't rely only on your eyes; trust what your body feels too. Breathing Styles are an art of the body, not the eyes."

His advice gave Moyu pause. It was true that he relied too heavily on the Six Eyes. Much of the time, his eyes saw first and his body followed. But what if he reversed that?

"I should get back to training." Moyu rose. "We can talk again when we have the chance."

"Wait." Sabito stopped him. "Be careful in the Final Selection. Mount Fujikasane now... is more dangerous than it was in our time. The number of demons has increased, and 'Mutants' that shouldn't have been there have appeared."

Moyu's expression turned grave. "Mutants?"

"We don't know much either." Makomo shook her head. "We can only occasionally sense an ominous aura coming from that direction. Tell Teacher, and tell Tanjiro too. You must be careful."

Moyu nodded solemnly, committing the warning to memory.

By the time he returned to the training ground, exactly one hour had passed. Urokodaki was already waiting beside the second rock.

"Ready?"

"I have a few ideas." Moyu tightened his grip on the Nichirin Blade. "Please let me try."

He stood beside the rock, keeping the Six Eyes at their basic level of vision rather than fully activating them. This time, he tried to feel the rock with his body, just as Sabito had said.

Breathing Cursed Energy flowed through him, but instead of surging in a straight line, it began to rotate. Starting in his lungs, it spiraled along his meridians, gathering more strength with every revolution.

The blade trembled slightly, giving off a low hum.

Moyu did not deliberately search for an angle, instead letting his body instinctively choose the path of the slash. The spinning force traveled into his arms and then into the blade. A vortex of air even formed around its edge, visible to the naked eye.

Slash!

The Nichirin Blade swept down diagonally, its edge cutting into the rock in a spiraling motion. This time, there was no piercing screech, only the faint sound of rock being stripped away layer by layer.

As the blade passed through, the rock slowly slid apart along a diagonal line. Its cut surface was not a smooth plane, but bore a spiral pattern, as though it had been bored open by a drill.

Moyu withdrew his blade and looked at the result, panting.

The rock was bigger than the first, and the slash had been more difficult, yet this time it had been easier. Because he had found a "method."

Urokodaki walked up to the severed rock and ran his fingers over the spiral pattern. After a long time, he said, "This is not a form of Water Breathing."

"I came to understand it just now," Moyu said truthfully. "I set the force spinning, like flowing water forming a vortex."

Urokodaki turned, his Tengu Mask facing Moyu. "Give it a name."

Moyu was taken aback, then understood—this was recognition, an acknowledgment that he had created the technique himself.

He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll call it 'Vortex Slash.'"

"Water Breathing, Zero Form: Vortex Slash." Urokodaki repeated it. "Good. From today onward, this is your first unique form."

Zero Form signified an original creation beyond the basic forms.

Warmth surged in Moyu's heart. This was power he had created himself, not something exchanged for or copied, but something that truly belonged to him.

[Ding! Exclusive quest progress: original Breathing Style forms completed: 1/3]

[Reward: gold coins ×500. Preview access to the intermediate exchange area unlocked]

The system notification sounded at just the right moment. Moyu suppressed the urge to check it. Now was not the time.

In the distance, Tanjiro finally cut a noticeable crack into his rock. The boy cheered and continued swinging his sword, tireless.

The sun sank in the west, dyeing Mount Sagiri gold and red. Moyu looked at the Nichirin Blade in his hand, the faint light flowing along its surface reflected in his Azure pupils.

The first step toward creating his unique Breathing Style had been taken.

Deep in the woods, Sabito's and Makomo's souls stood side by side, watching the two boys on the training ground.

"They can go farther," Makomo said softly.

"Farther than we did." Sabito nodded. "This time, Teacher... has finally found someone who can inherit everything."

The wind passed through the woods, carrying away their whispers and the hopes of the departed.