Giyu: I'm... not like you.

The little wooden cabin at the foot of Mount Sagiri glowed with warm orange light in the dusk.

Cooking smoke rose and drifted into the pale purple evening sky.

When Sabito pushed open the creaking wooden door, the figure standing at the stove inside jolted.

Sakonji Urokodaki turned around.

The former Water Hashira always wore his signature red Tengu Mask, hiding his expression, but now his entire body went rigid.

He was still holding the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the miso soup, oblivious to the drops falling onto the floor.

His eyes behind the mask were fixed on the two figures in the doorway.

One was Sabito, leaning against the doorframe, covered in wounds yet beaming. The other was Giyu, standing a little behind him, silent as a deep pool.

"T-teacher..."

Sabito's voice caught.

"We're... back."

The wooden spoon fell into the pot with a clatter.

Urokodaki didn't pick it up.

He just stood there, his shoulders beginning to tremble slightly.

Then, with stiff, almost clumsy movements, he removed the Tengu Mask he had worn for more than a decade.

Beneath the mask was a weathered face, marked by a jagged old scar that ran from his left forehead to his right cheek, almost identical to the one on Sabito's face.

But what stood out most now were his pale gray eyes.

Those eyes, always stern and as calm as still water, were brimming with great tears that rolled down the furrows of the scar on his face.

"You're... back..."

Urokodaki's voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

"You really... came back..."

Before these two, he had taught eleven disciples.

Every one of them had been exceptionally gifted, and every one had given their all, including Makomo, the petite, lively girl he had regarded as a daughter.

But every one of them had died on Mount Fujikasane.

Eleven fox masks, eleven departed souls who never returned!!!

He had once believed he was cursed, that his teaching would only send the children to their deaths. He had even considered taking no more disciples.

But now, the curse was broken.

Urokodaki practically stumbled forward, reaching out with his calloused hands, the hands that had slain countless demons, and pulled both disciples into his arms.

His arms were strong, but his embrace was gentle, as though he feared that if he squeezed too hard, the people before him would vanish like phantoms.

Sabito hugged his teacher back, his tears finally spilling over.

Giyu's body stiffened for a moment.

But at last, he too slowly raised his arms and gently returned the embrace of the man who was like a father to him.

The three held one another in the doorway for a long time, until the pot of soup on the stove began to bubble.

Dinner was a simple meal of miso soup, grilled fish, and rice, but after the seven-day nightmare on Mount Fujikasane, it was the most delicious feast in the world.

The three sat around the low table, the oil lamp casting warm, flickering shadows on the wooden walls.

As Sabito wolfed down his food, he recounted his experiences on Mount Fujikasane.

How he had cleared the valley to the west, rescued fellow candidates who had been trapped, and fought three demons alone by the northern waterfall.

He spoke animatedly, deliberately downplaying the danger, but Urokodaki could hear the close brushes with death behind every word.

And when Sabito came to the Hand Demon, the atmosphere in the room froze.

"It said... it ate eleven children wearing fox masks."

Sabito's voice grew low.

"It also said it remembered Makomo... remembered that at the end, she called out your name, teacher, and mine, and Giyu's..."

Urokodaki's hand tightened sharply around his chopsticks, his knuckles turning white.

He had put his mask back on, but through its eyeholes, the light could be seen draining from his eyes.

"It was because of me..."

Urokodaki's voice trembled.

"Because of the fox masks I gave you... it remembered them... I'm the one who got them killed..."

"That's not true, teacher!"

Sabito said urgently.

"It was that demon's fault! It—"

"The Breathing Style I taught you, the techniques I devised..."

Urokodaki interrupted him, his voice filled with unprecedented anguish.

"It saw through every one of them. My disciples died because of my teaching..."

Deathly silence fell over the room.

The oil lamp's flame flickered uneasily.

Giyu, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke.

"Teacher, it wasn't your fault."

His voice was calm and even, as though he were stating a simple fact.

Urokodaki looked up at him.

"Makomo and the others,"

Giyu continued in the same flat tone,

"chose to become swordsmen of their own free will. They knew they might die."

"What you taught them, teacher, was the strength to survive, not the reason they died."

The words were blunt, even somewhat harsh, but strangely, Urokodaki's tense shoulders relaxed a little.

Sabito hurried to add,

"Giyu's right! And teacher, did you know? Giyu was the one who killed the Hand Demon!"

Urokodaki turned sharply toward Giyu, his eyes visibly widening behind the mask.

"It's true!"

Sabito said excitedly.

"My sword broke, and just when I was about to die, Giyu came back and, all by himself... with just one move! Water Breathing's Tenth Form, but not quite, it was like..."

He struggled to describe that earth-shaking slash, the water dragon spiraling into the sky, and the Hand Demon losing its head in terror.

His words were filled with undisguised pride, as though he himself had slain the demon.

Urokodaki listened quietly, his gaze never leaving Giyu.

That disciple who was always silent, always needed Sabito to look after him, and was always a half step behind in training, now sat there calmly eating his rice, as though Sabito were talking about someone else's exploits.

When Sabito finally finished, Urokodaki asked softly,

"Giyu, is it true?"

Giyu set down his bowl and nodded.

Then, under his teacher's stunned and searching gaze, he offered a rare addition.

"I just got lucky."

His tone was flat, but the roots of his ears turned a barely perceptible shade of red.

Sabito burst out laughing and patted Giyu on the shoulder.

"What luck? You're just that strong! Stop being modest!"

As Urokodaki watched his two disciples, a crack finally opened in the great weight that had pressed on his heart for so many years, letting in the light.

He slowly raised his teacup. His voice had regained its usual steadiness, but held a touch more warmth.

"What matters is that you're back. You both... did very well."

The oil lamp crackled, and the cabin was filled with the aroma of hot soup and genuine joy, long absent.

Early the next morning, Mount Sagiri was shrouded in a light mist.

In a clearing in the woods, the dew had yet to evaporate.

Sabito and Giyu stood facing each other, wooden swords in hand.

Sabito had changed into clean training clothes, and the wounds on his face had been treated. He looked much more energetic.

Giyu, meanwhile, wore the same red haori, his right hand steady as a rock around his sword.

"Just so we're clear, my injuries haven't fully healed, so don't go all out."

Sabito smiled as he assumed the opening stance of Water Breathing.

Giyu nodded.

Sabito's smile slowly faded.

He stared intently at Giyu, trying to find an opening.

The kind of opening any swordsman would have, even if only for an instant.

The rise and fall of his shoulders, a shift in his center of gravity, the movement of his eyes, the rhythm of his breathing...

But Giyu... had none!!!

Giyu stood casually, his wooden sword angled toward the ground, yet he seemed to have become one with the surrounding mist, trees, and earth.

He was clearly right in front of Sabito, yet seemed to be everywhere at once. He had taken no defensive stance, yet Sabito couldn't find a way to attack.

This feeling was the pressure of a higher realm!!!

"I'm coming!"

Sabito took a deep breath, suppressed his unease, and charged forward!

"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"

His wooden sword swept through a fierce arc, aimed straight at Giyu's midsection.

Though his injuries had slowed the strike slightly, its angle and force remained precise. It was a move Sabito had honed through countless repetitions.

At the same time, Giyu moved.

His movements didn't look fast. He simply turned sideways and stepped aside.

But with those seemingly casual movements, he slipped past Sabito's slash at just the right moment, without even letting it touch the hem of his clothes.

Sabito immediately changed techniques.

"Third Form: Flowing Dance!"

His body glided like a swimming fish, his wooden sword thrusting in succession from three tricky angles!

Giyu's footwork remained unhurried.

It was as though he had anticipated the path of every attack. Each movement took him just clear of the blade, and a light touch of his wooden sword redirected Sabito's offense.

The longer Sabito fought, the more alarmed he became.

He felt that every move he made had been seen through, that the other man had completely grasped the rhythm of each breath and every sign of his muscles exerting force.

Giyu wasn't fighting him. He was... teaching him.

"Fourth Form: Striking Tide!"

Sabito gritted his teeth and unleashed a faster series of attacks.

His wooden sword became an unbroken surge of waves, rushing at Giyu from every direction.

This time, Giyu finally raised his sword.

His movements were still very light.

His wooden sword traced smooth arcs through the air. Each time it met Sabito's blade, it did not clash with it head-on, but went with its momentum, drawing it aside, guiding it, and dispersing its force.

Sabito felt as though he were cutting into flowing water. All his strength was being scattered and dissolved.

More frightening still was Giyu's breathing.

It was not the rapid breathing of someone in combat, but a deep, steady rhythm, like the ebb and flow of the tide.

Every breath was perfectly synchronized with the sword in his hand and the steps beneath his feet.

Ten moves... twenty moves... thirty moves...

Sweat beaded on Sabito's forehead, and his breathing began to falter.

Giyu, meanwhile, still breathed evenly, his steps unhurried.

At last, as they crossed paths, Giyu's wooden sword tapped Sabito's wrist, bringing his attack to a halt.

Immediately afterward, the tip of the sword came to rest against his throat.

Everything stopped.

Only the sound of their breathing could be heard in the woods.

The mist drifted slowly, and sunlight began to filter through the treetops.

"Th-this... how is this possible..."

A low voice came from the edge of the clearing.

Urokodaki had appeared there at some point, his eyes fixed on Giyu from behind the Tengu Mask, filled with unprecedented shock.

As the former Water Hashira and an inheritor of Water Breathing, he knew better than anyone what that sparring match meant.

What Giyu had just displayed was not merely exquisite technique, but an understanding of the essence of water.

He had brought Water Breathing's flow, adaptability, and use of softness to overcome hardness to their utmost limits.

What shocked Urokodaki even more was the speed of Giyu's progress.

Before the selection, the boy had still been training hard to master Total Concentration Breathing, the rhythm of his sword swings occasionally falling out of sync.

And now, after only seven days...

"Giyu,"

Urokodaki's voice was a little dry.

"Those things just now... who taught you?"

Giyu lowered his wooden sword and shook his head:

"No one."

"Then how did you..."

Sabito panted, staring at his junior brother in disbelief,

"How did you get so strong? It's only been a few days!"

Giyu fell silent.

He looked down at the wooden sword in his hand. The system's notification chime flashed through his mind, along with the feeling of the world becoming clearer after his comprehension surged, and the principles of swordsmanship that had arisen naturally in battle, as though he should have known them all along.

But he couldn't say any of that.

That inexplicable system, the comprehension he had gained out of nowhere—it was all too absurd, and too... unfair.

What could he say?

"I got a cheat"?

"I'm different from you. I have a cheat device"?

At last, he raised his head and met Sabito and Urokodaki's searching, expectant gazes.

In a flat, even tone, he gave the answer he thought was most honest:

"I don't know."

After a pause, he added, his voice as soft as a sigh:

"I'm... different from you."

The moment the words left his mouth, the atmosphere turned cold.

Sabito's mouth hung open. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, and then his face slowly reddened.

The corner of Urokodaki's mouth visibly twitched behind his mask.

Those two sentences, coming from Giyu, paired with his nearly expressionless face and matter-of-fact tone...

To anyone listening, they sounded like blatant boasting and mockery!

"You..."

Sabito pointed at Giyu, his finger trembling,

"You bastard... do you have any idea how much those words make people want to punch you?!"

Giyu blinked, seemingly giving the question genuine thought, then answered honestly:

"No."

"Aaargh!"

Sabito ran his hands through his hair in frustration,

"If I could beat you, I'd give you a thrashing!!!"

Urokodaki took a deep breath, drawing on all the self-restraint he had cultivated in his life to stop himself from stepping forward and headbutting his disciple.

He tried to keep his voice calm:

"Giyu."

"Yes."

"From now on... if you keep talking like that,"

Urokodaki said, enunciating every word,

"No girl will ever like you."

Giyu froze.

He tilted his head, genuine confusion filling his pale blue eyes:

"Hm? What do you mean?"

This time, even Urokodaki couldn't resist putting a hand to his forehead.

Sabito, meanwhile, burst out laughing.

It was a complicated laugh, a mixture of anger, helplessness, and relief.

He stepped forward and clapped Giyu hard on the shoulder.

"Forget it, forget it. That's just how you are. Anyway, we all know you don't mean any harm... probably?!"

He looked at Urokodaki:

"Teacher, that's just how this guy is. Don't take it to heart."

Urokodaki shook his head. Looking at the two disciples before him, whose personalities were worlds apart yet who made him equally proud, he finally couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up slightly behind his mask.

The morning light completely dispersed the mist, spilling across the forest clearing.

The aroma of breakfast drifted over from the cabin, and a new day began.

Giyu Tomioka still stood where he was, seriously pondering his teacher's words.

Why does the way I talk have anything to do with whether girls like me?

This really was a difficult question!!!