"However..."
Ubuyashiki's tone abruptly turned solemn and grave, filled with strength.
"It was precisely that unforgettable brush with death that completely changed your father's views."
"He not only became one of the most generous and steadfast benefactors the Demon Slayer Corps has had in centuries..."
His voice echoed clearly through the hall. "The repairs and expansion of headquarters, the upkeep of the trainers' bases scattered across the country..."
"The astronomical cost of the tamahagane needed to forge the finest Nichirin Blades..."
"All of these have depended on the Kirishima Family's continuous, truly immense financial support."
He lifted his gaze slightly, his eyes seeming to pierce through time and space and return to a certain rainy night.
"Your father also sat down with me for a long conversation late one stormy night. He spoke of you, Kirishima."
Ubuyashiki's voice held a peculiar insight. "He said that from the moment his son was born, there had been a certain 'strangeness unlike other people' in his very bones."
"Though you were physically far stronger than children your age, you always liked to shut yourself away in the deepest corner of the family courtyard, under the fine pretext of recuperating."
He paused, a hint of amusement entering his tone.
"Then, one morning when you were seven, you actually used an ordinary wooden toy sword to cleave clean through a stone table made of hard bluestone in the courtyard!"
"You also often muttered grandiose claims that others found incomprehensible, such as 'I Am the Approaching Storm'..."
Hearing this, Kirishima Bupai suddenly understood.
So that was it! This humble Daoist has attained enlightenment!
No wonder this reclusive Master, who seemed able to see through everything...
The reason he knew me so well, even having this outrageously flamboyant uniform hit my particular aesthetic tastes so precisely...
It all came back to that seemingly stern, old-fashioned father of mine.
Presumably, his father had long since recounted all his childhood "glorious exploits" from the depths of his adolescent delusions to this Head of the Family as amusing stories.
A barely perceptible trace of embarrassment and helplessness passed through his heart.
"Finally, your father declared, in a tone mingling pride and concern..."
Ubuyashiki's voice carried the wisdom of someone who had seen through the ways of the world, along with a hint of a sincerely gratified smile.
"'If this child truly joins the Demon Slayer Corps, there can only be two outcomes: either he becomes a swordsman of the highest caliber, his brilliance shining through the ages.'"
"'Or... with that unfathomable strength and those utterly lawless eccentricities, he will turn the entire Demon Slayer Corps upside down and leave it without a moment's peace.'"
Ubuyashiki's gentle, assured gaze settled on Kirishima Bupai.
"From what we can see now, your father's judgment was frighteningly accurate."
"At Mount Fujikasane, you stirred up a storm of your own by clearing the mountain in an unprecedented feat."
These words both acknowledged Kirishima's strength and indirectly answered Tengen Uzui's earlier doubts.
-Kirishima's position was by no means due solely to his father's backing.
Bang-!!!
A tremendous crash erupted as Tengen Uzui, beside himself with fury, slammed his palm against the thick pillar beside him, so broad that it would take two people to encircle it.
The immense force shook the entire meeting hall, sending dust cascading from the roof.
His handsome face was somewhat twisted with rage, full of the humiliation of being slighted and intense disdain. "Oyakata-sama!!"
His voice rang out with a metallic resonance. "The Hashira are the pillars holding up the sky in our battle against demons!"
As he spoke, Tengen Uzui pointed at Kirishima Bupai, his fingertip seeming to possess a cutting edge. "This position was forged from the searing blood of countless comrades and mountains of demon corpses!"
His gaze was sharp as a blade, stabbing straight at Kirishima Bupai. "How can he be accepted so easily because of a merchant father's financial support and a few predictions that sound like a madman's ravings?"
Once again, he aimed his attack squarely at Kirishima Bupai's conspicuous attire, making no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.
"Especially when he's nothing but a flashy showpiece who hasn't demonstrated even a fraction of his Breathing Style! This is utterly unflashy!"
Uzui's words had barely fallen before they acted like a lit fuse.
"Umu! Uzui is absolutely right!"
Kyojuro Rengoku abruptly rose like a blazing torch, his figure tall and straight, his long red-and-gold hair resembling burning flames.
At that moment, his bright red-and-gold eyes blazed with scorching light, fixed firmly on Kirishima Bupai.
His voice boomed like a bell, filled with unquestionable frankness and a pure thirst for battle. "The Master's recognition and your father's expectations are certainly important! But a seat among the Hashira demands proof of genuine strength! Words alone prove nothing!"
As he spoke, Rengoku abruptly pressed his right hand against the hilt of the Nichirin Blade at his waist, and a scorching aura began to rise around him.
"Kirishima! As the Flame Hashira, I, Kyojuro Rengoku, hereby formally request a sparring match with you!"
His voice carried a flame-like enthusiasm and a trace of anticipation for a truly powerful opponent.
"Please, let us experience for ourselves just what earth-shaking prowess you possess!"
Rengoku held his head high and roared as though making a proclamation, "Burn, my hot blood! Let me see your flames!"
"..."
Beside him, Sanemi Shinazugawa said nothing.
His response to Rengoku's declaration was to bare a mouthful of stark white teeth in an utterly savage grin.
His right hand had long since closed tightly around the hilt of the Nichirin Blade at his waist, veins bulging on the back of his hand.
More chilling still, visible blue-green whirlwinds, carrying a keen cutting edge and a faint scent of blood, began gathering around him.
Shinobu Kocho still wore her signature honey-sweet smile, her purple eyes curving into crescents.
Yet that smile was like a thin veil laid over ice, never penetrating into the depths of her eyes.
With an exceedingly elegant motion, her slender, pale fingers gently brushed the hilt of the long, thin Nichirin Blade at her waist, shaped like a deadly poison needle.
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