Rokuya looked at the two brimming with confidence before him, the twin Hashira, and could not help feeling a surge of relief. He patted their shoulders and looked up at the distant sky. Though the pressure of the approaching battle weighed heavily on him, seeing the Demon Slayer Corps' fresh blood rise at such an astonishing pace, he knew they were not without a chance of winning this fated battle spanning a thousand years.
Time flew by. In the blink of an eye, spring gave way to autumn, and a full year slipped quietly past amid flashing blades and sweat.
Over that year, apart from his routine patrols, hunting down the scattered demons that surfaced, and occasionally attending Hashira Meetings, Rokuya devoted most of his energy to one boy-Tanjiro Kamado.
On the Back Mountain behind the Butterfly Mansion lay a secluded training ground Rokuya had specially cleared. Repeated exposure to intense heat had hardened the ground, and the surrounding trees had yellowed somewhat, unable to withstand the frequently erupting waves of heat.
"Again! Your breathing is off!"
Rokuya barked sternly. The sheathed Shura Blade in his hand became a blur, whipping through the air with a sharp whistle before striking Tanjiro hard across the back.
Thud!
The tremendous force sent Tanjiro flying, and he tumbled several times across the ground in a sorry heap. Dirt covered his body, sweat soaked his training clothes, and his lungs wheezed like broken bellows as he gasped violently. His eyes were bloodshot, and every breath felt as though blades were slicing through his windpipe-the physical backlash from forcibly channeling a searing power that did not belong to Water Breathing.
"Get up." Rokuya looked down at him coldly. "Muzan won't give you a chance to catch your breath."
Tanjiro gritted his teeth, his hands