Arrival

The gesture drew everyone's attention.

"On Mount Fujikasane, I ran into a big one. Looked like a mountain of flesh, with arms wrapped all around it. Disgusting." Rokuya undid the tight knots on the cloth bundle as he spoke in an even tone, as though he were talking about stepping on a stone while out that day.

At the words "mountain of flesh" and "arms wrapped all around it," Urokodaki's body went rigid, and a chill shot from the base of his spine to the crown of his head.

"That thing was a chatterbox. Kept yammering about how it loved eating brats wearing fox masks. Said they were some kind of death mark."

Rokuya undid the last knot.

Clatter-

A heap of objects stained with blood and ash tumbled out of the cloth bundle, scattering across the wooden floor beside the hearth.

They were broken fox masks.

Some had only half left, some were covered in cracks, and some were blackened with soot. But on their foreheads or cheeks, the distinctive patterns meant to ward off disaster and misfortune were still faintly recognizable.

The air in the room froze completely at that moment.

Rokuya looked calmly at Urokodaki, his voice without the slightest ripple, yet every word struck the old man's heart like a heavy hammer.

"He talked too much. Gave me a headache. So I split him in half, right through his neck and shoulders."

Rokuya pointed at the masks on the floor. After the Hand Demon was beheaded, its body had turned to ash, leaving behind the fox masks it had swallowed but could not digest because of their special material. Rokuya had spent most of a day on the mountain finding every piece.

"I don't know who owned these battered masks, but I figured you'd recognize them, old man."

Sakonji Urokodaki stared fixedly at the broken masks on the floor.

His vision blurred.

That was Zhen Tu's mask... that was Fugui's mask... that was Kiyo's mask...

Thirteen. Thirteen Warding Masks he had carved with his own hands and placed on his students' faces himself, praying for their safe return.

Thirteen vibrant lives, thirteen bright voices saying, "Master, I'm off."

They had not betrayed Water Breathing. They had not deserted in the face of battle. They had simply... died under a vicious curse aimed at him, Sakonji Urokodaki.

"Aaaaaaagh-!!!!"

An utterly agonized wail erupted from beneath the Tengu Mask.

Sakonji Urokodaki, that indomitable old man, the former Water Hashira who had never retreated a single step even before an Upper Rank demon, threw himself to the floor like a child who had lost everything. He reached out with trembling hands and clutched the broken masks tightly to his chest. Tears burst from the edges of his mask like a breached dam, dripping onto the bloodstained wooden fragments.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... your master got you killed... I'm so sorry..."

Tears spilled from Sabito's eyes. Though he did not know exactly what had happened, he could feel Master Urokodaki's heart-wrenching grief and... the relief of finally being freed. He stepped forward, knelt beside Urokodaki, and wrapped his arms tightly around the old man's shoulders.

Makomo and Giyu rushed over in tears as well. The four people who had depended on one another clung together and wept, releasing all the fear, sorrow, and self-reproach that had built up in their hearts over the past few years.

Rokuya watched the scene quietly.

In his mind, the system made no sound announcing any Gratitude Points gained.

But he did not care.

He stood, brushed the dust from his trouser legs, and pushed the door open without a word, stepping out into the sunlight.

"I can't stand all this crying." Rokuya looked up at the clear blue sky, yet he could not help the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Guess that untied the knot for you, old man."

A month later.

The tranquility of Mount Sagiri was still shattered every day by Rokuya's merciless fists.

"That's not how you use Water Surface Slash! Sabito! Your strikes are too weak! Haven't you eaten? Slash at that rock another thousand times!"

"Giyu! Don't hesitate! Do you want a demon to bite your neck off? Strike! Strike like you're going to cleave the mountain apart!"

Bare-chested, Rokuya sat on a huge rock beside the waterfall with a branch in his hand, gesturing and barking orders at the three below like a judge from hell.

During that month of waiting, Rokuya's daily routine consisted of eating, sleeping, and beating up his three junior disciples. Yet after the incident with the masks, Sabito and the others had undergone a complete change in mindset.

Especially Giyu. The boy who had once felt inferior to his very bones, who had always thought he did not deserve to stand beside everyone else, still spoke little, but his eyes now held a ruthless, unrelenting determination when he swung his sword.

Just as Rokuya was about to jump down and give Sabito another kick, the clear sound of wind chimes drifted from the distant mountain path.

Tinkle-tinkle-

A man wearing a bizarre Hyottoko Mask, with wind chimes hanging all over his body and several absurdly long wooden cases strapped to his back, strode furiously toward them in wooden clogs.

Before the man even reached them, his irate curses had already carried across the entire mountainside.

"I'm furious! Absolutely furious! What brainless lunatic was it?! What idiot who knows nothing about swordsmanship?!"

The man in the Hyottoko Mask rushed into the clearing on Mount Sagiri, flailing his arms like a madman and bellowing at the top of his lungs.

"Who is Takanashi Rokuno?! Get out here!"

Hearing the commotion, Urokodaki came out of the wooden cabin. He looked at the visitor and sighed helplessly. "Haganezuka, you're as hot-tempered as ever."

"Urokodaki! What kind of damned disciple have you been teaching?!" At the sight of Urokodaki, Haganezuka Hotaru immediately turned his fire on him, pointing at his nose and unleashing a torrent of abuse. "Do you know what unreasonable demands he made?! A giant cleaver? The proportions of a door panel? No curve?! This is an insult to Nichirin Blades! This is sacrilege against swordsmiths! In all my years of forging swords, I, Haganezuka Hotaru, have never seen such a stupid swordsman!"

Rokuya slipped on his haori and ambled over from the waterfall.

"What are you yelling for? You're too loud." Rokuya picked at his ear, his gaze falling on the enormous, elongated wooden case on Haganezuka's back.

The case was taller than a person and astonishingly wide, nothing like the dimensions of a case for an ordinary Nichirin Blade.

Haganezuka Hotaru whipped his head around and stared hard at Rokuya. "You're that idiot? Hmph. With those scrawny arms and legs, I doubt you can even swing an ordinary katana properly! Do you have any idea how heavy that ore was? To meet your ridiculous demands, I melted all of it together without removing a single impurity! This blade weighs three hundred jin! Do you think you're a bear?!"

Growing more agitated as he spoke, Haganezuka abruptly unstrapped the enormous wooden case from his back and slammed it onto the ground with a bang, making the earth shudder three times.

"Go on! Pick it up! If you can't lift it today, I'll smash your head in with it!"