At some point, rain began to fall over Mount Sagiri.
A dense curtain of rain poured down, the steady drumming of droplets blanketing the mountain. Yet even beneath this relentless downpour, the sharp cries of training did not cease. The newly arrived boys and girls continued their drills, enduring the rain as they pushed their bodies to the limit.
By now, most of them had already begun practicing Water Breathing.
Sun Breathing placed far too great a burden on the body. After numerous failed attempts, they had all but given up on mastering it.
In the end, only one person had managed to successfully begin training in Sun Breathing.
At this moment, he was receiving personal instruction from Sakonji Urokodaki.
…
Beneath the same massive boulder as before, Tanjiro Kamado stood silently in front of it, unmoving, like a statue carved from stone.
Holding an umbrella, Shinobu Kocho watched him for a moment before turning her gaze to the man beside her.
Soma's tall figure forced her to tilt her head slightly upward, and the motion unconsciously reminded her of a nickname she had once been mocked with.
Biting her lip lightly, she spoke with a faint trace of sarcasm, "Do you really think that, with his current strength, he can cut through that boulder?"
"Why wouldn't he be able to?" Soma replied, glancing at her before shifting his gaze into the distance.
There, Genya Shinazugawa was also training relentlessly in the rain. Even though he couldn't use any Breathing Styles, the boy still pushed himself to strengthen his body, refusing to rely entirely on his unusual ability as a demon devourer.
Further away, the boys and girls who had switched to Water Breathing were progressing rapidly.
And the one receiving individual instruction in Sun Breathing under Urokodaki was also steadily improving.
Everything was moving in a positive direction.
Shinobu could clearly sense the steady growth of all these young trainees. Watching them, she even felt as though she were observing a training camp personally guided by the Hashira.
As the most skilled physician of the Butterfly Mansion, Shinobu had long been involved in the Demon Slayer Corps' secret program to cultivate future Hashira. Her primary responsibility was to maintain the trainees' physical condition, aid in recovery, and treat any injuries sustained during training.
Each year, the Corps selected swordsmen who had already reached a certain level of strength and subjected them to rigorous training under the direct guidance of the Hashira. These swordsmen had to train under every single one of the nine Hashira, and only after earning the approval of all nine could they be considered successful.
Those who participated in such training were, at minimum, near the level of Kinoe-ranked swordsmen—each having slain no fewer than ten demons.
Compared to them, the boys and girls here had only just begun learning Breathing Styles. They were far from being on the same level.
And yet… there was a feeling.
Even if these youths could not become Hashira in the future, they would at least become candidates worthy of that path.
Of course, much of the credit belonged to Urokodaki's guidance.
Since arriving at Mount Sagiri, Shinobu had truly come to understand just how remarkable this former Hashira was. It wasn't merely his strength—it was his method of teaching. He tailored his instruction to each individual, matching training methods to their unique abilities and guiding them with precision.
As a physician, every time she examined these trainees, she could clearly perceive the improvements brought about by Urokodaki's mentorship.
The realization made Shinobu quietly grit her teeth. If not for the tragedy at Mount Fujikasane, where the Hand Demon had slaughtered so many of Urokodaki's students, then many of his disciples might already have become the backbone of the Demon Slayer Corps by now.
It seemed the Final Selection had cost them far too many promising demon slayers.
…
If Urokodaki's ability had surprised her—had even shocked her—then Soma was someone Shinobu simply could not understand at all.
Take Genya, for example. With his weak physical foundation, neither she nor Urokodaki believed he could ever learn a Breathing Style.
And in their view, someone incapable of using Breathing Styles should not have been able to walk the path of a demon slayer at all.
And yet, Soma had somehow managed to uncover the rare, unusual constitution hidden within Genya Shinazugawa, allowing him to step onto the path of demon hunting through an entirely different method.
Even Shinobu, a physician, had failed to detect such a trait—so how had he seen it?
Now, he was even asking Tanjiro Kamado to cut through a massive boulder that seemed utterly impossible to slice apart.
It all felt absurd… and yet, he spoke of it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Shinobu cast one last glance at the boy standing motionless in the rain, like a statue carved from unwavering resolve. Then, holding her umbrella, she turned and headed back to her quarters, intending to prepare some medicinal broth.
…
When Soma returned home, an unexpected sight greeted him in the spacious hall.
Nezuko Kamado and Kanao Tsuyuri were in the middle of a sparring match.
Almost the moment he stepped inside, Nezuko was struck down by Kanao, her body falling flat onto the wooden floor in a perfect "starfish" position. If not for the clear rise and fall of her chest, one might have thought she had been knocked unconscious—or worse.
The instant Kanao noticed him, her expression lit up with delight. She dashed toward him without hesitation and threw herself straight into his arms.
"I just came in from outside, I'm still damp," Soma muttered softly.
Yet even as he spoke, his hand instinctively reached up to pat her head. In response, Kanao leaned into the touch, rubbing her head gently against his palm.
Feeling her quiet dependence, Soma could only smile with a hint of helplessness.
Meanwhile, Nezuko slowly pushed herself up from the floor. The memory of her embarrassing attempt to "play dead" just now—fully witnessed by Soma—made her face burn with humiliation. Before long, that embarrassment turned into frustration, which she promptly directed toward the one responsible for it.
"Kanao, again!"
Her voice rang out much louder than usual, aimed straight at Kanao, who was still basking in Soma's affectionate head pats.
Kanao tilted her head slightly, her pinkish-purple eyes shifting toward Nezuko.
Under that gaze, Nezuko instinctively took a small step back—but the moment she realized it, shame flared within her. She straightened immediately, lifting her chin. The outline of her developing figure was already becoming more pronounced.
"Again," she repeated, gripping her wooden sword as she assumed a ready stance.
Kanao stepped forward as well, picking up her own wooden sword. A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes when Nezuko launched the first attack.
Compared to before, her movements were noticeably faster—more decisive, and filled with greater courage.
As the two girls clashed, Soma moved to a chair in the corner, calmly sipping the tea left on the table while watching their duel.
Both were young and strikingly beautiful, with slender waists and graceful, fluid movements. Their forms flowed with a natural elegance that made the match… unexpectedly pleasant to watch.
In short, it was a rather enjoyable scene.
THUD.
But failure seemed to follow Nezuko closely.
Kanao had already predicted her next move. With a swift counter, she struck cleanly, sending Nezuko crashing to the floor once again.
Lying there, Nezuko instinctively glanced toward Soma. When she saw his gaze resting on her fallen form yet again, embarrassment surged through her. She quickly turned her head away, a faint shadow dimming the brightness in her eyes.
No matter what she did… she simply couldn't measure up to Kanao.
Meanwhile, Kanao stood there, breathing lightly as she looked down at Nezuko. There was a trace of frustration in her otherwise calm pinkish-purple eyes.
This time, Nezuko had lasted longer than before.
She was improving—quickly.
And that fact stirred a subtle sense of urgency within Kanao, as though she might one day be caught up to.
It wasn't jealousy of Nezuko's progress.
It was frustration… at her own pace being too slow.