Demon Slayer: The Great Swordsman's System, Disciple of Yoriichi

Pushing open the door, Sisho looked back at Tetsuko, who was still kneeling on the floor. "What are you still doing there?"

Tetsuko looked up abruptly, wiping the tears from his face, his expression one of pure elation. "Right!"

Beside them, Tetsukawa grinned, crossing his arms with a look of immense satisfaction.

Standing in the center of the courtyard, Sisho slowly drew the Nichirin Blade from its scabbard.

Shing~

As the blade was unsheathed, the sound of metal rang out, exceptionally crisp in the night air.

"The Breath of the Sun is the breathing style I inherited from my master, Yoriichi," Sisho explained. "Next, I will show you each of its forms."

With that, Sisho swung the Nichirin Blade, unleashing the Breath of the Sun. He slashed forward, and an arc of fire-wreathed energy shot out.

"Breath of the Sun, First Form: Waltz." As he executed the form, Sisho announced its name.

Next, a swing from low to high, a circular rising slash. "Breath of the Sun, Second Form: Blue Heaven."

A horizontal slash, and crimson flames erupted like a wildfire, seeming to scorch the very air. "Breath of the Sun, Third Form: Raging Sun."

From beginning to end, Sisho demonstrated all twelve forms of the Breath of the Sun that he had mastered. Tetsuko and Tetsukawa stood by, completely captivated by the god-like swordsmanship, their hearts and minds profoundly shaken.

The moment he completed the twelfth form, a flash of inspiration struck Sisho's mind. A strange sensation flowed through his body, and his understanding of the Breath of the Sun deepened. Though it was only for an instant, he felt as if he had touched a corner of the Thirteenth Form.

Could it be that one can only truly unleash the power of the Breath of the Sun with their own Nichirin Blade?

Thinking back, Sisho realized he had always been using a wooden sword or someone else's blade. He immediately stopped his sheathing motion and began to perform the forms again. Just as he suspected, every time he completed the twelve forms, his understanding of the breath grew deeper.

He lost track of time, unaware of how many times he had cycled through the forms. He only knew that he was reveling in this state. His breath seemed to resonate with the heavens and the earth, his body and soul merging with the Nichirin Blade. The sword was the man, and the man was the sword. Sisho felt no fatigue, nor would he ever feel it!

With each use of the Breath of the Sun, his swordsmanship and breathing technique improved at a phenomenal rate. Every cycle added hundreds, even thousands, of points to his skills. Immersed in this divine swordplay, Tetsukawa and Tetsuko also seemed to lose all sense of time. The moon hung high in the starry sky, casting Sisho's dancing shadow against the far wall of the courtyard. The two swordsmiths stared, transfixed, their eyes seeing nothing but the figure ceaselessly performing the breathing style.

Meanwhile, in another house in the Swordsmith Village, Michikatsu Tsugikuni, who had been asleep, suddenly opened his eyes.

This feeling… is it the Breath of the Sun?

As the creator of the Breath of the Moon, he was all too familiar with this sensation. He also knew that the only one who could use the Breath of the Sun here was Sisho. But this feeling was vastly different from a few days ago. If the previous Sisho felt like a flawed but beautiful piece of jade, yet to be fully polished, the Sisho of this moment felt like the sun itself, hanging high in the clear sky—magnificent, vast, scorching, and utterly transcendent.

This feeling… it was just like his younger brother, Yoriichi Tsugikuni!

Following the sensation in his heart, Michikatsu looked in Sisho's direction. Sisho, what in the world have you been through?

Under the moonlight, the martial demonstration continued.

In the face of this power, Michikatsu was lost in shock.

On the ground below, the swordsmiths were utterly spellbound.

By the time the sun rose again from the east, Sisho and the two smiths were long gone from the courtyard. Only the scorched patches on the ground and the residual heat in the air testified to what had occurred there.

After handing Michikatsu his newly forged Nichirin Blade, Sisho began the journey back to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters with him.

"You feel… different," Michikatsu suddenly said, observing Sisho closely.

"Do I? I don't think so." Sisho didn't answer directly, simply offering a smile before ignoring him.

Knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer, Michikatsu wisely shut his mouth. The journey was smooth, and the two soon returned to the Corps' residence.

Stepping through the main gate, Sisho immediately noticed something was wrong. The lively atmosphere from when he left was gone. The Corps seemed to have reverted to its initial state: quiet, inactive, somewhat gloomy. There was even an undercurrent of deathly silence.

What on earth happened here?

As he passed some of the buildings, Sisho's sharp eyes noticed ritualistic items placed at the entrances of some rooms. A few sticks of incense were still smoldering, with offerings laid out before them. These were rites for the dead.

Could it be that Oyakata-sama has passed away?!

Remembering that Kagaya Ubuyashiki had been ill before he left, a wave of worry washed over Sisho. He split off from Michikatsu and rushed alone to the Master's estate.

"Kagaya is fine."

It was Amane Ubuyashiki who received him. She told Sisho that while Kagaya's condition was worsening, he was not yet dead.

"If that's the case, then what are all those memorials in the Corps for?"

At this question, Amane's already downcast expression grew even more somber. After a long moment, she finally answered softly.

"It is the Flame Hashira, Lord Rengoku Tojuro!"

Tojuro is dead?!

The moment he heard the news, Sisho shot up from his seat. Although they weren't related by blood, Sisho had a great fondness for Tojuro. He couldn't help but be shocked by his death.

"How did it happen?! Did he fail during a demon hunt? No, Tojuro isn't like that. He was always meticulous and serious about his missions."

As Sisho's mind raced through the possibilities, a single sentence flashed through his memory: Tojuro was also planning to celebrate his birthday early.

Without another moment's hesitation, Sisho left the estate and sprinted towards the Rengoku family home. As he got closer, the crowd of people grew larger. All of them wore sorrowful expressions, carrying ritual paper money and other offerings.

"Make way, let me through!"

Pushing through the crowd, Sisho finally arrived at the Rengoku family's gate. In the center of the courtyard sat a massive coffin. Atop the coffin lay a Nichirin Blade with a flame-shaped handguard. Sisho recognized it instantly as Rengoku Tojuro's sword.

In front of the coffin stood a large stone monument. It recorded Tojuro's life from birth to death, listing his achievements one by one for posterity to admire. And at the very bottom of the monument, a single line was carved:

The 38th Flame Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, Rengoku Tojuro, passed away at the age of twenty-five.

The moment he saw those words, Sisho knew his suspicion was confirmed. He knew the cause of Tojuro's death.

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