The iron pot in the center of the room steamed gently, filling the wooden cabin with the rich aroma of fish and herbs. Tanjiro sat beside the fire, eyes wide with joy and surprise at the feast laid before him.
"Why are there so many ingredients today?" he asked, looking between Shin and Urokodaki Sakonji.
Urokodaki Sakonji, ladling a generous portion of soup and vegetables into a bowl, handed it to Tanjiro with a calm smile. "This is to celebrate the completion of your training. Don't hold back—eat your fill. Your Senior Brother Shin gathered all of this just for you."
"Thank you, Master! Thank you, Senior Shin!" Tanjiro beamed. "I won't be shy, then!"
Without another word, he eagerly accepted the bowl and dug in with the energy of someone who hadn't tasted real warmth in a long time.
Urokodaki Sakonji then filled another bowl and handed it to Shin. "Here, Shin. You eat too. You worked hard, too."
"Thank you, Master." This time, Shin used the title "Master" seriously—a rare occasion, as he usually just called Urokodaki "old man." But tonight was special.
Instead of waiting for Urokodaki Sakonji to start eating, as he usually did out of courtesy, Shin picked up his chopsticks right away. This wasn't a formal dinner. It was a celebration—a moment gifted by their teacher, from elder to younger.
Urokodaki Sakonji watched the two boys with quiet satisfaction. The image stirred memories deep in his heart—of Giyu Tomioka and his own senior brother, sitting by the fire, just like this.
So many years have passed…
He turned to Tanjiro and said, "Tanjiro, out of all my disciples, you're the one I've worried about most. This is all I can do for you now. From here on, I hope you'll continue to grow under Shin's guidance."
. . .
After dinner, Shin stood behind Tanjiro, carefully trimming his unruly hair with a pair of small scissors. A year's worth of wild growth had turned Tanjiro's hair into a bushy mess. This quiet gesture was Shin's way of looking out for him—an older brother's care.
Urokodaki Sakonji, sitting cross-legged by the fire, spoke again.
"Shin, Tanjiro… Was the hot pot and fish delicious?"
Shin said nothing, focusing on the trimming, but in his heart, he agreed—it had been a perfect meal.
Tanjiro, on the other hand, smiled brightly and said, "It was amazing, Master! I haven't had anything that good in a long time!"
Urokodaki nodded slowly. "For someone like you with a huge appetite, food will help you grow stronger. Your body needs it. But remember—ghosts are the same."
At that, he turned to look directly at them, his tone becoming more serious.
"The strength of a demon is almost always equal to the number of humans it devours. The more it eats, the stronger it becomes. Some develop powerful bodies. Others awaken strange powers, like sorcery."
He stood, walked to the wooden cabinet against the wall, and opened it. From within, he took out two carved fox masks.
"These are disaster-warding masks. I've placed a spell on them—to protect you both from misfortune."
He held them out.
"This is my final gift to you."
. . .
The Next Morning
The sun had yet to rise when Shin and Tanjiro stepped out of the cabin. Both wore clean uniforms, swords strapped to their backs, and the fox masks tied securely to their belts.
Tanjiro paused at the door to say a quiet goodbye to Nezuko, who still slept in her box, before turning to follow Shin.
Outside, Urokodaki Sakonji was already waiting.
When he saw Shin step out, he gave him a long, steady look. "You are the most talented of all the children I've ever trained. Make sure you come back alive. Don't let tragedy repeat itself."
Shin nodded. "Understood, Master."
No more words were needed. The two boys turned toward the path down the mountain—toward the Final Selection.
The forest was quiet, the sky barely lit. But their footsteps were firm. The journey of true Demon Slayers had officially begun.
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