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"So, this is where we part ways, huh?"
At the fork in the road leading in two different directions, Iori and Takeo stood side by side, both feeling a bit sentimental.
It had been three days since the Final Selection ended. Because they were tired, they had stayed an extra day before heading back.
Now, Takeo was returning to the Rengoku estate, to report to Kyojuro that he had passed the selection.
Iori, meanwhile, was going to report back to her cultivator—her grandfather, and share the good news that she had officially become a Demon Slayer.
In half a month or maybe a full month, once their custom Nichirin swords were finished, they'd begin receiving missions.
But since their destinations were different, this was where the two of them had to part.
Iori was clearly reluctant.
"You better write to me, brat! Who knows how long it'll be before we meet again after this!"
She ruffled Takeo's slightly long red hair, giving him repeated reminders.
Takeo stared at her deadpan, letting her mess up his hair while silently reflecting—
Have I been too nice to this woman lately? She's getting bolder by the day… Maybe I should punch her before we say goodbye.
"If you want me to write to you, shouldn't you give me your address first?" Takeo said as he slapped Iori's hand away.
Iori froze for a second, then smacked her fist into her palm in realization. "Oh, right! Hang on, I'll write it down for you—!!"
She turned around, pulled out pen and paper from her pack, and started jotting down her address. While writing, she asked casually,
"By the way, where are you staying now?"
"Tokyo Prefecture, Ebara District. At the Rengoku estate."
"Ohh, Tokyo Prefecture, Ebara Distric—wait… WHAT?!"
She stopped mid-sentence. A second later, she spun around and grabbed Takeo by the shoulders, shouting:
"What did you just say?! Rengoku estate!? Isn't that where the current Flame Hashira lives!? What's your relationship with the Flame Hashira!?"
"Hm? I didn't mention it? Kyojuro-san told me that if I passed the Final Selection, he'd take me in as his foster son."
"YOU DEFINITELY DID NOT MENTION THAT!!"
"You didn't ask tho—"
"Hiya! Becoming a Hashira's Tsuguko!? That basically guarantees you'll be the next Flame Hashira as long as you survive! That's insanely unfair—I'm so jealous I could scream!!"
Iori shook Takeo's shoulders wildly, her envy and disbelief practically bursting into the sky.
From the very beginning, Iori had dreamed of being trained by a Hashira—even a retired one would've been fine. With that kind of mentorship, she might have had a shot at becoming a Hashira herself one day.
In the end, the one who had trained Iori wasn't even a former Hashira—just an ordinary former swordsman. And now, this brat she'd casually run into turned out to be the foster son of the current Flame Hashira.
The sheer jealousy radiating off Iori could practically be smelled in the air—it was that intense.
Seeing her burning with envy, Takeo couldn't help but pat her shoulder and say,
"Ok, ok. No need to be jealous. I mean, if you became the Flame Hashira's Tsuguko, I doubt you'd last three days."
"What was that?! Are you looking down on me, brat?!" Iori bared her teeth, flailing her arms.
"It's not an insult. I'm just stating the truth. You've seen my recovery ability, right?"
"I've seen it! So what?!"
"Well, even I need to lie down for a full night to recover after going through Kyojuro-san's training... And that's just a single session. Normally, that kind of training lasts one to two months straight."
Takeo spoke earnestly, describing Rengoku Kyojuro's hellish training regimen in detail.
Iori was stunned on the spot. She blinked slowly and asked, "…Every day?"
"Every day."
"…"
A heavy silence settled over the fork in the road. Iori and Takeo stared at each other for a long moment before she finally let go of his shoulders, stood up, and said with forced nonchalance,
"You know what? I suddenly feel like my old cultivator grandpa isn't so bad after all. Being the Flame Hashira's foster kid… doesn't sound that appealing, actually."
Although Iori had once claimed that if she ever had the chance to become a Hashira's disciple, she'd gladly endure any brutal training—
Well… that was then, and this is now!
That kind of resolve only applied when the training wasn't going to kill her.
And if Rengoku Kyojuro's training was something even this demon-like red-haired brat with crazy regeneration could barely withstand, then what chance did she—a normal person—have?
Forget it.
Maybe she really wasn't cut out to be a Hashira's foster child after all.
With a conflicted heart and tears threatening to fall, Iori said her goodbyes to Takeo.
Takeo gave her a small wave, the corners of his lips lifting into a slight smile.
He hadn't exaggerated anything. Rengoku Kyojuro's training was truly more Spartan than Spartan itself. Every night after training, Takeo collapsed into bed the moment it was over, his body pushed to the absolute limit of its regenerative ability.
But it was precisely because Kyojuro knew how strong Takeo's regeneration was that he set such an extreme training load—several times greater than what a normal person could handle.
If it had been a normal trainee, Kyojuro would have adjusted the regimen accordingly. So in truth, his training wasn't as terrifying as Iori imagined.
Harsh, yes—but not impossible.
But Takeo didn't bother explaining any of this to Iori—first, because there was no need to, and second, because he genuinely didn't believe Iori could endure Kyojuro's training.
After all, Kyojuro Rengoku had taken in several Tsuguko candidates over the years, and aside from Kanroji Mitsuri, none of them had lasted.
Even Takeo himself—if not for the willpower inherited from Old Man Logan—would've likely run off by now.
That's why, if Iori really did go and ask the Flame Hashira to become his foster daughter, Kyojuro might say yes, but she definitely wouldn't last more than a few days.
Rather than let her face that kind of disappointment, it was better not to say anything at all.
"…Time to head back."
Gripping his slightly damaged Nichirin sword, Takeo glanced up at the sky and began walking in the direction of the Rengoku estate.
In this world, Takeo had never had a fixed home. He usually stayed wherever his feet took him.
But now—he had a place to return to. And that gave him a sense of belonging he hadn't felt before.
He hadn't stayed long at the Rengoku household, but whether it was Kyojuro or Senjuro, he had a good impression of both.
The only exception was that drunkard, Shinjuro Rengoku—Takeo really didn't like him.
Still, since the old drunk rarely ever showed up at the training grounds, Takeo just pretended he didn't exist.
All in all, the Rengoku estate could be considered Takeo's first real home in this world. So just thinking about going back put him in a pretty good mood.
The journey back went smoothly, with no unexpected encounters—and by "unexpected," he meant demons.
Unlike last time, where he'd run into a demon while traveling, nothing of the sort happened this time.
To be fair, that kind of encounter was rare. Demons generally didn't appear in heavily populated areas. They preferred to hide themselves, avoiding detection by the Demon Slayer Corps.
For whatever reason, demons tended to operate alone. They didn't gather in groups. While a lone demon could easily kill one or two ordinary humans, if a crowd gathered, even the demon could be in danger.
The exception, of course, was demons who possessed Blood Demon Arts.
But demons of that caliber were even better at hiding—and even less likely to be found easily.
Was that because of the orders given by the Demon King, Kibutsuji Muzan?
Takeo pondered idly as he traveled.
The Demon King, Kibutsuji Muzan—the original source of all demons.
It was said he had lived for over a thousand years, and that the Demon Slayer Corps had been entangled in a struggle with him for just as long.
The Corps had been founded with one ultimate goal: to kill Muzan.
But Muzan was a master of evasion. He was so powerful that not even a single Hashira stood a chance alone.
And when multiple Hashira gathered… Muzan simply couldn't be found.
And that was why the Demon Slayer Corps and Kibutsuji Muzan had remained locked in conflict for so long.
But perhaps… that cycle would finally end with this generation.
After all, the protagonist, Tanjiro Kamado, had already been born and probably holds a deep hatred towards Demons. If anime and movie tropes held true, Tanjiro would eventually confront the Demon King—and ultimately defeat him.
Which meant… even if Takeo did nothing, he might still survive until the very end.
But then…
How many people would have to die in the meantime?
An image of Kyojuro surfaced in Takeo's mind. Would he also fall in battle against Kibutsuji Muzan?
Would someone that strong… really die at the hands of a demon?
As he walked, lost in thought, Takeo continued refining his newly created Wolf Breathing, running through the forms in his mind.
Eventually, he arrived safely back at the Rengoku estate.
However, something caught him off guard—Kyojuro wasn't home.
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12 Advance chapters—P@treon/HornyFBI