Demon Slayer: Guardian of the Forest

"Lord Koda, I recall you once mentioned that mastering the Breath of the Forest is exceptionally challenging. Many descendants of the Moriki clan eventually resort to supplementary training in other Breathing techniques. Why are you so confident that Lord Shinichi will succeed?"

Beneath the eaves, Chisato Ryukawa questioned the elderly Moriki patriarch with a puzzled look.

The old man gazed into the distant horizon. After a moment of silence, he said slowly, "Because this child, Shinichi, bears an uncanny resemblance to our ancestor in his youth. Yet, he possesses a willpower that even surpasses the founder's.

"Our ancestor admitted that after succumbing to the darkness of becoming a demon, he caused countless atrocities. His overwhelming guilt was why he chose to end his own life.

"But Shinichi… This boy, even as a demon, has never harmed a single human. That's why I firmly believe he can inherit the Breath of the Forest in its entirety and perhaps even perfect its ultimate form, something the founder himself never accomplished."

Hearing this, Chisato nodded seriously. "I understand now."

The elder glanced back at her, his eyes filled with both pride and sorrow. "The Moriki family has carried the duty of slaying demons for a century, but that responsibility has come at great personal cost. Each member of our lineage has faced untold dangers.

"But you, Chisato, you're different. You bear your own name, not the Moriki one. You're not bound by blood to our family's fate. You owe nothing to this legacy, and there is no need for you to risk your life for us.

"Remember what I told you before: you are free to leave at any time, and you may take all that the Moriki family possesses. It's your rightful due for everything you've done for us."

Chisato's normally calm expression tightened instantly. She knelt suddenly, bowing her head low in deep emotion.

"Lord Koda! Please don't say such things. If not for you rescuing me from Kogen Town, I'd have perished long ago as just another wandering ghost in the wastelands.

"From the moment you took me in, I swore my life to the Moriki family. I am willing to dedicate myself to this duty of slaying demons, even at the cost of my own life. Please, Lord Koda, don't cast me out!"

Her forehead hit the wooden floor with a resounding thud.

"Ah…" The elder quickly helped her up, his gaze complex and filled with guilt. Though Chisato often regarded herself as nothing more than a servant, he saw her as his own granddaughter. If circumstances allowed, he would gladly pass the family legacy to her, letting her take the name Moriki Chisato.

But he knew better. The Moriki clan's duty to fight demons was an unyielding burden, and Chisato herself clung to the memory of her original family name—Ryukawa—a tribute to her parents, who had shielded her with their lives.

Behind the sliding door, a figure lurked in the shadows, silently listening to the exchange.

Shinichi sat on the tatami floor, one hand stroking the head of his companion, Maru, a scruffy-looking dog sprawled on his lap. In his other hand was a piece of dorayaki, its once warm surface now cold. His expression didn't change as he overheard the conversation, but he opened his mouth and bit into the sweet pastry, chewing thoughtfully.

Despite his condition as a demon, Shinichi had recently discovered something extraordinary—he could eat again. Not just anything, of course. For reasons unknown, dorayaki was the sole food that carried any taste for him.

Other meals—be they meat, rice, or vegetables—were flavorless, akin to chewing on sawdust. While he could swallow them, the experience was unbearably unpleasant. But dorayaki was different. Its faint sweetness, though barely perceptible, was enough to awaken a sense of joy he had long forgotten.

The dorayaki Shinichi now consumed, however, was far from ordinary. At his insistence, the Moriki clan had crafted a hyper-sweetened version specifically for him. The batter was made with high-sugar water, the filling was half sugar by weight, and a layer of honey was drizzled generously over it. To a human, it would be sickeningly cloying, but for Shinichi, it was barely sweet enough. He had even considered sprinkling powdered sugar on top.

As he took another bite, Shinichi couldn't help but reflect on his current circumstances.

He had agreed to learn the Breath of the Forest, something he never imagined he would do. Was it out of gratitude to the Moriki elder for enabling him to taste food again? Perhaps.

But the old man had been honest—there was no way to turn Shinichi back into a human. Strangely, that fact brought him some comfort. Returning to humanity would mean relinquishing the immense strength and unique powers he had gained as a demon.

In the past, he was nothing but a frail, starving orphan. Now, he wielded strength formidable enough to battle one of the Twelve Kizuki. Shinichi clenched his fist, feeling the surge of power coursing through him, strengthened even further after absorbing the life force of Rokuro, the Lower Rank Four demon.

Still, he was under no delusions. While his current strength surpassed that of several ordinary demons, it paled in comparison to the higher-ranking Kizuki or the demon progenitor himself, Muzan Kibutsuji.

As his thoughts darkened, Shinichi's face twisted, his sharp fangs bared. His claws extended slightly, a reflection of his simmering resolve.

"Muzan… I will kill you, no matter what it takes."

That night, under the cold, silvery glow of a crescent moon, Shinichi faced the elder Moriki in a forest clearing, wearing a simple training outfit.

"What? You want me to sit here holding a pot of grass?" Shinichi scowled, pointing at the green plant in his hands.

The elder nodded solemnly. "Not 'grass,' but the Spirit Sprout. And you're not just sitting. You're meditating. The Breath of the Forest is drawn from the essence of nature itself. To master it, you must first attune yourself to the rhythms of the natural world.

"Listen carefully, Shinichi. Every blade of grass, every towering tree—they breathe. You must still your mind and hear their whispers. Only by synchronizing your own breath with theirs can you unlock the true potential of this technique."

Shinichi groaned. "You make it sound poetic, but it just feels like I'm sitting here like an idiot holding a weed."

The elder gave an encouraging smile. "You'll understand in time. Be patient."

And so began Shinichi's "training." He sat cross-legged in the forest with the Spirit Sprout in his hands, his crimson eyes fixed on its vibrant green leaves.

Hours turned into days, and while Shinichi's strength and patience were tested, the faintest stirrings of connection with nature began to take root in his soul.