Jeffrey Castillo
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FG Chapter 33: Easy Answer
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 10:22:13 +0000 UTCPatience… more patience… still more patience…
If only he’d had the patience to keep them a few more years—help perfect their Breathing, hone their craft—maybe things wouldn’t have come to this.
Wearing a striped haori of cloud-white over blue, Urokodaki Sakonji walked ahead.
Roy and Tanjiro followed at an easy pace behind,
and behind them trailed a line of bowing spirits—a scene uncanny and strange.
Slurp— Makomo seized the chance as Tanjiro passed and stuck out her little tongue to lick the rabbit—naturally, she licked nothing.
“I’ve never hated being a ghost as much as today.” Sabito seemed to hear her thought; he gave her a helpless look, then matched Roy’s pace.
The boy’s frame was too tall for his age; basket on his back, every step looked measured and sure—clearly not ordinary.
He’s been through harsh training. And with that speed earlier, his physique’s far beyond mine—already close to Giyu’s level…
A layman watches the spectacle; a craftsman watches the method. What Sabito saw, Urokodaki saw farther.
“Master’s interested,” Makomo said, not sad about missing a bite—happy instead. “Master will have company.
“And we’ll have company too…”
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Sabito said, palm on his katana, back to Mt. Sagiri’s peak. “They still have to pass the test.”
Horse or mule—you have to take it out and run it. The traps buried deep in Mt. Sagiri aren’t for show; speed alone won’t carry you through.
Cre-eak. The wooden door opened. Urokodaki set his chisel on the rack, shook off the snow, and stepped inside.
Roy and Tanjiro stomped their boots, set down the basket, and handed over the rabbits.
A fine swordsman isn’t always a fine cook—but he’s always a master with a blade. In Urokodaki’s hands the half-roasted rabbits were sliced into even cubes in a blur, splashed with sake to kill the gamey scent, then tossed with sauce and greens. Soon a “pauper’s red-braised rabbit” took shape.
He slid the bedboard aside, lit the hibachi, and set the pot to a slow simmer.
Sniff, sniff… Makomo’s nose twitched; she could hardly sit still.
She knelt by Urokodaki. Across the brazier sat Roy and Tanjiro. Sabito and the other spirits slipped through the walls in twos and threes, not too close, settling onto the floor until the little cabin felt full to the brim—oddly warm and homelike.
Gurururu… The clay pot bubbled.
Only then did Urokodaki study Roy and Tanjiro in earnest.
The Kamado brothers shared a hint of resemblance, but their builds were worlds apart.
Maybe thanks to the “life energy” inherited from Minamino, Roy looked sturdier than before. Seated cross-legged by the fire, he had the stillness of a mountain.
Beside him, pure-hearted Tanjiro seemed green. He sat up straight, imitating Roy—very much a “little grown-up.”
“He won’t do.” After a pause, Urokodaki flicked a glance at Tanjiro and spoke bluntly. “Too young to bear the load. Go home and recover for three years.”
“I’m not little!” The thought of being separated from Roy made Tanjiro bristle and flex a bicep. “I helped Nii-san kill a demon!”
What?!
Every gaze in the room snapped to him; an unseen pressure made his scalp prickle—though he couldn’t see Sabito, Makomo, and the others.
“You already met a demon?” Shinsuke, lazing in a corner, yelped and zipped to hover over Tanjiro, circling his head.
A cold gust swirled; Tanjiro shivered.
Urokodaki’s eyes locked on him. Swallowing, Tanjiro forced the words out: “The one in the mountains—I didn’t help. But the one in the shrine last night—I did…”
Not only helped—hesitated so long Nii-san nearly smacked me dead with an axe… he added silently, cheek still faintly sore.
Urokodaki said nothing, looking long at the boy… then turned. Behind him, a whole row of disciples’ spirits followed his gaze to Roy.
Tanjiro had said everything and nothing. What does “I didn’t help with the one in the mountains” mean?
Shinsuke and Fukuda wanted to yank his ears and make him explain. If he wasn’t lying, it meant—
the quiet boy opposite their master had soloed a demon.
And without any Breathing.
“Oooh—he might be stronger than you, Sabito,” Makomo whispered, finally prying her eyes off the clay pot.
Stronger than Giyu, Sabito agreed silently, eyes on Roy.
Roy gave Tanjiro’s back a reassuring pat, then pressed his palms together and faced Urokodaki with a sincere bow. “Demons eat people first; people kill demons after.
“My brother’s blunt—please forgive him, Urokodaki-sama.”
Urokodaki still held his tongue, studying Roy again. From a few words he’d already sensed it: a boy utterly unlike Sabito or Giyu…
Too calm. Too steady. Too patient. A maturity far beyond his years—startling to see.
“Much as I hate to admit it…
“You’re extremely gifted.”
“Maybe you can kill it…”
His sigh was long.
Roy glanced at Sabito. He knew exactly what “it” meant: the Hand Demon—Urokodaki’s captive in Mt. Fujikasane—who’d devoured every one of his master’s disciples, Sabito and Makomo included. Urokodaki stirred the pot to keep it from sticking.
He spoke to himself: “You’ve patience, talent, and judgment. Any other trainer would have taken you in by now. I am different…”
He set the lid, lifted his eyes to spear Roy’s—determined not to let a single lie slip past.
“Tell me your resolve. What sustains you, choosing to kill demons?”
Roy smiled.
He didn’t flinch from the stare. “Honestly, that’s a foolish question.
“Once a demon chooses to eat people, it chooses its death.
“Killing it is only right.”
“Oooh.” Makomo’s eyes gleamed; she tipped her head toward Sabito. “He’s cooler than you…”
Under the fox mask, Sabito’s eyes lit—two bright flames suddenly burning.
