Jeffrey Castillo
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FG Chapter 32: Urokodaki Sakonji
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 10:21:45 +0000 UTCThe sounds of roughhousing and chasing echoed around…
Pity only Roy could hear them.
Gurururu…
The water boiled and popped the lid. Tanjiro, quick as a fox, lifted the pot and poured a cup of hot tea for Roy.
He leaned in and whispered, “Nii-san, why does this place feel creepy… like someone’s watching us?”
Father Tanjuro was the first in a thousand years, since ancestor Kamado Sumiyoshi, to step into the Transparent World. Maybe Tanjiro inherited it; maybe their forebears bless him—either way, his sense of smell is preternaturally sharp. Years later, after training Water Breathing, he could even smell Sabito’s blade flow and pre-read his attacks to split his mask—already one hand on the edge of the Transparent World.
So noticing something “off” on pure instinct wasn’t strange.
“What do you smell?”
“I don’t know… a bit like Mr. Minamino…”
Tanjiro’s nostrils flared; he couldn’t describe it. Where he couldn’t see, a few cold gusts swirled in and ringed him—Shinsuke and Fukuda among them.
“Whoa—this guy’s got a sharp nose.”
“Just like Master—can track a demon by scent alone, even tell how many people it’s eaten…”
“At this rate, he might be better suited than Giyu to learn a Breathing style…”
Chatter bubbled up. A few wandering souls took an interest in Tanjiro’s words, fluttering over his head—yet none dared blunder through his body. They knew full well a living soul can be jolted by a passing spirit.
“Hiss…” Tanjiro sucked a breath. Why is it suddenly colder? He hugged his arms and edged closer to Roy.
Roy focused on his dumpling, washed down the last bite with tea, and glanced up—catching the boy and girl by Urokodaki Sakonji looking over in surprise. His calm gaze passed through them and settled on Urokodaki.
The old Water Hashira carved mask after mask; man and world were one—there and not there. If you weren’t looking, or didn’t come for him on purpose, you’d miss him. The state felt a bit like Zetsu: sensing and merging with nature to lower one’s presence. The difference? One seals all aura to sharpen the senses; the other is decades of consummate craft. How much the same—and how different—was worth pondering, if he’d grant an audience.
Tok… tok…
Chips flew. At some point Urokodaki had switched chisels. Maybe he wasn’t used to the new one; maybe the onlookers rattled him. This stroke—
went crooked.
The fox’s mouth skewed, as if mocking him:
You can carve all you want—couldn’t save your own disciple.
“Master…” Makomo crouched nearby, watching in silence; beside her, silent Sabito.
Urokodaki froze for a few seconds, set aside the ruined mask for a fresh block, and continued carving—apparently still unaware of visitors outside the yard.
Tanjiro rubbed his hands, anxious. He couldn’t hold it in. “Nii-san, should I knock?”
A door? What door?
A Hashira doesn’t need a door to bar demons. He is the door.
Roy sipped tea and said, unhurried, “If you can’t sit still, go catch some game.”
Too many dumplings, not enough fat—meat would do them good.
“No, I’ll stay with you.” Tanjiro shook his head. Something felt wrong; he wasn’t leaving Nii-san.
“Then I’ll go.” Roy stood. Ignoring Tanjiro calling after him, he slid into Silent Gait—gone in three strides.
He was so fast he left an afterimage where he’d been, enough to fool the eye into thinking he hadn’t moved.
“Hm?”
A chill brushed the air; several gazes swung in unison—still a beat too late, catching only Roy’s slipstream.
“Man, he’s fast!” Fukuda yelped. “Shinsuke, I didn’t imagine that, did I?”
Shinsuke shot him a look. “You’re dead, not blind. You need my eyeballs to tell?”
In that blink Roy was back, strolling in with two wild rabbits by the ears.
“Ss—”
The rhythm broke.
Flames leapt erratically. The souls that had circled Tanjiro now swept toward Roy, peering him over like he’d grown an extra leg. But they didn’t dare crowd close; as he walked, they parted to either side. At the end of that aisle stood—
Sabito, hand on his katana.
“If you’d had that speed back then, you wouldn’t have died, right?” Makomo rose, eyes shining as Roy’s figure reflected in them—disbelief plain.
Sabito said nothing.
It was true: with that speed, even if he couldn’t win, he could have escaped. But… would he? If he ran, what about Giyu—back then a crybaby too scared to hold a sword before that thing?
Sabito shook his head with a wry smile, then looked at Makomo, serious now. “This time… I really think there’s a chance.”
“Hmmm… let’s watch them eat first.”
…
The fire melted snow and pushed warm air into the fog. Roy drew his axe, cleaned the rabbits with the hot water, and he and Tanjiro skewered one each and set them over the flames.
Szz— Fat rendered to oil and fed the blaze. In no time the rabbits gleamed, rich and tempting.
No cumin, no spice rub, no scallions or ginger to marinate—winter leaves little. The only seasoning was a small tin of salt Tanjiro dug from the basket.
Even so, the smell reeled in “gluttonous ghosts”—Fukuda, Shinsuke, Makomo…
Makomo stared unblinking at Roy’s rabbit, licked her lips, and said to Sabito, “Hey, Sabito—think of something… I want some.”
What am I supposed to do?
You said yourself—we “watch” them eat.
Sabito fell silent, eyes narrowing as a glint flashed at the edge of his sight—
“If you don’t oil and marinate rabbit first, it tastes gamey. If you don’t mind, you two—come inside. I’ll prepare it properly.”
Urokodaki Sakonji had appeared at the fire without anyone noticing.
The ruined fox mask lay quietly on the stump where he’d left it.
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