Truthfully, if it were only the Breathing Style itself that was shameless, Urokodaki felt he could live with it, since ultimately it was none of his business.
But the problem, the catastrophic, inescapable problem, was that he was his master.
In the future, someone would make an introduction: “This is the disciple of former Water Hashira Sakonji Urokodaki!
He uses Harem Breathing.”
The onlookers would respond: “Oh!
A disciple of the former Water Hashira, worthy of such a distinguished…
wait!
Harem Breathing?!
Is he that swordsman who kills demons by smelling women?!”
Giyu would send a letter, and the letter would probably contain no words of reproach, but would certainly use that dead-fish calm tone of his to ask: “Master, the new Breathing Style you taught your junior disciple is very powerful, but you are getting on in years, so please do take care of your health when you go down the mountain to gather materials.”
His old colleagues from the Demon Slayer Corps would point at Shinsuke, who needed women surrounding him to fight at full power, and burst out laughing: “Look at that!
That’s the new disciple Sakonji just trained!”
“Ha!
He needs girls cheering him on to kill demons?
Sakonji, were you taking him to the entertainment district for training all this time?!”
“To think this is what Urokodaki has become.”
He could even picture it in his mind, the former Thunder Hashira, that bearded wretch Kuwajima Jigoro, sending a letter with not a single written word on it, just the entire page filled edge to edge with “Hahahahahahahaha…”
Even the master himself, Kagaya, might ask in that gentle voice of his: “Urokodaki-san, your disciple’s Breathing Style is…
quite interesting.”
“…”
Sakonji Urokodaki, seventy-two years old, former Water Hashira, one of the most senior Cultivators in the Demon Slayer Corps.
A lifetime of discipline, a lifetime of integrity, a lifetime devoted to training the next generation and to slaying demons.
His honor was the treasure he held most dear, second only to his life.
And now…
He could already see it, his name in the history of the Demon Slayer Corps, forever bound to the description “the master who produced a disciple with a perverted Breathing Style.”
A hundred years from now, when future generations looked through the records and saw “Sakonji Urokodaki,” they would not first think of the Water Hashira who slew countless demons.
They would first think: “Oh!
That’s the one whose disciple needed to sniff women to bring out the full power of his Breathing Style!”
“Hahahaha!”
Laughter, wild and relentless laughter, was already echoing through Urokodaki’s mind.
Thud.
Urokodaki sank to his knees.
Both knees hit the earth, hard and solid.
Both hands pressed into the dirt, his fingers digging deep into the soil.
His shoulders began to shake.
Even the mask on his face slid off with perfect timing, revealing that aged, gentle face, now completely overrun with panicked devastation.
“My…”
He murmured, his voice breaking.
“…lifelong reputation…”
Shinsuke stood beside him, staring in open-mouthed shock.
Master…
what on earth had gotten into him?
He crouched down and carefully poked Urokodaki on the shoulder.
“Master? Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Are you…
alright?”
Urokodaki ignored him.
He simply continued in that sleepwalking murmur, mumbling to himself.
“…the dignity of my final years…”
“…is finished…”
Listening to those words, watching that sight, Shinsuke felt something uncomfortable stir in his chest.
Even though his master had spent these eight months frequently trying to send him away and calling him an idiot, he had also genuinely taught him physical conditioning and swordsmanship, put food in front of him, and kept demons from catching his scent.
Watching the old man suddenly end up like this…
he did feel a pang of something like guilt.
But why?
Why had his master suddenly become like this…
Could it be?!
A flash of insight struck Shinsuke’s mind, and sudden understanding washed over him.
I get it now!
๑乛◡乛๑
Master must be feeling sad because my Breathing Style is so powerful, and yet he wasn’t the one who taught it to me.
He must be thinking that he wasted eight months of my time and failed me as a teacher!
Oh come on~
What a thing to get worked up about.
How could he be this fragile-hearted!~
This won’t do!
Without Master there would be no me today!
I can’t let Master live in self-doubt!
Shinsuke leapt to his feet, stepped back two paces, and bowed deeply, a full, textbook ninety degrees.
When he raised his head, his expression was one of tearful, heartfelt gratitude.
His voice rose, filled with emotion.
“Master!
Please don’t be like this!”
Urokodaki slowly lifted his head, his eyes hollow.
Shinsuke stepped forward, helped Urokodaki to his feet with both hands, and held his cold hands with reverent sincerity, his expression solemn and earnest.
“It was you!
You were the one who discovered my talent!”
“It was your patient, devoted guidance that gave me the foundation to create my own Breathing Style.”
“It was also you who took me out to see the world, which gave rise to the opportunity for the new Breathing Style to be born!”
“Even though the Breathing Style I use is different from yours!”
“Please do not give up on yourself!”
“Because you are an excellent teacher!
You are my most beloved and respected Master!”
Shinsuke faced the setting sun, hand on his chest!
“And so I ask you to believe in me!
I will make it clear to everyone!
My Breathing Style was born from your Water Breathing!”
“The source of Harem Breathing is you!
It is you, Sakonji Urokodaki!”
Wherever the name Shinsuke Shirakawa appears, your name, Sakonji Urokodaki, will absolutely be there, soaring!
Right!
Alongside!
It!”
His voice was impassioned, his eyes shining brightly, and he looked at Urokodaki with hopeful expectation.
Surely Master would feel a little better now~
Urokodaki looked back at him.
That aged face held no expression at all.
The hollowness in his eyes slowly transformed into…
Ash.
Complete and total ash.
Then Urokodaki’s lips moved, and a few words came out.
“Bringing glory…
to my name…?”
Shinsuke nodded furiously.
“Yes yes yes!
I will definitely…”
He didn’t finish.
Urokodaki’s eyes slowly closed.
His body tipped backward.
Thud.
He lay flat on his back, all four limbs spread out, like a ragdoll that had been played with until it broke.
Still.
Shinsuke: “!!!”
Urokodaki: “…”
“Master?
Master!”
Shinsuke crouched down and poked him on the cheek.
“You can’t lie here, the ground is cold.”
No response.
He checked for breathing.
Good…
still breathing.
Was this…
overwhelmed with joy…
and fallen asleep?
That didn’t seem right either.
This looked more like…
Passed out from distress?
Shinsuke’s mouth twitched.
He lifted his head and looked at the sky.
A crow flapped past with a series of caws.
He looked back down at the ground.
The once-dignified Water Hashira, his own master, lying perfectly flat, face serene…