In the courtyard of the Butterfly Mansion, Hanayuki Ichika sat cross-legged with his eyes closed under the porch.
After an afternoon of meditation, he felt he had touched upon something—
Not a specific move, but a “feeling,” a “frequency” that resonated with his current physical and mental state.
“Hey! Demon!” Sanemi Shinazugawa’s gruff voice broke the silence of the courtyard.
“I heard you want to create a Breathing Style? Dream on!”
Hanayuki Ichika slowly opened his eyes.
He saw many people gathered at the entrance of the courtyard—
Besides the fuming Shinazugawa, there were several other Hashira, along with more curious or hostile members.
Kochou Shinobu stood quietly by a porch pillar, her hands tucked into her sleeves.
Her usual smile was on her face, hiding any emotion.
“If a demon can create a Breathing Style,” Sanemi Shinazugawa sneered, crossing his arms, his tone full of provocation, “then I’ll wash my hair while doing a handstand!”
A wave of suppressed laughter echoed around.
Hanayuki Ichika didn’t respond immediately.
He stood up, walked to the center of the courtyard, and calmly scanned the crowd.
Then, he slowly raised his right hand, gesturing as if gripping a hilt.
“Actually,” he said softly, “I already have a small idea.”
As he spoke, his breathing rhythm suddenly changed.
It wasn’t any known Breathing Style—not the blazing heat of Flame Breathing, not the fluidity of Water Breathing, not the explosiveness of Thunder Breathing, and not the light agility of Insect Breathing.
It was a…
deep, quiet breath, as if it could suck in even the light itself.
With his breath, the light in the courtyard seemed to dim for a moment.
It wasn’t a true darkening, but a condensation of some “presence”—shadows elongated and twisted at his feet, as if they had come to life.
Hanayuki Ichika moved.
In the next instant, he appeared on the other side of the courtyard—not moving in a straight line, but as if gliding along some invisible trail of shadow.
During the movement, his right hand made a slashing motion.
“Breath of Darkness, First Form—”
A low voice rang out.
“Shadow: Night-Treading Slash.”
There was no dazzling light, no ear-splitting roar.
Only an extremely thin, faint black blade wind silently sliced through the air, hitting a wooden post in the corner of the courtyard.
“Swish—”
A slight sound of tearing.
The wooden post stood quietly in place.
A few seconds later, the upper half slowly slid down along a perfect diagonal line and hit the ground with a “thud.”
The cut surface was as smooth as a mirror.
The entire courtyard was deathly silent.
Everyone’s eyes widened, unable to believe what they were seeing.
A demon…
actually created a Breathing Style?
And it wasn’t a crude imitation, but a Breathing Style that truly possessed its own unique “Forms” and “artistic conception”!
Although it was still immature and clearly just a prototype,
“Im-impossible…” Sanemi Shinazugawa muttered, the arrogant expression on his face had completely frozen.
Kochou Shinobu’s mouth hung slightly open, a flash of shock crossed her purple eyes.
The other Hashira looked at Hanayuki Ichika as if they were looking at a monster…
Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku became a Hashira through self-study with half a volume of a tattered book,
Insect Hashira Shinobu Kocho has the least strength and the smallest build, she can’t even cut off a demon’s neck with a nichirin sword, yet she could create Insect Breathing…
The youngest, Mist Hashira Muichiro Tokito, became a Hashira in just two months…
They all thought they were considered geniuses…
But…
It turned out that this demon before them, who looked to be the same age as them and had just joined the Demon Slayer Corps, had created a Breathing Style in a single afternoon???
It was like a live-in part-time student worker who, with only half a day of practice…
completely crushed you in your own area of expertise…
“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”
“A demon… half a night… created a Breathing Style??”
“Then what are we Demon Slayer Corps members? Are we just ‘diligent’?”
The Demon Slayer Corps members’ eyes were wide as copper bells, they stood frozen in place with blank expressions…
Feeling as if—the entire sky had collapsed!!
Meanwhile, Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa was frustrated and angry yet helpless, at the same time so embarrassed and awkward that he wanted to dig a hole with his toes…
Could it be…
that he really has to wash his hair while doing a handstand every day?