After saying goodbye to Tanjiro and Kotetsuka, James returned to his room to rest.
He stretched lazily. Even though he hadn't actually run the distance to Swordsmith Village, the feeling of being carried all the way made it feel like he had. If you rounded it off in your head—it was basically the same.
A very self-deceiving conclusion, but James was satisfied.
He took out his new sword and slowly drew it from its sheath. His reflection shone on the pristine snow-white blade.
"Perfect," he thought.
This blade wasn't just sturdy—it could withstand the intense heat required to turn a sword red. On top of that, it possessed a neutral, balanced attribute. That meant switching between breathing techniques wouldn't damage the sword—a crucial improvement over traditional Nichirin Blades.
After examining it with admiration, James began his training session. He cycled through his techniques one by one—Breathing of the Sun, Breathing of Yang, and wielding the Red Blade. His mastery in each technique steadily improved with practice.
Now, only one major skill remained to be learned: the Transparent World.
It was similar to the Byakugan from Naruto—a technique that allowed the user to perceive internal structures like bones and muscles, as if through X-ray vision. But its value went beyond that.
With it, a swordsman could read the flow of the opponent's blood, their breathing, their muscle twitches. It revealed weaknesses in motion and opened the door to devastating counterattacks.
If Breathing Styles enhanced one's strength, the Transparent World amplified one's perception—heightening dynamic vision, boosting reaction time, and enabling movements that were faster and more precise.
The key to unlocking it lay in mastering control over breath and movement, reducing all actions to their most efficient forms. By closing off other senses and repeating perfect motions, the user would enter a heightened state, observing the enemy's inner workings clearly and striking with lethal precision.
Such repetitive training was common in the Demon Slayer world, but James didn't mind.
He was already close to reaching the pinnacle. For him, learning the Transparent World was more a matter of time and inspiration than difficulty. Just as he had drawn insight from the red tip of Tanjiro's sword when it struck an Upper Rank demon, he was confident he'd achieve it soon.
"Give me one more month," James thought.
"If I had that, I could probably chase Muzan himself across this world."
---
While James focused on training, far away in the Infinity Castle, tension filled the air.
"Gyutaro is dead."
Muzan, seated in a dimly lit chamber, swirled a drop of blood in a vial, his scarlet eyes glowing faintly. He placed the test tube down and slowly raised his head.
Below him knelt the Upper Rank demons.
"You've disappointed me again."
His voice was quiet—but each word struck like thunder.
Muzan's face twisted in fury as he smashed his hand across the table, sending glass and metal clattering to the floor. His right hand pressed against his temple, eyes gleaming with suppressed rage.
"For centuries... centuries, and you've achieved nothing!"
"You bask in your rank, thinking you are untouchable... I've indulged you far too long."
The room went cold.
The first to speak was a grotesque figure—Upper Rank Five, Gyokko.
Unlike the others, his form was barely humanoid. His upper body was vaguely human, but his lower half was an ornate, grotesque ceramic pot. Instead of eyes, a gaping mouth stretched across his face, while extra eyes sprouted from his forehead and chin.
The golden eye on his forehead bore the inscription: "Upper Rank", and beneath his chin: "Five."
"Muzan-sama," Gyokko said, groveling, "I have found the location where the Demon Slayer Corps forges their Nichirin Blades. Please allow me—"
"Boring."
The word dropped like a guillotine.
In an instant, Gyokko's head was ripped from his shoulders. Muzan held it in his pale hand, blood pouring down his wrist.
The pot-body crumpled to the ground. The room was dead silent except for the dripping blood.
"What I want... is the Blue Spider Lily. Not trivia about blacksmiths!"
He hurled the severed head aside, blood splattering across the floor. Muzan turned away, eyes sweeping across the demons, then vanished into the darkness.
A trembling voice called from the floor: "Y-yes, Lord Muzan…!"
Muzan's voice echoed again, disembodied in the vast castle. "Once the information is verified, Gyokko… take Hantengu with you."
Gyokko, now holding his own reattached head, bowed eagerly.
"Yes, Lord Muzan!"
Beside him, the demon known as Hantengu lay trembling. Though hunched and elderly in appearance, he was clearly a demon—horned, disfigured, with a large tumor on his head.
Strangely, his eyes bore no inscription like the other Upper Ranks. Yet everyone knew his position: Upper Four.
Gyokko glanced sideways at him and smirked.
Then, with a sly expression, he turned to look at the two figures seated on the platform.
One of them was a white-haired man, rocking back and forth like a child. He wore a black cloak and had rainbow-colored irises. Etched into them were the kanji: "Upper Rank" and "Two."
He was Douma.
The other stood silently with his back to Douma. His hair was short and pink, his skin pale, his golden eyes full of restrained fury. Blue tattoos marked his body. In his eyes was written: "Upper Rank Three."
Akaza.
"Hey, hey, Gyokko~!" Douma chirped, ignoring Akaza completely. "Did Lord Muzan give you a mission?"
He reached out and poked Gyokko's pot playfully.
Then—
Bang!
Before the words had even finished leaving Douma's mouth, his head exploded.
A fist had smashed into his skull, shattering it into a bloody mess.
Akaza stood behind him, expression unreadable, his bloodied fist still raised.
Swish!
A clean slash severed Akaza's arm at the wrist.
Blood splattered across the floor.
"You've gone too far, Akaza."
The calm voice came from behind him.
Akaza's pupils narrowed. Slowly, he turned.
There stood a tall man with long crimson hair tied in a high ponytail. His face bore six eyes, all alert and watchful.
Etched into two of those eyes were the words:
"Upper Rank One."
Kokushibo.
"If you're that dissatisfied," Kokushibo continued in a low voice, "why not settle it in a bloody duel?"
Douma's head regenerated instantly. He tilted it side to side, smiling like nothing had happened.
"Aww, don't be like that, Mr. Kokushibo. I was just teasing him. And even if we fought... he's no match for me, right, Akaza~?"
Akaza didn't respond. His veins were bulging, fists clenched, but he remained still.
"Let go of that pride, Akaza," a deeper voice said, cutting through the tension.
From the shadows, Muzan emerged again.
Akaza immediately knelt.
Douma straightened his posture, and Kokushibo offered a respectful bow.
"Lord Muzan, why did you return?" Akaza asked, confused.
"Because I changed my mind," Muzan said quietly.
His blood-red eyes glowed with unreadable intent.
The only sound that followed was the quiet whimpering of Hantengu in the corner.
---
Back at Swordsmith Village...
"The hot springs here heal injuries too? This world really is full of wonders," James said, half-amused.
He had been dragged to the hot spring area by Tanjiro. Though he protested at first, deep down he was looking forward to it.
Just as they reached the stone steps at the foot of the mountain—
"Tanjiro! James-kun!"
A voice echoed from above.
They turned.
Kanroji Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, was running down the steps—wearing only a towel.
"Listen to me, please listen!" she wailed as she latched onto both of them. "I was completely ignored just now! Waaaah!"
She spun around in circles, her hair fluttering, her expression a mixture of frustration and heartbreak.
James laughed, feeling slightly dizzy from being pulled around.
Tanjiro chuckled as well.
And just like that, the "ordinary daily life" in Swordsmith Village began.
Øóffer going on for diamond tier
pàtreøn (Gk31)