"Um… wouldn't it be better if Mr. Shinazugawa, with his rare blood, were the one to test me?"
"Hmph. Do you think I'm not qualified to test you, or do you think you're qualified to be tested by both of us?"
"Ah—no, that's not what I meant." Tanjiro waved his hands in a panic. "It's just that demons are more affected when facing someone with rare blood, right? I thought…"
"You think having Sanemi fight you while wounded would better prove that you won't hurt anyone?"
Tanjiro looked toward Sabito and nodded firmly.
"But asking you not to harm someone who is actively attacking you is unreasonable," Sabito explained. "That would only prove your endurance, not whether you would attack humans. So we decided to divide the test into two parts."
"Ah, I see!"
Tanjiro's eyes lit up in realization.
"That makes sense. After a battle, the hunger would be even stronger, right? That would better prove I won't attack humans. And the earlier fight can also show my combat ability, and let me know whether I can truly protect my siblings…"
"Even though everyone hates demons, you're still taking my opinion into account… I'm really grateful! I'll definitely do my best!"
Uzui nudged Hiru with his elbow.
"Is that kid sick in the head or something? I mean back when he was still human."
"…He's a bit dense, I guess." Hiru watched the two already engaged in combat. "Thinking that such a harsh test is actually being done for his sake is just stupid. That said, at a glance, it is a fairly reasonable test… tsk. It's irritating."
"So you heard everything after all. But irritating? What exactly is irritating?"
"Just thinking that if I'd been in a situation like this, my temper would probably be a lot better than it is now." Hiru crossed his arms. "And why are you getting so close? Aren't you worried about appearances? You're one of the opposing faction, aren't you? Get lost."
"Quit messing around. Public matters are public, private matters are private." Uzui ignored Hiru's earlier comment and casually hooked an arm around his shoulder. "Besides, you understand, don't you? Once Yoriichi acknowledged this kid as his disciple, his only outcomes were confinement or fighting alongside us. There was no way he'd die.
"If you really dig into it, the entire Demon Slayer Corps has received guidance from Yoriichi. With so many disciples present, if they had to watch their master—never mind. This whole thing is just a headache.
"By the way, are you free later? Want to take a trip with me?"
"Hm? What for?" Hiru finally gave Uzui a proper look. "And if you've got something to say, say it. Don't put your hands on me."
"I've noticed some unusual activity in my territory and need manpower. You're free and you've got the strength—care to help out?"
"We'll talk about it later." Hiru frowned as he looked at Tanjiro, who was dodging awkwardly in the arena, then brushed Uzui Tengen's arm away. "I'm not in the mood right now."
Uzui shrugged, laced his hands behind his head, and focused his attention on the battle.
To be honest, the demon boy's strength far exceeded his expectations. Though Tanjiro was attacking, it was obvious he was holding back.
Several times, Obanai deliberately exposed openings, yet Tanjiro ignored them. His movements had also grown noticeably more fluid than at the start. If one had to describe it, it was as though he were testing whether Iguro could even withstand his attacks.
Obanai clearly sensed this as well. His sword strikes grew sharper and more aggressive.
"Are you… looking down on me?"
"No! I don't have that kind of intention!"
"You still have the leisure to talk back? Hmph. Looks like I held back too much."
Tanjiro was about to say more when his pupils suddenly shrank. He threw himself to the side with all his strength, but even so, his waist and abdomen were still slashed deeply.
[It looks like even going all out won't hurt him…]
Tanjiro clutched the wound at his side, his pupils finally narrowing into slits.
[Then I'll just have to push myself further. But his sword is strange—its movements twist and coil like a snake. Even when it barely grazes you, it feels like your body is being ripped apart… How do you deal with attacks that move like a serpent?]
"Hmph. Now this is getting interesting."
Obanai glanced at Tanjiro's already-healed wound, tightened his grip on his sword, and charged again.
This time, aside from deliberately avoiding the vital point of Tanjiro's neck, he no longer held back. Almost every swing of his blade left a new gash across Tanjiro's body.
Tanjiro was soon covered in wounds. Yet even under such overwhelming pressure, he did not panic.
Instead, he grew calmer, his eyes fixed on every move Obanai made. He pushed his Breathing to its limit and began launching counterattacks.
[No—there isn't enough distance. Every time I attack, it gets dodged. If only I had a weapon…]
Tanjiro glanced at the foot-long wound on his leg and barely avoided another strike.
[Hiru said a demon's body is its weapon, but how can flesh and blood contend with steel?]
"You still have the spare capacity to think about other things?" Obanai narrowed his eyes. "Is it… that I haven't been entertaining you properly?"
The instant Obanai finished speaking, Tanjiro felt a killing intent so intense it was almost tangible rushing toward him. In that moment, driven purely by instinct, he forced his Breathing to its absolute limit.
Because using Breathing placed an intense burning strain on his internal organs, Tanjiro never overused it during practice.
He focused on refining techniques and movements, drawing on its power only briefly and with restraint. But now, along with the familiar sensation of being engulfed in flames, he felt an entirely new power surge forth.
As that power welled up, unfamiliar knowledge flooded into his mind. Tanjiro froze for an instant—and that single instant robbed him of any chance to evade.
He stared at the sword coming straight at him, its blade seeming to coil with the image of a massive serpent.
Time itself felt as though it had slowed. His instincts screamed danger at him, yet strangely, Tanjiro felt no fear.
His gaze locked onto the serpent-like phantom lunging toward him. Visible white breath spilled from his lips.
Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, clenched his right hand into a fist, extended only his index and middle fingers, and swung straight at the phantom.