Kamado Tanjiro lay on a bed, just like his sister Nezuko. Urokodaki Sakonji's cabin might be small, but it had a few beds. This wasn't just a single cabin either—as a trainer for the Demon Slayer Corps, Urokodaki often had kids come through for training. Naturally, they needed a place to stay. But in recent years, most of the kids who showed up had been sent packing by him.
Tanjiro was different. He shared Urokodaki's keen sense of smell, possessed a resilient spirit, and never gave up. Still, Urokodaki wasn't sure if the boy could pass his tests.
"Urokodaki-sensei."
Riku's voice snapped Urokodaki out of his thoughts.
"What is it?" the old man asked, turning to Riku. This young man was just as unique, and even now, Urokodaki wasn't entirely sure if teaching him was the right call.
"As per our deal, you teach me how to slay oni, and I'll share the secret of why I can walk in sunlight," Riku said, his expression serious. Instead of waiting for Urokodaki to ask, he took the initiative, seizing control of the conversation.
"I haven't taught you much yet," Urokodaki replied honestly. Swordsmanship was a lifelong pursuit, and Riku hadn't even crossed the threshold. The real training hadn't truly begun.
"I trust you," Riku said with a smile. He found Urokodaki surprisingly easy to read. The old man seemed to respond well to sincerity, and there was likely a reason for that. "I hope you can trust me too. I want to learn more from you—real skills."
Riku was laying it all out. To get Urokodaki to teach him the good stuff, he first needed to build mutual trust. Sure, Urokodaki had agreed to train him, but would he really hold nothing back when teaching an oni? Riku wasn't buying it, no matter how nicely the old man put it.
To gain something, you had to give something. Offering this "secret" to earn Urokodaki's trust was a no-brainer for Riku—it was practically a free deal. The secret wasn't something he could hide forever anyway. Urokodaki would inevitably ask, and he'd dig deep. One wrong answer could ruin everything, turning them into enemies.
"…"
Urokodaki fell silent, weighing his response. Riku knew he was thinking it over.
"Alright," Urokodaki finally said after a brief pause. He'd teach Riku seriously, including the Breathing Techniques. During that time, he trusted his nose would reveal Riku's true nature. If anything seemed off, he wouldn't hesitate to act—not just against Riku, but Nezuko too, if needed.
This was exactly what Riku wanted to hear. Without hesitation, he extended his hands and deactivated the skin prosthetic covering them. In Urokodaki's eyes, the skin peeled back like a snake shedding, revealing the raw flesh beneath.
"This…" Urokodaki's eyes widened behind his tengu mask, a mix of shock, confusion, and speculation swirling in his mind, though he couldn't be certain.
"As you can see, this outer layer of skin isn't mine. It's made from a special material that shields me from sunlight," Riku explained simply, trying to make it easy for Urokodaki to grasp. Thankfully, he'd added a removal function to his hand prosthetics for eating and claw-based combat—it came in handy for this demonstration.
"This…" Urokodaki was dumbfounded. At over seventy years old, having lived through the Edo period, the Black Ships, the fall of the shogunate, and the Meiji Restoration, he'd seen his fair share of the world while slaying oni. But this? He'd never seen anything like it.
"How's it made? Can it be replicated?" Urokodaki asked, zeroing in on the practical question.
"No way to replicate it. I'm not holding out on you—it's genuinely impossible," Riku said, his face serious. "This skin is incredibly tough, resistant to fire and lightning, regulates temperature, and can even make me invisible. Honestly, I've never heard of any material or technique like this."
To prove his point, Riku's body shimmered and vanished, just like the horns on his head.
"That doesn't prove anything. It could be a Blood Demon Art," Urokodaki said, shaking his head. Aside from the sunlight resistance, everything Riku described could be attributed to a Blood Demon Art.
"Uh…" Riku froze, reappearing. Okay, that was a fair point.
"But I believe you. My nose tells me you're not lying," Urokodaki added before Riku could respond, his expression complex. He figured Riku had already guessed he had this ability, which explained the constant sincerity. But the truth was the truth—Riku wasn't lying.
Riku smirked inwardly. As expected, he'd suspected Urokodaki had a lie-detecting ability like Tanjiro's. Honestly, it was the only explanation for why the old man trusted him so easily. For someone who'd survived this dangerous job for so long, being that gullible without a trick like this would be absurd. What Riku didn't know was that, for a fleeting moment, Urokodaki had doubted his own nose. It seemed impossible, but that doubt quickly faded. At over seventy, his sense of smell had never failed him in all those years. He had no reason to doubt it now, nor could a Blood Demon Art manipulate him so subtly—he was resistant to such tricks, thanks to his own special abilities, including the power to influence others' minds.
"Thank you for trusting me, Urokodaki-sensei," Riku said, feigning relief. If Urokodaki had insisted it was a Blood Demon Art, he'd have been out of moves. That nose was a game-changer! Without it, Riku's plan wouldn't have gone so smoothly. After all, humans and oni were worlds apart. To veteran oni hunters like Urokodaki, an oni's words were likely just "ghost stories"—not a single word could be trusted.
"Where did you get this extraordinary skin?" Urokodaki pressed, clearly not ready to let the matter drop. Even if Riku was telling the truth, that didn't mean he wasn't hiding something. This was too important not to dig deeper.
"In a… special place. Incredibly special. Like a world completely separate from reality," Riku said, rolling out his prepared story. It was the truth—selectively so. In front of this human lie detector, he couldn't afford to lie. One slip, and all the trust he'd built would collapse, and Urokodaki wouldn't let it slide. But Riku had anticipated this, crafting a story that was entirely true.
If Urokodaki straight-up asked, "Did you cross over from another world?" Riku was ready to grab his hand and say, "Yo, old-timer, you a transmigrator too?!" With Urokodaki's cultural background and knowledge, he'd likely think of folklore like Urashima Taro, The Peach Blossom Spring, or other mystical encounter tales. It fit perfectly—too perfectly. Urokodaki's cabin was already filled with eerie fox carvings, hinting at his fascination with the supernatural.
Sure enough, Urokodaki froze. In his seventy-plus years, he'd always been steadfast, but in these few minutes, his certainty wavered for the second time.
(Chapter End)