The weathered wooden house at the summit was the foundation of the Kamado family's life. As winter tightened its grip, the charcoal-selling season reached its peak.
Usually, at this time, the Kamados would perform a ritual to the Fire God, offering the Kagura dance. This year was no different. Kie Kamado had prepared meat for the offering and even some rare sweets the children had been eyeing for days: Mame-daifuku, Yokan, and Konpeito.
But until Tanjiro was found, there was no mood for celebration. Three-year-old Takeo was left with Nezuko while both parents went out to search.
"Big Brother Tatsuya, you're so strong! Are you a samurai from town?" Tanjiro looked up with sparkling, worshipful eyes, mimicking Tatsuya's movements.
"You weren't even scared of the wolves! Are you a hunter?" Tanjiro guessed. He remembered the hunters who came to buy charcoal; they were loud and rough. But Tatsuya felt steady and gentle.
When Tatsuya just smiled, Tanjiro gripped his sleeve with newfound resolve. "Big Brother Tatsuya, will you teach me?" His eyes were firm. "I want to be strong like you... so I can protect Mom and my siblings!"
By the time Tatsuya escorted Tanjiro and Kie back to the shack, night had fully settled.
"Big Brother! Mom!" Nezuko and Takeo rushed out. Nezuko dove into Tanjiro's arms while Takeo climbed onto his back. It was a scene so warm it felt like flowers were blooming in the snow.
Tatsuya stood by with a "proud uncle" smile. Soon, heavy footsteps approached.
Tanjuro Kamado pushed open the door, his face a mask of exhaustion and anxiety. When he saw Tanjiro safe in Kie's arms, he froze, then erupted into a wave of relief and joy. He suffered a fit of violent coughing, his frail body shaking, but he ignored it.
"Tanjiro! Tanjiro!" The father hugged his son, checking for injuries with a trembling voice. Kie wiped her tears and explained how Tatsuya had saved him from the wolves.
"Tanjiro was in such peril... we owe you everything!" Tanjuro bowed deeply to Tatsuya. "Mr. Izumo! I shall never forget this. Our home is simple, but today we celebrate our ancestors. We have some food and sake... please, stay and let us show our gratitude!"
Kie nodded eagerly. "Yes, please stay for dinner. My cooking is decent, the Konpeito is sweet, and my husband's dance is quite beautiful!"
Tanjiro tugged at Tatsuya's sleeve. "Please stay, Big Brother Tatsuya!"
Tatsuya had intended to refuse. After all, it was late, and he needed to head back to Mount Sagiri. However, at that moment, Nezuko was clinging to his left foot, Tanjiro was hugging his right leg, and Takeo was perched on Tanjiro's back. He literally couldn't move.
Coupled with the aroma of food wafting from the house and the warm atmosphere, the words of refusal reached his lips several times only to be swallowed back down.
"Ahem... well, I hope I'm not intruding. But I'll have to leave right after dinner."
Tanjuro immediately called for Kie to set the table, while he nimbly headed to the woodshed, bringing back a large bundle of firewood to heat the meal.
Tatsuya noticed that Tanjuro was not a healthy man. His frame was frail; he gasped for breath after speaking too much and coughed violently with any large movement. His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones prominent, and his complexion pale. Given that there were already three children and Tatsuya could see a slight bump in Kie's abdomen... Tanjuro-san, life is certainly not easy for you!
Yet, despite the constant coughing and weak aura, his movements when rushing to hug the children or moving the firewood were exceptionally fluid and agile, possessing an almost inexplicable sense of rhythm.
Strange... he's clearly quite ill, so why are his movements so precise?
Tatsuya didn't want to pry into their privacy, so he kept his doubts to himself.
Inside, the hearth burned bright, dispelling the early winter chill. The table was spread with a feast far richer than their usual fare: hot stews, roasted sweet potatoes, meticulously prepared rice dumplings, dried mountain fruits, and the most anticipated treat—Konpeito. The family sat with Tatsuya, the atmosphere thick with warmth.
As Tatsuya listened to Tanjuro explain which mountain trees made the best charcoal and describe the customs of the town below, he felt as if he had returned to the days before he climbed Mount Momoyama—the days when he followed his father up the mountain to dig out rabbit burrows. This family possessed a certain magic; spending time with them made one's heart feel exceptionally light.
After the meal, Tanjuro stood up. "Children, today is the day we honor our ancestors. Watch the Kagura dance closely and learn well. One day, you will stand where I am standing." He took a deep breath and walked to the bonfire in the yard.
Tanjuro donned an ancient, rustic mask and ritual robes. His dance was solemn and fluid; the movements appeared slow and soft, yet they contained a unique rhythm and hidden power. It was a cadence unlike any Breathing Style Tatsuya knew—a movement that seemed to communicate with the heavens, the earth, the flames, and some ancient will.
Every motion was precise, carrying a sacred ceremonial air. For a moment, he didn't look like a sickly man at all. The firelight danced across his focused, serene face, his unique hanafuda earrings swaying gently in the glow.
Tatsuya was entranced. The rhythm in this dance... it's so much like a Breathing Style! Is he able to move so fluidly despite his illness because of a specific way of breathing?
Even more shocking was Tanjuro's endurance. When the complex dance ended, his breath remained steady and long. Then he began the second round, the third, the fourth, the fifth...
Tanjiro's small face was full of pride as he whispered to Tatsuya, "Big Brother Tatsuya, Papa is amazing! He can dance like this all night long!"
Tatsuya suppressed his shock and focused his senses, capturing the minute, unique breathing rhythm of Tanjuro's dance. The inhalations were long and deep, as if drawing power from the earth itself; the exhalations were short and forceful, perfectly synced with his physical movements.
Tatsuya instinctively held his own breath, trying to mimic the pattern—inhaling like a stream merging into a deep pool, exhaling like a sudden spark.
"Ngh—!"
Within just a few breaths, a searing, explosive pain erupted in Tatsuya's lungs! It felt as if boiling chili powder had been poured into his windpipe. Every cycle of breath felt like a blade shredding his lungs.
Tatsuya's body tensed instantly, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He nearly cried out in pain. He immediately aborted the mimicry and switched back to his familiar Thunder Breathing rhythm, only then allowing his spasming lungs to settle.
I knew it! This is no ordinary dance rhythm... He stared at Tanjuro's dancing figure, his eyes burning. The rhythm was the polar opposite of Thunder Breathing's rapid bursts—it was heavier, more primal, as if tapping directly into the strength of his bloodline. It's another Breathing Style! One that is... even more dominant!
Curiosity and a primal hunger for power overrode the pain in his chest. Tatsuya's eyes shone as he looked at Tanjuro, who had just finished another set.
"Mr. Kamado," Tatsuya leaned forward, his voice mixing excitement with a thirst for knowledge. He tapped his knee rhythmically, simulating the breath he had just captured. "Have you ever encountered Breathing Styles before? Like the breathing techniques used by samurai, or the breath regulation hunters use while tracking? Your Hinokami Kagura is very special. It isn't just the rhythm of the movements; the way your breath flows... it's quite an inspiration to me."
Tanjuro removed the mask and smiled gently. "I don't know what a 'Breathing Style' is, and I've never encountered such things. The Hinokami Kagura is simply a dance of prayer passed down through the Kamado generations. Our ancestors only asked that the tradition never be broken. If you find it inspiring, it is our honor."
He didn't truly grasp what Tatsuya meant by "flow of breath," assuming Tatsuya was simply interested in the form of the dance.
An ancestral requirement to never break the line... it must be an ancient Breathing Style that lost its name through history, Tatsuya thought. He remembered his master saying that the Headquarters had archives; perhaps he could find answers there one day.
Tanjuro put the mask back on and began to dance again. This time, Tatsuya didn't try to mimic him. He focused his entire perception on observing the movement, the shifts in gravity, and that unique cadence. He even activated Silent Listening, etching every detail into his mind.
Ten times, twenty times... Tanjuro kept dancing. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but his breath remained long and stable. Even his stubborn cough had briefly vanished.
In Tatsuya's mind, a vague breathing method—entirely distinct from Thunder—began to take shape. He knew it was too profound and dangerous to copy blindly, but his intuition told him it didn't conflict with Thunder Breathing. The rhythm itself was of immense value.
When Tanjuro finally stopped to rest, Kie whispered, "Dear, it's time for the children to sleep, and Mr. Izumo should rest too..." Tanjuro nodded, his face full of peace, as he removed the ritual gear.
"Phew..." Tatsuya exhaled, snapping out of his trance. His face was full of gratitude. "Mr. Kamado, Mrs. Kamado, thank you so much! Tonight... I have learned a great deal!"
Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of the night sky through the window—pitch black and silent. It was late!
Crap! Tatsuya remembered why he went down the mountain. Supplies! Rabbits... no, tri-color dango! Taiyaki! The dry goods Master Urokodaki wanted... I'm dead!
He shot up, startling Tanjiro and Takeo.
"Mr. Kamado, Mrs. Kamado, Tanjiro, Nezuko, Takeo," Tatsuya said with a mix of apology and desperation. "Forgive me for intruding so late! I just remembered a very, very urgent matter I must attend to in town! I'm so sorry! I'll bring you gifts next time!"
Before the words finished, he vanished like a gust of wind, racing into the cold night toward the town. Please, tri-color dango shop, don't be closed!