[HxH] Ch 8: Swordsmanship

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The blade was named Shirayuki for its pure, snow-white body.

Years ago, Zeno had taken it as spoils from a swordsman he killed.

Roy weighed the katana in his hand, gave it a quick spin. A little too light. He slashed forward on a diagonal, drawing a perfect arc in the air.

Instant feedback—his system panel popped up: [Physique +0.05]

Exactly as he suspected. He'd been missing the point all along, overlooking the true nature of Sun Breathing.

It was never meant for bare fists. It was a breathing style made for swordsmen. That much became clear when a brand-new skill slot unlocked before his eyes.

[Congratulations! "Swordsmanship" unlocked]

[Current Level: Lv1 (1/100)]

"Hm... should I call that an expected surprise, or a surprising expectation?" Roy muttered with a crooked smile, sliding the katana back into its sheath.

A sharp crack split the air.

The dining table, with Roy as its axis, split neatly into two halves.

Luckily, Gotoh reacted fast enough to catch the wobbling dishes before they crashed to the floor.

"Young Master, that blade is incredibly sharp. Best not swing it around in your bedroom," he said carefully.

Roy nodded. He couldn't deny it—this was a fine weapon. Shame it felt a little too light. And who knew if it could be carried into the Demon Slayer world after he sleeps.

"Maybe... I'll test it tonight."

Once he decided, he didn't hesitate. At ten o'clock, the grandfather clock chimed. Roy finished his bath, changed into sleepwear, and climbed into bed with Shirayuki in his arms.

After a day of "electrocution," "poison training," and endless Sun Breathing drills, his body was spent. Sleep came quickly.

The familiar corridor appeared before him again.

This time, though, he glanced down at his right hand before stepping in.

Empty. No trace of Shirayuki.

He chuckled at himself—wishful thinking.

Truth was, conjurers had a tendency to over-imagine things, a quirk that often pushed them into neurosis. Just look at Shizuku or Kortopi.

Or Kite, who got killed by Neferpitou, resurrected as a girl, and wielded that slot-machine hatsu, "Crazy Slots."

Still, with no sword in hand, Roy felt oddly lighter. He strode down the corridor toward the sea of his subconscious. As for a weapon...

Demon Slayer had the Swordsmith Village. A new blade could always be forged. Worst case, he could borrow the black Nichirin blade Yoriichi left inside the Type Zero doll. That'd do in a pinch.

Plan settled, he soon reached the wooden door adorned with a demon's head carving. Without hesitation, he pushed it open.

The drop came—familiar and dizzying.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the little cabin.

Beside him, Takeo and Shigeru lay fast asleep.

Kids never slept still. One had a foot shoved in his mouth, the other had an arm tangled around his chest. The blanket had long since slipped to the floor.

Roy sighed softly, pulling the covers back over them. The noise stirred Tanjiro awake.

"Roy-Nii..." The boy's wide eyes locked on him. "Can I go into the mountains with you today?"

Roy thought, 'Can I even say no?' The kid probably hadn't slept properly all night.

Who could blame him? After witnessing things that shattered his worldview, even Roy wouldn't have slept soundly.

He shot Tanjiro with a look. "Then why are you still lying there? Waiting for me to put your shoes on?"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Tanjiro scrambled up like an excited hen, clucking circles around him.

Roy ignored him and stepped outside.

Snow stretched as far as the eye could see. From the kitchen, their mother Kie emerged, scarf tied around her head and a warm bundle tucked to her chest. She stuffed the steaming dumplings into Roy's arms.

"Eat on the way. Don't wait until they're cold."

Then she spotted Tanjiro, basket strapped to his back.

"Tanjiro! Why are you carrying that?"

"I'm going out with Roy!"

"You're not."

"I am!"

"Tanjuro, say something!"

From the corridor, Tanjuro's calm voice drifted out. "If he wants to go, let him."

"You..."

Kie looked from her husband to her mule-headed son, sighed, then turned to Roy. She tugged his scarf tighter and said softly, "Take care of your brother. Be back before dark."

Just then, their Grandma appeared with Hanako in her arms. Tanjiro opened his mouth, ready to declare he could protect himself—and his big brother too.

But the memory of Roy darting through the forest like a phantom, and the tree he'd pierced clean through, stopped him cold.

He shut his mouth, only stealing glances at Roy.

Roy didn't return them. His eyes swept across his mother, father, grandmother, and little sister. He smiled warmly. "We'll be back soon."

He picked up the hoe, slung the basket over his back, and headed for the woods.

"Roy-nii, wait for me!" Tanjiro stumbled after him.

Behind them, Kie, Tanjuro, and their Grandma watched until they disappeared into the forest.

The little house grew smaller in the distance. What stayed was the warmth, the care—something Roy had never once felt in the Zoldyck estate.

He savored it. Treasured it. Even craved it. 

...

"Huff... huff... Last time, you—" Tanjiro finally caught up, panting hard.

Roy didn't need to hear his question to know what was coming. He cut him off instead. "Tanjiro, do you believe there are other worlds besides this one?"

"Really? Other worlds?" Tanjiro's eyes went round.

They left two trails of footprints through the snow.

"I once dreamed I went to another world," Roy said slowly. "There, I had a new family. New parents. New siblings. But our family lived by killing. From childhood, I was trained to be an assassin."

"When I woke up, I realized I already knew how to kill. The skills were real. That's when I understood... the dream itself was real."

Tanjiro's jaw dropped. Snow fell from a birch branch above, plopping onto his head before he finally blurted out, "That's amazing! Just like when Grandpa Saburo says demons are real."

"No," Roy said flatly. "Demons are real."

He stopped walking.

Tanjiro couldn't brake in time, stumbled, and smacked into his brother's back.

"Ow!" He rubbed his forehead. Then his nose twitched. His face went pale.

"Blood... I smell blood ahead! A lot of it!"

"I see."

Roy set down the basket and steadied himself with the hoe, narrow eyes glinting as they fixed on the forest ahead.

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