Demon Slayer: The Tenth Hashira with Dōjutsu

"Yoriichi Zero-Style"

"Hey," Muichiro Tokito interrupted Aoki mid-sentence. "Even though I don't know you, you said you're a Hashira, right?

If so, why waste time here? I said wasting a Hashira's time is like killing people. That still applies, even if you are a Hashira."

Aoki's face darkened. "So you didn't listen to a single word I said?"

Before Aoki could get angry, Muichiro Tokito turned to leave.

"Since you're a Hashira, there's no point in confronting you; it's a waste of my time. I don't need the key," he said, holding up his dull Nichirin Blade. "My sword's broken; I'll have a new one made."

"Also, if you're interested, you can ask the child to show you 'it.' Only he has the key to activate it."

Muichiro Tokito left without looking back.

The atmosphere grew quiet. Aoki felt dejected; the self-proclaimed social butterfly had been outmaneuvered by a fourteen-year-old.

"Um…" The child, who had been hiding behind a tree, emerged. "Thank you for getting rid of him. Are you interested in… that thing? I can show you."

Tanjiro's eyes lit up. Mitsuri Kanroji had mentioned a secret weapon on the mountain, and he'd been intrigued by the word "it" from Muichiro Tokito.

"Aoki-senpai, let's go see it!" Tanjiro was about to invite Aoki, but Aoki was slumped over, his upper body shrouded in shadow, looking utterly dejected.

Tanjiro: Silence.

But Aoki suddenly stood, eyes blazing. "Let's go! I've been utterly humiliated today. If that thing doesn't impress me, Tanjiro, prepare to feel my wrath!"

Tanjiro's sphincter clenched.

"What's the key for? To open a specific box?" Tanjiro asked the child as they walked.

"It's the key to a Yoriichi Type Zero," the child replied.

"Yoriichi Type Zero?" Tanjiro questioned.

"Yes," the child said. "Created by my ancestor. It can perform a total of 108 different movements. It possesses strength far surpassing a human's, usable for training, but due to aging parts, it's almost broken."

Tanjiro was excited. Such a Yoriichi Type Zero would drastically improve his strength.

"I see. No wonder even that Hashira was interested. By the way, I don't know your name. I'm Tanjiro Kamado. What's yours?" Tanjiro asked, smiling.

"Call me Kotetsu."

Unlike Tanjiro, Aoki wasn't particularly interested. A Yoriichi Type Zero, likely a training dummy from Kotetsu's ancestor's time, wouldn't be a challenge. Could it possibly give him a difficult fight?

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

Aoki's exclamations echoed through the forest, accompanied by the whirring of machinery and the clang of metal.

Aoki was fighting a Yoriichi Type Zero: tall, with black-red hair styled in a high ponytail, Hanafuda earrings, a crimson flame mark on its left forehead, extensive damage to its left side, six arms, and a long sword in each hand.

With his three-tomoe Sharingan activated, Aoki fought defensively, feeling immense pressure with each blow. As time passed and his stamina waned, he found himself at a disadvantage.

"Seriously? This thing's actually giving me a hard fight?"

Sweat trickled down his forehead. Without using any skills besides the Sharingan, he couldn't beat this Yoriichi Type Zero.

Tanjiro watched the doll overwhelm Aoki. The doll's face looked strangely familiar, though he couldn't place it.

"Is this the Yoriichi Type Zero you mentioned? Why does it have six arms?" Tanjiro asked, puzzled.

Kotetsu replied, "Yes, it's a training Yoriichi Type Zero created by my ancestor—the Yoriichi Zero-Style."

"As for the arms… my father said it's based on a real swordsman who existed long ago. He was incredibly strong, so six arms were needed to replicate his movements."

"Who was that swordsman? Where is he? What did he do?" The doll's face looked increasingly familiar to Tanjiro. He bombarded Kotetsu with questions.

Kotetsu hesitated. "Sorry, he lived in the Sengoku period, so I don't know."

Tanjiro was astonished. "The Sengoku period? That was over 300 years ago! The doll hasn't broken down?"

Kotetsu also found it unbelievable. "Our ancestors' techniques were unparalleled. We can't match them. If it breaks, it can't be repaired."

"My father died of illness, and I'm the only son. I have to uphold the family, but I lack the skills to forge blades or repair the doll," Kotetsu said, clenching his fist, filled with self-reproach.

"I see. That's why…" Tanjiro felt sympathy for the child. His situation mirrored Tanjiro's past, but at a much younger age, and with far greater burdens.

He couldn't believe such a young child endured this; what kept him going?

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