“Of course, I couldn’t do it as fast as you, but I’m truly thankful. That’s how connections with other people help you get out of tight spots. Everything you learn in Hashira Training will pay off for you in the future.”
With this gentle encouragement from Tanjiro, Zenitsu had finally gotten back on track and was excited about moving ahead. His newfound enthusiasm, however, didn’t last an hour into the first of the Hashira Trainings, a hellscape ruled over by the former Sound Hashira, Tengen Uzui.
“Snap to it! What? Are you asleep?!” Uzui roared. “Zenitsu! If you’ve got the time for a widdle nap, then get out there and run until you’re puking blood! You think you can beat an Upper Rank demon like this? You slack on me, and I’ll kill you!”
“Heeah. Aaaaaah!” Zenitsu shrieked. The pointed callout. The straight-up abuse. The merciless blow delivered with a wooden sword. He was ready to throw in the towel.
So, what? No special treatment at all or anything? I mean, we fought an Upper Rank demon together. You and me. We worked hard, right? Worked hard and risked our lives together, y’know?
Not only was he not getting an easy ride, he actually felt like Tengen’s awareness of his existence was causing him to single out Zenitsu for extra-harsh treatment.
Inosuke, meanwhile, took to Uzui’s grueling training like a fish to water and was racing up the mountain path.
“Yaaaaaah! Headlong rush! Headlong rush!” he shouted.
“That’s the spirit, boar!” Tengen called admiringly. “Everyone else, twenty more! Zenitsu, you’ve got thirty more!”
“Daaammiiiit!” Zenitsu’s curse echoed through the mountain.
“You took down Upper Rank Six with that guy, right?” Murata, an older Demon Slayer who Zenitsu had met at the Butterfly Mansion, turned toward him sympathetically during a break. “Why’s he got you in his sights?”
“Yeah … that’s my question.” Zenitsu wept tears of blood from where he lay collapsed on the ground. He kicked and flailed. “I can’t do this anymore! I haaate thiiiiiiis! I want to go home and see Nezuko already! She’s the only one who can heal my heart!”
“Huh? Y-you … No way. You have a girlfriend, Agatsuma?” Murata and the other Demon Slayers were shaken. They stared in disbelief as Zenitsu wept and moaned.
“No way,” they said in unison.
The tension in the air melted away at once. As a group of boys equally unpopular with girls, there was an unprecedented feeling of solidarity among them.
“Yeah. No way. Absolutely no way.”
“He’s just trying to distract his lonely heart with a fantasy.”
“I get that.”
“I’ve got a fantasy girlfriend too.”
“For real? You too?”
“With a face like Lady Kocho.”
“I’m all about the Love Hashira.”
“I … I like the Tsuguko at Butterfly Mansion kind of a lot.”
As the others chatted excitedly about their own nonexistent love lives, Zenitsu automatically sat up.
“Oh, but Nezuko really exists, okay?” he told them. “She’s actually waiting for me at the Butterfly Mansion, okay? Don’t go saying she’s imaginary! It’ll make her sad!”
“It’s okay, Agatsuma,” one of the boys reassured him.
“You don’t have to make up stories,” another said.
“You want some of this?” A third offered a snack.
“Cheer up,” one told him.
“No, no, no!” Zenitsu shook his head vigorously. “I just know the next time I see Nezuko, she’s gonna be all ‘Welcome back, Zenitsu,’ saying my name in her sweet voice! And then I’m gonna marry her and feed her sushi and unagi every single day and buy her tons of beautiful kimono, and we’ll live happily ever after!”
“Uh-huh, yeah.”
“Totally, Agatsuma.”
“Unagi’s so good, huh?”
“We’ve always got your back, you know?”
“You can do it!”
The older Demon Slayers gave Zenitsu further encouragement, their eyes warm and kind.
“Hey, human garbage! Break’s over,” Uzui said as he walked over, brandishing a wooden sword.
He had such an intimidating air that it was hard to believe this was a man who had retired as a Hashira because he’d reached his limit physically. In fact, he was so full of life, Zenitsu had a hard time understanding why he had retired at all. He could only assume that the man loved tormenting the younger Demon Slayers.
“All of you, up and down the mountain until you drop on your feet,” he snapped. “And you, Zenitsu. Special training for you.”
“What … ?”
The blood drained from Zenitsu’s face as he looked to Murata and the others for help. The Demon Slayers who had only moments before told him they would always have his back now turned their backs on him and scampered off like frightened rabbits.
“Dig up a hot spring,” Uzui ordered him.
“Huh?”
This was definitely not the terrifying and impossible imagined task that had made Zenitsu tremble in dread. Things were going in a very different direction than he’d expected.
“What?” he asked. “I’m sorry. I must have misheard you just now.”
“Go find a hot spring. No supper until you do.” Uzui tossed Zenitsu a shovel. “Here!”
Zenitsu caught it and said reflexively, “Oh, thank you.” The well-used shovel was quite heavy, and he stared at it for a minute or two.
“Whaaaaaa?!”
At last, his eyes flew open in surprise.
“Aaaaaaaaaah?!” he cried again. “What did you just say? Is your head screwed on straight? I mean, can you even just dig up a hot spring like that? Is that how that works? It doesn’t, does it? Oh, is this harassment? This is harassment then? If that’s what you’re into, I’ll be on my way. Thanks for everything!”
Zenitsu whirled around to turn his back on the former Hashira. He assumed, naturally, that Uzui would explode in rage.
His actual response was quite indifferent. “Oh, yeah?”
Not only that, but no curses came flying at Zenitsu, nor did the wooden sword split Zenitsu’s head in half.
Oh no … What is this? It’s not what I imagined. It’s scary? Zenitsu timidly looked back, this lack of a reaction stoking his anxiety.
Uzui had his lone eye narrowed meaningfully. With just the one eye, he was even more manly—disgustingly so. “Too bad, that. If you did manage to dig up a hot spring, I was planning on making it mixed bathing.”
“M-m-m-m-m-mixed bathing?!” Zenitsu’s reaction was over the top. “M-m-m-mixed bathing, y-you mean? That? The one where … men and women in the same tub … Th-the dream—”
“Uh-huh,” Uzui said evenly.
“Mixed bathing … Mixed bathing with girls.” Zenitsu shuddered with emotion before coming back to himself, high spirits abruptly dampened. “Oh, really? Is that it then? You aaalmost fooled me again. You can talk mixed bathing all you want, but the only people at this Hashira Training are a bunch of filthy boys. Nothing fun at all about being in a bath surrounded by those jerks.” He started to walk away again.
“Hinatsuru.”
The name stopped him in his tracks.
“Wha?!”
“Makio.”
“Ngh!”
“Suma.”
“Uh …”
Uzui slowly listed the names of his three wives. And then he laughed meaningfully. “They’re here too, you know. You’ve eaten the food they make.”
Hinatsuru, Makio, Suma …
While the faces of the female ninja were of course exquisitely beautiful, their bewitching proportions did not pale in comparison. Slender and tall, and when it was time to shine, they stepped out.
“They love a good hot spring,” Uzui commented casually.
Zenitsu gulped. Desperately trying to hide how shaken he was, he adopted an even sulkier attitude. “Y-you mean they’ll be all ninja-like and get in wearing clothes or something? That’s the punchline? Yeah, yeah. I get it. The kind of stuff you’d think up. I’ve got your number right here.”
However …