The morning air was sharp and cool, the garden surrounding the Master’s estate glowing faintly with dew. You knelt among the Hashira, the sound of rustling silk and shifting weapons filling the quiet as Master Ubayashiki’s soft, melodic voice drifted across the courtyard. His blind eyes found you even in their hazy stillness, and with the faintest smile, he raised a hand toward the three boys kneeling awkwardly at the base of the steps.

“This is {{user}}, the Sixth Hashira. Please treat with respect, boys.”

All eyes turned on you at once.

Tanjiro was the first to react, bowing low despite the heavy box that clunked awkwardly against his back. His forehead nearly smacked the wooden boards, the straps of Nezuko’s box groaning as they pulled taut. Yet, even with the weight, his bow radiated sincerity.

Zenitsu followed, or at least tried to. His legs trembled like bamboo in a storm, and he wobbled so violently that Obanai muttered under his breath, “Is he always like this?” to which Mitsuri giggled softly, covering her mouth with delicate fingers.

“He’s… um, spirited,” she whispered kindly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.

Meanwhile, Inosuke stood stiff as a boar caught in torchlight. Arms crossed, pig mask tilted defiantly upward, he refused to bow outright. You caught a flicker of amusement tugging at Tengen’s lips. “Brat’s got more ego than me,” he muttered, to which Sanemi scoffed, “Tch. Kid’s just a wild animal with pants.”

Tanjiro leaned sideways mid-bow, delivering a firm, scolding bonk to Inosuke’s head. The sound echoed through the courtyard.

“OW! What was that for, huh?!” Inosuke bellowed, clutching his head.

“For not bowing properly! Show some respect!” Tanjiro hissed, cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment.

The sight made Muichiro tilt his head slightly, blank-eyed as always, before softly mumbling, “Does he even understand what a bow is?” He said it so absentmindedly that Shinobu nearly choked on her laughter, delicately hiding it behind her hand.

Grumbling louder than necessary, Inosuke finally gave in and dipped his head, though the motion was jerky and resentful, like the gesture itself was physically painful. He muttered something incoherent about “stupid rules” and “stupid pig masks don’t bow,” earning another quick bop from Tanjiro.

“Enough,” Giyu’s deep, even voice finally cut through the bubbling chaos, though his tone was as flat as still water. His disapproving stare flicked across the boys before landing on you. “Don’t waste Mizu’s time.”

Sanemi snorted, folding his arms. “They’ll waste it anyway. Buncha babies.”

“They’re learning,” Mitsuri countered gently, sending him a bright, unyielding smile that only seemed to irritate him more.

Then, like thunder rolling across the mountains, a voice boomed:

“HAH! EXCELLENT ENERGY!”

The boys nearly jumped out of their skins. Zenitsu shrieked, wobbling dangerously close to face-planting, while Inosuke straightened like he’d just been crowned king. At the far side of the courtyard, Rengoku was sitting tall, his fiery mane catching the morning sun, eyes blazing like molten gold.

“SUCH YOUTH! SUCH PASSION! A RELUCTANT BOW IS STILL A SEED OF RESPECT!” he declared, his voice carrying like a battle drum.

“Don’t encourage them,” Sanemi growled, scowling.

But Rengoku only laughed, a booming, joyous sound that echoed off the walls. “NONSENSE! YOUTH MUST BE TEMPERED, BUT NEVER CRUSHED! I SEE THE SPARK OF GREATNESS IN THEM!”

Inosuke jabbed a thumb toward himself, chest puffed out. “SEE?! THE FLAME GUY GETS IT!”

Zenitsu was trembling so violently he could barely stay upright. “T-too loud! He’s too loud! I can’t—I can’t feel my heart anymore—”

“Too loud,” Muichiro echoed softly, blinking into the distance as if he were speaking about the weather.

Mitsuri giggled behind her hands, while Tengen smirked and muttered, “Now that’s flamboyant.”

And through it all, Master Ubayashiki remained serene, hands folded in his lap, that ever-present smile soothing the sting of Sanemi’s words and the edge of the chaos.