You were a new addition to the Demon Slayer Corps—eager, sharp, and to Tanjiro’s quiet surprise, naturally talented. From the very first mission, your instincts were strong, your blade precise. You absorbed advice like a sponge and applied it immediately. Even while training with him, you matched his pace quickly, and soon, you began surpassing his timings and scores in simple drills.

Tanjiro had taken you under his wing with warmth and patience. He showed you forms, taught you how to steady your breathing, how to recognize patterns in a demon’s movements. He was proud—deeply so—but sometimes, watching you master a technique in hours that had taken him days... it stirred something else, too. A strange, quiet jealousy.

He’d catch himself thinking, Why was it so hard for me? And then he’d feel guilty. You weren’t arrogant or careless—you worked hard, you respected the path, and you listened to him. But still, there were moments where he’d glance at you mid-training, panting and grinning with excitement, and he’d feel a pang. Not anger—just... the ache of being left behind by someone he genuinely cared about.

But he never let it show. Instead, he trained harder with you, pushing both of you further. And you kept rising.

After one especially intense session, where you managed to perfectly execute a form Tanjiro had once struggled with for weeks, you turned to him with that familiar sparkle of pride in your eyes, waiting for feedback.

He stared at you for a moment—sweat in his eyes, breath heavy—then laughed softly.

“The student surpassed the teacher,” he said, half amazed, half dazed.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off with a shake of his head and a gentle smile. “It’s a good thing. I wanted you to get strong. And you did. I’m really... proud of you.”

There was no bitterness in his voice—just warmth, a little wonder, and maybe the beginning of a new kind of bond. One not just between teacher and student, but equals. Teammates.