Sakonji Urokodaki wondered if he's that bad of a teacher.
He was relaxing against the doorway of his humble hut, bathed by the light of the waxing, crescent moon. Further in, Makomo was bent over a steaming pot sitting on a crackling fire, humming softly as she stirred. The aroma of their daily dinner, a just simple but nutritious vegetable soup, was slowly filling his hut with warmth. It was a peaceful night. No signs of danger but perhaps an occasional howl of a wolf in the far distance. There were, of course, no demons that would roam so close to a known demon slayer. And if there were, the former Pillar could quickly and easily take care of it. But Urokodaki stayed alert, senses concentrated outward for the tiniest change in the air, even as he turned his head to watch Makomo yawn and start portioning out their meal.
His diligence was soon awarded when the evening wind brought in a familiar scent. But only one.
Urokodoki stood up immediately and walked out. Makomo, startled, pattered after him without any words, hands still gripping her ladle. Under the starry sky, they only had to wait for a heartbeat before Giyuu appeared, his head already bowed down in shame, leaning on a broken branch for support, and the bitter stench of grief rolling off him in waves.
"Sabito didn't make it," he said, before Urokodoki could even greet him. He stood like a soldier waiting for pain.
Urokodoki was frozen in the moment. He knew of course, he put the pieces together when Giyuu appeared alone. But there was a tiny portion of his heart that hoped that Sabito was only too injured at the moment to make the trip back.
Makomo dropped the ladle, her breath hitching, reeling in shock.
Pull yourself together, he commanded himself.
But without a word she reached out to the trembling Giyuu as she started to cry. Quickly, the scents of despair and loathing filled the air, overwhelming Urokodoki.
But with a steadying step, he pushed away all those devilish thoughts. Gently, he wrapped his arms around his poor children, murmuring softly, "It's alright, it's alright, I'm glad that at least you came back alive, Giyuu."
And Makomo wailed. And Giyuu clung onto him like the world was ending.
Sabito was the twelfth student of his to die in the Final Selection.
It took some time for Giyuu to explain what happened. Some time to compose himself and admit that he was unconscious while Sabito saved them all - every single one of the candidates in the test - but died in doing so. Despite the sadness of it all, Urokodoki couldn't help but feel pride for his student.
It's true that the Final Selection has a horrible survival rate, and plenty of his students have succeeded in the past (...though many of them have also died in later battles against demons). However, he can't help but feel that something is amiss, that more of his students should be passing.
But the truth is, he only has himself to blame for being such an incomptent teacher.
Urokodaki wondered why everyone leaves.
Of course, logically, he knows why. He has no more to teach them, they would all want to go out into the world to become stronger and fulfill their destinies (and vengeances) as demon slayers. It was why he taught them in the first place.
But it's far too soon, he thinks. Their hearts are still grieving over Sabito. He just wants Giyuu to stay for just a bit longer. To train with him a little bit more before he starts fighting demons alone. To eat dinner besides him and Mokomo, as if nothing had changed despite the other empty seat. Even though Giyuu will not learn anything more from him, perhaps Urokodaki can find a way to ease the pain of Sabito's passing.
But Urokodaki is only a swordmaster. He does not have the ability to mend hearts, nor does he know how to ease the pain of grief and survivor's guilt, even through the years of encountering victim after victim after victim.
He never figured out how to comfort them, that's why he strove so hard to save them from misery and pain in the first place.
So he watches, as Giyuu grips his newly forged sword tightly in his hands, patiently waiting for the swordsmith to finish his explanation. Giyuu unsheathes his own Nichirin sword and the blade turns a brilliant blue, fitting for a user of the water breath.
And Urokodaki watches, as Giyuu stands in attention to the crow crackling out his first orders, and Urokodaki knows that it's time for Giyuu to leave his care.
"Everyone leaves," he can't help but murmur sadly. Mokomo embraces him from behind. "It's okay, Giyuu will definitely come back. He loves you very much, after all!"
He merely watched silently, as Giyuu disappeared into the horizon. Urokodoki thought that he would be happy just to know that Giyuu survived. But he also can't help but wonder if they hated him, for being such a failure of a demon slayer. Perhaps that's why no one ever came back.
"That's not true at all!" Makomo insisted, startling him out of his thoughts. "We all love Urokodoki very, very much!"
Under his mask, his jaw clenches. If they all thought of him so highly, then they wouldn't just leave him, again and again.
The next year, Makomo stands in front of the boulder split in half. When she turns to look at him, her face is full of determination. The mask on his face covers his acquiescence; there would be no stopping her as well. Instead, he pats her head. Well done, be strong, live.
She smiled at him and says in a voice full of confidence but so utterly young and kind and soft,"I'll be back soon!"
He sees her off as she walks under the early morning sun, stopping and waving back at him every so often, until she disappears into the horizon.
She never comes back either.