13| Beyond the words

                                    

                                          
Two days had passed since someone poisoned Mitsuri's pastries, yet the culprit remained elusive. As the investigation continued, life at the Demon Slayer Corps carried on, albeit with a lingering sense of unease.
After what happened with Mitsuri's pastries, Shinobu approached us, distributing small devices designed to detect the scent of belladonna. "Just a precaution," she explained. "In case anyone tries to poison our food again."
Today, it was my turn for training with Tomioka. We began our session in the early morning, the air crisp with the promise of a new day. Despite the weight of recent events, I approached the training grounds with determination.
The training itself went smoothly; Tomioka's expertise was evident in every move. Yet, despite our close proximity and shared goal, not a single word passed between us. It seemed as though an invisible barrier separated us, preventing any meaningful communication.
As we sparred, I couldn't help but observe Tomioka's demeanor. His stoic expression belied a depth of character that intrigued me. I had witnessed his compassion during yesterday's meeting, where he had staunchly defended Tanjiro. It was clear that beneath his aloof exterior, he harbored a genuine concern for others.
Despite my growing admiration for him, I found myself at a loss for how to bridge the gap between us. How does one initiate a conversation with someone so enigmatic? I pondered this question as our training continued, the rhythmic clash of our blades echoing through the air.
As our blades danced in the sun light, I seized a moment of respite to break the silence. "Nice form," I ventured, hoping to initiate some semblance of conversation.
Tomioka's response was measured, his focus never wavering from our training. "Thank you," he replied, his voice calm and composed.
Encouraged by his acknowledgment, I pressed on. "You seemed quite adamant about defending Tanjiro yesterday. Do you know him well?"
Tomioka's movements faltered imperceptibly before he regained his composure. "I have encountered him on several occasions," he answered, his tone neutral.
I nodded, sensing his reluctance to delve further into the topic. "He seems like a determined young man," I offered, trying to keep the conversation flowing. 
"He is," Tomioka affirmed, his gaze distant as if lost in thought.
As our blades clashed in a rhythmic dance, I couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in my mind. Finally, I decided to break the silence once more.
"I think I understand now why you risked your life for them," I ventured, carefully choosing my words. "That demon girl seems different from the others."
Tomioka's response was a stoic silence as our swords met once again.
Undeterred, I pressed on, hoping to breach the wall of his reserved demeanor. "I've heard that your mentor, the former Water Hashira, trained Tanjiro. Did you recommend him?"
Again, Tomioka remained silent, his focus solely on our training.
I persisted, determined to draw him into conversation. "Do you intend for him to become your successor?"
This time, Tomioka spoke, his voice quiet and uncertain. "I don't know."
The conversation died there, swallowed by the sounds of our sparring. Frustration gnawed at me as I struggled to find common ground with the enigmatic swordsman beside me. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, our interactions remained strained and distant. With a heavy heart, I returned to the training, resigned to the fact that some barriers were not so easily broken.