The boulder loomed before you and Tanjiro, its rough surface a testament to the countless attempts of others who had come before. The weight of Urokodaki's words hung heavy in the air. Splitting the boulder wasn't just a physical test—it was a trial of your determination, resolve, and ability to adapt everything you had learned so far.

Tanjiro approached the boulder first, his grip steady on the hilt of his blade. His breathing slowed, becoming deliberate and rhythmic—Total Concentration Breathing, a technique Urokodaki had drilled into both of you.

"Focus, Tanjiro," you said quietly, your own heart pounding as you watched him take his stance.

With a sharp inhale, Tanjiro swung his blade, the steel slicing through the air with a satisfying whoosh. But when it struck the surface of the boulder, the force of the impact vibrated through the ground. The blade left only a shallow scratch on the rock.

"Damn," he muttered, stepping back to steady himself.

You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "You'll get it. Just keep at it."

Tanjiro nodded, sweat dripping from his brow, and returned to his stance.

Days turned into weeks as the two of you worked tirelessly to overcome the challenge. You alternated between practicing your strikes and refining your breathing techniques, the sound of steel meeting stone becoming as constant as the rustling leaves in the forest.

Despite the grueling routine, Tanjiro never wavered. His determination was unwavering, and it fueled your own resolve.

But the boulder seemed indomitable. Every strike felt like a failure, and the frustration began to weigh on you. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you dropped your blade with a defeated sigh and sat against a nearby tree.

"This is impossible," you muttered, staring at the boulder. "How are we supposed to split something like that?"

Tanjiro sat beside you, his face just as weary but his eyes still holding a spark of determination. "It's not impossible," he said softly. "It's just...going to take time. We've come this far, haven't we?"

You glanced at him, and despite your exhaustion, his words gave you a sliver of hope. "You're annoying when you're optimistic, you know that?"

He chuckled, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere. "And you're annoying when you give up."

You smirked, nudging him with your elbow. "Touché."

That night, after Tanjiro had fallen asleep, you found yourself staring up at the star-filled sky. The soft rustling of the sakura blossoms in the wind was soothing, but your mind was restless. You couldn't stop thinking about your family, about Nezuko.

"We have to succeed," you whispered to yourself, clenching your fists. "For her. For all of them."

Suddenly, you felt a presence nearby. Startled, you grabbed your blade and turned to face the source of the disturbance.

A figure emerged from the shadows, their movements graceful and silent. It was a young man, his hair tied back and his expression calm yet stern. He carried a blade similar to yours, and the way he carried himself radiated confidence and skill.

"You're too tense," he said, his voice even. "That's why your strikes lack power."

"Who are you?" you asked, lowering your blade slightly but remaining cautious.

"My name is Sabito," he replied. "I trained under Urokodaki as well."

Before you could respond, another figure stepped out of the shadows—a girl with a soft smile and flowing hair.

"And I'm Makomo," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "We're here to help."

Sabito and Makomo spent the next several days guiding you and Tanjiro, their skill and wisdom pushing you to new heights. Sabito's training was harsh and unrelenting; he forced you to refine your swordsmanship through countless sparring matches, each one leaving you more bruised but more skilled than the last.

"Your sword is an extension of yourself," he said during one particularly grueling session. "If your mind wavers, so will your blade."

Makomo's guidance, in contrast, was softer but no less impactful. She focused on your breathing techniques and mental clarity, often leading you through the forest to observe the flow of nature.

"See how the wind moves the petals?" she asked one day, gesturing to a sakura tree. "It doesn't fight against the branches—it flows with them. Your movements must be the same."

Her words resonated deeply, and as you trained, you began to feel a connection to your blade that you hadn't before.

One evening, after a particularly intense session, you and Tanjiro sat together near the boulder, watching as the last light of day faded into night.

"They're incredible, aren't they?" you said, stretching out your sore arms.

Tanjiro nodded, his eyes fixed on the boulder. "Yeah. But more than that, they believe in us. That means we can't let them down."

You smiled, the weight of your exhaustion momentarily lifting. "No, we can't."

As the moon rose high above, you and Tanjiro returned to the boulder, your resolve stronger than ever. With Sabito and Makomo watching silently from the shadows, you took your stances, your breathing steady and controlled.

With a synchronized shout, you and Tanjiro swung your blades.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying sakura petals around you like a whirlwind. And then—

CRACK!

The boulder split cleanly in two, the halves falling apart with a resounding thud.

You stared in disbelief, your chest heaving as the reality of what you'd accomplished sank in. Tanjiro turned to you, a wide grin breaking across his face.

"We did it," he said, his voice filled with awe and relief.

You grinned back, tears of exhaustion and triumph streaming down your face. "Yeah. We did."

From the shadows, Sabito and Makomo watched with pride before silently disappearing into the night.

When you returned to Urokodaki, his mask concealed any hint of emotion, but his voice carried a rare warmth.

"You've done well," he said. "You are ready for Final Selection."

As the weight of his words settled over you, a mix of excitement and fear coursed through your veins. The true test was just beginning.