It wasn't the crude fistfighting of street thugs, nor was it the clumsy swordplay he managed by relying on brute force and ferocity, swinging the Asauchi wildly.
This slash was more like a resonance between the human body and nature, a posture of ultimate power erupting from within a person, wildly splashing out between the world!
The wooden sword swung up from below, conjuring a storm!
"Sensei is really serious today..." Rika suddenly remarked.
With Tetsushinki as the origin, a tornado formed from pure, violent air currents boldly took shape, rising from the ground!
Rumble!!
The violent wind pressure poured out along Tetsushinki's wooden sword, instantly sweeping across most of the training ground!
Turbid snow and sand mixed with the dust of the training ground, forming in an instant a dust tornado several meters in diameter, shooting straight into the clouds!
It was like a screaming, earth-yellow giant serpent, madly thrusting its fangs towards the sky!
At the edge of the tornado, piercing tearing sounds erupted, and visibly sharp wind blades darted up and down within it. Taka had no doubt that if he so much as touched it, his flesh would be instantly sliced open!
A moment later, the howling tornado gradually subsided. The snow mud and dust that had been swept into the sky fell like raindrops, rustling down, forming a clear circular area around Tetsushinki.
He slowly withdrew his stance, the wooden sword pointing diagonally at the ground, his breathing gradually steadying.
Tetsushinki turned his deep and profound gaze towards the shocked and awed Taka, and spoke in a low, powerful voice, "Did you see that? To kill those demons, relying solely on the wild-swinging brute force and the bit of tenacity learned in the streets is not enough!"
"If you are willing, I can teach you this Wind Breathing. It will grant you the power to oppose demons, but you must also bear the responsibility...."
"Taka, do you have the resolve? To become a Demon Slayer?"
'The resolve to become a Demon Slayer?' Taka was stunned for half a second, then quickly dismissed the idea.
Killing demons and such... he didn't really feel strongly about it.
In Taka's view, although he didn't know where these 'demons' came from, it seemed demons ate people, just like dogs fight over food or wolves eat sheep. Perhaps it was one of the rules of this cruel world.
The old man's revenge, he had already risked his life to settle. Other demons had nothing to do with him.
Demon Slayer Corps, God Slayer Corps... he didn't care what these people wanted to do at all.
But power... this old man possessed great power, power that could be learned!
He wanted to survive... to live better, more safely, he had to master greater power!
".....Fine. How many of those monsters do I have to kill to earn the training method for this power?"
Tetsushinki gave him a long, hard look.
The wildness in this boy's eyes had not faded. He was like a lone wolf just picked up by a wolf pack.... The will to survive at all costs is the foundation of becoming a strong swordsman, but it is also a risk....
In this increasingly turbulent era, the Demon Slayer Corps also needed to replenish its active strength....
He hesitated for a moment, then finally made his decision. "You don't need to earn it... Since you've decided, starting tomorrow, stay and train with us!"
And so, Nanajuhachi Taka, this stray dog from the lowest depths of Rukongai in another world, remained at the Hayama's training ground.
In the earliest days, Tetsushinki taught him nothing about sword forms or combat.
Every day began with the most biting morning wind at the mountain top.
Tetsushinki would gather all his disciples, making them sit cross-legged in the freezing outdoor training ground, eyes closed in concentration, feeling the cold and fierce mountain wind.
"Wind Breathing is the most agile and swift and fierce school, as swift and unpredictable as a raging gale!"
"Feel the air enter your mouth and nose, surge along every inch of your trachea into your lungs, and then slowly exhale!"
"Do not breathe hastily! Imagine yourself as a pair of bellows. With each inhalation, push to the limit! With each exhalation, empty completely, like a hurricane sweeping across the earth!"
Taka listened to Tetsushinki's requirements, wondering, 'What was so difficult about this?'
He tried a few rounds as instructed, but was mercilessly tapped on his diaphragm by Tetsushinki's wooden sword. The force was precise and vicious, hurting so much he could barely breathe.
"Too shallow!" Tetsushinki reprimanded sternly. "Rhythm! Maintain a steady and powerful rhythm!"
Taka got up, gritted his teeth, and strove to meet Tetsushinki's requirements to the utmost.
Soon, he tasted the bitterness.
In the fierce mountain wind, the air poured in like knives, scraping at one's chest, causing tightness. And Taka and the others, following Tetsushinki's instructions, had to use a frequency and depth far exceeding normal breathing to intensely feel every bit of airflow.
Countless invisible needles repeatedly stabbed his trachea and alveoli. The lungs in his chest felt a tearing sensation with every breath, each inhale and exhale like razor blades moving in and out of his windpipe!
In less than ten minutes, he felt his vision darken, his ears ringing, and he coughed violently.
"Hmph! You can't even endure this little hardship, yet you want to master the power of the wind?" Kenichi was also sitting cross-legged, breathing deeply, but his progress was much deeper than Taka's, so naturally he wasn't this miserable.
He sneered at Taka without concealment, and Tetsushinki silently permitted this situation, quietly observing as Kenichi deliberately provoked this wild boy he found disagreeable.
But Taka ignored Kenichi's mockery. He just used his sleeve to wipe the saliva brought on by the violent coughing, calmed his emotions once more, and strove to continue trying.
Compared to the days of living in constant fear, restless as a stray dog, what was this little pain?
Tetsushinki quietly watched the almost paranoid persistence in Taka, sensing his temperament… clumsy, heavy breathing, yet struggling and refusing to give up like a wild beast. His expression was serious.
'This kid had a certain ferocity in him... To achieve a goal, he would squeeze out every last ounce of strength...'
One day, two days, three days....
Taka became the earliest to arrive and the last to leave the training ground.
The morning frost had not yet melted, and he was already sitting cross-legged on the cold stone slabs. By the time everyone else had left, he still hadn't come out of his meditation.
His lungs felt a tearing pain, sweat soaked his clothes which quickly turned cold in the wind, clinging to his skin with an bone-chilling coldness, but he chose to endure it.
Sometimes, after training to exhaustion, he would directly faint on the cold stone slabs, only to be found by Rika on her rounds and dragged back to his room.
But the next day, he would punctually appear again, his gaze even more determined.
Kenichi's mockery gradually turned into silence, and then into a gaze of incomprehension.
He watched with his own eyes as Taka fell again and again, and got up again and again.
That wasn't training at all… it was desperately struggling, as if burning his very life to gain a sliver of a chance to grow stronger.
This kind of tenacity made him feel pressure, and even... admiration.
When Taka could finally barely maintain this breathing for over half an hour amidst intense pain without fainting, only then did Tetsushinki hand him his first wooden sword for training.
"Starting tomorrow, physical training!"
And this didn't mean liberation, but an even more painful tempering.
…
At indoor training ground, Tetsushinki demonstrated the most basic sword grip posture. "Without a solid foundation, no matter how brilliant the techniques, they are just castles in the air. Keep this firmly in your mind!"
Thus, Taka began monotonous, maddening basic sword swinging training.
Slash! Cut! Sweep! Thrust!
Again and again, day after day, Taka repeated the simplest, most tedious movements.
Gripping the heavy wooden sword with both hands, he conscientiously swung it according to every angle, every degree of force Tetsushinki demanded.
With every swing, he had to coordinate with the rhythm of his breathing.
Inhale, gather strength
Swing, explode with force
Exhale, recover stance
The movements had to be standard, the breathing had to be synchronized.
Kenichi and the few other students of the same cohort, after completing the required number of swings, would go practice more complex footwork or sparring.
Only Taka, like a tireless machine, remained standing in place, swinging the wooden sword in his hand again and again.
His arms felt like they were filled with lead… every lift was immensely difficult. The purlicue was worn raw by the rough wooden handle, blood seeping out and soaking into the hilt. Sweat flowed into the wounds, bringing a piercing sting. His lower back was unbearably sore and swollen, as if it might snap at any moment.
"Enough! You've already done today's quota! Do you want to train yourself until you're crippled?" Kenichi finally couldn't help but shout at Taka, who was still practicing extra after one training session.
Taka's movements didn't pause for a moment. Sweat dripped along his tense jawline, hitting the wooden floor beneath him. He didn't say a word.
He didn't know what muscle soreness was. He only knew that when the thugs' clubs came down, the pain on his back was far worse!
Morning, dusk, noon, evening, and even late into the night.
Thousand times, ten thousand times, hundred thousand times....
The blood blisters on his hands wore through, then scabbed over, eventually turning into thick layers of calluses.
This kind of life continued for seven months.
Until one day, Kenichi told him with an admiring look:
"....Taka, you're amazing! Sensei says starting tomorrow, you can begin your 'Field Training'!"