Chapter 13: The Routine of Measured Steps
In the days that followed, Kanzaki Akira's life fell into a remarkably consistent rhythm.
He would rise with the sun, dedicating his mornings to the theoretical study of Breathing Techniques. He began the gradual process of attuning himself to his own respiratory patterns, tentatively brushing against the threshold of Thunder Breathing.
The afternoons were reserved for sword practice. He worked his way through the fundamental forms, from basic slashes to the Second through Fifth Forms of Thunder Breathing, interspersing the drills with rigorous physical conditioning.
The training method was brutally simple: run down Mount Momoyama and then run back up.
Throughout the entire run, he was required to maintain the precise rhythm of Thunder Breathing, never allowing his pace to falter. To make matters worse, Kuwajima Jigoro would randomly ambush him along the route, forcing him to react instantly.
Jigoro admitted he had drawn inspiration for this particular trial from the training methods of an old friend.
'This is my first time taking on a disciple,' Jigoro had mused aloud. 'I don't have much experience. There's no harm in seeking advice from someone who does, right?'
Urokodaki Sakonji, I really, truly thank you for this, Akira would think, his gratitude dripping with pure, unadulterated sarcasm.
A week of this relentless training yielded a significant improvement in Akira's physical fitness. He had also grasped the fundamentals of Thunder Breathing, increasing the duration he could maintain Total Concentration Breathing from 'try it and instantly collapse' to a full ten minutes.
Ten minutes was more than enough time to execute several sets of Thunder Breathing's sword forms. The only drawback was the deep exhaustion that would render him completely spent for a period afterward.
, as he gradually mastered the Breathing Technique and his body grew stronger, Akira's appetite swelled by the day. There was no helping it; the strengthening of the body through breathing was not a miracle conjured from thin air. It demanded a constant and sufficient intake of energy.
This fact often led Akira to ponder the fate of Kamado Tanjuro during his rest periods. The man was practically a miniature Tsugikuni Yoriichi, yet he was so frail. A significant part of the reason, Akira surmised, must have been his long-term practice of a powerful Breathing Technique without the means to sustain it. His family's poverty meant he could never consume enough energy, leading to a slow, long-term overdraft of his own life force.
However, since beginning his training, Akira had encountered a formidable wall—he still hadn't learned the First Form.
For the Second through Fifth Forms of Thunder Breathing, Jigoro only needed to demonstrate them once. Akira could then practice them slowly on his own, quickly memorizing the movements and even making minor adjustments based on his own physical condition to make the motions smoother and more natural.
But the First Form was an exception.
Thunder Breathing First Form: Thunderclap and Flash. It was the ultimate technique of instantaneous, explosive speed—the very soul of the Thunder Breathing style. Even the five subsequent forms relied on the First Form to unleash their true power.
It was the foundation, the core, and the starting point of everything.
Yet, for a form of such critical importance, Jigoro could not demonstrate it. His disabled leg made it impossible. He could only verbally impart the key principles of the movement; the rest was left to Akira's own comprehension.
And now, three days had passed since Jigoro had taught him the essentials of the First Form. Akira could only say that he had made no progress whatsoever.
During his break before dinner, Akira sat on the porch, staring out at the setting sun, lost in a deep and troubled contemplation.
Thwack—
"Ouch! Old man, what'd you hit me for?" Akira clutched his head, twisting to see Jigoro standing just behind him.
"I'm trying to wake you up!" Jigoro's voice was stern. "You've only been stuck on the First Form for three days, and you're already letting yourself get bogged down in a rut? Do you have any idea how long it took me to reach your level? And you're still not satisfied. What, you think you can reach the heavens in a single step just because you have a bit of talent?"
The old man lectured indignantly as he walked over and plopped down beside Akira.
"You are the most gifted child I have ever seen," he continued, his tone softening slightly. "You can learn every form with just a single look. That is your talent, but it is also a shackle. You subconsciously rely too much on those powerful eyes of yours, and in doing so, you ignore your other strengths."
"Thunderclap and Flash is about the ultimate burst, concentrating all of your power into a single point. If you haven't truly explored and mastered your own body's strength, how can you possibly hope to concentrate it and unleash it?"
As Jigoro spoke, a light began to dawn in Akira's eyes, and the vexation that had coiled in his heart started to dissipate.
The impossibly smooth learning process he'd experienced until now had filled his head with some unrealistic fantasies, causing him to grow impatient at the slightest obstacle.
Logically, he shouldn't be this way. After years of struggling through society in his past life and experiencing the hardships of a wanderer in this one, his temperament should have been far more resilient.
But perhaps it was precisely because he had awakened his past life's memories that Akira subconsciously believed he was different—uniquely gifted, a cut above everyone else in this world.
Whether it was his casual internal assessment of Muzan, the dark cloud that had loomed over the Demon Slayer Corps for centuries, or the unintentional air of nonchalance he displayed toward others, it all stemmed from this subconscious belief. He had only been spared criticism because of his youth and his tragic background. The recent, overly smooth training period had only served to deepen this flawed perception.
Ultimately, it was this mindset that had caused him to become so restless after being stuck on the First Form for a mere three days.
He, Kanzaki Akira, was just one person among the teeming masses of this world. Although he possessed some talent and knew secrets of the future that were hidden from others, he was still just a mortal. He was not some lofty, untouchable existence.
Once he corrected his mindset, the stagnation of a few days no longer bothered him.
Seeing Akira so quickly adjust his state, Jigoro nodded with deep satisfaction. A week had passed, and with his effort and talent, Akira had successfully made the old man abandon any thought of persuading him to quit. Instead, Jigoro had begun to cultivate him with all his heart, intending to nurture a powerful swordsman for the Demon Slayer Corps—a new Hashira who would one day surpass him, the former Pillar.
"Remember," Jigoro said, his gaze fixed on Akira's eyes. He spoke with earnest gravity. "You must learn to master your talent, not just rely on it."
He finished by lightly tapping Akira on the head before rising and heading toward the kitchen. He had noticed Akira's distress midway through preparing dinner and had come out to counsel him. Now that the lesson was over, he naturally had to return to cooking; he couldn't let his precious disciple go hungry.
Akira watched Jigoro's not-so-tall back disappear into the house, and the gratitude in his heart deepened.
He had no doubt that if he had continued to obsess over his failure to learn the First Form, the kind old man would have eventually demonstrated it for him, even at the risk of aggravating his leg injury or becoming paralyzed from the waist down.
Jigoro would have done it because he believed that a single look was all his uniquely gifted disciple needed to learn the move. And mastering that crucial technique would give him a better chance of survival when facing demons in the future.
Thinking of this, Akira silently rubbed the corners of his moistening eyes, cursing all of Kaigaku's relatives one more time in his heart. He turned, hurried back into his room, and grabbed a pen and paper.
He needed to write to Ubuyashiki Kagaya to confirm whether that bastard Kaigaku had been dealt with. Such a good old man could not be ruined by that scoundrel. He wouldn't allow even the slightest possibility of it!
Not only that, Akira also made a new plan. Once he became an official Demon Slayer, he would find Agatsuma Zenitsu and bring him to the old man for companionship. This way, even if Akira couldn't visit often in the future, Jigoro wouldn't be too lonely.
As for whether Jigoro, having witnessed Akira's top-tier talent, would drastically increase the training intensity for Zenitsu… well, that was no longer Akira's concern.
After all, the old man wouldn't train anyone to death. A slightly higher training intensity might just mean fewer injuries for Zenitsu in the future.
I am truly too kind, Akira thought with a wry smile.
Somewhere out in the world, Agatsuma Zenitsu suddenly felt a chill. "Don't you come over here—!"
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