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Ok! Yeah! It'll be a piece of cake.. OR SO DID I THOUGHT!!!
I'm screwed… I really talked too fucking big, didn't I?
Standing in front of Shinjuro with a bamboo practice sword in hand, Takeo appeared calm on the outside—but inside, cold sweat was pouring down.
At first, he had thought that since he'd managed to learn Wind Breathing in such a short time, learning Flame Breathing just as quickly shouldn't be too difficult.
Especially since Shinjuro had given him a full thirty minutes… even more than that, in fact.
It was a safe environment, with a complete Breathing Technique provided—no fear of demons attacking at any moment, no pressure to force himself to grasp an incomplete style. By all accounts, these were ideal conditions for training.
And yet… more than half an hour had passed, and Takeo still hadn't mastered Flame Breathing.
No—allow him to defend himself just a little—
Can someone explain why the breathing patterns between different Breathing Techniques could be so different?!
Weren't they all derived from the same foundational breathing method?
Why, after learning Wind Breathing, was it this hard to switch to Flame Breathing?
It wasn't that Takeo couldn't learn it—he'd already memorized the theory behind Flame Breathing.
If he hadn't already learned Wind Breathing, he might've picked up Flame Breathing fairly quickly.
But the problem was that during his travels, he had already fully internalized Wind Breathing. Its rhythm and flow had become second nature to his body.
And because of that, forcibly switching to the Flame Breathing pattern would take far more time than he had.
Half an hour… just wasn't enough.
Forget thirty minutes—even if Takeo had half a day, he probably still wouldn't have pulled it off!
Now he was really screwed!!
"What's wrong? Not planning to attack? Or is it that you couldn't master Flame Breathing?"
Shinjuro stood casually, one hand holding his sake bottle and the other holding a bamboo practice sword.
To Takeo, the man looked full of openings—but the moment he seriously considered launching an attack, he couldn't find a single angle worth exploiting.
At the end of the day, this drunken bastard was still a former Flame Hashira—someone who had retired from the Corps while still in one piece. That fact alone was proof of his strength.
Only now did Takeo truly realize how brainless it had been to accept this challenge—to agree to defeat Shinjuro using Flame Breathing.
His body was now younger, and it was starting to affect his mind too… Was he really this reckless before?
It dawned on him—his mindset was beginning to match the age of his body. Maybe it was the hormones.
But now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.
Gripping the bamboo sword tightly with both hands, Takeo—already in too deep to back out—locked eyes with Shinjuro, his gaze resolute, and shouted:
"In that case—here I come!"
Boom!
Takeo gathered his Breathing Technique, focusing it into his legs. In an instant, his speed exploded past his limits—he shot toward Shinjuro like a sudden gust of wind.
A raging vortex of wind spiraled behind him, tearing through the solid ground.
A powerful shockwave erupted from the tip of Takeo's bamboo sword, blasting straight toward Shinjuro!
Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!
Back when Yoshizuru Asato had accompanied Takeo to the Wisteria House for recovery, he had taught him the complete Wind Breathing style.
Because of that, Takeo could now unleash the First Form of Wind Breathing with ease.
Currently, he had mastered the first six forms of Wind Breathing and could use them fluidly in combat. Against an enemy, he would instinctively resort to Wind Breathing techniques.
If he were to face that water demon on the boat again now, Takeo was certain he could kill it with ease.
This was the strength he possessed now.
Sure, it still wasn't enough to surpass a former Flame Hashira—but it was definitely stronger than Yoshizuru Asato.
Roughly three times as strong, in fact—a full three Asatos of strength!
(Yoshizuru Asato has now been reduced to a unit of measurement XD)
And yet, the strike that could have cleanly taken the head off a water demon—did nothing to Shinjuro.
With just a single move—one strike—Shinjuro easily tore through Takeo's wind and landed a precise blow on his wrist!
BAM!
Takeo winced in pain and nearly dropped his sword—but in the next second, he gripped it even tighter, raised it high, changed his breathing form, and unleashed a rising slash filled with spiraling wind blades!
Wind Breathing, Sixth Form: Black Wind Mountain Mist!
But even this was effortlessly countered—Shinjuro reversed his grip and broke through the attack with a single motion.
"Pathetic!"
WHAM!
Shinjuro, now visibly angry, kicked Takeo hard in the waist and abdomen, sending him flying. But he didn't follow up—he simply stood in place, shouting in fury:
"What are you even using?! Is that Flame Breathing? I asked you—where is your Flame Breathing?!"
"..."
If I could use Flame Breathing, I would've done it already… you damn drunken bastard!
Takeo adjusted his posture in mid-air and landed firmly on the ground, gritting his teeth as he mentally cursed Shinjuro.
Unfortunately, that was one thought he couldn't say out loud.
He was the one who said he'd master Flame Breathing in a short time—so if he tried to make excuses now, it would only make him look like a fool.
That stubborn pride unique to young boys began to flare within Takeo—and once it did, he couldn't bring himself to admit defeat.
So even if he couldn't use Flame Breathing yet, Takeo still wanted to see if he could defeat Shinjuro through sheer will.
Without saying a word, Takeo continued to charge at Shinjuro.
His eyes saw nothing but Shinjuro—his entire focus was on defeating the man in front of him.
But the difference in their strength was simply too great.
Even swaying unsteadily, reeking of alcohol, and looking like he could barely stand—Shinjuro was still a Hashira. A former Hashira, yes, but a Hashira nonetheless.
His strength was overwhelming. The speed of his bamboo sword was impossible to track.
Often, before Takeo could even register what was happening, his hands had already been struck.
Shinjuro seemed to be deliberately targeting Takeo's wrists, trying to make him drop his sword—but the more he did, the more determined Takeo became to hold on.
To a swordsman, letting go of your blade was no different from surrendering.
"Where's your talent?! What about all that big talk you spouted earlier?! Where's your Flame Breathing now?!"
Shinjuro roared furiously as he struck Takeo's wrist again—then sent him flying with another kick.
That kick landed hard—Takeo felt as though his stomach had been split open. He couldn't get back up immediately.
Watching from the side, Senjuro couldn't hold back any longer and shouted:
"That's enough! Father, you know perfectly well that a swordsman who's already mastered one Breathing Technique can't just learn another in such a short time!"
"Shut up!!" Shinjuro roared at Senjuro, then stormed over to Takeo, raising his bamboo sword high overhead.
"If you have no talent, admit it! A useless brat like you would be better off getting out of the Demon Slayer Corps while you still can!"
With that, Shinjuro brought the bamboo sword crashing down toward Takeo's head!
Had the strike landed cleanly, an ordinary person would likely have suffered a concussion. Even a swordsman trained in Breathing Techniques would probably be bedridden for days.
Takeo tried to dodge—but Shinjuro's swing was too fast. In the blink of an eye, the bamboo sword was already about to strike his head.
—"Takeo. Breathe."
"…?"
Time seemed to slow.
In that suspended moment, Takeo heard a familiar male voice whisper in his ear.
Before his eyes, like a fleeting vision, he saw the silhouette of a man who looked somewhat like him—but older and more mature.
That figure appeared weak and emaciated… all skin and bones.
He sat just outside the room, watching Takeo holding something in his hands, smiling gently as he spoke in a soft voice:
"…Breathing is the foundation of everything, Takeo. You must remember that."
Breathing—
A strange, graceful dance flickered across Takeo's vision.
And just after that dance ended, he once again saw the bamboo sword about to crash down on his head.
How much time had passed just now?
A moment? A second?
No… maybe not even the blink of an eye.
But somehow—unexplainably—Takeo felt like something had just clicked inside him.
His breathing suddenly changed.
A searing flow of heat surged through his body, like a blaze ignited from his lungs, spreading out through every fiber of his being.
Fwoosh—!
Takeo narrowly dodged the bamboo sword—missing his head by mere millimeters.
The thunderous impact as the bamboo struck the ground was deafening, but Takeo ignored it completely.
Flames curled around his own bamboo sword—a scorching heat that seemed hot enough to ignite the very air itself surged upward as he swung it at Shinjuro!
Blazing firelight burst forth before both Shinjuro and Senjuro's eyes.
Flame Breathing, Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun!
In that moment—Takeo unleashed it!
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12 Advance chapters—P@treon/HornyFBI