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No one could learn two Breathing Techniques in a short amount of time.
As the former Flame Hashira, Shinjuro knew this better than anyone.
Breathing Techniques were methods that enhanced the body—but aside from the original form, Sun Breathing, all other styles differed in how they were used.
Each had different breathing patterns, different combat forms.
Once the body became accustomed to one Breathing Technique, unless the other being used was the original Sun Breathing, it was virtually impossible to switch techniques freely.
Forcibly switching would throw one's breathing into chaos, placing a tremendous burden on the body—this was why every swordsman only ever mastered one Breathing Technique.
Even those who developed a second typically only did so by evolving it from their foundational breathing—creating a new, personalized style derived from their core.
Shinjuro understood this truth. And he could also see that this brat in front of him had indeed mastered some form of Breathing Technique.
Though not yet fully refined, the boy was unmistakably using it.
That alone made him qualified to join the Demon Slayer Corps.
In fact, there was no need to train him further—he could head straight for the Final Selection and likely pass without issue.
But…
And yet, Shinjuro still chose to crush the boy's spirit—to make him give up before it was too late.
After all, what did it matter if he had mastered a Breathing Technique?
In the end, he'd die anyway—either at the hands of a demon or from illness. A kid like this… even with a bit of talent, how long could he really survive?
He'd be better off leaving the Demon Slayer Corps and living an ordinary life.
That was why Shinjuro made things difficult for him. Of course, maybe—just maybe—there was a little bit of personal emotion mixed in. Fine… a lot.
But the truth was, Shinjuro simply didn't want to see a kid who looked about the same age as his own youngest son walk into the brutal world of demon slaying.
Not being able to use Flame Breathing—that was normal.
Being unable to reverse the flow of one's Breathing—that was normal too.
At least for ordinary people, it was impossible. And if this red-haired brat couldn't do it either, then he didn't have the so-called "talent" Shinjuro spoke of.
And if he had no talent, then he wasn't suited to join the Demon Slayer Corps. It was better for him to quit early.
That was what Shinjuro thought as he brought his bamboo sword down toward the boy lying on the ground.
With this strike, this pointless farce would come to an end.
The brat would likely be bedridden for a few days—and afterward, give up on joining the Corps entirely. With his strong body, he could become a good citizen, become wealthy, love freely, and marry the love of his life... lead a happy life as a normal person and not get tangled in this desperate, dark mess this world truly was...
That's also what he wanted for his son Senjuro.
But… Shinjuro's prediction had gone off track.
Even though the boy was already down on the ground—even though his breathing was shallow and he looked like he had no strength left to fight—at the final, critical moment, an intense wave of heat suddenly erupted from his body!
And because it was Flame Breathing, Shinjuro recognized it immediately. He knew exactly what technique the brat had just used.
Wind… had turned into flame.
The raging wind had transformed into blazing fire.
So unbelievable was the sight before him that Shinjuro froze in place.
Just for a second—only for that briefest instant—but in that time, searing flames split the air, shattered the bamboo sword, and reached Shinjuro's jaw!
But the strike never landed.
Because the boy's bamboo sword, unable to withstand the strain of switching between two Breathing Techniques, had splintered—breaking apart inch by inch until only the hilt remained, trembling as it pointed at Shinjuro.
The scene fell silent. Takeo didn't speak.
He couldn't.
He was doing everything he could just to endure the pain caused by forcibly shifting his breathing style.
A moment later, Senjuro's voice broke the silence: "D-Did you… win…?"
"Haah... haah.. …I managed to use Flame Breathing…"
Takeo remained in his upward-slashing stance, and calmly spoke to Shinjuro.
Shinjuro looked down at the broken bamboo sword in his hand, then back at the boy before him—who, despite being in obvious agony, still stood tall without retreating. His mouth twitched slightly.
In the end, he said nothing. He tossed aside the bamboo sword, turned around, and left. As he walked away, he still swayed like a drunk, as if he might collapse at any moment.
"Ugh! Haa… haa…"
Only after Shinjuro left did Takeo finally give in, falling to one knee.
Clutching his chest, he gasped for breath—an overwhelming tightness and discomfort, like a massive stitch in his side, nearly made him lose consciousness.
Senjuro quickly rushed to his side, worried. "Are you alright?! Kamado-san!"
"BREATHE! BOY!"
A thunderous voice suddenly rang out beside them, making both Senjuro and Takeo jolt in surprise.
The shout nearly sent Takeo into full blackout.
Before Takeo could even see who had spoken, he felt a warm hand press against his back.
Then, from the side, a medium-sized version of Senjuro's face suddenly popped into view—wearing a wide smile.
His voice boomed like a temple bell as he shouted:
"Focus on your breathing! Steady your rhythm! Channel your breathing to ease the pain from the shift in technique! It'll help a lot!"
Huff.. Ugh.. So loud… my ears are going to explode…!
The suddenly-appearing medium-sized Senjuro shouted every single word like he was delivering a war speech.
His voice was so thunderous it made Takeo's head spin—but even so, Takeo instinctively followed the instructions and began practicing Total Concentration Breathing as directed.
"Yes! Just like that!" the booming voice praised, clearly noticing the shift in Takeo's breathing flow.
Following the man's guidance, Takeo gradually began to feel better. After some time, the pain subsided enough for him to move again.
He raised his head to look at the medium-sized Senjuro next to him and was about to ask who he was—when the nearby small Senjuro—wait, no, just regular Senjuro—cried out in delight:
"Onii-san! When did you get back?!"
For some reason, even Senjuro's voice had gotten louder—only to be drowned out by the even louder voice of medium-Sen—no, Rengoku Kyojuro himself:
"While this red-haired boy was battling our father!!"
"…So you were here from the very beginning?! Why didn't you stop them?!" Senjuro couldn't help but shout in exasperation.
"Because I saw the resolve in this young man's heart!" boomed medium-sized Senjuro in response. Then he placed a firm hand on the boy—on Takeo's shoulder—and declared in an even louder voice:
"Become my adopted son, boy!!"
"…Huh?"
Excuse me… what exactly is the connection between "seeing my resolve" and "becoming your adopted son"…?
Did I miss something here…?
Takeo was completely thrown off by the sheer leap in logic packed into that one sentence, but he quickly realized who this medium-sized Senjuro—this man who looked so much like Senjuro—really was.
No doubt about it. This had to be the current Flame Hashira—Rengoku Kyojuro.
First impression? Well…
Let's just say—he's definitely a man of strong personality.
"Onii-san, there you go again… I'm sorry, Kamado-san, my brother's… ideas are kind of strange sometimes…"
"N-No, it's fine. That said, uh… 'adopted son' means… what, exactly?"
Hearing Senjuro's apology, Takeo responded offhandedly and then asked what exactly Rengoku Kyojuro had meant by "adopted son."
From the sound of it, it seemed like he was trying to take him in as some sort of godson… But surely no one would go around picking up random kids as godchildren, right?
So maybe Takeo had misunderstood.
"By 'Adopted son', he means becoming his Tsuguko, that is, the successor of a Hashira. Tsuguko is basically the person meant to inherit their position. What my brother meant is that he wants you to become his student."
Senjuro explained it simply, confirming that Takeo's assumption was wrong—"adopted son" definitely didn't mean godson.
But to be named as a Hashira's successor right off the bat… wasn't that a bit too—rash?
"So, boy! Become my adopted son!!"
Kyojuro repeated his declaration at full volume.
Takeo's eye twitched.
Putting aside this Flame Hashira's apparent habit of offering people inheritance-level mentorship at first sight… what Takeo really didn't understand was—
Why does he have to yell every single sentence…?
My ears are going to explode, dammit!
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💝Read 12 Chaps ahead—P@treon/HornyFBI