Chopsticks in hand and a mountain of rice steadily disappearing from his bowl, Tachibana Kyūjō asked casually—almost carelessly:
"So, what exactly do you wanna teach me, Oyaji? I mean, your sword technique's probably not better than mine. And as for Breathing Forms... I think I've already got them all figured out."
A vein throbbed on Kuwajima Jigorō's temple.
But with Herculean patience, the old man resisted the urge to smack the back of the boy's head.
Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke with firm restraint:
"There are five fundamental Breathing Styles in the Demon Slayer Corps: Water, Thunder, Flame, Stone, and Wind. All other forms originate from these five."
"Don't bother thinking about derivative techniques right now. They're far beyond your current stage."
"The Water Breathing you've been using—it's one of the five main styles. It's known for being the most beginner-friendly. Gentle, fluid, easy to learn. That's why it's the most common among Demon Slayers."
Kyūjō paused mid-bite and raised an eyebrow.
"So... what's your point?"
Jigorō stared directly at him and asked bluntly:
"Have you ever wondered if Water Breathing truly suits you?"
Kyūjō looked up. The weight in the old man's voice—it wasn't just about style or form. There was something deeper.
"You're saying... I'm not suited for Water Breathing?"
Jigorō nodded without hesitation.
"It's a technique many can learn—but that doesn't mean it fits everyone. I've spent decades immersed in these forms. And watching you wield it... your breath doesn't sync with the current. Not fully."
Kyūjō slowly nodded. He'd suspected it himself. Something had always felt off—a mismatch between what he was doing and what his body truly wanted to express.
Jigorō continued, his tone softer but no less resolute.
"I've seen countless swordsmen walk the path of Water. Their movements, their instincts... they're nothing like yours."
"You picked it up fast, sure—but that's only because it's easy to access."
...And maybe because you're a damn prodigy, Jigorō thought silently.
Kyūjō set down his chopsticks and looked the old man dead in the eye.
"So what—you're going to teach me Thunder Breathing?"
Jigorō folded his arms, chin raised with pride.
"Thunder Breathing is the style with the highest burst speed and explosive acceleration out of all the Breathing Forms."
"But—unlike Water, which flows and adapts—Thunder demands absolute control. Muscle strength, reaction speed, core stability—you'll need them all at an elite level."
"But if you master it... your movements will flash like lightning. And your strikes will echo like thunder!"
He narrowed his eyes, then spoke with a challenging glint.
"So? You want to learn it? If you do, I can—"
Before he could finish, Kyūjō exhaled deeply.
A slow, full breath. All the air in his lungs emptied.
Then, he drew in again—deep and steady.
The air around him changed.
Golden sparks flickered to life across his skin—thin, radiant, dancing like strands of lightning.
His long black hair rose slightly, stirred by a wind that didn't exist.
The aura he radiated was so intense it made the air vibrate.
He clenched his fists.
"…Yeah. This feels way more natural than Water."
Kyūjō shrugged, completely nonchalant. "Thunder Breathing, huh? I think I've already got it down."
The old man froze, unable to process what he'd just heard.
"You… just saw it once and...?!"
Kyūjō shook his head.
"Not exactly. I've been observing you since last night—the moment you showed up."
"Don't forget, I told you about the Transparent World, remember?"
"Your body, Oyaji... it's an open book to me."
"Your Breathing Pattern is extremely distinct. I've been watching it over and over. Memorizing it. Studying it. And now... here we are."
He gave a sly, confident grin.
"You've got amazing control. Keeping that pattern going constantly, even while sleeping. Way more stable than that kid from yesterday."
"And you're right—Thunder is harder than Water. But honestly... it feels good."
Jigorō just stood there in stunned silence, mouth half-open, mind spinning.
Some time later, Kyūjō placed his eighteenth empty bowl on the table and turned toward the still-paralyzed old man.
"Oyaji, I'm full. Aren't you gonna eat?"
"…Ah." Jigorō blinked back into reality and exhaled slowly. Then he fixed his eyes on the boy in front of him.
"Join the Demon Slayer Corps. You're the rightful successor to Thunder Breathing."
"If you're willing, I'll pass down everything I know—my techniques, my experience. But remember, mastering the form is only the beginning."
"You'll still have to reach the next stage: Total Concentration Breathing—Constant."
But before he could finish his explanation, Kyūjō raised a hand.
"And, uh, just to be clear—your Corps provides food and housing, right? Also... high salary, yes?"
"That part's important! Please explain the benefits and member perks thoroughly."
He even stood up and bowed deeply.
"Looking forward to working with you!"
Jigorō glanced at the towering stack of empty bowls in front of Kyūjō.
…So this kid had eaten the entire breakfast supply?
(Tachibana Kyūjō: "We martial artists just eat a little more than average, right?")
Jigorō's lips twitched. He massaged his forehead and sighed, then turned to the kitchen area and called out to one of the support staff.
"Could I get a katsudon set, please?"
The staff member hesitated, clearly nervous and unsure.
"…Is something wrong?" Jigorō asked.
The staffer finally spoke, voice timid. Follow current novels on novelꜰire.net
"Apologies, Jigorō-sama. All the food from this morning has already been eaten. We're currently preparing a second batch of rice."
Jigorō slowly turned his head back.
And there he was—the boy with a perfectly calm and innocent expression, who had just devoured everyone's breakfast.
Kyūjō scratched his head and let out a sheepish laugh.
"Sorry, Oyaji... I didn't eat much last night. And this morning we sparred, so... I guess I went a little overboard."
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