Smack!
Takeo's body was sent flying by Rengoku Kyojuro's wooden sword.
He hadn't put up any defense—charging in recklessly like a brute—and unsurprisingly, he was sent hurtling backward by Rengoku's strike.
This was Takeo's second day of combat training at the Rengoku residence.
After learning about Takeo's exceptional regenerative abilities, Kyojuro had incorporated combat drills into the training regimen.
Since Takeo could recover by the next day from almost any injury—so long as it wasn't too severe—Kyojuro saw no reason to hold back. He did his best to push Takeo to his absolute limit.
"Don't fight like a demon!"
Having just sent Takeo flying with a strike, Kyojuro called out sternly to the red-haired boy who was now curled on the ground, clutching his stomach and struggling to stand.
"You're a swordsman! Even if your regeneration is strong, that doesn't mean you should fight like a demon!"
"But… you said this was my advantage… cough cough…"
Takeo forced himself up from the ground, responding through pained breaths.
It was Kyojuro who had said that Takeo's regenerative ability was his advantage. That's why Takeo had come up with this near-suicidal, all-out style of fighting—basically trading blow for blow with him.
But Kyojuro said sternly, "That's only a relative advantage! Compared to demons, you can't regenerate lost limbs. If a vital point is hit, you'll be incapacitated! So avoid trading injuries whenever possible! If you're going to trade a wound for a kill, then do it only when it matters!"
Trading blows would only end with Takeo seriously hurt.
But if he traded a wound to land a decisive blow, then that would be a victory.
After all, Takeo could recover from injuries—but if a demon were decapitated in that exchange, it would be gone for good.
Alright, alright, you're right about everything… guess I don't get to argue when you're my teacher now…
Takeo muttered inwardly but decided to take the advice seriously.
It was, after all, advice from a current Hashira—he'd be an idiot not to listen.
As he picked himself up from the ground, he suddenly heard Kyojuro ask:
"Also, during battle—you sometimes try to use your hands. Why is that?"
"Uh… I kind of… learned to fight unarmed at first. So, uh… some habits are hard to shake."
Takeo answered honestly.
Old Man Logan's combat techniques were mostly based on close-quarters fighting using his claws. While he did occasionally wield weapons, it was rare.
Because this instinct had been passed down to Takeo through the inherited memory, he too had a natural tendency toward hand-to-hand combat.
But against demons, only Nichirin swords were effective. So after starting his Breathing Technique training, Takeo had been trying to shift his habits—forcing himself to become more comfortable using a blade.
Still, Logan's instincts were too deeply ingrained. It hadn't even been a month, and Takeo was finding it difficult to adapt.
"I see! Then why not try channeling that habit—into your swordsmanship?" Kyojuro suddenly asked.
"…?"
Takeo looked at him, confused.
"A sword is simply an extension of your arm! There's no reason the techniques you can perform with your hands can't be translated to the blade. The moment you're able to merge those instincts with your sword—that may be the first step toward developing a Breathing Style of your own!"
That's what Kyojuro said.
Though at the time, Takeo didn't really understand what "a Breathing Style of his own" truly meant…
Especially since right after that, Kyojuro had launched him with a big kick straight into hellish training.
But the events of that day had etched themselves deep into Takeo's memory.
Even now—they remained vivid.
…
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Takeo fell deep into thought.
Countless images flashed through his mind in an instant. He stared at the incoming blade—belonging to the black-haired boy right before him—and at the wooden sword gripped in his own hands.
And then, as if something within him had suddenly awakened—Takeo's mind cleared.
In a moment of instinctual clarity, he slashed forward with his sword!
No—he slashed twice!
Two lightning-fast strikes, nearly simultaneous, sliced from opposite directions, closing in on the boy from both sides.
The wind trailing behind the blades twisted into jagged arcs—shaped like fangs.
The wind blades, transformed from his Wind Breathing, faintly took the form of a wolf.
The wolf's jaws opened wide toward the boy—then clamped shut in an instant!
And at that moment, the continuous sound of wooden blades clashing erupted!
Clack, clack, clack—!
The rapid clash of swords filled the air. Takeo's sudden breakthrough, his explosive reflexes and reaction speed, even caught the boy by surprise.
Crack—
The wooden swords splintered under the force of the clash. The sharp, clean sound seemed to mark the end of the battle.
Takeo's and the boy's figures passed each other. Takeo took a brief moment to replay the sensation of that strike, committing it firmly to memory.
He had finally created a Breathing Style of his own.
And if he had to give it a name that truly fit the nature of the technique—it would be Wolf.
Wolf Breathing.
The counterattack he had just used against the boy—that was the First Form of his new style.
Wolf Breathing, First Form—Wolf Fang!
Even though Takeo was thrilled to have forged his own Breathing Style, he knew full well the battle wasn't over yet!
So the moment they passed each other, he spun back around to strike again!
Wind curled around his body—this Wolf Breathing, born from an extension of Wind Breathing, retained the ability to generate wind blades as well.
Forming wind into the fangs and claws of a wolf, designed to tear through the enemy—this was the essence of Wolf Breathing.
Every single strike Takeo unleashed carried the violent, shredding force of a wolf's claw.
He once again unleashed the First Form of Wolf Breathing.
Two consecutive slashes from the left and right—like the open jaws of a starving wolf—snapped toward the boy with ferocity!
The boy responded instantly. He spun around and swung his blade back with elegant, dreamlike precision.
Bubbles seemed to shimmer in the air. Under the refracted light of the mist and sun, the blade reflected with rainbow hues—a dazzlingly beautiful strike beneath the sunlight.
And it was incredibly fast!
Mist Breathing, Third Form – Scattering Mist Splash!
I can see it!
Though the boy's slash was swift, Takeo could follow its trajectory!
Because in that moment—when he created his own Breathing Style—Takeo had drawn all of his focus into perfect alignment.
He had never felt this clear-headed, this in-sync with his body.
Not only could he track the boy's blade, he could now finally execute a technique he had only ever imagined until now.
Reversing the tip of his blade, Takeo ignored the incoming slash entirely—
—and launched a high-speed thrust straight at his opponent!
Takeo's blade pierced precisely through the gaps in the mist—swoosh!
—and drove straight toward the boy's chest!
Thud. Thud!
Two strikes landed nearly at the same time—the boy's blade slashed across Takeo's ribcage, while Takeo's own sword tip pressed directly against the boy's heart.
Wolf Breathing, Second Form – Lone Wolf's Last Stand!
A thrust-style technique that abandons all defense, committing to a desperate, all-or-nothing strike in a dire situation! It was a move only Takeo, with his exceptional regenerative ability, could afford to use.
"…You've lost."
Takeo, who had just unleashed this technique, ignored the searing pain radiating from his ribs and stared directly at the boy's chest.
If this had been a real blade, it would have already pierced through the boy's heart.
And unlike Takeo, the boy didn't have the ability to recover—he was just a regular human in that regard. Under this move, the outcome was decided.
"…I lost."
The boy looked down at his chest, quietly acknowledging the pain he felt—and the result.
Then he lifted his head and met Takeo's gaze. For the first time, those eyes that had always been so calm and empty…
…finally showed a flicker of something else.
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o(*￣▽￣*)ブRead 12 Advance chaps—P@treon: HornyFBI