Month: September
Year: Meiji Era
Age: Akira & Mitsuri – 13 years old
Location: Azabu forest trails, Kanroji estate training grounds
---
September arrived without mercy.
Summer didn't fade—it hardened. The air was thick, unmoving, heavy enough to make even standing still feel like work. Cicadas screamed endlessly, and sweat never fully dried.
For breathing training, this was the worst season.
Akira stood beneath the trees at dawn, gourd pressing against his chest, skin already warm despite the early hour.
Total Concentration: Constant.
The breath held.
Not sharp.
Not controlled by force.
But unyielding.
He began moving.
Hinokami Kagura —
Dance
→ Clear Blue Sky
→ Raging Sun
→ Burning Bones, Summer Sun
→ Sunflower Thrust
Five forms.
Continuous.
The heat punished him immediately—lungs burning, muscles demanding oxygen—but his breathing did not break. Sweat streamed down his face, soaking into the ground beneath him.
Great Sage evaluated in real time.
Thermal stress within tolerable range.
Breathing efficiency exceeding prior summer benchmarks.
Akira finished the fifth form and held his stance.
No collapse.
Just heavy, steady breathing.
"…Better," he muttered.
---
Mitsuri arrived mid-practice, carrying water and towels without being asked.
"You look like you're melting," she said, but her eyes were bright.
"Feels like it," he replied.
She didn't waste time.
Love Breathing —
First Form: Shivers of First Love
→ Second Form: Love Pangs
→ Third Form: Catlove Shower
→ Fourth Form: Love Whip
→ Fifth Form: Swaying Love, Wildclaw
Her movements sang in the heat.
Where Akira endured it, Mitsuri adapted—breathing expanding, chest rising deeper, rhythm shifting to match her flexible body. Sweat darkened her uniform quickly, but her stamina barely dipped.
Akira noticed something else.
She wasn't just holding Total Concentration: Constant.
She was doing it casually.
When she stopped, she laughed lightly. "Okay, that was fun."
He stared. "…Fun?"
She tilted her head. "Is it not supposed to be?"
He looked away. "It is. For you."
---
Their daily rhythm had changed again.
Akira now maintained Total Concentration for several hours during work—cooking, medical assistance, even walking through the crowded streets of Azabu. It no longer demanded attention.
It demanded respect.
Mitsuri mirrored it unconsciously. Even when she wasn't training, her breathing stayed deep, her posture aligned, her steps light.
They didn't talk about it.
They didn't need to.
---
Afternoons were quieter now.
The world beyond Azabu felt… closer.
Travelers spoke more often of missing people. Of villages farther out growing cautious. Of night roads avoided.
Akira listened.
Mitsuri noticed—but said nothing.
That evening, as the sun dipped low, Mitsuri sat beside him under the trees.
"Akira," she said softly, "if things change someday…"
He looked at her.
"…you'll still train with me, right?"
He answered without hesitation. "Always."
She smiled, leaning just a little closer.
Breathing steady.
Hearts calm.
---
September closed with heat that refused to fade.
But neither of them broke under it.
Their breath endured.
Their bodies followed.
And somewhere beyond the forest, the world was beginning to move again.
---