"You..."
Gramps stared intently at Ren, momentarily speechless. The air in the courtyard was still vibrating from the aftershock of Ren's explosive movement. Judging by the sheer proficiency and the precision of that strike, Ren's current strength wasn't just "improved", it was arguably on par with Zenitsu's.
The old man's mind raced. He had been a swordsman for decades, and he knew that talent was usually something you were born with, not something you found under your pillow one morning. When they had first started training on the mountain, Ren had found the very basics of Thunder Breathing to be an insurmountable wall. While Zenitsu had eventually grasped the First Form through sheer instinct, Ren had remained stuck at square one, unable to even steady his heart rate.
But now? How could a boy who couldn't hold his breath yesterday suddenly execute a Masterful-level First Form today?
"It was... an epiphany," Ren replied, his expression carefully neutral.
He kept his voice steady, projecting the calm of someone who had truly seen the "truth" of the blade. In the world of martial arts, "epiphanies" were the ultimate wild card. They were vague, impossible to verify, and served as the perfect cover for his sudden transformation.
"An epiphany?" Gramps murmured, stunned. It made a certain kind of sense. In the history of the Demon Slayer Corps, there were rare stories of swordsmen who, through a moment of life-or-death clarity or intense meditation, suddenly bypassed years of grueling practice.
Still, the timing was incredibly convenient. An epiphany right before the Final Selection?
"Come," Gramps said, waving his wooden cane toward Ren. His eyes sharpened, losing their grandfatherly warmth and replacing it with the steel of a Hashira. "Use the First Form on me. Show me that this wasn't just a fluke."
Although he found the sudden mastery suspicious, Gramps was a man of action. If Ren truly possessed this strength, the old man wouldn't dream of holding him back. In fact, he would be overjoyed to recommend another talented soul to the Corps.
Ren glanced at the old man, who stood there with nothing but a walking stick. He quietly activated his [Inspect] skill.
[Name: Jigoro Kuwajima]
[Race: Human]
[Rank: Middle Hashira (Crippled)]
[Comprehension: Super]
[Aptitude: Super]
[Talent: None]
[Skills: Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash (Divine); Second Form: Rice Spirit (Mastery); Third Form: Thunder Swarm (Mastery); Fourth Form: Distant Thunder (Mastery); Fifth Form: Heat Lightning (Proficient); Sixth Form: Rumble and Flash (Proficient); Total Concentration: Constant (Mastery)...]
Middle Hashira? Ren mused. It seemed the system divided the Hashira into four sub-ranks: Lower, Middle, Upper, and Super. Gramps was a Middle Hashira, likely lowered from a higher rank due to his "Crippled" status, his missing leg. But even with a prosthetic and a cane, a Middle Hashira was a mountain Ren couldn't hope to move yet.
Ren stood his ground, leaning his torso forward until his center of gravity was perfectly balanced. His feet pressed into the dirt, feeling the friction and the solid earth beneath him. He began the breathing - deep, rhythmic, and powerful.
With every inhalation, the oxygen surged into his blood, supercharging his cells. To the naked eye, the air around Ren seemed to shimmer. Tiny, golden arcs of static electricity began to leap between the blades of grass at his feet.
He closed his eyes, his heightened hearing picking up the resonance between his own heartbeat and the low hum of the mountain's energy. He exhaled, and a circle of electric sparks erupted from his mouth like golden mist.
Ren's eyes snapped open. His pupils seemed to glow with a faint, electrical blue light.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form - Thunderclap and Flash!"
BOOM!
The ground beneath Ren's feet cracked. He transformed into a streak of pure, golden lightning, a blurred line of light that cut through the space of the courtyard. The air screamed as he displaced it, the voltage converging on his practice blade.
In a flash of dazzling brilliance, the entire courtyard was illuminated. Ren was too fast for the naked eye; even Zenitsu, watching from the porch, only saw a series of jagged afterimages.
Facing this surging tide of electricity, Gramps didn't move an inch. He simply watched with eyes wide with wonder. He no longer doubted the "epiphany." No one could fake this level of intent. The golden arc sliced through the air, accompanied by a sharp crack-zip of ozone.
Ren's wooden sword stopped exactly two inches from Gramps' throat.
The lingering electric arcs gently licked at the old man's kimono, leaving a faint scorched smell, but Ren's control was so absolute that not a single hair on the old man's head was singed.
Gramps looked at the tip of the blade, then at Ren. If he was surprised before, he was completely shocked now.
"You... you can control it?" Gramps whispered.
The defining characteristic of the First Form is extreme speed. That speed creates terrifying power, but it usually makes the move a "linear" attack that is notoriously difficult to steer or stop once committed. It had taken Gramps years of practice to be able to halt a First Form with such surgical precision.
And Ren had just done it after one "epiphany"?
Is he a latent genius? Gramps wondered. Did he spend a year failing only to awaken as a god of the sword?
While Gramps was spiraling into shock, Ren was secretly screaming in his head.
Why didn't this old man move?! I almost killed my own teacher! Ren wasn't keeping the sword there to look cool. His wrist was currently experiencing a massive, agonizing cramp from the sheer effort of redirecting the momentum of his high-speed charge. His entire arm felt numb, vibrating with the leftover kinetic energy.
"Incredible," Gramps said, his voice thick with emotion. "Ren... if you have truly mastered the First Form, then perhaps... come, let me see the other forms. Show me the Second and Third."
Ren's face went stiff. The other forms? He only knew the First Form. He couldn't exactly tell Gramps that his epiphany was "First Form only", that would sound like a very specific and somewhat pathetic epiphany.
While his brain scrambled for an excuse, Ren remembered the system's rules. He looked at the old man, who was now looking at him with the eyes of a teacher who had found a lost treasure.
"Ahem... Gramps," Ren started, his voice a bit strained. "Before I show you... we're friends, right?"
The question was so nonsensical and out of left field that the serious expression on Gramps' face shattered into a look of pure bewilderment.
"Friends?" Gramps blinked. "Ren, what are you talking about? I am your teacher, your guardian..."
"But we've lived together for a year," Ren pressed, his expression sincere. "We share meals, we share this mountain. Beyond master and disciple, you're the closest thing to family I have. That makes us friends in a way, doesn't it?"
Gramps didn't understand why Ren was being so sentimental all of a sudden, but he felt a warm tug in his chest. He looked at the boy who had been so diligent despite his lack of talent, and he softened.
"I suppose... yes," Gramps nodded hesitantly. "In a sense, we are indeed friends."
Ding!
[Successfully added Jigoro Kuwajima as a friend.]
[Detected Relationship: Master-Disciple / Guardian. Calculating Intimacy...]
[Conversion successful! Friendship Level: 'Friend'. You have acquired 2 random rewards!]
[Acquired: Skill: Second Form: Rice Spirit (Mastery)] [Acquired: Skill: Fifth Form: Heat Lightning (Proficient)]
[Would you like to merge the rewards now?]
Do it! Ren screamed internally. He knew merging in front of Gramps was risky, but he had no choice.
"Grandfather, give me a second," Ren gasped, clutching his wrist as if it were still cramping. "My energy is... surging."
He focused on the system, and the knowledge of the Second Form flooded into his brain. Unlike the First Form's linear dash, the Second Form was a flurry of five simultaneous arched strikes.
[Merging Skill: Second Form: Rice Spirit (Mastery)...]
Suddenly, a violent burst of golden electricity erupted from Ren's body. It wasn't a focused strike this time, but a chaotic, radial burst that pushed the dust and leaves away from him in a perfect circle.
Gramps stepped back, shielding his eyes with his sleeve. "What is this? The starting stance for the First Form? No... this energy is different!"
Ren felt the lightning coiling in his lungs. He didn't wait for the energy to settle. He had to prove he knew more, or the epiphany story would fall apart. He gripped the sword with both hands, the arcs of light turning from thin threads into thick ropes of golden power.
"Thunder Breathing, Second Form..." Ren growled, the ozone scent becoming overpowering. "...Rice Spirit!"