Kyojuro felt nothing but deep admiration for the teenage swordsman who had recently appeared in his home.
He had not only alleviated his mother's illness but had also reignited his father's fighting spirit. Even his culinary skills were astounding. As a swordsman, his strength far exceeded Kyojuro's own understanding.
But none of that was the most important thing.
What Kyojuro admired most was Natsunishi's almost inhuman self-discipline and focus.
In the early morning, before anyone else woke up, Natsunishi would have already completed a thousand suburi swings with weights attached to his body. After that, he would drop into a horse stance and begin a thousand straight punches. His movements weren't exceptionally fast, but the angle, strength, and breathing of every swing and strike were almost identical. That focused and immersive appearance looked less like completing a training task and more like a ritual of "gratitude" toward the act of cultivation itself.
Often, when Kyojuro woke up early hoping to practice together, he would find that the other had already finished his morning regimen. By then, Natsunishi would already be in the kitchen preparing medicinal meals and a nutritious breakfast.
Once breakfast was over, Natsunishi and Miss Kochobu would begin preparations for his mother's treatment. After eating the lunch prepared by the servants, Senior Natsunishi would take various pharmacological books and read while performing low-intensity physical training to aid digestion.
As the afternoon sun began to slant, he would fully immerse himself in the refinement of Flame Breathing under his father's guidance. If time permitted, he would add several sets of training for switching and integrating other Breathing Styles. As evening approached, he would start preparing the night's food and medicine.
Once night fell, he would occasionally head out on missions with the messenger crow. If there were no missions, he would continue his evening swordsmanship and Breathing Style training.
Until precisely eleven o'clock at night.
Almost without hesitation, he would return to his room to sleep. In the morning, he would wake up as punctually as an alarm clock, unwilling to stay in bed for even a single extra second. This precision had even subtly altered Shinobu Kochobu's biological clock; the girl was dragged out of bed every day to help brew medicine, unable to sleep in even if she wanted to.
Even the consistently disciplined and serious Kyojuro found it difficult to understand how a person could elevate cooking, brewing medicine, practicing multiple Breathing Styles, and mastering the foundations of swordsmanship—all completely different tasks—to such an awe-inspiring height. And he did it day after day, as naturally as breathing.
Persistence for a day is not hard. Continuing for several days is perhaps doable. But to invest such precision and focus into these practices, allowing the days to repeat as a monotonous cycle, had completely surpassed the realm of mere "effort."
In Kyojuro's eyes, even the most ascetic swordsmen would occasionally adjust their training plans or intersperse small daily trifles as a change of pace. Within the "owl boy's" admiration, there was also a trace of shock at this inhuman discipline.
During their occasional sparring matches, Kyojuro felt even more frustrated. Even when the other used the recently learned Storm Breathing and deliberately restrained his strength and speed, Kyojuro still couldn't lay a finger on him. Natsunishi's silhouette was as elusive as a drifting wind; the trajectory of his wooden sword was like leaves scattering in the breeze, always striking from impossible angles. Even unarmed, he could easily subdue Kyojuro with a few grappling moves. Kyojuro's proud Flame Breathing, and even his direct frontal attacks, were constantly led astray or parried. To the point that when facing Natsunishi, he would even have the illusion that he was fighting his father.
Had he already become powerful enough to rival the Nine Hashira?
After being easily pinned to the ground by Natsunishi once again, Kyojuro gazed at the sky, panting slightly. Then, he leaped up. Though he was out of breath, his eyes were shining brightly. "Thank you for the guidance, Senior Natsunishi!"
Nearby, Shinjuro stood on the porch with his arms crossed, watching. His gaze did not linger on his son's pathetic state; he was looking at Natsunishi.
After a moment of thought, he finally spoke. "Kuguruma, what is your purpose for swinging the sword?"
He had witnessed the boy's frantic discipline and grueling, self-extracting cultivation. A normal person simply could not reach such a level. Therefore, he was curious about the boy's obsession and motivation.
Natsunishi answered almost without a pause. "To get stronger."
"And after you get stronger?"
"To slay demons."
"And for what purpose do you slay demons?"
"To get stronger."
Shinjuro: "..."
Wasn't this just a circular loop?
Amidst his bewilderment, he felt a spark of surprise. This answer stripped away all the common "standard" responses like "protection," "justice," or "hatred." It was very hollow—but at the same time, very pure. Was this child perhaps born solely for the sake of slaying demons?
"Do you hate demons?"
The youth paused slightly and said in a low voice, "My most precious family, and my younger sister, were all killed by evil demons—"
Shinjuro fell silent; it seemed he had asked the wrong question. Although the boy was disciplined to an exaggerated degree, he was ultimately still a child who had not yet come of age. Just like that Iguro child. He usually appeared calm on the outside, but his heart might be far softer than his exterior suggested.
He stepped forward and placed his broad palm gently on Natsunishi's shoulder. "There is nothing wrong with turning hatred into motivation, but all things need a limit. Do not let hatred blind your eyes and eventually burn yourself."
He saw Natsunishi bowing his head, offering no response. Shinjuro sighed softly and turned to leave.
It was only a moment later that Natsunishi finally shifted his gaze away from the system panel that only he could see. Just now, his [Instruction] skill had finally leveled up to LV.2, and his Achievement Points had increased by one, reaching 14.
Wait? Why did the owl uncle leave? What was the last thing he said?
Forget it, let's try the new skill first—
"Oh, Kyojuro, take Senjuro for five laps to warm up first. The usual rules. Today we'll practice Fire—Flame Breathing together. After dinner tonight, join me for a few more sets of suburi training."
Looking at the child in the distance who was barely old enough to understand things, Natsunishi continued, "As for Senjuro, there's no need for weights."
His tone was natural and familiar, as if an elder brother were arranging daily lessons for his younger brother. Like family.
Kyojuro froze. Then, that sun-like smile grew even more brilliant. He took a heavy breath and shouted clearly with a voice that could be heard throughout the entire yard, "Yes! I understand, Big Brother Natsunishi!"
This "Big Brother" was a swordsman's recognition and respect for a predecessor. It was also a younger brother's trust in this youth who felt like a sibling. It was Rengoku Kyojuro's highest form of acknowledgment.
That night, just as everyone had finished the delicacies Natsunishi had prepared, the Demon Slayer Corps crow arrived. It was Kuro.
"Caw!! A suspected demon attack incident has appeared in the Arakawa District, caw! Kuguruma! Your mission! Go quickly! Go quickly!"
Natsunishi helplessly put down his bowl and chopsticks and packed his bags. "Leave some late-night snacks for me. Maybe I can make it back to eat before they get stone cold."
Senjuro smiled shyly. "Big Brother Natsunishi, Big Brother Kyojuro and I can heat them up for you when the time comes."
The owl boy also nodded, saying seriously, "Please be sure to stay safe on the road!"
Looking at the mysterious crow overhead, Natsunishi said, "Then lead the way, Kuro."
"Caw! How many times must I say it! I am Shiro! Caw!"
"Wait, Kuguruma—"
Shinjuro looked at his eldest son, whose eyes were glowing with spirit, and then at Natsunishi, who was calmly organizing his gear. He made a decision. "For this mission, take Kyojuro with you. It is time—for him to see a real battlefield with his own eyes."
Kyojuro's eyebrows almost flew up to his hairline; his eyes were full of battle spirit. Clearly, he was very interested in this mission.
Natsunishi looked at the three Rengokus, then toward Shinobu. The girl shrugged, indicating Natsunishi should decide for himself.
Natsunishi spoke to the mysterious crow. "Is it okay if I bring him along?"
Crow: "It matters not! Go quickly, go quickly, caw!"
Natsunishi lowered his voice and whispered a follow-up question. "What I mean is—if I bring him, the mission allowance and merit points won't be split, right?"
Although his voice was low, everyone present except Senjuro had keen hearing. They all heard it.
This child—at times like this, he actually acts like an ordinary boy. Shinjuro thought to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching imperceptibly.
Shinobu Kochobu couldn't help but palm her forehead. Just like before, this "big radish" really couldn't change his nature—
Only Kyojuro didn't care at all and laughed loudly. "Big Brother Natsunishi! I am not a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, so there is no need to worry about such things!"
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