"You are finally here, Ren-dono," Kōrōbō spoke in a deep, resonant voice, stepping forward to meet the boy as soon as he arrived.
"Ah! Kōrōbō-sensei!" Ren greeted respectfully, offering a crisp bow.
"Mm. Follow me." Without another word, Kōrōbō led Ren deeper into the compound. As they walked past the massive platoon of Tengu warriors training in unison, the captain gestured toward them, a distinct note of pride warming his stern tone. "Our Tengu battalion stands as the vanguard, the most powerful warriors in the entire Kyoto Yokai Faction."
"The sword art they are practicing right now is the Tenran Kenjutsu," Kōrōbō explained with deep reverence, guiding Ren toward a secluded, private dojo at the edge of the grounds. "It was forged by our legendary king, Sōjōbō. In fact, one of you humans, the legendary general Minamoto no Yoshitsune, achieved his greatness because he mastered this very technique. And now... it is the sword art that I shall pass down to you."
Hearing this grand history, Ren's eyes shone with genuine awe. "Woah..."
But as the reality of the offer settled in, the boy hesitated. Raising his small hand like a student in class, he asked softly, "Ano... Kōrōbō-sensei? I... I have already learned a sword technique."
Kōrōbō glanced down at the western-style longsword strapped tightly to the boy's waist and gave a dismissive nod. "I know. You will simply have to discard it and switch to ours."
Ren's eyes widened in sudden, fierce denial. His hand instinctively flew to the hilt of his blade. "Um... Can I not switch it?"
"Hm? Why?" Kōrōbō stopped walking and looked down at the boy, genuine disbelief colouring his harsh features. "The Tenran Kenjutsu is a peerless supernatural sword technique created by an unmatched master. Why would you cling to a mundane human style?"
"Ah... um..." Ren looked down at the dirt, gripping his scabbard tightly. "Someone very important to me taught me this style. And... I promised to show her how strong I've gotten the next time I see her," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.
The stern Tengu stared at the young boy for a long, silent moment. Slowly, the harshness in his avian eyes softened into a look of deep, honourable respect.
"I see... A promise is a sacred vow. A true warrior should never break one." Kōrōbō nodded firmly. "Very well. I will still teach our arts to you. Perhaps you possess the innate talent to merge the two, learning both at once. After all, I made my own promise to Lady Yasaka to forge you into a fine swordsman."
"Ah... mm!" Ren looked up, his eyes shining with profound gratitude as he gave a deep, earnest nod of understanding.
Soon, they reached the secluded dojo. The polished wooden floor gleamed quietly in the morning light, completely separated from the chaotic noise of the main barracks.
"Show me your swordsmanship," Kōrōbō instructed, crossing his arms over his chest. He needed to test exactly what level the boy was currently at.
Nodding his head, Ren stepped onto the wooden floor. He quickly unsheathed his western longsword and smoothly shifted into the traditional Kunst des Fechtens stance. With intense focus, the six-year-old began to perform his katas, executing a series of precise, disciplined strikes, guards, and footwork drills for the Tengu captain.
A few minutes passed like this in total silence, save for the sharp swoosh of the blade cutting through the air. Watching closely, Kōrōbō would occasionally nod his head in approval at a particularly solid strike, while at other times, he would shake his head slightly at the boy's rigid, heavy footwork.
"A versatile art," Kōrōbō commented thoughtfully as Ren finally came to a halt, lowering his blade. "It seems you have built a remarkably solid foundation in swordsmanship. However, because you have already ingrained these specific habits into your muscle memory, mastering the Tenran Kenjutsu will actually be more difficult for you than it would be for a complete beginner."
"Ah..." Ren didn't quite know what to say to that, so he simply offered a firm, determined nod, clearly indicating his willingness to endure the hardship. He refused to let Yako and Yasaka's kindness go to waste.
Seeing the unwavering resolve in the boy's eyes, Kōrōbō gave a small smirk. "Well, since you have no objections to the difficulty, we can begin immediately."
"The Tenran Kenjutsu is an art built entirely upon speed and precision," Kōrōbō explained, his deep voice echoing in the quiet dojo. "It is designed to strike an opponent down in a single, flawless blow. While your current swordsmanship is highly versatile, it is far too rigid and grounded. In the supernatural world, speed is absolute."
He began to pace slowly across the wooden floor; his keen avian eyes locked on the boy. "Perhaps against a novice human magician who requires time to chant and cast a spell, your heavy, defensive strikes could be considered fast. But the vast majority of supernatural races do not share that weakness; they manifest their power instantly."
Kōrōbō paused, his expression turning grave. "Take a Devil, for example. They weave magic using pure imagination. To defeat one in close combat, your blade must be faster than a Devil's very thoughts. You must cross the distance and take them down before the spell even forms in their mind. With your rigid, planted footwork, you simply cannot achieve that."
"Furthermore," the Tengu captain continued, "many supernatural entities possess physical defences stacked to the absolute maximum. Raw power alone will not break them. You must be able to pierce their microscopic weak points in the blink of an eye, hence the need for extreme precision. An art designed solely for prolonged human duels just doesn't cut it here."
"Mm! Mm!" Ren nodded his head emphatically. His eyes were wide with sudden realization, absorbing his new master's lecture with unwavering intent.
"First, we will fix your footwork. Observe closely; I will demonstrate it slowly at first," Kōrōbō instructed.
He began by standing perfectly still in the centre of the dojo, his feet set shoulder-width apart, his toes angled slightly outward.
"Fuuu..." As the Tengu captain drew in a slow, measured breath, the very air around him seemed to tighten and hum with suppressed energy. His first step forward was impossibly light, barely disturbing the microscopic motes of dust dancing in the morning sunlight. What followed was a soft, continuous glide that carried absolutely no sound.
Moving just like this, Kōrōbō spun gracefully across the polished wooden floorboards, darting and weaving with the effortless agility of a swallow in flight. He looked as if he were literally floating a fraction of an inch above the ground, moving so smoothly that he didn't disturb a single creak or groan from the aged wood beneath his feet.
"Woah..." Ren breathed, his eyes tracking the master's movements in unfiltered awe.
"Once you reach mastery," Kōrōbō's voice seemed to echo from everywhere at once, "your speed will climb exponentially."
The Tengu captain's effortless glide began to accelerate, his dark form slowly melting into a continuous blur before Ren's very eyes. Soon, it seemed as if a miniature hurricane had materialized inside the enclosed space.
SWISH... BOOM! Kōrōbō's sheer velocity violently shattered the sound barrier, instantly obliterating the dojo's serene atmosphere with a thunderous shockwave. Gale-force winds started to whip fiercely all around the room, sending Ren's clothes flapping and his hair tossing wildly into the air.
"Ugh..." Caught in the middle of this artificial storm, Ren had to throw his arms up, burying his face into his sleeves just to shield his eyes from the stinging wind. He planted his feet firmly against the wooden floorboards, bracing his small body with everything he had just to keep from being blown away by the terrifying footwork.
Soon, the howling wind inside the dojo slowed to a gentle halt, and Kōrōbō's tall figure calmly reappeared in Ren's line of sight. "Have you observed carefully?" he asked, his breathing perfectly even despite the intense exertion.
Still speechless by the sheer display of speed, Ren simply nodded his head in silent acknowledgment.
"Good. It is now your turn." Kōrōbō nodded, gesturing for the boy to step forward and demonstrate.
"Mm." Ren nodded determinedly. Stepping into the centre of the floor, he took a deep breath and tried to replicate the Tengu's initial, slow footwork.
However, heavily burdened by years of rigid, planted stances, his movements were incredibly stiff and clumsy. His boots thudded against the wooden floorboards with every step. Try as he might, the six-year-old couldn't capture even an ounce of the weightless, floating grace Kōrōbō had just displayed.
Shaking his head slightly, though with no real disappointment in his avian eyes, Kōrōbō walked over to the struggling boy. Gently adjusting Ren's posture, the strict captain began to instruct him step by step, guiding him slowly and patiently.
**********
The rest of the morning passed exactly like this, with Kōrōbō patiently correcting Ren's clumsy footwork step by step. Once the afternoon sun hung high in the sky, the exhausted boy would finally leave the dojo, returning to the Mizuki estate to receive his mystical guidance in the Sage Arts from Yako.
Ren's new life quickly settled into this gruelling, monotonous, yet oddly peaceful routine.
Days bled into weeks, and weeks quietly slipped into months. The heavy autumn leaves eventually gave way to a blanket of crisp winter snow, heralding the arrival of a brand-new year. And with the turning of the seasons, Ritsuzen Ren officially turned seven years old.
"Happy New Year~!" Yako cheered loudly, raising her cup high into the air.
Today, Yako had invited Yasaka and Ren's swordsmanship instructor, Kōrōbō, to the Mizuki estate for a New Year's celebration. Yasaka was simply glad to finally have a day off from her towering mountains of paperwork. Kōrōbō, on the other hand, had been forcefully dragged there by Yako. Terrified of her retaliation if he refused, the disciplined Tengu captain had absolutely no choice but to attend.
"Wooo~!" Kon cheered from the side, a ceramic sake cup held firmly in his small paws, his silvery fur flushing a bright, drunken pink.
Curious, Ren reached out for the sake bottle on the table but was immediately intercepted by Yako.
"No, no, no. Children are not allowed to drink this." Smack! His hand was swatted away unceremoniously.
"Hehe, Ren-chan, a little child like you cannot drink alcohol. You have to wait until you are twenty~" Yasaka teased, heavily emphasizing the word 'child'.
And yes, Yasaka was absolutely using this opportunity to get back at Ren for calling her an 'oba-san' all those months ago. Normally, the elegant Faction Leader wouldn't hold a petty grudge against a seven-year-old, but she was currently quite tipsy.
"Ugh." Imaginary black lines of depression dropping over his head, Ren could only retract his hand and reach for his cup of orange juice instead.
"Ren-dono, a true warrior must always remain alert. Alcohol is a detrimental substance that will only cloud your judgment," Kōrōbō lectured, ever the stoic master, still trying to teach Ren even in the middle of a party.
"Boo Booooring!" Yako jeered loudly from the side, waving her cup at the strict Tengu.
"Uh... um... Look at the time. It appears it is time for me to leave!" Hearing the terrifying Yokai Sage target him, Kōrōbō quickly blurted out a terrible excuse and fled the estate as fast as his legs could carry him.
"Boo~!" Yako continued to boo, completely unconcerned by the fleeing sword master. Clearly, she was incredibly drunk as well. Then, her golden eyes slowly slid toward Yasaka, and her lips curled into a mischievous grin.
'Hehe, Yasaka-chan~ How dare you tease my little Ren-chan. Hehehehe... I will just have to make you pregnant! Then I can tease YOUR child!' Ah, yes. What impeccable, flawless logic.
"Grow Grow Baby Grow Grow~" Yako suddenly began to sing her bizarre chant again. This time, her hands glowed with a blinding white light, pointing directly at the Faction Leader's flat belly.
"Ah! What are you doing?!" Seeing the glowing hands aimed at her stomach, Yasaka screamed in sudden, terrified alert, her nine golden tails puffing up in pure panic.
"Hehe! Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Hehehehehehe," Yako cackled mischievously.
Meanwhile, Kon had fully slumped over onto the table, snoring away in a drunken stupor. Ren just sat there, poking the unconscious fox's squishy cheek in utter boredom.
'Sigh... I just want to go back to training.' Yes, after months of gruelling, back-to-back hellish schedules, our Ren had officially become a bona fide training maniac. From this day forth, it was confirmed: the sole normal person of the Mizuki estate had fully transitioned into the realm of the abnormal, ensuring that absolutely no normal person was left living under its roof.