In the forest behind Mount Momoyama, winter had finally withdrawn. Under the warmth of spring, branches everywhere had begun to bud and bloom, especially after the long rain that had only recently passed. Beneath its lingering moisture, all things had begun to unfurl their vitality.
Pink peach blossoms covered the mountains far and wide.
Then—
Boom!
A deafening crash rang out from the narrow mountain path, startling sparrows from the treetops and sending petals drifting down in showers.
It was the sound of a massive wooden striker slamming into an ancient tree. Its sheer weight gave it terrifying speed; when it swung, it could easily hurl a grown man clear off his feet, or even kill him outright if luck ran bad enough.
And yet that dreadful sound came again and again, forming a rapid rhythm through the hills.
Boom, boom, boom—
No, perhaps it really was a rhythm.
Someone danced within that beat, moving with the grace of a spirit of the forest.
A girl in a crimson haori whirled through the air, her slender body always managing to slip away at the very instant the wooden striker was about to hit her. Her long black hair streamed behind her like ink spilled from a brush. Since arriving at Mount Momoyama, she had cut down her once-lavish kimono into a haori. The golden crane patterns on it fluttered as though about to take flight.
Here, it seemed as though nothing in the world could harm her.
"Mm."
Watching everything from the mountaintop, the old man gave an approving nod.
That girl who had once known nothing at all had now grown into a swordsman worthy even of his praise.
From the chill of early spring until now, when the weather had finally turned warm, for a full two months he had woken Sui before sunrise every day, brought her into the trap-filled training grounds laid out in the forest behind Mount Momoyama, and then spent the afternoons and evenings teaching her swordsmanship.
The essence of Thunder Breathing lay in swiftness.
It was a Breathing Style that swung the blade with the violence of thunder itself, severing an enemy's head in the blink of an eye.
Sui had learned well.
So well, in fact, that after only two months, Jigoro was beginning to feel as though there was little left for him to teach.
Boom—
Sudden thunder rolled through the peach grove, and faint dark-violet arcs of electricity could be seen dancing in the air.
Sui appeared beside the old man and sheathed her blade.
At the same time, every falling petal in the peach grove split neatly into two.
"You've improved again," Jigoro said with a smile.
"That is thanks to your instruction," Sui replied naturally.
Only at close range could one see that the girl's eyes were closed. Her long, thick lashes rested softly like butterfly wings, and the serene stillness of her expression softened, if only slightly, the innate eeriness of her beauty.
This had been the old man's idea.
At the start of her training, every mechanism he painstakingly set up had been destroyed by the girl. She needed only to extend a finger and lightly sweep it down, and the great wooden strikers would be cut neatly in half, their cross-sections smooth as mirrors. The hidden traps underfoot fared even worse—her Mystic Eyes could detect them at once, and she would simply erase them.
Whenever danger approached, her instinct was not to dodge.
It was to open those eyes in an instant and wipe everything away, even if there was no blade in her hand.
That had astonished the old man for quite some time.
The uncanniness of Sui's eyes far exceeded anything normal people could imagine. If there was no blade in her hand, then the girl herself became the blade; everything around her, including her own body, could become the reaper's scythe that harvested life.
So after repairing the ruined mechanisms, the old man simply ordered Sui to train with her eyes closed. During the initial stages, he stayed by her side the whole time. Whenever she accidentally opened her eyes—whether they were her Mystic Eyes or not—he would rap her sharply on the head with his cane.
Thankfully, he had not knocked her into becoming an idiot.
"Thunder Breathing is a style full of boldness and spirit. It belongs to those who are swift as lightning itself. Of all Breathing Styles, it is the fastest and most explosive, which means it demands exceptionally high physical ability from its wielder. That is also why it is so difficult to master."
The old man spoke slowly, then turned to look at Sui.
After two months of tempering, her figure had fully grown into itself. She was even taller and more slender than when she had first arrived, so much so that he now had to tilt his head upward to "look" her in the face.
Sui remained as calm as ever.
"You've said that before."
"I'm merely marveling." The old man turned his back. "Among all the students I have ever taught, you have the most frightening talent. Even without those eyes, you would still be a swordsman fit to inherit Thunder Breathing. Come to think of it—how long has it been since you last opened your eyes?"
"About a month."
Sui thought for a moment. Once she had learned to steadily overcome her instincts, her eyes had become something neither necessary nor unnecessary—a tool she could take or leave.
Although this had only been one of the old man's training tricks, when she began sensing the world with her eyes closed, she found it suited her surprisingly well.
When lightning flashes, thunder has not yet arrived.
The more clearly she understood all things in the world, the more red lines her Mystic Eyes revealed. Breathing Techniques had greatly sharpened her perception, allowing her to capture the information of reality with startling clarity even while blindfolded by darkness.
Sometimes, eyes could deceive you.
Perception would not.
For example, right now she knew that battle intent was gathering within the old man.
"You want to spar with me?" Sui asked.
A hint of surprise crossed Jigoro's face, but it was quickly replaced by a grin. His grizzled beard bristled as the imposing presence unique to a Hashira rose around him.
He gave no answer.
Because the sideways sweep of his cane was answer enough.
Sui raised her scabbard to block the oncoming strike, then borrowed the force of the impact to pull back and widen the distance between them.
The old man had once been the Thunder Hashira. Sui's sword was fast, but he would only be faster. She had no reason whatsoever to doubt the strength of a Hashira-class swordsman, so she withdrew to what she judged a relatively safe distance.
Jigoro drew back his cane and settled into an iaijutsu stance.
It was hard to imagine how a peachwood cane could assume the posture of a blade, but looking at the old man now, slightly bent forward, there was only one word that came to mind:
Sword.
A sword yet to leave its sheath.
His body lowered, muscles drawing tight. The tremendous power hidden inside that small, aged frame was released all at once, like floodwaters bursting through a broken gate.
"Haaa—"
Sui focused.
She heard it then—the long, resonant sound of his breathing, deep as thunder rolling across the distant heavens.
No wonder he had once told her that users of Thunder Breathing were full of fierce spirit. Jigoro himself was exactly that kind of man. Even though he had grown old and could no longer stride onto the battlefield, that surging fire within him still remained.
He had spent too long in peace here.
And too long holding himself back.
The students he taught were still only students. None of them could truly exchange blows with him.
But today, after seeing Sui cut apart the peach blossoms falling all across the mountain, the old man had finally placed her on equal footing.
This old blade had lain silent for far too long.
At last, it had found an opponent worthy of testing its edge.
"You still won't open your eyes?" the old man shouted, his very voice rumbling like thunder.
Across from him, Sui stood quietly, eyes closed, so tranquil and serene she looked as though she were asleep.
"No," she said.
She drew her blade.
Golden lightning ran along its surface. This was the sword the old man had lent her for practice, and she knew full well that it had once been the beloved blade with which he had slain countless demons.
The old man moved.
And thunder answered.
A straight line of golden lightning slashed out like a drawn sword, its revealed edge seeming to split heaven and earth in two.
So fast!
The old man vanished from Sui's perception.
The girl raised her blade. It swept into the air like a crescent moon, dark-violet lightning erupting in an instant. A thunderous metallic clash filled her ears as the demon-slaying blade met the old man's cane—yet the sound that burst forth was not wood striking steel, but the full-bodied roar of metal colliding against metal.
"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder."
A faint current of air moved at the tip of Sui's nose. Dark-violet lightning wrapped itself around her crimson haori in an instant, then stretched outward like a great serpent before exploding forward.
She knocked the old man's cane aside.
And then, carrying the might of heaven's thunder, the descending flash of lightning came slashing down in a horizontal arc.
Join here to read ahead.
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Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
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Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
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