Chapter 32: Yesterday Once More
"It's already been almost a month..." Makomo murmured, her gaze lost in the distance. A subtle, unfamiliar emotion she herself hadn't quite registered flickered within the usual gentleness of her deep, jade-green eyes.
"What's the matter? Reluctant to leave?" Kanzaki Akira asked, leaning in just a little closer.
"A little," she admitted softly. "But only a little."
Makomo turned her head, her eyes meeting Akira's. As she looked at the handsome face that still carried a trace of boyishness, and the confident, sunny smile he almost always wore, her vision seemed to blur for a moment.
"Will you... come back to Mount Sagiri in the future?"
"Of course I will," Akira replied with a natural nod. He seemed entirely unaware of the strange, hopeful tone in her voice. "Master Urokodaki did teach me, after all. Besides, Sabito and Giyuu are good friends of mine."
He pointedly didn't mention the girl standing right in front of him.
"And?" Makomo prompted after a long moment of silence, unable to hold back any longer.
"And Master Urokodaki's cooking is much better than that old man's back at my place," Akira continued, still not saying what she desperately wanted to hear. "It'll be nice to come over and get a decent meal once in a while. The two mountains aren't that far apart, anyway."
The light in her deep green eyes seemed to dim for an instant. Just as a wave of quiet disappointment and annoyance washed over Makomo, Akira finally spoke again, his voice slow and deliberate.
"Of course, the most important reason is that you're here on Mount Sagiri."
After saying that, he gave her a playful wink.
"You—! How dare you tease me! Get back here!"
"Hehe, can't catch me, can't catch me~"
"Don't run!"
Makomo's feelings were so transparent that even Akira, whose romantic experience across two lifetimes amounted to a grand total of zero, could sense the budding, innocent affection unique to a young girl.
But their current ages were a bit of a problem.
Even if this world's customs were different from his previous life, Akira still couldn't quite get over that hurdle in his heart. For now, it was better to simply maintain their friendship.
However, since the seed of this affection had already been planted, he knew it would naturally ferment and grow deeper with the passage of time.
...
Two days later, on Peach Mountain.
Thud!
"Old man, I'm back!"
Bang!
Akira kicked the door open with a loud shout, only to be met with a muffled thud from inside. He glanced down to see a small, elderly man clutching his forehead and glaring up at him in pure annoyance.
'Why does this scene feel so familiar?' Akira wondered.
By the time his brain connected the dots, his body had already reacted.
"Master! Are you alright? Does it hurt?" Akira asked with earnest concern, helping Kuwajima Jigorō to his feet.
"You rotten kid... Hmph!" Kuwajima raised a fist and shook it threateningly in front of Akira's face, but in the end, he only let it fall in a light tap against his student's head.
It was at that moment Akira finally remembered. He had gone on long trips twice now, and both times he had returned at noon and sent Master Kuwajima tumbling to the floor.
He made a secret vow to himself: the next time he returned, he would absolutely not choose to arrive at noon.
'If Kuwajima could read my thoughts,'Akira mused,'he would be utterly baffled right now.'
"How did your study of Water Breathing go?" Kuwajima asked, turning and walking toward the kitchen to add some extra portions to their lunch.
"I've learned all the forms and their core principles," Akira responded, skillfully unbuckling the Nichirin Blade at his waist and placing it on a side table. "All that's left is to master them and integrate some of their characteristics into my Thunder Breathing to create new forms. I already have some ideas, but I haven't succeeded just yet."
"Hmm..." Kuwajima paused at the kitchen doorway. "Akira, my boy, your talent is exceptional, and you've always had your own path in mind. There isn't much more these old bones of mine can teach you. The road ahead is one you must walk on your own."
He turned slightly, his gaze deep. "I don't know why, but you seem to carry a great sense of urgency about becoming stronger. Even though you're so young, you already possess strength comparable to a Kinoe-rank swordsman, or even some of the weaker Hashira from years past, yet you're still not satisfied. But remember this: if you ever feel tired, you can always come back to Peach Mountain to rest."
"Master..." Akira turned his head, his eyes fixed on the not-so-tall figure of his master. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, and his eyes began to moisten.
"Alright, alright. When you get old, you just like to say sentimental things," Kuwajima said, waving a hand dismissively without turning around. "As long as you understand what I mean. Now go clean up and get ready to eat." He then disappeared into the kitchen.
In his thirty-odd years across two lives, nearly half that time had been spent struggling alone. Only two people had ever given him a true sense of home: the Kanzaki Keizan of his past, and the Kuwajima Jigorō of his present.
Akira's reason for constantly seeking more power had long since changed. It was no longer just about survival or redeeming past regrets. Now, it was about protecting these wonderful, kind people.
Whether it was Kuwajima right here or the master and disciples on Mount Sagiri, they were all very, very good people worth fighting for.
...
Four days had passed since Akira's return to Peach Mountain.
On the open ground outside the courtyard, the sharp sound of a blade slicing through the air rang out again and again. For the past few days, Akira had been completely absorbed in developing his new forms.
His current idea was to combine the fluid footwork of Water Breathing's Flowing Dance with the power-stacking techniques of Constant Flux, and integrate it all with the multi-stage explosive bursts of Thunderclap and Flash. He aimed to develop a single form that possessed overwhelming speed, unmatched flexibility, and multi-stage lethality.
It was a classic case of wanting this, wanting that, and wanting absolutely everything.
Akira was, by his own admission, a greedy person.
also, possessing memories of his previous life, he knew better than anyone in the current Demon Slayer Corps just how terrifying Muzan and his Upper Rank demons truly were. He understood that even if he successfully created this one ultimate move, it still wouldn't be enough.
To change the original story's tragic victory and protect the lovely people he had already met—and those he might meet in the future—he had to possess even greater power.
For days on end, he practiced these three foundational forms, turning his heaven-defying Super Vision upon himself. He observed every minute movement when he swung his sword, every detail of muscle exertion when he took a step, every subtle shift and turn of his body. He even analyzed every breath, every pulse beat, and the contraction and dilation of his own blood vessels.
Time and again, he broke it all down: from simple movements to the breathing techniques associated with each form, then to finding the commonalities between them in an attempt to merge them into something new.
In just four short days, although he was still a long way from successfully developing a new sword style, Akira had already found it—the feeling, the rhythm of combining the core characteristics of the three major forms. He even had a nascent idea of the corresponding breathing pattern.
His rate of progress left even Kuwajima Jigorō stunned.
But now, Akira had to interrupt his training.
His Kasugai Crow, Ink Shadow, had arrived, bringing with it a new mission.
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