Mei listened to Gyutaro's words in silence for a moment before biting her lip and whispering, "Then we don't have to go..."
"We must. I want you to live a normal life, and... you want to go too, don't you?"
Mei didn't answer. To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. Just as Gyutaro had said, she craved a normal life. She didn't want to become an Oiran in those houses, and she certainly didn't want her entire existence to be that of a canary trapped in a gilded cage.
But if that "normal life" had to be paid for with Gyutaro's blood and life, then she didn't want it. Her life should be won through her own struggles, not his.
After a long pause, Mei said softly, "Brother, if I want to go, I can go on my own. You should have your own life. You've already done enough for me, so..."
"Mei! Don't you ever say that again! You and I are different. You're beautiful and you have a future. I... I'm not like you..."
"Brother..."
"Enough! we'll talk about this later. Once you're a bit older, I'll listen to you!"
With that, Gyutaro turned away, his attention fixed solely on the two figures clashing in the clearing. He felt he was a man of little value; the only thing he had to offer was a combat instinct that was far sharper than any ordinary person's. He had to recover as quickly as possible and hone his fighting skills. Only then could he look after Mei and provide her with a future.
Otherwise... otherwise, his very birth would have been meaningless.
Gyutaro's eyes were dim as he sat hunched over. Mei wanted to comfort him, but her hand stopped mid-air. She had tried many times before, but Gyutaro never listened.
Perhaps... some things simply can't be resolved by those closest to us?
Can the person you love most eventually become a shackle in some way?
Mei didn't know. She just felt a deep, lingering sadness.
To break the suffocating atmosphere, both Mei and Gyutaro instinctively turned their gaze toward the courtyard.
Izumi Kiyowa's clothes were already drenched in sweat. The sword techniques flowing from Rengoku Mujuro were like waves of rolling magma—strike after strike, leaving Kiyowa with almost no room to breathe.
However, Mujuro's level of instruction was exceptionally high. He always managed to slow the rhythm slightly just as Kiyowa reached his limit, only to ramp up the speed again once Kiyowa had caught his breath.
Subjected to this cycle, Kiyowa's body remained under intense, high-pressure strain. The wounds on his body began to throb with a dull ache. Yet, he didn't call for a stop. Instead, he gritted his teeth, the light in his eyes growing brighter and brighter.
Every parry, every dodge, and even the rhythm of every breath Mujuro took left a deep impression on Kiyowa's mind. He felt like a bone-dry sponge, frantically soaking up every drop of this invaluable combat experience.
Under this constant barrage and adjustment, the circulation of Sun Breathing seemed to grow even smoother. The rhythm between each inhale and exhale began to align perfectly with his sword swings. Kiyowa could feel his proficiency with Sun Breathing rising at a terrifying speed.
From the doorway, Mei watched nervously as Kiyowa was repeatedly knocked back, only to charge forward again with stubborn determination. Her fingers tightened, her knuckles turning white.
Gyutaro said nothing, watching the duel in silence. To be fair, he didn't truly understand the nuances of the breathing styles or the refined sword techniques. However, his innate, superhuman combat talent allowed him to simulate the battle in his own mind, imagining how he would react if he were facing either of them.
It was as if he possessed a "Demon Brain"—he was etching the entire process of the fight into his memory, constantly replaying and analyzing every move and countermove. As he became more absorbed in the spectacle, the emotion in his eyes shifted from suspicion to a complex mixture of recognition and contemplation.
"Umu! That is enough!"
Mujuro watched as Kiyowa prepared to launch another charge, a look of genuine astonishment crossing his face.
Truthfully, Kiyowa's strength had far exceeded his expectations. He had initially assumed Kiyowa was roughly at the level of a Rank Kanoto (Rank 8) slayer, perhaps just slightly physically stronger. But after actually fighting him, Mujuro realized that based on his current technique and stamina, Kiyowa was at least at the level of a Rank Tsuchinoto (Rank 6) slayer.
But that wasn't what truly shocked him. What truly stunned Mujuro was Kiyowa's rate of growth.
It was fast—so fast it defied logic. This wasn't a normal rate of improvement; it was like watching a grandmaster performing rehabilitation exercises!
Every attack Kiyowa launched was modified with visible speed. By the next strike, he would have already corrected the flaws of the previous one. Once or twice might have been a fluke, but throughout the 276 exchanges of this session, every single one of Kiyowa's attacks was an improvement upon the last.
By the final few strikes, Mujuro even had the feeling that the boy's technique was not inferior to his own. The only reason he could still overpower Kiyowa was purely because his base physical strength was superior. If they had been at the same level of physical power, Mujuro felt there was a real possibility he might have lost!
Of course, that would have to wait until Kiyowa's physical constitution caught up. For now, he was still too weak.
Mujuro leaped back, his wrist flicking to both parry Kiyowa's final strike and effortlessly disarm him of his branch.
Kiyowa stared at the branch now held in Mujuro's hand, panting heavily. He looked as if he had been fished out of a river, but a warm current surged in his chest—the satisfying fullness of growing power.
"Excellent!"
Mujuro's face broke into a brilliant smile again. He walked over and slapped Kiyowa heartily on the shoulder.
"Your talent and speed of progress far exceed my expectations! Especially the nature of that strange breathing style of yours—it is truly unique!
"With my current perspective, I cannot tell exactly which style yours is. Your breathing seems to contain shadows of almost every other style: the gentle fluidity of Water, the cold ferocity of Wind, and the heavy solidity of Stone..."
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Demon Slayer: Starting by Snatching Daki(89 Chapter- Ongoing)
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