The training didn’t start after a day or two; it began only after a full week of silence. The Corps was no longer as it had been—the absence of Kyojuro Rengoku, the Fme Hashira, left a heavy void. Even the ordinary soldiers spoke in lower voices than usual, as if the name of the Fme Hashira had become something sacred, barely uttered. As for the boy, he hardly spoke at all, but he would wake every day before dawn and stand before a cold waterfall, letting it strike his body for hours and hours. This wasn’t official training yet—it was a punishment he had chosen for himself.

  After that week, which marked a radical change within the Corps, Tengen appeared, unusually silent, and said to the boy:

  “Prepare yourself. We have long training ahead. Always remember: strength is not the shout in the battlefield; strength is what remains when anger disappears.”

  He threw a wooden sword to the ground and asked the boy to pick it up and attack. The boy grabbed it, his hands still trembling, Rengoku’s image still in his mind, and charged with a shout of rage, as if recalling the battle on the train and all he could do. His strike was fast, but before it could reach Tengen, he vanished in an instant. Then a powerful strike nded on the boy’s stomach, sending him to the ground. His heart almost stopped. Tengen said to him:

  “I told you training would be spectacur, but I never said it would be fair. We haven’t even started yet, boy. You’re slow and weak.”

  He looked at him again, a smile never leaving his face.

  “Now, to the mountain peak—you have ten minutes to reach it.”

  The boy looked at the summit and said:

  “Impossible to reach in ten minutes, but I won’t give up.”

  He got up and began running at full speed. The rocks tore his feet, the waterfall roared behind him, but he paid no mind. Suddenly, the inner voice whispered:

  “You won’t reach the summit… just as you didn’t reach Akaza.”

  Hearing Akaza’s name ignited his anger, and he surged forward with all his might. But there was a sudden explosion behind him—a sound bomb from Tengen blew rocks near his feet, leaving him in shock. Then Tengen shouted with full force:

  “Do you think the Upper Moon will wait for you to catch your breath, weakling?”

  Finally, the boy reached the summit, colpsing from exhaustion, yet staring at the sky as if believing he could reach what he wanted. That concluded the first day.

  Training continued daily, but each day the exercises changed: sometimes standing on a slippery rock for hours without moving, other times running across steep slopes while carrying weights tied to his body, then striking tree trunks thousands of times until his palms cracked. There were no new techniques at first, no secrets—only repetition. By the end of the second week, he colpsed unconscious at the mountain’s edge. Tengen looked at him but did not help; he only said:

  “If you need someone to lift you, you’ll never defeat an Upper Moon.”

  Zenitsu broke down crying multiple times, Inosuke screamed defiantly at the rocks themselves, but the boy remained silent. His silence wasn’t surrender—it was something else, forming inside him like steel. That night, after everyone withdrew to their sleeping quarters, he sat alone near the waterfall. This time, he didn’t go under it; he simply sat in front, watching the flow of water, recalling Tengen Uzui’s words:

  “Strength is what remains when anger disappears.”

  In that moment, he closed his eyes and envisioned Rengoku before him. This time, he didn’t feel an explosion of rage like the first days—he felt immense responsibility.

  By the third week, everything had changed. Tengen no longer observed from afar; he began attacking them seriously—not to knock them down immediately, but strategically to expose weaknesses. He changed his rhythm suddenly, shifting from lightning-fast strikes to deceptive slow attacks, hitting from unexpected angles, forcing them to think under pressure. This method continued for a full week until the st day. On that day, Tengen noticed something about the boy and said:

  “For several days, I’ve noticed your rhythm changes whenever the pressure increases. Your strength isn’t fully water… what are you hiding?”

  The boy answered calmly:

  “It’s a dance my father taught me, and I want to refine it more. I want to master it.”

  Tengen responded:

  “Try it now. If you can move me from my spot with this strike, I’ll admit you’ve earned the right to train under a Hashira.”

  The boy looked at him with determination and will. He didn’t expin further. He closed his eyes, then breathed slowly—long exhale, deep inhale—then the rhythm shifted. It wasn’t like water breathing; it was heavier, deeper, as if the air itself burned as it entered his lungs. He opened his eyes, now with a different gaze, and charged forward. The first movement was clean, faster than Tengen had ever seen. The second touched his shoulder, but he didn’t move. The third ignited the rhythm within him. Then he whispered softly: “Hinokami.”

  He pnted his right foot firmly on the ground, lowered his center of gravity, then rotated his entire body—not just his arm. The sword surged in a wide, sharp arc. The motion wasn’t straight—it formed a circle. The bde didn’t just cut forward; it traced a full path around his body, as if surrounding him with a rotating sun. The air compressed around him, and sudden heat rose from his extremities to his fingertips. Then he shouted its full name:

  “HINOKAMI KAGURA!”

  Tengen smiled at the powerful strike heading toward him—one that could have struck him hard. He dodged swiftly, then turned to the boy:

  “This technique is remarkable. If you develop it further, it will become deadly.”

  Tengen smiled at him again, then looked at all three of them and said calmly:

  “Now, I can take you with me.”

  The three exchanged quick gnces. This wasn’t praise—it was acknowledgment. Zenitsu and Inosuke were happy with the news, excited that they would go on a mission with the Sound Hashira. The grueling training would finally end after weeks, but the boy remained calm—not feeling joy or pride, only responsibility.

  The next morning, a raven arrived with an official message from Koyoharu Kagaya and nded in front of Tengen, speaking sharply:

  “Increasing reports of disappearances in the Entertainment District.”

  Tengen’s expression changed. This wasn’t a show—he was serious. He turned to them and said:

  “Prepare yourselves. We leave tomorrow. There’s a chance we won’t face a normal demon. It could be an Upper Moon.”

  A heavy silence followed. The boy didn’t flinch, didn’t rush forward. He only pced his hand on his sword and recalled the Fme Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku. For a moment, he felt no guilt. He felt the promise. And amid the winds crossing the mountains, it was clear: the training was over… but the real battle was about to begin.

  Are you ready?

  The training is over, but the real battle has just begun…

  The boy has grown stronger, yet he won’t be facing any ordinary demon.

  In the next mission… he may come face-to-face with an Upper Moon!

  Imagine the power, imagine the challenge, and imagine the fate that awaits them…

  What would you do if you were in his pce?

  Comment now, share your predictions, and don’t miss a single moment of this upcoming battle!