"Huff, huff..."
The blazing sun hung overhead, the ground burned beneath their feet, and shirtless swordsmen crowded across it.
Wedged among those swordsmen, Murata grimaced just like everyone else as he dragged his heavy feet along.
"Too slow, too slow!" Beside the group, Tengen Uzui ran back and forth with a wooden training stick. The long-distance run that pushed the swordsmen beyond their limits was a piece of cake for him.
Watching swordsmen collapse mid-run, he furiously struck their backs with the stick. "You bastards! Get up! Stop licking the ground at my house!"
"You can't even handle something as basic as running! If you run into an Upper Rank, you're dead! You won't even be able to escape!"
"Your basic stamina is a pile of dog crap! I have no idea how you passed the trial on Mount Fujikasane!"
Boo-hoo-hoo!
I've been in the Demon Slayer Corps for eight years, and I'm still being asked how I passed the trial on Mount Fujikasane!
People my age who joined with me have already become Hashira, and here I am, Murata, still getting chewed out alongside ordinary members!
Boo-hoo-hoo!
Grief and indignation filled Murata's heart. His silky, center-parted hair bounced as he took off at a sprint.
"That's it! That's more like it! You can tell a young man's got plenty of drive!" Tengen Uzui battered the swordsmen with his wooden stick. "Get up! Run another lap!"
A young man...
I'm only two years younger than you!
Thankfully, although the Sound Hashira's training was rather violent, he provided plenty of food.
After each day's training, the Sound Hashira's three wives would arrive carrying meals they had made themselves to soothe the swordsmen's wounded hearts-though whether that dealt them another blow instead was debatable.
After all, he had three wives, while some