After Oyakata-sama left, the solemn atmosphere in the courtyard instantly relaxed.
Sabito stood up and strode straight over to Rokuya. Before Rokuya could speak, Sabito suddenly slammed an exceptionally vicious punch into his chest.
"Thud!"
There was a dull impact. Rokuya did not budge or even frown. Instead, Sabito grimaced in pain, rubbing his fist and shaking his hand.
"Did I beat you stupid back on the mountain?" Rokuya rolled his eyes, curled a finger, and flicked Sabito hard on the forehead.
"Ow!" Sabito stumbled back three steps from the flick, clutching his forehead and sucking in a sharp breath, but his eyes burned with a fierce hunger for battle. "Senior Brother! I didn't die on Mount Fujikasane! I'm a Hashira now too! What do you think? Am I finally qualified to make you draw that strange blade and fight me fair and square?"
"Fight you?" Rokuya scoffed as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world. "With that 'Death Windmill' you made out of your lousy Water Wheel? Come talk to me about a duel when you can split an Upper Rank's Blood Demon Art with a single slash. You can't even withstand an inch of my blade aura, and you think you deserve to make me draw my sword?"
Standing nearby, Sanemi Shinazugawa heard this and his mouth twitched violently. He kept feeling that Rokuya was taking a veiled jab at him, but after looking at the deep-blue blade at Rokuya's waist, he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.
At that moment, Giyu Tomioka, who had been standing like a log at the back, finally walked over at a leisurely pace. He stared at Rokuya for a long while, then forced what he considered a very sincere expression onto his perpetually expressionless face.
"Senior Brother,"