Can You Land the Hit?

The cold wind on Mount Sagiri cut across their cheeks like knives, as it always did. The mountain forest, shrouded in mist year-round, seemed to hold an endless supply of cold.

Three months slipped quietly by amid day after day of sword swings and pushing beyond the limits.

The morning mist had yet to clear completely. Sakonji Urokodaki stood quietly in a clearing at the summit, his arms folded across his chest. Beneath his Tengu Mask, his weathered eyes were fixed intently ahead.

Directly before him stood an enormous spherical boulder, a full three people tall. Its surface was covered in moss and the marks of erosion, but more importantly, it was outrageously hard. Generations of Urokodaki's students had endured the despair of hacking at it here, and quite a few had forever lost their chance to enter the Final Selection because they could not cut through it.

It was the final, insurmountable barrier a Water Breathing swordsman had to overcome to complete his training.

Yet at that moment, Takanashi Rokuno stood before the boulder without a trace of reverence on his face. Instead, he wore a hint of undisguised impatience.

He wore a thin, dark blue haori over tight black training clothes. After three months of intense training and the boost from his system attributes, his once-scrawny physique had undergone a complete transformation. Sleek muscle definition showed faintly beneath his clothes-not exaggerated bodybuilder bulk, but lean muscle packed with explosive power, like a cheetah's.

"Old man, you dragged me out of bed first thing in the morning just to make me cut this stupid rock?" Rokuya rested an ordinary standard-issue katana on his shoulder and yawned, his eyes somewhat languid.

"Stupid rock?" Urokodaki's voice sounded slightly muffled behind his mask, carrying a hint of displeasure. "Rokuya, do not underestimate this boulder. It tests not merely your strength, but your control over Water Breathing's Total Concentration state. Your blade must be like water, following the grain of the stone and dividing it in two with an unbroken force that is both supremely supple and supremely sharp. Only then can you be considered..."

"You talk too much."

Rokuya cut off Urokodaki's lengthy lecture without ceremony. His gaze abruptly changed. His languid air vanished in an instant, replaced by a ferocity that made the heart pound.

He did not assume any Water Breathing opening stance, nor did he try to feel any "suppleness of water." He simply took a deep breath.

"Hiss-huff-"

With that heavy breath, Rokuya's chest swelled high. This was no conventional Breathing Style, but a violent rush of air produced by forcibly wringing everything from his heart and lungs in combination with his system-granted physique. The muscles in his arms visibly swelled, veins bulging beneath his skin like coiling dragons.

Faint explosive cracks sounded in the air.

"Watch closely, old man. If you can smash something with one slash, don't bother with all that fancy nonsense."

Before his words had faded, Rokuya tightened both hands around the hilt and kicked hard against the ground.

Boom!

The earth beneath his feet exploded into a shallow crater. He shot upward like a cannonball from its barrel, even leaving a blurred afterimage in midair. Then he raised his sword. There was no technique, no unbroken, flowing sword intent-only a downward slash of utterly pure, unreasonable brute force!

"Split-for me!"

The blade scraped through the air, actually producing a shrill sonic boom. A faint, dark blue glow even appeared along Rokuya's blade, a sign that the Arcana Power inside him was leaking out involuntarily.

Urokodaki's pupils contracted sharply behind his mask, and he shouted, "Hey! That sword can't withstand your..."

Too late.

Crack-rumble!!!

The deafening crash rang throughout Mount Sagiri, startling a great flock of birds into flight.

The hard boulder said to have stopped countless swordsmen was like fragile tofu beneath Rokuya's blade. It was not merely divided in two. The violent impact poured down along the edge, brutally splitting the boulder straight through the middle!

The two halves toppled to either side with a crash. Rather than smooth, mirrorlike surfaces, the cuts were rough fractures smashed open by sheer force.

But it was not over yet!

The remaining force of Rokuya's slash did not stop at all. His blade slammed hard into the ground beneath the boulder.

Boom-crack, crack, crack!

The earth shook. A terrifying fissure several meters long and half a meter deep raced in the direction of the blade, severing every tree root in its path. Dirt and broken stone sprayed to either side like fountains, striking tree trunks with dull thuds.

The power of that single strike was like a blow from the thunder god's axe.

Amid the drifting dust, Rokuya slowly straightened. He glanced at the ordinary katana in his hand. Its blade was already covered in spiderweb cracks, and then, with a clink, it broke into several pieces, leaving only the hilt in his grip.

He casually tossed the hilt aside, dusted off his hands, and turned toward the dumbstruck Sakonji Urokodaki. An arrogant smile curved his lips. "Well? The rock's split, and so's the ground. I'd say I've mastered Water Breathing, wouldn't you?"

Urokodaki fell silent.

He looked at the two mangled halves of the boulder, then at the two-meter-deep trench that looked as though an earth dragon had churned through it. Beneath his Tengu Mask, the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Water Breathing?

Where was water's ability to embrace all things? Its unbroken flow? Its ceaseless suppleness?! This was nothing short of a mudslide mixed with a tsunami crashing down from the highest heavens!

"You..." Urokodaki took several deep breaths before he barely managed to suppress the urge to smash Rokuya's head with a wooden sword. "You haven't grasped the essence of Water Breathing at all. You're merely using a Breathing Style to accelerate your blood flow and unleash that monstrous physical strength of yours."

"As long as it kills enemies and cuts demons' heads off, who cares whether it's a stream or a tsunami? Even the Yellow River's waters come from heaven." Rokuya walked nonchalantly over to a wooden stump and sat down. "Old man, there's nothing new left for me to learn here. I've memorized all the forms you taught me, but they're too fussy to use. My sword is all about killing in one strike. Spare me the talk."

Urokodaki stepped forward. For once, he did not scold him, but instead let out a deep sigh.

"Rokuya, you're the most frighteningly gifted swordsman I've ever seen, and the least willing to follow the rules." Urokodaki's voice grew somewhat grave. "The power of that slash just now-even a current Hashira could never achieve it through physical strength alone, without the aid of a special Breathing Style. Against an ordinary demon, or even a Lower Rank Demon, as long as you land a single slash, your opponent will undoubtedly die."

Rokuya raised an eyebrow. "In that case, what do I have to worry about? Why not just go take the selection?"

"The problem is-can you land the hit?" Urokodaki mercilessly exposed Rokuya's weakness.

The smile on Rokuya's face gradually faded.