His whole body flew like an out-of-control punching bag and slammed into the ground, rolling over a dozen times before snapping a sapling as thick as an arm and finally stopping.
"Cough, cough..." Zenitsu lay on the ground, coughing violently, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His right ankle was horribly swollen.
"You applied force too late. You weren't decisive enough when shifting your center of gravity. Get up. Again." Rokuya's voice held not a trace of pity.
Zenitsu did not cry. He dug both hands into the dirt and slowly pushed himself up. He used Thunder Breathing, stimulating his injured muscles with electricity to forcibly suppress the pain.
He limped back to the starting point and lowered his body again.
Golden currents lit up once more.
Failure, a fall. Another failure, another fall.
For three full days and nights, the sounds of tearing muscles and dull impacts never ceased in this training ground on Back Mountain.
Zenitsu's uniform had been reduced to ragged strips, and his entire body was covered in severe bruises and abrasions. The soles of both shoes had worn clean through, and his toes were covered in dried blood.
Yet his gaze had become utterly terrifying. It was a gaze that had cast aside all fear, leaving only purity.
At dusk on the fourth day, the sun was about to set.
Zenitsu stood in the center of the training ground with his eyes closed. His breathing was exceptionally steady, and with every inhalation, the air around him gave a faint shudder.
Extremely dense golden lightning completely enveloped his body. It shone brighter than ever before, even stinging the leaves in the distance.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Modified..."
Zenitsu murmured.
The next instant, he vanished.
Rokuya's gaze instantly locked onto the space