While Ubuyashiki suffered stomach pains from all the information Hiru had revealed, Yoriichi followed Rengoku Shinjuro to the Rengoku household.
There, he t Shinjuro’s family.
One was a gentle, graceful woman, the very image of a Yamato Nadeshiko (an ideal traditional Japanese woman). The other was a child who looked almost exactly like Shinjuro.
Yoriichi stared at the boy’s golden hair streaked with red and fell silent.
So… how exactly did they achieve this?
Yoriichi sank into contemplation.
“This is my wife, Rengoku Ruka. This is my son, Rengoku Kyojuro—he’s eleven this year. And I also have a younger son, Senjuro, who’s three. Because he’s frail, we leave him in the care of a nanny.” Shinjuro opened his arms to catch Kyojuro as the boy ca running over, happily introducing everyone. “Ruka, Kyojuro, this is the Sun Hashira, Yoriichi.”
“Good day, Mr. Yoriichi,” Ruka greeted with a gentle smile, hands folded before her. “It is truly an honor to have you visit our ho.”
After briefly surveying the house, Yoriichi pushed aside his mask and nodded to her with a small smile. “Not at all.”
“I’m delighted to have guests,” Ruka said softly. “Please co inside. I’ll prepare tea.”
“Thank you.”
“Co on, Yoriichi,” Shinjuro placed a hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, grinning. “Let’s head to the backyard for a spar!”
“Wouldn’t that be abrupt…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Let Kyojuro see what a Hashira’s strength looks like!” Shinjuro laughed loudly, dragging Yoriichi toward the backyard while ruffling his son’s hair. “Kyojuro, co!”
“Yes!”
Yoriichi glanced beside him at the boy jogging over with a huge smile. After a brief mont of surprise, he returned the gesture with a smile and nod.
Shinjuro imdiately grabbed the iron training swords and handed one to Yoriichi. “Co on, I’ve been itching to fight!”
“But… fine. If you insist.” Yoriichi watched Shinjuro take his place at the center of the clearing and sighed softly. “Then I’ll make a fool of myself.”
“Don’t say that! I heard from the forr Water Hashira that you can blend Breathing Forms directly into your swordsmanship. If a genius like you calls it showing off, I’ll be too ashad to live! Hahaha!” Shinjuro lifted his sword with a booming laugh. “Let see it for myself!”
“Eh?” Yoriichi paused for a second, then nodded with mild resignation. “Very well. Please be careful.”
The mont Yoriichi finished speaking, Shinjuro sensed a clear shift—what had been a clearly perceptible presence suddenly beca elusive and drifting. Shinjuro let out a long breath. “Truly remarkable…”
“Then, I’m coming.”
“Ah! Co!”
Kyojuro sat on the veranda, eyes wide as he watched the two face each other. In the next instant, they stepped forward in unison and charged.
Though they wielded only iron swords and couldn’t manifest full forms, both were unmistakably using their Breathing Styles.
Who will win? Kyojuro wondered unconsciously.
Probably Father… he’s been a Hashira for so long.
But Mr. Yoriichi is very strong too. Father said he’s only six years older than , yet he beca a Hashira! Amazing!
“They’re fighting already, I see.”
“Mother!”
Ruka approached with a tray of tea, sitting beside Kyojuro. “Kyojuro, you mustn’t spar with guests before they’ve even had a chance to speak with us, alright?”
“Yes, Mother!”
Clang—
In the brief ti they spoke, the match had already been decided.
Shinjuro stared at the snapped iron sword in his hand, stunned. He looked at Yoriichi in disbelief. “…Incredible! Can I learn that technique?!”
“You can, but…” Yoriichi had no intention of hiding it, but even he had caused several of his Nichirin Blades to explode while practicing, barely avoiding injury each ti. He couldn’t possibly feel at ease letting soone without the Transparent World attempt it. “It took years to master, and it’s extrely easy to injure yourself while learning. I doubt it’s sothing you can use anyti soon…”
“That’s fine! Isn’t getting injured just part of being a swordsman?” Shinjuro glanced at his wife and child on the veranda, then hooked an arm around Yoriichi. “Perfect—then let’s take our ti talking it through.”
“But my jurisdiction—”
“Young man, don’t push yourself so hard. Want to drop dead on the front lines?” Shinjuro exaggeratedly pounded his shoulder. “I thought I’d get fewer districts and spend more ti with my family, but then you took seven, so I had to take one more. And now you’re working so hard you’re making look bad—”
“Alright, alright… my fault.” Yoriichi laughed helplessly. “Then I’ll gratefully accept your hospitality.”
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