The trainees turned, giving Zenitsu hostile looks, especially the one who'd been punched.
"You wanna die?"
"Oh, it's another loser. Lord Jigoro's really unlucky—Gusion can't even do Thunder Breathing, and you only know the First Form. Hahaha!"
Another laughed sarcastically.
Enraged, Zenitsu charged at them, heedless of being outnumbered. But he held back his strength, afraid of hurting them, and soon was overwhelmed and beaten black and blue.
"Losers will always be losers. What a waste to have Lord Jigoro teach you."
The buzzcut boy spat on Zenitsu after knocking him down, eyes full of hidden jealousy.
"Let's go. No point here."
Another pulled him away, worried about trouble. They'd all had tragic pasts—best not to go too far.
"Fine, I'll let you off today."
Buzzcut turned to leave, but couldn't move—Zenitsu grabbed his ankle.
"Apologize..." Zenitsu croaked, bruised and battered.
"Huh? What are you saying? Are you nuts?"
The boy tugged, but Zenitsu's grip was iron.
"I... I want you to apologize. Don't insult Gusion-senpai..."
Zenitsu said weakly.
"Ha? Looks like you need another beating!"
The boy raised his sword's sheath to strike Zenitsu's head.
"Wait—" his friend tried to warn him, but the blow was already coming down.
But, just as a tragedy seemed imminent, the sheath stopped two inches above Zenitsu's head.
A hand, faster than the sheath, caught it from above.
The boy froze, trying to pull it back—but it wouldn't budge. He looked up in shock.
In the sunset, a man in a black haori stood with a stern face. A flash of killing intent in his eyes chilled the air.
The boy yanked at the sheath, but it was immovable. "H-how... you're not..."
Gusion said nothing, just released the sheath. The boy, pulling too hard, toppled over.
The others, cowed by Gusion's aura, were speechless. Why was this useless ten-year failure so terrifying?
Gusion helped Zenitsu up, glancing coldly at the others: "Scram."
The group, frozen a moment, scattered in terror. The buzzcut boy was so scared he wet himself.
"Gusion-senpai..."
Zenitsu's voice was weak, a bit ashamed.
Gusion walked him to the side street. "Are you upset I didn't stand up for you?"
"No... I just... didn't mean to start a fight."
Zenitsu looked down. He didn't want Gusion to know others called him a loser—it would only hurt him. He just couldn't stand the insult, but starting a fight was wrong, and he lost anyway.
Gusion patted his golden hair. "I didn't beat them up for you because I believe you'll win next time. You're just too kind."
"Will I win someday?"
"You will. Whether you fight back or earn their respect and apology, that'll be your victory."
Gusion smiled. He'd heard their argument, and seeing Zenitsu, battered but still demanding an apology for his sake, touched something deep inside.
He remembered his own childhood, his sect, his senior. The genuine bonds among fellow disciples were precious. Zenitsu reminded him of those times.
At this moment, he truly liked this kind-hearted junior. From now on, protecting Zenitsu wouldn't just be for the mission.
"If you say so, Senpai, I'll try my best."
Zenitsu smiled, with no thought of revenge—he just wanted their recognition, and for them to stop saying Grandpa taught only losers.
Gusion bought snacks in town, and on the way back, discreetly used healing on Zenitsu's hand to speed his recovery.
But Zenitsu wasn't really badly hurt—his stats were high, and the other trainees, even with breathing techniques, only had 8 or 9 points. Zenitsu was just too kind and held back.
Gusion only helped with the slow-healing wounds; the rest would be fine after one night's sleep.
"What happened to you two?"
Jigoro put down his ladle, puzzled.
Zenitsu only went down the mountain, so how'd he end up bruised? It probably wasn't demons—this place was a hidden training base.
"Grandpa... I..."
Zenitsu hesitated, not good at lying.
"Zenitsu was practicing the First Form too fast and ran into a tree."
Gusion interjected, giving him a look.
"Ah? Oh, that's right... Sorry, Grandpa, I'm so clumsy."
Zenitsu felt guilty lying to Grandpa, but he didn't want him to know the real reason.
Jigoro looked at the two for a moment, then relaxed. "Come eat, the porridge smells good today."
He knew they were hiding something, but adults don't need to know every secret. As long as they're happy, that's enough.
In the small cabin, the three gathered around the fire, steam rising from the pot, warming the early spring chill.
Gusion, Zenitsu, and Grandpa Jigoro each held a bowl of porridge. Zenitsu, switching hands as the bowl was hot, Jigoro smiled at him, and Gusion gently blew on his porridge, mist swirling.
For a moment, Gusion was lost in thought, remembering when he and his master and senior sat around a fire, his stomach growling as he waited for dinner, his senior serving him the first bowl.
But they were gone now.