Chapter 84 – The Transparent World
[Ding!]
[You have gained 0.3% inheritance progress from the template!]
[Ding!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have acquired: Sun Breathing – Thirteenth Form!]
[Ding!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have acquired: Transparent World!]
The Thirteenth Form of Sun Breathing—at last, it was complete.
This ultimate technique was a culmination of every form from the First to the Twelfth, combined seamlessly into one perfect cycle.
But that wasn't all. Alongside it came the mastery of a domain long considered forbidden for swordsmen—The Transparent World.
The Transparent World could only be reached once one's mind achieved absolute clarity. It was a realm where one's consciousness transcended its physical limits, where even the brain itself seemed "transparent."
To reach it required excruciating training—pain beyond reason, endurance beyond the human threshold. But those who managed it stepped into the highest state of swordsmanship—a true enlightenment of body and mind.
In that state, by shutting off unnecessary senses and focusing entirely on the present, the body of any living being became visible in its entirety, as if made of glass.
Every heartbeat, every contraction of muscle, every surge of blood through the lungs—all could be seen and read with perfect precision.
Your movement prediction, reaction speed, and perception of time itself—everything advanced to a divine level.
Even one's own life energy could be adjusted at will, concealing presence completely and making the movements of enemies seem almost still.
This was the pinnacle—and the forbidden domain.
The difficulty of attaining it was equivalent to awakening a Balance Breaker from a Sacred Gear in High School DxD.
Almost no human could reach it, but those who did… their strength transcended mortality.
A clear example existed within Demon Slayer's Entertainment District Arc.
When Kamado Tanjiro, consumed by rage and desperation, touched upon the surface of this realm, his strength skyrocketed—enough to nearly defeat Daki.
Later, even Hashibira Inosuke glimpsed this state during battle, granting him a surge of power far beyond his usual limits.
And now, Yukinoshita Akira had stepped into that same world.
The only part that left Akira slightly dissatisfied was one simple truth—Yoriichi Tsugikuni had been born already possessing it.
It was a reminder of the cruel imbalance between talent and effort.
Some people spend their entire lives trying to reach Rome, while others are simply born there.
The world was never fair, and the difference between individuals could stretch beyond imagination.
Whoosh—
In the next instant, Akira entered the Transparent World.
Everything around him slowed to a crawl.
Yet paradoxically, his vision sharpened beyond belief. The wings of a small insect fluttering outside the window appeared suspended in the air—each movement crystal clear, every detail illuminated.
The flapping seemed to occur in slow motion, as if time itself had bent to his will.
That was the power of the Transparent World—a level of sensory dominance that defied reality.
But Akira didn't stay in that state for long. After confirming the sensation, he quietly deactivated it.
Click.
The kitchen door opened.
Yukinoshita Yukino appeared, holding a tray of breakfast in her hands.
"Finished your morning training? Come, breakfast is ready."
"Got it."
Their exchange was simple and familiar—routine, even.
Breakfast consisted of miso soup, rice balls, and a few modest side dishes.
For someone who'd grown up with much larger portions—especially from "outside" this world—Akira couldn't help but feel this was far too little. Like a cat's meal, really.
He had voiced this complaint several times, but Yukino refused to change it every time.
Sitting down, Akira ate quickly, emptying the plates in record time. Internally, he decided that after they returned home, he would stock up his own food supply.
Japanese portions were torture for his stomach.
He couldn't help but recall Busujima Saeko's cooking—she always prepared dishes that suited his appetite: steamed buns, fried dough sticks, stuffed bread… comforting and heavy, just the way he liked it.
"By the way, Hiratsuka-sensei called earlier," Akira said casually, sipping his soup. "We're supposed to meet at the station."
"What time?"
"Nine a.m."
"Then what time should we leave?"
"It takes about twenty minutes to get there. Let's leave by eight-thirty to be safe."
"Understood. I'll leave the timing to you."
As always, Yukino didn't argue. After breakfast, she quietly began cleaning up. She cooked, she cleaned, she handled everything herself—like the perfect wife material, if Akira were being honest.
That was Yukinoshita Yukino—on the surface cold and sharp-tongued, but deep down, pure and sincere.
By eight-thirty, both were ready. With travel bags and sword cases slung over their shoulders, they descended the apartment stairs, where a car waited below.
They arrived at the meeting point right on time.
"Ah, there you are. Yukinoshita Akira, Yukinoshita Yukino."
Standing near a van by the station, Hiratsuka Shizuka greeted them, now dressed casually instead of in her usual suit.
"Good morning, Hiratsuka-sensei," Akira said politely.
"Good morning, Shizuka-sensei," Yukino echoed.
But the moment Hiratsuka saw them together—Yukino standing half a step behind Akira, posture unconsciously deferential—an odd feeling stirred in her chest.
From an outsider's perspective, the two looked too perfect together. A handsome man and a beautiful woman, walking in sync.
"Just as I thought—you both brought your katanas."
Her gaze flicked toward the sword cases on their backs.
"As swordsmen, a katana is part of our body," Akira replied calmly.
Yukino nodded in agreement.
"Yukino… you're really starting to resemble Akira. You two could pass as family."
"There's no need to say that, Sensei," Yukino replied softly. "We are family."
And in her heart, she meant every word.
To Yukinoshita Yukino, Akira wasn't merely a friend or comrade—he was family.
Hiratsuka didn't comment further. She helped them load their belongings into the van and glanced toward the street, waiting for the rest of the group.
"Ah! Yukinon! Akki-kun! You're here already? Yahallo~!"
A cheerful voice called out.
Bounding toward them was a girl with bright pink hair tied in round buns—Yuigahama Yui. Both the "dango" on her head and the… other dango bounced energetically as she ran, drawing every pair of eyes in the vicinity.
"Good morning, Yui," Yukino greeted her, her usual composed tone softening ever so slightly.
"Morning, Dango."
"Muu~! Don't call me that!"
"You were the one who started calling me that first."
"Hmph! Akki-kun, you're so mean! Fine, I'll just keep calling you Akki~ Akki-kun~ Akki-kuuun~!"
"Dango."
Their playful back-and-forth drew a faint smile from Yukino. This comfortable, familiar energy was something only the three of them shared.
Meanwhile, off to the side, Hiratsuka Shizuka was choking back exasperation.
"Hey! Enough already! Your teacher's still standing right here, you know!"
Her voice cut through the morning air like thunder, but the trio only laughed in response—because somehow, this kind of chaos had become the most natural thing in the world.
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