A deathly silence fell.
Ryōsuke didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
What Giyu meant to say was obviously: Your swordsmanship is so refined it's beyond my understanding—I couldn't break it. You're amazing.
But the way he said it… honestly sounded like he was roasting him.
"Hahahahahaha—!!!"
Sabito clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over.
"Gi—Giyu… next time, you really should just… not think."
Giyu's small head was filled with big confusion.
Everyone laughed…
That means what I said must've been right.
I probably wasn't disliked.
Giyu silently gave himself a thumbs-up in his heart.
Makomo stomped her foot, deliberately putting on a stern face as she pointed at Giyu's nose.
"You are—the worst!"
Giyu froze, his mind feeling as if a straight white line had pierced right through it.
He turned his head sharply, expression still solemn.
His tone was firm, like he was stating an immutable law of the universe.
"I will not be hated."
That overly serious rebuttal, paired with his naturally blank face, left Makomo completely powerless.
Ryōsuke and Moriyama Akira saw everything clearly from the side. They exchanged a knowing look, shoulders trembling again as they struggled desperately to hold in their laughter.
Makomo took a deep breath, deciding to spare this hopelessly single-minded senior for now, and turned toward Ryōsuke instead.
A bright, cheerful smile bloomed on her face as she gave a proper bow.
"Hello, Yasui-san! I'm Makomo, Master Urokodaki's disciple!"
Ryōsuke also reined in his laughter and returned the greeting with a warm nod.
"Hello, Makomo. I'm Yasui Ryōsuke."
Only then did Makomo remember the real reason she'd come. She turned to Sabito and Giyu.
"Master is waiting for you inside."
Both Sabito and Giyu straightened immediately.
Ryōsuke exchanged a glance with Moriyama, and the two followed along in tacit understanding.
The wooden cabin on Mount Sagiri was simple and spotless, filled with the faint fragrance of timber and medicinal herbs.
When the sliding door opened, Urokodaki Sakonji was kneeling by a low table, calmly pouring tea.
His iconic red tengu mask concealed his expression.
Hearing the footsteps, Urokodaki lifted his head. His gaze passed over his own disciples and settled directly on Ryōsuke.
A low, gentle voice sounded.
"You're Yasui Ryōsuke from Mount Momoyama?"
Ryōsuke bowed slightly.
"Yes, Urokodaki-sensei. I am Yasui Ryōsuke, disciple of Kuwajima Jigoro."
"My grandfather often worries about you," he continued.
"He says the mist of Mount Sagiri is good for one's health, and hopes you'll take good care of yourself."
After a brief pause, he added,
"This mission happened to pass nearby, and Moriyama warmly invited me, so I took the liberty of disturbing you."
Urokodaki's hand paused slightly as he poured the tea.
He chuckled softly, his tone gentle but teasing.
"Kuwajima worries about me?"
He set the teapot down and slid a cup of clear tea toward Ryōsuke.
"That doesn't quite sound like something that hot-tempered old man would say.
It sounds more like the polite words you came up with on his behalf."
Ryōsuke smiled openly, not denying it.
"I can't fool you. That's simply how I understand my teacher's feelings.
He may not say it aloud, but he remembers the bond between Mount Sagiri and Mount Momoyama."
Urokodaki gave a soft acknowledgment, then turned to Sabito and Giyu, who were standing respectfully nearby.
"How was the flow of power when you practiced striking the boulders today?
Have you found the balance between the flexibility of water and the sharpness of the cut?"
Sabito immediately bowed and gave a detailed report of his insights and the obstacles he'd encountered in training.
Giyu was far more concise, occasionally adding one or two crucial points.
Urokodaki listened attentively, offering guidance from time to time.
Ryōsuke remained quietly to the side, observing Urokodaki's teaching style.
Compared to Kuwajima's thunderous emphasis on instant bursts and extreme exertion,
Urokodaki focused more on sustained breathing, continuous force, and sensing—borrowing—the power of the environment.
Like a mountain stream: seemingly gentle, yet carrying an unending surge beneath the surface.
When the instruction came to an end, Sabito and Giyu bowed and withdrew to continue the assignments Urokodaki had given them.
The tea fragrance in the room grew even calmer.
Ryōsuke set down his cup and spoke carefully.
"Urokodaki-sensei, the atmosphere here on Mount Sagiri is completely different from Momoyama.
I was hoping to stay for a while and further temper my breathing techniques."
Urokodaki lifted his eyes, his voice still warm.
"The mountain dwelling is simple. If you don't mind, stay as long as you wish."
"Thank you very much, Sensei."
Ryōsuke bowed deeply.
In the days that followed, Ryōsuke quickly blended into Mount Sagiri's harsh yet distinctive training rhythm.
He didn't abandon the foundations of Thunder Breathing, continuing to train explosive power on fog-shrouded cliffs.
After all, being strong alone wasn't enough—
a man had to last, too!
Fierce and enduring—that's how you break through!
The rest of the time, Ryōsuke devoted himself to practicing Total Concentration: Constant.
With his illness gone, his progress was twice as fast with half the effort.
At night, he would sit cross-legged in front of the cabin, attempting to carry the state of Total Concentration breathing into sleep.
This was the hardest stage of all.
To let the body, even unconsciously, instinctively maintain the rhythm of Total Concentration breathing.
At first, it was nearly impossible.
The slightest lapse in focus—or slipping into deep sleep—and the precise breathing rhythm would immediately collapse.
Several times, Ryōsuke jolted awake in the middle of the night when his breathing suddenly shifted.
"Still not working…"
One night, after waking from yet another failure, Ryōsuke scratched his head irritably.
Moonlight filtered through the window lattice, scattering pale patterns across the floor.
The door slid open softly.
Urokodaki Sakonji entered without a sound and sat cross-legged on the cushion opposite him.
"Your heart's unsettled," Urokodaki said calmly.
Ryōsuke exhaled a breath of turbid air, frustration evident.
"I must be embarrassing myself, Sensei.
Once I fall asleep, my body stops responding. Forcing it only causes unease—
it feels like my body itself is resisting."
"Resisting instinctively?"
Urokodaki repeated softly, shaking his head.
"You've gone in the wrong direction, Ryōsuke."
Ryōsuke looked up at him, puzzled.
"Breathing techniques aren't skills you force onto your body."
Urokodaki continued gently, striking at the core of the issue.
"They are your body's instinct—like your heartbeat, like blood flowing through your veins."
"What Constant seeks isn't how hard you maintain it while awake,
but allowing it to completely become part of your life—
as natural as ordinary breathing."
"What you must do is let Total Concentration breathing become your state of being."
"When awake, it is the sense with which you perceive the world.
When asleep, it is the riverbed through which your life flows."
"You are not controlling your breathing—
breathing is you."
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