September, Meiji 35 (1902)
Age: Akira & Mitsuri — 12 years, 3 months
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Autumn returned with discipline.
The heat softened, the air thinned, and for the first time in months, breath felt light again. For Akira, that lightness was not relief—
It was opportunity.
He stood alone before dawn, the clearing wrapped in mist. No gourd today.
This was different.
This was no longer about bursts, transitions, or recovery.
He inhaled once.
Deep.
Precise.
And did not let it go.
Total Concentration Breathing — Constant.
His chest expanded… and stayed that way.
Not rigid.
Not strained.
Alive.
Heat spread evenly through his body, not surging, not spiking. His heartbeat slowed instead of racing. Muscles aligned as if remembering something ancient.
Akira opened his eyes.
The world sharpened.
"Great Sage: Confirmation—Total Concentration Breathing: Constant successfully initiated. Respiratory and circulatory systems synchronized. Warning: continuous maintenance will tax mental discipline."
Akira nodded inwardly.
"…Then let's begin slowly."
He raised his sword.
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Hinokami Kagura — Continuous Practice
Not five forms.
Not yet.
One form—
held within constant breath.
---
First Form: Enbu (Dance)
The movement unfolded effortlessly. Breath did not rise or fall—it supported. Heat remained stable, neither increasing nor fading.
Akira completed the form…
…and stayed perfectly steady.
No release.
No break.
He stepped forward.
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Second Form: Hekira no Ten (Blue Heavenly Spiral)
The rotation tightened. Muscles worked harder—but breath did not change. Sweat formed instantly, yet his lungs remained calm.
This was harder than chaining forms before.
Much harder.
He stopped after the second.
Not because he had to—
But because he should.
He lowered his sword, still breathing.
Still constant.
Thirty seconds passed.
A full minute.
Only then did he release.
Akira exhaled long and slow, knees bending slightly as warmth drained away.
"…That's dangerous," he murmured.
"Great Sage: Correct. However—your body tolerated it. Duration achieved exceeds minimum threshold for sustained combat breathing."
Akira wiped sweat from his brow.
So this is the gate.
Elsewhere, under the shade of blooming autumn trees—
Mitsuri trained alone.
She stood barefoot on grass, blade light in her hands. Her breathing had changed again—no longer playful, no longer experimental.
She inhaled.
And did not stop.
Total Concentration Breathing — Constant.
Her body responded instantly.
Warmth flooded her limbs like sunlight through silk. No stiffness. No pressure. Her heartbeat stayed calm, almost leisurely.
Mitsuri blinked in surprise.
"…It's not hard," she whispered.
She moved.
---
Love Breathing — First Form: Shivers of First Love
Her body flowed naturally, breath cradling the motion without effort.
She continued.
---
Second Form: Love Pangs
No spike.
No loss of balance.
Her breathing remained perfectly smooth.
She laughed softly in disbelief.
---
Third Form: Catlove Shower
Faster now—yet her breath did not waver.
Her stamina felt endless.
Too endless.
Mitsuri stopped herself abruptly, hand over her chest.
"…Okay," she told herself firmly. "That's enough."
She released the breath carefully, warmth fading reluctantly.
Her legs felt light.
Too light.
Later that afternoon, Akira and Mitsuri met as usual, sitting together with water between them.
They looked at each other—
And knew.
"You did it," Mitsuri said softly.
"So did you," Akira replied.
They sat in silence for a moment.
"…It felt different for you, didn't it?" she asked.
Akira nodded. "Like walking a blade's edge."
She tilted her head. "For me it felt like floating."
He smiled faintly. "That sounds like you."
They agreed without discussion.
From now on—
They would train separately when using constant breathing.
Akira pushed his limits through discipline: short durations, precise execution, strict recovery.
Mitsuri practiced restraint: stopping early, grounding herself, refusing the temptation to move endlessly.
"Great Sage: Assessment—both subjects have entered a new stage. Akira's growth favors control under pressure. Mitsuri's favors sustainability and flow. Divergence increasing. Compatibility remains high."
As September deepened, both changed visibly.
Akira's presence grew heavier—solid, grounded, difficult to ignore.
Mitsuri's movements grew more fluid—soft, radiant, impossible to restrain.
Two breaths.
Always active now.
Never truly sleeping.
Yet still—careful.
Still—human.
As autumn leaves began to fall, Akira looked up at the sky during cooldown, breath steady, heart calm.
"…So this is where it really starts."
And somewhere nearby, Mitsuri smiled to herself, feeling warmth hum gently through her veins—
A breathing style born of love, now awake at all times.
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End of Chapter 51