Zenitsu was young, but he wasn't three years old either. He had a sense of responsibility—he knew he had to live up to Jii-chan's faith in him, to repay the man who had given him a second chance. Even if his girl-crazy nature couldn't be cured overnight—he'd freeze in his tracks the moment any pretty girl came into view—he'd already found something in Kanao worth noticing more than her looks.
That tireless endurance.
"You want to be as strong as her?"
Inori glanced back at the girl still working her sword, who seemed to have completely missed their conversation—or more likely, simply didn't care.
"...I can't."
Zenitsu held her gaze, something like frustration in his eyes, his fingers tightening around the hem of his shirt.
No matter how firm his resolve, his body had a habit of betraying him at the crucial moment. Every time he quietly swore he'd commit to his training, he meant every word of it—but the moment it came to the actual work, all that resolve crumbled like a tower of blocks with too many pieces pulled free.
"Her name is Kanao Tsuyuri."
"Her situation's not so different from yours—she was saved by a Hashira at her lowest point. But your teacher is a retired Hashira. Kanae-san is the current one."
"She's already a Tsuguko?"
He knew enough about the Corps to understand: only a current Hashira's chosen disciple earned that title, and those people tended to become the next generation of Hashira.
"Not officially. Kanae-san hasn't fully taken her on yet—she's just living here for now."
"Oh... then why is she pushing herself this hard?"
Zenitsu couldn't make sense of it.
She was so cute—why not stay with the others and learn medicine and first aid? Why pick up a sword and put herself through all this pain?
"What do you think the reason is?" Inori asked, a faint smile in her eyes, gaze fixed quietly on his face.
"Gratitude toward Flower Hashira-sama? But she doesn't have to push this hard just for that..."
"It's not only that."
Inori shook her head.
Kanae had let certain things slip over tea once. Kanao had begun training on her own, quietly, without telling anyone. She'd watched Kanae practice Flower Breathing in secret and then imitated it herself—the form was clumsy, but the essential shape was there. A once-in-a-decade natural talent.
That was why Kanae hadn't stopped her. And the plan had taken shape from there: have Shinobu teach Kanao her foundation; let Kanao pass the Final Selection and enter the Corps; then formally take her on as Tsuguko.
"Because Kanao is genuinely gifted."
"The drive to push one thing to its absolute limit—the kind that keeps you swinging a blade hundreds, thousands of times without stopping. Focus everything on a single point. Take it to the very peak."
Everything Zenitsu Agatsuma would become could be summed up in those words.
"You're the same, Zenitsu-kun."
"Me? Not a chance!" Zenitsu shook his head furiously, dismissing it outright. "Inori-nee, stop trying to make me feel better—I know I'm useless."
"..."
Inori exhaled quietly. She didn't answer immediately—just looked at him again, her expression setting into something rare, a seriousness without performance.
"Your teacher has trained disciple after disciple his whole life. Why do you think he's been so specifically hard on you?"
"Because... I'm too dumb."
Zenitsu stared at the ground, stumbling over the words. It was the only answer he could find.
"The night your teacher carried you here, I saw his face. He looked at you the way a man looks at his own grandson."
Jigoro Kuwajima had told Zenitsu again and again not to call him "Jii-chan"—to call him "sensei." Zenitsu had refused every time.
"Do you really think a boy with ordinary aptitude would earn that kind of devotion from a former Hashira? If you truly had no talent, he wouldn't be forcing you to train. He'd have let you go long ago."
"Your teacher expects more of you than he expects of anyone else. He believes you can become his finest student—that's why he's never given up on you."
What Zenitsu needed most right now was probably confidence. He'd channeled every ounce of effort into repaying Jii-chan—and never once stopped to ask what that effort might do for himself.
"I... am I really that capable?"
"You are."
Inori thought back to that arc at Spider Mountain—Zenitsu's showstopping performance in the anime, the moment that made him everyone's favorite—and nodded without hesitation.
"A blade needs to be struck again and again to raise the steel's purity, to forge it into something strong. So even if you're a good seedling, you still need to be tempered before you take shape."
Zenitsu didn't answer. His expression went slack—and then set. His fists closed slowly at his sides.
"Of course, if you genuinely can't handle the hardship," Inori continued lightly, "I could probably convince Kanae-san to keep you on as a kitchen hand. With our connection it wouldn't be difficult."
She smiled pleasantly.
"Want me to put in a word?"
"...No."
The cloud over Zenitsu's face cleared. He lifted his head slowly, and on that young, unformed face was something that had never been there before—a kind of quiet certainty. In an instant, he seemed to have aged a few years.
"Inori-nee, I... I want to go run in the mountains for a bit."
"Go ahead. Be back before lunch."
Zenitsu walked out through the courtyard gate with his chin up, a different energy to his step—like a switch had been flipped to the focused, sleeping version of himself from the anime. Inori hadn't expected it. She'd only said what little she could, and somehow it had landed exactly where it needed to.
Should be fine from here.
...
...
Two days later. The Butterfly Mansion.
A dark-haired young man with an unpleasant face stood at the closed entrance gate. His features had an odd quality to them, those thick dark brows pulled down in a permanent scowl—he looked less like a guest and more like someone there to collect a debt.
His name was Kaigaku. Senior disciple to Zenitsu Agatsuma, fellow student under Jigoro Kuwajima—and here under his teacher's orders to bring his junior back to Mount Momoyama for training.
"I'm here to pick up Zenitsu Agatsuma. Where is he?"
The gate had barely opened before Kaigaku was already pressing the swordsman who'd answered.
"You mean Kuwajima-san's student?"
The swordsman gave him a cautious look.
"Right. The idiot who got struck by lightning."
"He should be in the back courtyard... ah, wait one moment—I'll go notify Flower Hashira-sama."
The kasugai crow had been sent to Mount Momoyama the day after Zenitsu woke up. Kaigaku had put off coming until today. He had no desire to run errands for that waste of space—but with his teacher asking again and again, and the old man's health not being what it used to, there was no saying no.
Kaigaku entered the compound and waited in the front courtyard. A few minutes passed before the swordsman came hurrying back out.
"My apologies—Kanae-sama isn't in at the moment! But she'll return shortly. Won't you come inside and wait?"
"Huh?" Kaigaku's brow arched. "Why would I waste my time in here?"
"Just tell me where he is. I'll drag him out myself."
"Wait—you can't just come in here and act recklessly."
The swordsman moved to block him, worried this stranger was there to cause trouble.
"I'm under orders from my teacher to collect my junior. How is that 'acting recklessly'?" Kaigaku grabbed the swordsman's collar and glared. "Tell me where he is. This is our own affair—it's none of your concern."