The warm breeze of a spring morning awakens the young Rengoku, sprawled out on his futon in a mumbled state of tire and confusion. Last night was one of the most hardest things he had been through since his Final Selection, and even THAT had been nearly a year ago. Was it just a dream? It was all so fuzzy that he was close to chalking it up to some type of deep sleep story that played out in his head, it's not as if it was the first time he had such thoughts of grandeur. All of that would have to wait for now; he had to get himself up and get ready for the day, despite his fire-colored locks draped over his face in a messy clump. Standing was a troublesome task, his feet were sore from all the running he had done and the injuries on his feet were making it harder to stay in one spot without switching sided weights. But he wasn't one to give up when it came to the harsh realities of life.

He takes just a step forward and immediately crumples to the floor, unaware of how tired he actually was. His hands were now planted to the floor, his breathing rising and falling from the exhaustion quick to follow. He was out of shape, not in the heavy sense, but in the muscle build-up. Just training alone with a wooden katana did what it could, but without properly devoting yourself to strengthing your body, it wouldn't matter in the long run.

Something catches his eye though, a soft glow at the top of his peripheral. Senjuro turns his head to gaze up at the brightness to find him nearly face to face with a small vulpine creature, its tails numbered in three though its entire form was made of nothing but a burning bright flame. The young boy jumps back in fright, cramping towards the back wall in utter surprise! He had to slap himself just to check if he wasn't still in deep slumber, only for the pain to sting across his cheek. It wasn't a dream, none of it was! What happened last night HAD really happened. Was this truly the chance he had been waiting for? Had the Gods themselves bestowed some sort of mystical power upon him?!

He's unable to help himself, curling his fingers out towards the firefox, attempting to make contact with the creature. It wasn't hot, not in the slightest- to him, the cascading flames felt like nothing more than a gentle brush of fur, billowing out in a pattern of flame waves. It's an odd sensation too, the more began to pat the creature, a weight was pressing down to his own head. It wasn't hard for the crafty young man to make the connection that the two of them were linked in a supernatural way.

"Hahah... You're kind of cute!" It's been a while since he felt a genuine smile, oftentimes having to force it just for the sake of showing nothing was wrong. But right now, he was just relieved that he had made it through that terrible night- knowing all too well that the Demon he faced last night - wouldn't have dared follow him home.

His new Kitsune companion lifted its head, crouching down on its front legs with a small wiggle of its rear- then leaped at Senjuro. He brought his arms out in an attempt to catch the cute little animal, but felt nothing in his grasp, merely cluttering to his back. The Kitsune had gone right through him! Well, not quite. It had returned to its home, the region of Senjuro's soul that had birthed this power.

"E-Eh?!" This was all very new to him, he hadn't the knowledge to piece together what this small creature was, but he could already feel the warmth of his soul coursing through his system. Suddenly, he rose from his spot, uncaring of the tang in his legs, rolling up his Futon with little hesitation, and removing the matting beneath it. What was he looking for exactly? It seemed like a lot of work as well - the young boy even tugging at a wedge in the floorboards. It's a hidden compartment; a place where he could keep things personal to him and out of the eye of his father.

But to his dread, the item he was searching for? it had gone missing. He must have squirmed his way into the small hole as far as he could, thrice checking if it had perhaps fallen beneath the house. But no, it was gone! How could it be gone! Panicked, he quickly reset everything back to the way it was and took himself out of the room, now lunging through draws and small parts of their large house in search of the item he stashed.

Senjuro tore every room he went in; apart. Guest rooms were upheaved, the kitchen was mismatched, and even the Dojo was unable to escape the wrath of his sweat-inducing search. But no, he couldn't find it ANYWHERE. He didn't understand- he only had it the other night.. did he forget to put it away properly?!

"Hey! The hell are you doin' this early in the morning! You're causin' a damn fuckin' mess of my house!" That's his father- not too happy with the cluttering noise only worsening his headache.

"O-Otou-san.. I can't find it.. I can't find it!"

"Haaaah? The hell are you talking about." Shinjuro answers, rubbing at the front of his brow with a pained expression.

"My Nichirn Sword! T-The one I got after my Final Selection.. I can't find it!"

"You don't need it anymore," Shinjuro spoke, a clear look of sincerity on his face.

"..O-Otou-san?..?"

"It's gone. There's no use for you holding onto a Nichirin Blade when it could be given to somebody that can properly use it."

Senjuro's heart dropped, all of the effort he had put into earning that sword had been given away - just like that. He always feared that his father would do something like this, being the prideful type in the past; the sight of it was likely just a reminder of the failure Senjuro had become in his eyes.

"It was mine!"

"No. It was not. It stopped being yours when the blade refused to change for you-"

"That doesn't mean you can just take it!"

"I can do whatever I wish, this is my house, and you are MY son"

"Where is it... Where is it!

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to give it back, RIGHT NO- G-Gfh!"

Senjuro fell to the ground, a powerful sting lathering his face in the form of a slap that echoed about the room. He looked up at his father who held his palm out firm- the look of anger to his features at such a tone his son dared to take with him.

"Don't you DARE speak to me that way. It is time for you to face reality, Senjuro. The weapon of a Demon Slayer belongs in the hands of a Demon Slayer, and you will never be, a Demon Slayer. This conversation is over."

His father abruptly left with the slam of the door, his footsteps fading down the hall, likely returning to his own room to sleep. Senjuro always knew that one day, he'd have to face reality and deal with the fact that this wasn't a fairy tale, it was real life... but that didn't make it any less heartbreaking. As he sat there, he could feel the welling of tears curve across his lids, streaking down his cheeks in a show of disparity he didn't want to accept.

But... his attention was drawn to the appearance of the Kitsune again, it's bright flamed body shining in front of him, head tilted in curiosity. Senjuro didn't want this to be the end, he refused to be a housemaid for his father, or an eyesore any longer. He wanted to stand strong with his head tall and fight the monsters that dwell in the shadows. What was he to do? They only gave out Nichirin Ore to already accomplished Slayers and Final Selection Initiates.

"...The.. Final Selection." An idea was brewing, a dangerous idea; but a good one nonetheless. He couldn't just sit around crying about his woes, sometimes you had to take life into your own hands, and nobody was going to do it for him. Senjuro remembered something Aoi-chan had spoken to him about, the mention of another Final Selection to happen later in the year. Did he dare to go against his father's wishes? Would he be so brazen as to apply for the Final Selection again? There was no chance that the result wouldn't be the same, but he still felt the need to try.

"...I can't give up.. Anuie would never give up...!" His soul is brimming with determination, and it is reflected with the further glow of his small companion. No more would he clean the house, or idly sit around and do nothing. It was time for him to get back into the swing of training, and that meant proper training. Senjuro had been through it once before and he had the routine engraved into his memory already- So if he wanted to do this, he had to put his all into it if he wanted to unlock his true potential.

Then there was his new little friend. He was desperate to figure out how he had survived that encounter last night, a power he had yet to control but one he had used in the gravest of moments. He had four months to figure it all out, four months to push himself to the limit, four months to prepare himself for what was to come. He could do it, he just had to push through.

But he couldn't train here, not with the constant scorn of his father. He needed a place where he could focus on bettering himself with little distraction... The Butterfly Mansion perhaps? It doubled as a hospital or injured slayers while also a makeshift training ground when push came to shove. He'd been there before too, so there was little doubt that anyone would question his being there if he went under the pretense that he was just there for some basic medical knowledge.

Senjuro's body moved on its own, the will to push far without the approval of his father had taken over his movement, already had he begun to pack for the trip. Onigiri was best for food as well as a gourd of water to refresh him and quench his thirst when need be. It was still morning when he slung the cloth-bound wrap around his back tied up in a knot in front of his chest, now stood in the front courtyard of his home with the gentle breeze flowing his flame-colored locks in a soft spray. It wasn't always like this... the relationship he had with his father was always strained, for sure; but Kyujuro did divulge a time when Shinjuro was a kind and honorable man. The death of their mother really changed him, made him bitter and lazy.

"Gomene, Otou-san." Senjuro mumbles beneath his breath with the bow of his head. despite everything; he still had respect for the man his father used to be, and only wished that one day - he would understand the struggles Senjuro endured. He was finally stepping out of the shadow cast by his lineage, perhaps the first of the Rengoku to go against the wishes of the bloodline. But the long-lasting look at the home he grew up in wasn't going to net him much worth anymore; he had to set forth on his own path, even if it disobeyed the will of Shinjuro and Kyojuro.

Sorry that this is such a shorter chapter! Still putting together the Final Selection Arc for you guys!