"Come now. Don't lose focus!" Jigoro called out to a now thirteen year old Saburou.. The man who had saved him years ago, Gyomei Himejima, known as the Stone Hashira, had brought him to Jigoro Kuwajima after he had lost his family.
That day, Jigoro seemed no more than just an old man to Saburou. He quickly realized there was much more to the man than apearances. Gyomei had brought him to someone spectacular, someone who with time, Saburou hoped would provide him with the skills to get revenge.
Jigoro Kuwajima, the former Roaring Hashira and master of the thunder breathing form. His first few years of training under Jigoro were simple. Helping around the property and quickly learning that his previous carefree attitude would earn him a sharp rebuttal and strike to the head. Discipline and structure were instilled within Saburou's life. Respect and honor, as well as faith strengthened his new teachings. Or so the old man said.
Back to the present, it was a scene all too familiar. Saburou panted a response. "I'm trying!" he panted weakly. His body ached from the days extensive training. Sword training then refinement of breathing, rinsed and repeated for months. Saburou's training had begun when he was ten when Jigoro posed the question to him and with a fire of hope in his stomach, he all too readily accepted.
It was a decision of the moment for both master and disciple but one of necessity. Jigoro wished for the boy to master the basics and Saburou held a small hope for justice to be served., Five years would pass with the master focusing solely on Saburou to the point of even neglecting his own health. Eventually the young student would learn all forms but one.
"Sixth form, rumble and flash!" exhaled Saburou as lightning erupted from his feet, the training dummies surrounding him were cleaved through instantly. The fourth and sixth forms had given him a fair share of trouble in the past. Now he could satisfactorily perform them even if he preferred close-quarters combat.
As his master said, it allowed no room for reprieve and therefore little time for either to make a move or correct mistakes. Despite this preference, it was thanks to many lectures from Jigoro that he soon came to understand the value of ranged combat and the time for thought that came with it.
Readying his stance and calming himself, his concentration peaked, his breath steadied, one step forward into the training circles and his attacks flew smoothly. Each one flying directly at the desired target, felling one after another.
"Yes, good, maintain your focus Saburou" Jigoro called, pleased at his disciple's prowess. Saburou had grown from a small child, weak, ignorant, and foolhardy, to a young man of strength, respect, and value. 'Though his patience could use added effort' the old man chastised mentally. Despite the demerit, he chuckled while watching his apprentice. So young and full of bright prospects.
Pride for the boy had become common for Jigoro. Witnessing the thunder breathing's art and continued survival brought him ease of mind. He was aware of reality however. In a disastrous case he knew it wise to take another disciple once this one departed to start his own life. For now, that could wait. A few more swings and all of Saburou's motionless targets had been felled, the execution of his form complete.
Saburou sheathed his blade, exhaling slowly. A few moments of silence passed as even the falling leaves seemed to remain quiet in respect. Breaking this peace, Saburou jumped in the air, his ecstatic celebration a stark contrast to the elegant form he had shown prior. "I did it!" he exclaimed happily, hopping in circles.
The move that had given him frustration to no end, pained him to achieve, he had finally executed it correctly. His eyes were near to tears from relief as he wildly celebrated his success. He soon noticed Jigoro standing silently to the side of the courtyard, an approving smile gracing his wrinkled features. A sobering thought then perplexed Saburou. 'What now?'
Looking down at his calloused hands, far larger than when he was a child five years ago, Saburou spoke quietly. "Am I really ready to go? Go and fight?"
Jigoro walked to Saburou's side. "No. Not yet at least. Your next step will be to participate in the demon hunter's final selection. If you pass, then and only then, will you be considered ready to take on demons, and even then, only fledglings".
The statement held the same strict tone Jigoro took with him. Both taking the severity of this life with utmost gravitas.
Saburou remained silent, deep in his thoughts as Jigoro continued. "You must gain strength and fortify your heart, mind, and spirit in order to grow. In order to kill those that would harm innocents." Such a solemn warning was evident that Jigoro knew of the anger and grief still plaguing Saburou's heart. Even more worrying, he knew of the dangers that ensued revenge and rage. Untempered it would be the downfall of his precious student.
"When will that be?" Saburou asked somberly, confident in his skills yet unsure if he would be able to face such adversity.
"If you feel you are ready, the end of this month, a couple of weeks, is the earliest you can attend. Until then, you may stay and hone your skills further. If you wish, you can wait until the following trial." Saburou could see past the neutral tone. The warmth of a friend and the cold strictness of an instructor with the training to follow. The next month would be vicious. "However, You only performed all six styles correctly once. Remember to polish these basics till perfection."
The enforced modesty hampered Saburou's mood further. Practicing form six would be dreary work, but he knew Jigoro spoke the truth and out of concern.
"It seems you've made up your mind, now once more!" ordered his teacher. The student was all too happy to comply.
As with the past years, Saburou trained relentlessly. The first week focused solely on sharpening form six, his final fang to bear. When swollen muscles, aching joints, and fatigue demanded he stopped, he pressed on with a single word in his mind. 'Avenge.' Revenge would lead to a clouded mind, to avenge those he lost would alleviate his heart. At least that was the reasoning he gave himself.
"Sixth Form, Rumble and Flash!" Saburou repeated once more, feeling his strength falter again. Jigoro knew the exhaustion had set in long ago, proud of his pupil's dedication, but disappointed he still did not know his limits. It was something he knew he could not change in Saburou. Something only he would discover for himself. That was if Saburou lived past the experience.
With a sigh, Jigoro retired to his home. Knowing that Saburou would soon stop regardless of his will. Sure enough, he had taken three steps before hearing a soft thud outside. The boy had performed the Sixth form at least 20 times correctly today and incorrectly far more. His body had been under great stress for such a prolonged period of time yet his mind remained adamant. Determined to achieve success.
After a day of rest and subsequent training, two weeks passed and Saburou resumed training all forms as well as breathing and physical. Jigoro himself created natural obstacle course's through a nearby river with bulbous rocks. Thunder breathing relied heavily on leg strength and balance which the course was designed to train balanceand every muscle in one's lower body.
The old man prided himself on his course's difficulty, one which he intentionally set high. He even taunted Saburou who would often find himself soaked and nearly drowned.
One day Jigoro boasted "Perhaps one of urokodaki's students should come and try their luck?! Since noe pupil's here can defeat it!"
"Erk!" his one sided conversation was interrupted one day by the sound of an exhausted Saburou being struck in the rib by a swinging log. As Jigoro smiled at his students defeat, Saburou would curse aloud. "Agh! you added that one since last time didn't you?!"
"I have no idea what you mean boy, I merely spruced up the course. Come now, come and eat." Saburou was instantly silenced by the prospect of warm food.
"You can't get stronger if you don't eat. Now dry yourself off and join me for lunch." Begrudgingly, the young student trudged out of the stream to find a towel and a fresh set of clothes waiting for him. Even in Jigoro's advanced age he moved frighteningly fast. Joining his master back at the house he further found Salmon daikon and a steaming bowl of rice waiting for him.
"What's the occasion?" Saburou asked, eyeing the rare meal before him. Knowing it was reserved for special occasions.
"You have worked hard these past few years, these recent weeks especially. You should be rewarded for your efforts." Jigoro said with a calm smile on his face. "Final selection is just a week away. I thought you deserve a reward."
"I-I don't know what to say." stammered Saburou. Taken aback not by the meal, but by the dawning reality that he would be on his own, and no longer with the man who had trained him, who had been a father figure for so long.
As if reading the boys thoughts on his face, Jigoro spoke solemnly. "I am proud of who you've become, and what you will accomplish. You are young and have a long road ahead of you. You mustn't forget what you will fight for. What is in your heart, even if it may even change over time. Hate, anger, not understanding your limits will ultimately lead you to an early grave."
"I understand master, but my conviction will never change, and if I rest, I will only grow weaker."
With a sigh, Jigoro conceded. Not having the strength to argue with emboldened youth he gestured to the food.
"Now eat," he urged, watching Saburou pray and devour his dish hungrily. As he watched his pupil he only hoped Saburou would learn from the consequences of his actions, not pay for them or even worse, live on as someone else pays for him.