Takeshi spent the next few days of training alongside Kazuo, together they planted what must have been a dozen cherry blossoms. Kazuo insisted that the ash would yield fertile soil, though Takeshi could not shake the twinge of guilt he felt every time he looked at the stump where the magnificent tree had been. His burns had begun to heal, needing only a few bandage changes a day now, though the mysterious appearance of the symbol on his chest never seemed to change.
"Perhaps it is fate," Kazuo said about the mark, "the universe has strange ways of showing itself, I do not believe in coincidences." Takeshi wasn't sure he bought the old man's speculation, to him it simply seemed like a strange scar. It reminded him of the birthmark on his calf, his mother swore it looked like clouds but his father had always said it looked like a mountain range. He smiled at the memory, wishing he could hug them both, he was itching to show them what he had learned. His training slowly returned to normal as his burns continued to heal, he would practice the five flame breathing techniques, sometimes even mustering a spark on some of his swings. Master Takahashi had also added another element to his training, a routine that Takeshi once again did not fully understand. It started with the two sparring normally, practicing exchanging and blocking near the cliffside. Abruptly, Kazuo would deflect a strike, and then sprint into the cave, Takeshi was expected to pursue him. Once in the cave, Takeshi was to continue to spar at the same pace, though it was nearly impossible due to the change in light. To no surprise, Kazuo moved just as quickly and gracefully in the dark as he did in the light, acting as if there was no change at all. He parried a wild swing from Takeshi and eventually knocked him to the ground.
"Focus on your vision much like you focus on your breathing," the master said, helping Takeshi back to his feet. "You must learn to master your bodies' functions, take control of the dilation and use the terrain to your advantage, and fight to your strengths, Takeshi."
Over time, Takeshi began to notice improvement, which only made him want to train harder. His body structure had changed significantly, his once soft and youthful body now looked much more athletic, lean, and muscular. He had also begun to eat a considerable amount more, his body demanding more energy to keep up with the strict training. His sword strikes continued to become more precise, he could now string together a couple of techniques if he focused on managing his breathing. He even began to improve in adjusting his vision, now able to focus on his environment and adjust his pupils accordingly. The one problem he repeatedly ran into, was the fact that his sword, now made of metal, tended to overheat and warp when he used flame-breathing techniques.
"Your technique looks decent Takeshi, but you'll never be able to defeat a foe if your sword is a puddle," Kazuo would say, finding it funnier and funnier each time he said it. Takeshi spent large amounts of time at the anvil, hammering away to bring his sword back to shape. His best thinking came while hammering, where he reminisced about mornings by the pond, fresh dorayaki, and the coo of the mourning dove, all of which he missed in his time in the mountains.
After another month had passed, Kazuo had begun to seriously take notice of Takeshi's growth. Every morning the young Tsuguko was awake first, practicing his swordwork well before sunrise. Waves of heat and flashes of flame moved in conjunction with his strikes, he had come a long way in terms of both his mettle as a swordsman and his mastery of Total Concentration. He could now seamlessly move between the cave and the cliff without so much more than a blink of an eye, dilating his pupils at will. The most fascinating thing to Kazuo however, was the split-second appearance of blue flames following some of Takeshi's strikes. In all his years as a demon slayer, he'd never heard of a flame swordsman emitting blue fire. Kazuo knew it likely was to blame for the warping of Takeshi's sword, but for the second time during his training, the old man had no answers. The cherry blossom seedlings had begun to sprout, reaching toward the sun as if they were determined to become as large as their predecessor. Takeshi would sit by the saplings as he read and wrote letters to his family. He tried to write as often as possible, knowing that his mother would worry if she didn't hear from him often. They always talked about how much they missed each other, what they would plan to do when he returned, and what surprises they had in store for him. Takeshi cherished these moments to reflect on his time with Takahashi, he tried to be as detailed as possible in his letters, smiling to himself as he thought about his progress and the look of pride on his master's face. A few days passed, and Takeshi had not received a new letter from Jiaojiang, causing a bit of worry on his part.
"Life happens, young Yoshiaki," his master said, "Do not automatically assume something negative has happened, in the end, they're probably just too busy preparing themselves for your return home." Takeshi spent a lot of time thinking about his return, now midway through the summer, and he knew that there was so much he wanted to do before it came time for autumn. These thoughts came to a peak quicker than he realized, when Kazuo pulled him aside after a sparring session one day.
"My boy, you are coming along as a swordsman, I must say," Kazuo said, breathing heavily after a long and grueling clash. "You have reached the point where there is not much more to teach you, I believe we are nearing our goal, it is almost time for you to return home to Jiaojiang." Takeshi beamed at his master, bowing deeply while sheathing his blade, which was glowing red hot.
"Thank you, master, I will forever be in debt for what you have taught me, Thanks to you, I feel strong like I can take on anything!" Takeshi said, still riding the feeling of being praised.
"Bring it on demons! I'd like to see you try to take us on!"
Kazuo grabbed Takeshi's shoulder abruptly, a serious look in his eye.
"Yoshiaki, you must never taunt fate like that, the universe has a strange way of granting foul wishes to those who foolishly ask," he said gravely. "There is plenty of evil that you will already encounter, do not make it so easy for misfortune to follow you."
Upset with his mistake, Takeshi bowed again quickly, even further than the first time.
"Yes sir! I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it, sir. I will never do it again! I swear on my own neck that I will never do it! You have my word! Eternally! I can prove it-"
"Calm down child, it is quite alright," Kazuo said, placing his hand on Takeshi's shoulders. "Your enthusiasm is inspiring and contagious, never lose that, Promise me this Takeshi."
Takeshi nodded, standing up tall and locking eyes with the old man.
"I promise, Master Takahashi," he said, with quiet but powerful diction.
A few days passed, and Takeshi finally discussed his plans to return home with Kazuo. He announced that he would depart early the next morning, wishing to arrive home before sunset on the second day of the journey. To his surprise, Kazuo simply bowed, not even offering to walk with him to the base of the mountain.
"Let this serve as your final test," he said, "You need to finish this journey on your own, it is important. Let this seal within you the idea that you are strong, and you can hold your own in any situation,"
Takeshi smiled, sensing the trust that his master had in his ability, he couldn't even begin to quantify the respect and gratitude he held for him. The two stood at an impasse, both looking at each other, unsure who was going to say the last goodbye. Breaking the silence, Takeshi lunged out and embraced the old man tightly, tears welling in his eyes.
"Thank you, Mr. Takahashi," he said, his voice quivering. "All that you've done and taught me, there's no way I can thank you enough. So instead, I promise to become even stronger, I make it my responsibility to journey up the mountain to showcase my progress to you Master," Takeshi said, stopping his tears with a smile.
"That sounds like a plan, maybe by then those saplings will have grown enough for you to cut them down too," Kazuo said playfully, rustling the boy's hair. "That reminds me, I have something for you that I think you might like," He said, reaching into his robe pocket. He extended his hand, revealing a rounded circular piece of metal.
"It's a tsuba, the guard of a katana," the master explained, "I hammered away at it while you were busy jumping from sauna to bath. It depicts your favorite, Ouroboros, because I know how much you enjoy hearing me ramble about it," the old man chuckled sarcastically.
Though Takeshi played along with Kazuo's sarcasm, he loved how the tsuba turned out. The serpent coiled around his blade as if it was protecting it, clamped down on its tail, the detail was incredible.
"It's made of tungsten, forged it myself," Kazuo explained, "It should have a melting point that even your spectacles can't reach, hopefully, it fares better than all those swords," he winked as he stepped back.
Kazuo sheathed his sword once more, he felt like a real swordsman, like a demon slayer. He couldn't wait to show his mother and father, he could picture their reactions.
"Take care of yourself, young Yoshiaki, and remember your training. If all else fails, that fire in your soul will lead you to your destiny, Never bend to the pressures of the world, I know you'll burn bright, Takeshi, I can just feel it."
His master's final words played on repeat in his head, in between imagining his reunion with his parents. He couldn't fathom that it had been 6 months since that fateful day in the town square, he felt like an entirely new person. One thing that never changed was that signature smile of his, plastered to his face as he traveled through the evening. Kazuo had given him what he knew now was a wisteria lantern, which he said could ward off demons. Though Takeshi felt his training was sufficient, he'd rather not have to use them just yet. As he began to feel the decline of the path lessen, his excitement began to rise exponentially. He was nearly bouncing by the time he rounded the treeline, seeing the hill and pond in the distance, meaning he was nearly home. As he quickened his pace, took a deep breath, trying to breathe in the feeling of home that he had known for the first 15 years of his life. What met his senses instead, was an eerie silence, though it was the middle of the night, Takeshi could feel the pressure of unnatural stillness. There was a growing sense of dread growing within him, he could feel a pit beginning to form in his stomach. Takeshi could feel something was wrong, but he couldn't fathom just how much was truly wrong.