The battle dust settled, and the morning sun turned warm. The atmosphere of "clashing thunder" had vanished, replaced by a quiet, domestic scene.
"Alright, Tatsuya, stop daydreaming!" Kuwajima broke the silence. He had brought out a small hoe, a wooden bucket, and some fresh wooden stakes. "Training isn't just fighting; maintaining the dojo is your duty!"
"Coming, Master!" Tatsuya took the heavy hoe and the stakes. Compared to wielding a sword, this was easy work. Besides, cleaning the place up made him feel good.
Jigoro Kuwajima picked up the relatively lighter bucket and began walking leisurely toward the mountain spring to fetch water.
The labor began. Tatsuya first approached several wooden stakes that had been tilted—some even cracked—by the shockwaves of his Rumble and Flash during their duel. He set down the new stakes, picked up his hoe, and skillfully began to dig out the loosened earth.
"Heave-ho! My wooden brothers, you've worked hard getting struck by lightning every day! Time to give you a new partner to stand guard!"
He joked with the stakes as he worked, swiftly pulling out the broken ones and hammering the new ones deep into the soil, tamping them down carefully. This level of physical exertion felt effortless now; he no longer felt the bone-deep exhaustion or the "falling apart" sensation that used to plague him after training months ago.
Soon, Kuwajima returned with half a bucket of water, carefully pouring it at the base of the newly planted stakes to help settle the soil. Seeing Tatsuya working hard without a word of complaint, a flicker of satisfaction flashed in the old man's eyes. As if remembering something, he spoke up: "By the way, when I went down to town to buy supplies recently, I saw some interesting things."
"Oh? Did you buy something good, Master?" Tatsuya asked curiously, his eyes brightening. "Was it... those high-grade Kintsuba? Or maybe Mame Daifuku?" He always held great expectations for sweets, but his hands didn't slow down for a second.
"Hmph! Always thinking with your stomach!" Kuwajima laughed and scolded, gesturing vaguely toward Tatsuya with the empty bucket. "I bought high-quality wood and iron—spare wooden swords and repair tools for you, you little brat! However..."
He paused, seeing that although Tatsuya was excited, he remained focused on the work at hand. The corner of the old man's mouth quirked up ever so slightly. "...As I passed by the 'Inoue-ya' shop, I smelled the aroma of freshly baked Taiyaki. It was quite nice, so I brought a few back."
"Really?! That's amazing! Master, you're the best!" Tatsuya cheered, swinging his hoe with even more vigor. "Inoue-ya's Taiyaki! I heard the red bean filling is sweet and silky, and the crust is perfectly crispy yet fluffy... just thinking about it is making me drool! Can we enjoy them once we finish cleaning up?"
"Once the work is done and the training is over, of course." Kuwajima stood with his hands behind his back, watching Tatsuya work like a tireless young leopard. "Besides the Taiyaki, a new beef hotpot shop opened in town. They say they use Wagyu from the north, served Sukiyaki-style with soy sauce and sugar..."
"Whoa!" Tatsuya's eyes sparkled. He accelerated his sweeping as if to turn his hunger into raw momentum. "Sukiyaki! That's a rare delicacy! Master, we have to go try it together sometime! A piping hot pot is the perfect reward for hard training!"
His voice was full of longing. Living on Mount Momoyama provided three square meals a day, which was better than most, but the menu was repetitive—mostly buns, rice, and pickled meat or greens.
"Hahaha! That will depend on your performance!"
Kuwajima's laughter was loud, infected by his disciple's enthusiasm. He picked up a broom to perform a final sweep. After his laughter subsided, his expression grew more serious. "Speaking of going down to town... I noticed a rather interesting boy near the forest outside the village."
"Eh?" Tatsuya stopped sweeping and wiped his sweat.
"He wasn't very old, probably around your age. He was alone at the edge of the woods, using a rusty machete to practice basic vertical slashes against a tree trunk." Kuwajima narrowed his eyes as he recalled the scene. "His gaze... it was stubborn, like a defiant young wolf. His movements were a mess—pure aggression and brute force."
"Aggression alone isn't enough; it's easy to hurt yourself," Tatsuya remarked, sounding like a seasoned veteran as he recalled his own early clumsiness.
"It was reckless. But that drive of his... it couldn't be hidden," Kuwajima said softly. "I watched him for a while. He swung over a hundred times; his arms were trembling, but he showed no intention of stopping. That kind of ruthlessness toward oneself is rare."
Tatsuya grew thoughtful. "Sounds like a guy with a strong will. Did you talk to him, Master?"
Kuwajima shook his head, his gaze deep. "His heart is unclear. Pure grit and stamina won't take one far on this path; it might even lead to the wrong road. In his eyes, besides stubbornness, there was a thick gloom—like he was being bound by something. When taking a disciple, talent is important, but character is vital."
He looked at Tatsuya significantly. "Like you, brat. You might be flighty and hyper, but your inner light is bright. You understand protection and persistence. That is the foundation."
Tatsuya rubbed the back of his head and grinned, feeling a bit embarrassed. "You're overpraising me, Master. I just feel that swinging a sword is for protecting what needs to be protected, and cleaning the dojo is so we can train better. It's just what needs to be done."
"Hmph. As long as you understand." The old man put away his broom and nodded at the pristine training ground. "The place is clean. Go wash your face and rest. Train well this afternoon. Tonight... Taiyaki is on me."
"Awesome! Thanks, Master!"
That night, a simple dinner was set on the wooden table, but the centerpiece was the oil-paper package of still-warm Taiyaki.
"Let's eat!" Tatsuya shouted, his hands together in prayer, eyes locked onto the golden treats.
Kuwajima took one leisurely. Seeing Tatsuya's impatience, a smile flashed in his eyes, but he forced a stern face. "One must focus even when enjoying food. If you bolt it down like that, how can you taste the silky sweetness of the beans or the layers of the crispy crust?"
Tatsuya took a huge bite, huffing from the heat, but he didn't back down. "That's where you're wrong, Master! To honor food, one must give it their all! Capturing the most delicious first bite when you're at your hungriest—that is the Way of Food!"
He then mimicked his master, biting a small hole in the tail to let the steam out before savoring it. "Mmm... but then again, eating slowly lets you feel the bean paste melting... so good!"
"Hmph. You brat. The path of cultivation is also about focusing on the present and savoring the details." Kuwajima nodded in approval.
They ate in silence, the only sounds being the chewing and the occasional pop of the firewood. After finishing one, Tatsuya licked his lips, his face glowing with satisfaction.
Kuwajima set down his teacup and looked at Tatsuya. His tone turned formal and steady. "Tatsuya."
"Yes, Master?" Tatsuya sat up straight, sensing the shift in mood.
"I have seen your progress," the old man said. "You have mastered the forms of Thunder Breathing and glimpsed their spirit in battle. Your physical foundation and mental tempering are now sufficient."
He paused, his eyes like burning coals. "In two months, at Mount Fujikasane, the Final Selection will be held. You... may participate."
"!"
Tatsuya's hand, holding his second Taiyaki, froze in mid-air.
Was he excited? Of course. He had trained day and night for this—to stand on the battlefield and protect the weak. He had waited so long. His heart hammered against his ribs, and a surge of heat rushed through his limbs.
But following that was tension—a heavy, sinking nervousness. The Final Selection was a life-and-death test. He knew the stakes. His fingers tightened around the pastry.
And finally, a sense of profound nostalgia. He looked out the window at the silhouette of Mount Momoyama. This familiar shack, the sweat-soaked clearing, this strict yet kind master... only six months, but it felt like a lifetime. Everything seemed like it was just yesterday.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions, and met his master's gaze. His eyes reflected a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy, finally settling into a firm resolve.
"Master," his voice was lower than usual but exceptionally clear. "I've finally... reached this day."
Kuwajima saw the complex light in his disciple's eyes and finally allowed a genuine smile of relief. This fledgling hawk he had polished was finally ready to face the storm.
"Mm." The old man nodded heavily. "Enjoy the last of the Taiyaki. Starting tomorrow, your training volume doubles."
Tatsuya blinked, then let out his signature "I knew it" grin and took a massive bite of his food.
"Yes, Master!"
"If you make a fool of yourself in front of Urokodaki's disciples, I'll have your head! Now, listen closely as I explain the process of the Final Selection..."