Chapter 110: Second Training – Fusion of Breathing (2)
Hancock lowered her wooden blade and switched to her true specialty—kicks.
For any ordinary Demon Slayer, he would have reminded them to focus on their breathing before continuing.
But Hancock's natural flow—her inhales and exhales already blending the five foundational Breaths into one—could not be interrupted.
Every strike she launched in this state, every natural movement, was no longer just a kick.
They were her own forms—unique techniques born from instinctive Fusion Breathing.
And for Rengoku, the same was true.
From Hancock's rhythm, he had distilled the core of multi-Breath fusion and grafted it onto his own, rooted in Flame.
Even for him, new techniques were being born.
Hancock: a blank canvas, merging Breaths freely and folding them into her natural fighting style.
Rengoku: a master, layering new insights onto the perfected foundation of Flame.
Genius versus genius.
They mirrored one another, imitated one another, drew out each other's full potential.
Strike after strike, exchange after exchange, their duel blazed hotter.
This was not a contest of brute force, but of precision—of skill sharpened to the edge of impossibility.
Even with a gulf in physical strength, the clash of technique made their battle incandescent.
With every pass their stamina waned, yet their bodies refused to halt.
Like beasts locked in primal combat, two sovereigns wreathed in Conqueror's Haki pressed their wills into every movement.
The aftershocks of each clash shook the air.
"Shiranui!"
A roaring flame strike—yet now fused with the sharp discharge of Thunder Breathing.
"Perfume Femur!"
Her signature kick, Devil Fruit power coursing through it, now infused with the blazing ferocity of Flame Breathing.
Conqueror's Haki collided.
Hancock's leg, wrapped in Armament, black as onyx stockings—met Rengoku's wooden blade, blackened by Haki until it struck like steel.
This was no longer just sparring.
A battle of technique meant more than a battle of power.
Strength could decide a fight in an instant, but yielded nothing new.
Skill demanded refinement—adjusting posture, reshaping breath, burning patterns of combat into the muscles themselves.
Every motion imprinted itself onto their bodies.
The tension of their lungs, the rhythm of expansion and contraction, the precise movement of muscle fibers—
All were being etched deep into memory.
Just as when his father first taught him the sword, Rengoku now engraved new techniques into his soul.
"Flame Tiger!"
His downward slash roared forth.
But this time, four tigers appeared where one should have been.
Not illusion, not flame, but the impact carried to the senses—a technique no longer purely of Flame Breathing.
It bore the unmistakable imprint of Wind Breathing, Second Form.
"Claw-Claw – Shinato Wind!"
A vertical slash that split into four strikes at once.
The four tigers of flame that followed were proof—Rengoku had perfectly grafted another Breath's technique onto Flame Breathing.
"Tempest of Beauty!"
Hancock countered, her rising kick clashing against the descending tigers.
"Ascending Flame Heaven!"
His blade blazed brighter, cloaked in a black storm.
Wind Breathing, Sixth Form—Black Wind Smoke Storm.
The gale fed the fire, each gust turning sparks into conflagration, each flame spreading wider, higher.
Rengoku thought briefly of his past—how well he and Sanemi's rhythms had once aligned. Perhaps this was why.
"Goddess' Kick!"
Hancock struck down from above, her heel crashing with the force of five Breaths entwined.
Sometimes fire fused with water.
Sometimes lightning with stone.
Sometimes flame with wind.
Though Breathing Forms were no true elemental sorcery—merely refined visualization and mastery of body—within the duelists' perception, the clearing had become an inferno, storm and thunder roaring, a living purgatory.
But even this blazing storm had its limit.
Where Rengoku's strength allowed him to push harder, Hancock's stamina waned. Her genius was undeniable, but in sheer capacity Rengoku outpaced her.
"Perfume Femur Empress!"
Knowing her body was at its edge, Hancock cloaked her leg in Conqueror's Haki for a final strike.
Rengoku answered in kind, his wooden blade darkened with the same overwhelming will.
"Flame Breathing, Ninth Form—Rengoku!"
The last strike of his former life, the very cut that had once severed Kuzan's arm.
Weakened here for sparring, yet still infused with Conqueror's Haki and layered with the five Breaths—it was more refined, more complete than ever before.
Two ultimate techniques collided, their impact splitting the sky.
Light poured down, warm sunlight breaking through, bathing them both as their clash ended.
"Fuuu…"
Rengoku inhaled deeply, exhaling with steady calm.
Hancock, drenched in sweat, nearly collapsed—but Rengoku caught her before she could fall.
"K-kyojuro…"
"Hancock! This is thanks to you!"
Balanced inhalation and exhalation, five Breaths fused into one rhythm—
Rengoku had learned it only because she had first embodied it.
Her natural harmony had allowed him to graft fusion onto his own Flame foundation.
What was once the hardest step—melding the Five Breaths—she had already shown with clarity. He had only to follow.
Exhausted, her body trembled, but at his smile and his genuine words, Hancock wrapped her arms around him.
"To have helped you… makes me glad, Kyojuro…"
"And I am grateful for your devotion!"
It was truth.
He returned her embrace, firm and sincere, chest to chest, arms tightening with warrior's strength.
"A-ahh…♡"
The sheer power in his hug drew a helpless cry from her lips.
Face flushed, she buried herself against him, content, rubbing her cheek against his chest as if to etch the moment into her very soul.
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