Itsuki didn't have to wait long. Three days after that quiet meeting with the Dojo Master, news came. The troublemakers had shown up again, and this time, Itsuki brought Kanao with him to the briquette workshop.
It wasn't just another fight—it was a perfect chance to put everything they'd trained for into real use.
While Flower Street was lit up and noisy as always, a few kilometers out, something much more dangerous was going down.
"Senpai, you stay here and guard the workshop," Itsuki said to one of the older disciples of the master in the Dojo. "We've got this."
"But—"
"First Form: Unknowing Fire!"
Itsuki dashed into the mob before the guy could even finish.
"Hey, who the hell—GAH!"
"W-What the—?!"
There were no fancy fire visuals, no big flashy explosions. But the raw power behind his movements, amplified by Flame Breathing, tore through the mob like it was nothing.
And he wasn't alone.
"Flower Breathing: Fourth Form – Crimson Hanagoromo!"
Kanao followed close behind, moving with perfect timing. Her sweeping attack covered a wide arc, cutting through the chaos. Blood sprayed across her cheek, but her face didn't change. Not even a flinch.
She wasn't scared. Not here. Not with Itsuki leading.
She didn't go for the kill—just made sure they couldn't get back up. But honestly, with how clean and sharp her movements were, she looked even more dangerous than her brother.
The older disciples watching from behind the gates were stunned.
"…That little girl just took out four guys in one swing."
"I seriously thought they were exaggerating, but… man, we're training with monsters."
"They're not monsters—they're our brother and sister of the Dojo! We can brag about this forever!"
"Damn right!"
Meanwhile, the mob was panicking. The ones that hadn't already gone down were either frozen in place or screaming as they tried to run.
And that made things trickier.
They weren't strong like Shinjuro, not even close—but they made up for it in numbers. Fighting as a group? Annoying. Fleeing in different directions? Even worse.
Still, the result was clean.
Thanks to the older disciples backing them up and closing off escape routes, no one got away.
Itsuki took down the leader personally. The rest, once patched up enough to live, were tied up and tossed into storage to be used as leverage later.
In the end, Ren Martial Dojo didn't lose a single person. Their reputation shot up overnight. The Hall Master could probably squeeze a fat payout from this too—hurt pride and property and all that. The police were always corrupt here some money and they will get off you're back.
As for Itsuki? He felt something shift.
He and Kanao had killed a couple of them. They'd seen real blood. And while the Flame Pillar could teach techniques, this… this kind of experience had to be earned. It changed something inside.
The pressure, the danger, the instinct to survive—it built something that pure training never could. That tiny bit of killing intent? It wouldn't help against demons, but it made sure he wouldn't hesitate when the time came.
After brushing off the older disciples' praise, he and Kanao got cleaned up, swapped into fresh clothes, and started walking back through the city.
(sorry if it wasn't really entertaining, I didn't want to make it like an awesome fight for some noobs)
Flower Street was still buzzing. The lights, the smells, the street food stalls—it all felt a little surreal after what they'd just been through.
"Kanao, what do you want to eat?"
"…I'm not hungry."
"Alright, I'm hungry though. Back to the Hall cafeteria it is. Food around here's all tiny portions anyway."
"Okay."
They didn't say anything more after that, just walked side by side in silence. It was peaceful. Warm. Even though they were in a noisy street, it felt quiet.
Itsuki let himself relax a little.
He didn't notice the pair of eyes watching them.
well, of course he wouldn't. He isn't strong enough yet.
"What a pretty pair," said a voice behind a red curtain. "They smell like blood, though."
Daki, disguised as her oiran self, watched the two from above.
"Definitely siblings. Good looks. Good posture. But that scent… and those uniforms… Dojo students? Tch."
She was tempted.
But not tonight.
"If I see them again," she muttered, "I'll invite them over. I've got other things to deal with today from "him".
Just like that, Itsuki and Kanao passed right under death's nose.
Itsuki didn't notice. He was still thinking about dinner.
"Kanao, hurry up."
"Okay!"
By the next morning, the whole underground knew what had happened. A pair of Martial Dojo kids took out over thirty guys in one night. The Dojo's name blew up.
Everything was going well with the business now.
The briquette workshop got more orders, production went up because those hooligans aren't there anymore, and Itsuki's monthly profit share increased. With more money coming in, he improved his food. With better food came better gains.
Every day, he got a full meals.
That, combined with his high-protein training diet, let him push his energy progress over 3% per day.
Which meant one skill point per month.
In three months, he racked up three skill points and bumped Flame Breathing to Level 3.
That upgrade wasn't just for show. The moves now looked fierier, hit harder, and didn't wear him out as much.
He could actually hold his own for a few exchanges with Shinjuro now.
The workshop ran into more problems again soon after—this time, a hundred people came to mess things up.
Didn't matter.
Itsuki and Kanao wiped them all out again. Still no flashy effects—just fast, efficient, and brutal this time hiding their identity even though it wouldnt matter.
Now, about the changes on the inside.
He could do stuff like control blood loss with his Breathing Technique—literally stop bleeding mid-fight.
Sounded like nonsense, but hey, it worked. Tanjiro had done the same thing in the Mugen Train arc.
Seeing how far he'd come, Itsuki doubled down.
Four more months. Four more points.
Flame Breathing, Level 4.
Now, he could use it without strain. It felt natural. Like regular breathing.
Even when he slept.
It was the mark of real mastery.
The kind they called: Total Concentration Breathing – Constant.