Demon Tamer

Chapter 23: Sensei

After a few days, where you gave yourself a week to rest up on all of the sleep you lost - you wished you gave yourself a month. Because the way your body wasn't satisfied with how much sleep you had gotten, it was like a child in a sweet shop - how unsatisfied you were.

In your home with Kokushibo's eyes staring at you, you stared back at them. What were you going to teach Isamu? He arrived later on that day, his sword arriving the day prior for Surēbu to pick up and leave to the side. That said, Surēbu knocked on your doorway to wake you up, and caught the thrown pot directed at his face.

"Ma'am I'd rather have a knife to my skull than have you break such a nice pot and need to buy another." Surēbu confessed and put the pot down while you stood up from your futon.

"Clean the rooms. We've a guest today and if he comes in, I don't want him to know anything about me. That also means locking all of the doors." You ordered Surēbu while walking past.

"Really? It isn't like you care for those things." Surēbu observed.

"Don't speak out of line." You ordered and went into the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you were done, you entered the kitchen. There was the sword. Though you still felt that Isamu wasn't the kind for a sword, you felt it was good practice for when the time came he may need to use one. Or maybe the other way around - since he enjoyed playing around when fighting.

You sat in the kitchen and ate, waiting as Surēbu busied around the darker areas of the house to clean. And when he was done, you gave him four drops of blood to keep him in the Sun for some time to clean your things before he finally finished. The cellar door was locked after the demons were fed, and Isamu finally arrived. His whistling could be heard.

Surēbu clearly didn't like him. But you didn't really let your opinion on him change the fact he was a Hashira. He was even wearing the uniform again, wearing his jacket unbuttoned and the collared shirt below fully exposed. You didn't really care. But it did show his figure rather well. He was... standard though.

"I'm sure there are painters around if you want to keep a picture." Isamu offered after a while of you observing him.

"No, I was just wondering if everyone starts off looking so vanilla and their personality builds after. Because surely not." You eyed him again and he chortled.

"Perhaps they do. Shall we start?" He outstretched a hand he expected you to take. You placed the nichirin sword in his hand and watched what colour it changed to. It was a purple blade. Very shiny as well. You hummed in curiosity. Where had you seen that colour on a sword? Was it Shinobu? No, hers was periwinkle wasn't it? He also gazed at it in curiosity.

"It was reflective initially... I used to reflect light into the demon's eyes before killing them." He pondered. Though you thought he hadn't remembered.

"Well, let's start teaching you a breathing style. It shouldn't be too hard since you clearly have the skill on a sword." You brushed off and pulled out your own sword. He grinned brightly and braced himself. "What are you doing? I'm not going to fight you." You ordered and pointed to the sky, "we do that on the night you finish your training." You ordered and he relaxed. He seemed almost disappointed as you shook your head.

You taught him. Over the many days and what became weeks, you taught him how to swing and breathe, how his thrusts and physical capabilities were being tested. He was an easy learner until it came to flexibility. In which he was terrible. But after seeing what you could do - as you demonstrated some of your battle techniques for him to see - he was determined to get better.

Some days, you would sit with him and meditate. He thought it was stupid and you knew he wasn't actually meditating, but you were. And you calculated everything you needed to for the future of your training with him. Not that you needed to. He was so unprepared that it felt like you were conditioning him to be a man instead of a Hashira.