Marechi Blood (kny x modern/Isekai reader)

12 Undeniable Advantage

The birds fell silent, their cheerful chirping abruptly halting as Iguro stumbled once more, his repeated failure causing them to take flight, startled by the disturbance. I observed silently as he rose to his feet, determination etched on his face as he braced himself to attempt flame breathing once again.

Despite his youthful appearance, Iguro exuded a sense of weariness that belied his age. He seemed younger than Kyojuro, yet there was a hardened resilience about him, a testament to the hardships he had endured. His frame appeared lean, almost gaunt, hinting at a past marked by deprivation and struggle. And yet, in his eyes gleamed a depth of maturity and wisdom, forged through perseverance and hardship, perhaps even surpassing that of his more robust counterpart.

As Iguro adjusted his stance, his legs spread wider, revealing the sinewy muscles rippling beneath his skin. With each movement, I could discern the fluidity of his form, reminiscent of the dancing flames he sought to emulate. However, there was a flickering uncertainty in his movements, a need for greater agility and adaptability.

I observed intently, noting the potential for improvement. "He needs to be more maneuverable," I realized, likening his current technique to a swollen river overflowing its banks. Just as a river adapts to the obstacles in its path, so too must Iguro learn to navigate the challenges before him with grace and fluidity.

​​​​​"Hey, Igu-chan!" I called out, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I watched Iguro's visible struggle to maintain composure. His veins seemed to bulge with tension as he fought to rein in his emotions.

"Iiiiiiguuuuuuu~, Igu, Iiguuuuuu. Hoooooooraaaaa. Hora. Hora, hora. Hoorraaa~" I teased playfully, drawing out his name in a sing-song manner, punctuated by exaggerated sounds of encouragement. The air crackled with suppressed laughter as I reveled in the harmless banter, a brief respite from the intensity of our training.

"Nani," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation as he shot me a fierce glare, his intense gaze piercing through me like a sharpened blade. With a begrudging pause in his movements, he reached for a gourd, taking a long drink to quench both his physical thirst and the simmering frustration within him. The air seemed to thicken with tension, a palpable reminder of the underlying intensity that fueled our training sessions.

"Have you ever considered Water Breathing? It's far more adaptable than Flame, perhaps you could integrate elements of both," I suggested, my voice laced with genuine curiosity as I watched his reaction.

As he pulled the gourd away from his lips, a look of astonishment crossed his face, swiftly followed by a shocked realization. "Indirect kiss!" I couldn't help but tease, unable to resist the playful jab.

"Also... That's my gourd," he stammered, his initial surprise giving way to a sudden coughing fit as he accidentally expelled the contents of the gourd, splattering me in the process. Despite the unpleasantness of the moment, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, knowing that beneath his gruff exterior, there was a deep affection that bound us together.

...

Gasping for air, I collapsed onto the soft grass beneath me, my chest heaving with exertion. Chiyo-san had given the green light for training, but with a warning not to overexert ourselves. Despite her caution, I found myself pushed to the brink as I faced Shinjuro.

"Holy ghost of dick sucking," I muttered under my breath, my frustration evident as I grappled with the complexities of Flame Breathing. It was far more demanding than I had anticipated.

Across the training ground, the two boys spared a brief glance in my direction before resuming their practice. Iguro, in particular, was focused on perfecting his breathing technique, Hebi no Kokyū. More often than not, our sparring sessions would devolve into impromptu lessons, with me attempting—emphasis on attempting—to impart my limited knowledge of Water Breathing to him.