17 Water Hashira vs Flame hashira

Shinjuro Rengoku and Giyu Tomioka stood facing each other, a stark contrast between the two. Shinjuro, nearing his forties, exuded a powerful, experienced aura, while Giyu, not even fifteen yet, gave off a calm impression.

Both held wooden swords in their hands, each a reflection of their respective styles—Shinjuro's held his blade high in a dominant, aggressive stance, embodying the ferocity of flames, while Giyu's had his blade low, close to the ground, symbolizing the fluid and adaptable nature of water.

As the two prepared for their match, the tension in the air was palpable. Shinjuro's voice broke the silence. "The rules are simple. If you can last for five minutes, you win. However," his expression turned serious, "if I land a decisive blow, you will give up on the Water Hashira title, at least until you've matured physically."

Giyu, his expression unreadable, closed his eyes briefly before replying, "Can I attack as well?"

Shinjuro's eyebrows raised in annoyance. "Of course. If you manage to land a single hit on me, no matter how minor, I will acknowledge you as an hashira."

With that, the match began. Shinjuro moved first, a blur of speed as he dashed forward, lifting his sword high into the air. He brought it down with a powerful strike aimed at Giyu's smaller frame.

Giyu, reacting quickly, raised his own sword to block. The impact reverberated through his body. 'Fast,' he thought for a fleeting moment. But his confidence wavered as Shinjuro's sword suddenly felt much heavier, pushing him back, Giyu maintaining his balance, his feet gliding on the ground. 'He's much stronger than me, physically,' Giyu realized.

Before Giyu could fully recover, Shinjuro was upon him again. "Rising Scorching Sun!" Shinjuro murmured, his sword cutting upwards in a blazing arc. Giyu barely managed to evade , using his sword to block the strike, only to be pushed backward once more. His small hands trembled from the force, struggling to maintain a grip on his weapon. 'Blocking like this won't do. I need to apply pressure of my own,' Giyu thought.

Shinjuro continued his relentless assault, his sword movements so swift they seemed to ignite the air around them. Giyu, realizing that pure defense would not save him, decided to counter. 'Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance,' he intoned silently, his body moving in a fluid, winding pattern.

His wooden blade clashed with Shinjuro's, but this time, Giyu used Shinjuro's strength to his advantage, letting the opponent's force guide his movements. The two exchanged blows in rapid succession, the rhythm of their fight shifting as Giyu's flowing movements began to find openings in Shinjuro's fiery onslaught.

"Good!" Shinjuro yelled, his frown replaced by a small, approving smirk. He was pleased by the challenge, finding satisfaction in Giyu's unexpected sword skills.

Giyu's eyes narrowed in concentration as he leaped into the air. "Water Breathing," he murmured as he prepared his next attack.

"Flame Breathing!" Shinjuro countered, raising his blade into a high guard.

'Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin!' Giyu called out inside his head, bringing his sword down in a smooth, vertical slash, aiming to overpower Shinjuro with his precision.

"Third Form: Blazing Universe!" Shinjuro roared, his body performing a powerful, downward slash to meet Giyu's attack. The two blades clashed with a loud crack, the air between them shaking from the sheer force of the impact. For a moment, it seemed as though the entire courtyard was sheaking.

As Giyu landed lightly a short distance away, Shinjuro took a deep breath, his eyes locked on the boy before him. Not wasting a moment, Shinjuro charged forward again, his sword once more raised high. "Fifth Form: Flame Tiger!" he yelled, unleashing a series of slashes that seemed to transform his figure into that of a roaring, blazing tiger.

Giyu, his expression calm, brought his sword down to his side, the tip almost touching the ground. "Water Breathing, The Eleventh Form: Dead Calm," he whispered, his entire body slowing down until it appeared as though time itself had stopped around him. 

The deadly series of attacks from Shinjuro seemed to vanish into thin air, the fiery tiger disintegrating as it neared Giyu. With minimal movement, Giyu deflected each strike, his calmness a stark contrast to the explosive energy of Shinjuro's assault. The effortless way in which Giyu neutralized the attack left Shinjuro speechless, his powerful strikes rendered ineffective by the serene defense.

Shinjuro's eyes widened in disbelief. 'Eleventh Form?' he thought, astonished. 'Urokodaki never used this form. Did this child create it himself?' The realization struck him hard, as he couldn't help but think of his own son, he bit his lower lip in frustration. 'My child should be around his age, if only he was born with this kind of talent.'

Lost in his thoughts for a brief moment, Shinjuro suddenly snapped back to reality, only to find Giyu standing uncomfortably close, his blade poised for a strike. Alarmed, Shinjuro instinctively leaped backward, a burst of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his sword once more, ready to continue the fight. But before he could make another move, a loud clap echoed through the courtyard.

It was Gyomei Himejima, who had been watching the entire match silently. Tears streamed down his face as he clapped his hands together. "Shinjuro, the match is already over." he announced, his deep voice filled with calm authority.

Shinjuro blinked in confusion, his gaze shifting to his wrist, where a red mark stood out against his skin. He had been hit and didn't even realize it. Slowly, his expression turned into a smile, which then erupted into a hearty laugh. "AHAHAHA!" His laughter echoed through the courtyard, drawing wierd looks from Tengen Uzui and a confused glance from Giyu.

Shinjuro calmed down and looked at Giyu with newfound respect. "That form... Did you create it?" When Giyu nodded, Shinjuro continued, "Your talent is immense."

"My talent isan't worth mentioning, the 11th form was developed through sheer luck and effort during training." Giyu responded, his voice steady. He genuinely believed this to be true, not viewing himself as particularly talented, especially compared to someone like Sabito, and the 11th form had indeed been created during his training, though in his past life.

"Effort my ass." Shinjuro laughed, "I don't care if you won't acknowledge your talent, but" then, to Giyu's surprise, he bowed deeply. "Giyu Tomioka, I acknowledge you as the new Water Hashira. I apologize for ever doubting you."

"Please don't apologize," Giyu replied with a small smile. "Your concerns were valid."

Shinjuro watched Giyu, seeing a glimpse of his own son in the young boy standing before him but this only worsened his mood. "I will take my leave now. I have something to attend to," Shinjuro said, nodding to both Tengen and Gyomei before turning and walking away.

Tengen, who had been watching everything with a keen eye, walked over to Giyu and wrapped an arm around his neck in a friendly gesture. "Not bad, kid. That last technique was quite flashy." Giyu thanked Tengen for the compliment, returning the smile.

Gyomei, still in his prayer stance, also spoke. "Indeed, Tomioka. I apologize for my doubts. I should have trusted Master's judgment more."

Giyu nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He had proven himself, not just to Shinjuro, but to all the Hashira present. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Giyu felt a sense of belonging that he had long sought.