Work Text:
There’s been a debate going around recently. A betting pool that’s an open secret, one on the Hashiras’ strengths and rankings. With all the money placed on the multiple different Hashiras, it’s racked up a few thousand yen already, and it only increases by the year with all the new recruits.
“You’re placing your money on him?! That’s so risky. Shinobu-san or Uzui-san would probably be better options, no?”
“He’s a Hashira, isn’t he? He’s gotta be worth something.”
“Yeah right! People say he only made it through the Final Selection because he clung onto the backs of his fellow competitors.”
“Even if that’s true, you can’t lie or scam your way into being a Hashira. That means he must bring something to the table, right?”
“Oh he brings something to the table, all right. A headache and anger issues.”
“Haha! You’re not wrong!”
“I swear. Being in his presence fills me with so much resentment, I get an adrenaline boost high enough I think I can take down Lower Moon Two.”
The infirmary doors swing open, revealing Shinobu with her usual polite smile. She walks in like she’s floating, the gentle tap tap tap of her shoes on the ground can be heard through the abrupt silence. She picks up the clipboard at the end of his bed. “All right, boys. How are you two feeling? Any lingering sores or pains?”
The slayer shakes his head. “None, Shinobu-san. Your healing is immaculate as always.”
She giggles, noting down something on the clipboard. “My, my. Aren’t you a charmer?” She slips the clipboard back into the holder. “You’ll be able to resume light training within the next week or so. We’ll release you depending on how well you fare during that.”
“Understood, Shinobu-san.” He shares a glance with his friend before awkwardly asking, “Pardon my rudeness, Shinobu-san, but hypothetically, who would win a fight between Uzui-san and you?”
Shinobu beams with no true humour. “Well, the answer’s quite obviously Uzui-san, no? I don’t create poison to kill humans after all.”
“What about a battle between you and Agatsuma-san?”
She sighs. “I’m not quite sure what it is you’re attempting to do here. Are you trying to devalue my worth? Don’t ask silly questions you know the answers to.” Then, at the slayers’ panicked assurances, she titters, waving off their trepidation. “No worries, no worries! I was only joking. All of you are so serious, it makes me worry for your health. Too much stress is bad on the body, you know?”
“U-Understood, Shinobu-san. We’ll aspire to be less anxious.”
“Well, to answer your question, a battle between me and Agatsuma will end in quite an effortless victory for him.” Their exclamations of surprise fill the air, but before they can ask another question, Shinobu tilts her head. “Oh! Allow me to guess your next question.” She taps her index finger on her lips, a pondering expression on her face, before she snaps her fingers. “I got it! You’re going to ask me who’d win a spar between Uzui and Agatsuma, right?”
The two slayers share a look. “Right.”
Shinobu claps her hands together once. “How wonderful! You sure are in luck. It just so happens Agatsuma and Uzui are duelling this coming Friday once they return from their patrols. If all goes well, we’ll be able to witness the showdown of the century!” She heads for the door, waving at them just as she closes the door. “See you there!”
#
The spar has been agreed upon to end at the first draw of blood. Due to the chatter, many show up to witness the battle between the Hashiras. The Hashiras get front-row seats to the viewing, of course, while the others scramble to find a good view of the grounds.
Finally, at the strike of a dong, Uzui and Zenitsu stand from their seats, silently walking onto the sparring grounds. Out of respect, they bow to each other before taking their positions on opposite sides of the field.
Kagaya raises his starting bell and shakes it, the high-pitched dingling chiming in the tensed silence.
Neither Uzui nor Zenitsu shifts, waiting for the other to make the first move.
After a minute of nothing but strained stillness, Zenitsu sighs. He releases his grip on the hilt of his sword, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Uzui-san, which comes first? The light or the sound?”
Uzui’s expression turns into one of confusion, subconsciously loosening his grip on his weapons. “What are you talking—” His face shifts to alarm, dual cleavers coming up just in time to block the yellow blade from striking him down from above. The resounding clang caused by their weapons connecting echo through the grounds, causing many to freeze in stunned silence.
Within the second taken for Uzui to reply, Zenitsu managed to regrasp his sword, run across the entire arena, and leap up to launch a strong attack.
Uzui pushes back, and Zenitsu follows the momentum, landing firmly on his feet. He jumps back a few paces to put some distance between them. In the Lightning Hashira’s hand is his beloved sword, sharpened enough to slice through the toughest demons’ necks like butter, a yellow lightning motif running down the length of the blade.
Not many have seen his katana before since he often goes alone on missions or patrols, so to see the lightning motif instead of a solid colour shocks many watching on.
Uzui whistles. “That’s one flamboyant blade you have there.”
Zenitsu nods his head. “Thank you.”
Shinobu hides her mouth behind her hand. “To have a pattern instead of a solid colouration… Zenitsu-kun sure is skilled.”
Zenitsu tilts his head at Uzui, flicking his sword before slotting it back smoothly into its sheath, hand kept on the handle. “Do you want to drag this out, or should I get it done and over with?”
Uzui bursts out in a fit of laughter. “You? Get this done and over with?” He wipes his imaginary tear from his eye. “Someone as boring as you can only dream of beating me!”
Zenitsu’s eyebrows narrow. “You think this is a joke?”
Uzui grins wolfishly, weapons at the ready. “You got lucky and nearly caught me off guard earlier! Such an unflamboyant move doesn’t count in sparring.”
Unimpressed, Zenitsu looks his opponent up-and-down before shrugging. “If you insist.” He gets into position and takes a visible deep inhale, the air around him beginning to vibrate with loaded energy.
Once the energy can accumulate no longer, he exhales a foggy breath through gritted teeth, fingers readjusting on the hilt. “Lightning Breathing, Eighth Form…” Drawing his katana out of the sheath, he looks up from his blade, revealing the yellow lightning sparking within his eyes.
Uzui rushes forward, cleavers in hand.
“…Divine Retribution.”
Time slows down as he bolts towards Uzui at the speed of light, reminding himself to hold back and only leave shallow inflictions. The first cut is made to the right side of his stomach, where it would normally be slicing through if he was a demon. Secondly, he leaves a shallow graze on his lower back as he moves to Uzui’s left side. As the last consecutive action, he slashes upwards towards his neck, and leaves an inclining cut on Uzui’s upper arm in lieu of beheading him.
Finally, he finishes the motion by swiftly dashing backwards, then forwards with a leap at the opponent’s neck to make sure he actually decapitates them. However, since his challenger isn’t a demon, he simply leaves a cut on Uzui’s shoulder.
Following through with the momentum, he lands crouched on a knee behind Uzui, catching his breath as time speeds up to its usual tempo.
All at once, the pain hits Uzui and he collapses onto his knees, blood slowly trickling from the injuries inflicted on him. To others, it must’ve seemed like the move was done in a flash and an earsplitting, thunderous boom. But to Zenitsu, who moved at his top speed of supersonic, the actual timing it was accomplished in is actually 1.5 seconds.
Divine Retribution is powerful and nimble, but the breakneck speed it requires is dangerous and fatal. The weight of it crushes both his lungs and legs from its extensive use, often overloading bodily systems. He’s pretty much useless after performing the manoeuvre, unable to move ranging from a few seconds to a couple of hours depending on how much he exerted beforehand. If utilised after being too exhausted, Zenitsu will either collapse while or immediately after the move, leaving him vulnerable.
Thankfully, since he barely deployed any energy during this sparring session, Zenitsu’s able to regather his strength and get up after a minute.
Zenitsu flicks away the blood from his blade before storing it safely. “The strike of lightning is always faster than the clap of thunder.” He pivots on his heels, walking up to Uzui who has yet to move from his spot on the ground. “Let’s not forget what your Breathing abbreviated from.”
That day, stacks of money were passed around and no one dared to spread false rumours about the Lightning Pillar anymore.