Eros. (Benimaru Shinmon)

九十

Standing on the edge of the training grounds, I watched the bizarre sight unfold before me. The clear blue sky stretched endlessly above Asakusa, its tranquility a stark contrast to the scene in front of me. Benimaru stood with his back to me, arms crossed in that signature pose of his, facing the two young men from Company 8 who hung upside down from makeshift wooden stands. The whole setup looked like some kind of bizarre circus act, yet it was nothing more than one of Benimaru's unorthodox training methods.

The wooden structures were simple, yet sturdy, standing firmly on the cobblestone ground of the courtyard. The two recruits, Shinra and Arthur, dangled helplessly, their orange jumpsuits clashing against the calm and earthy tones of the traditional Edo-period architecture surrounding us. I could almost feel their confusion and discomfort, though neither dared to complain—not with Benimaru watching.

Behind them, a small crowd of townsfolk had gathered, clearly amused by the spectacle. Some whispered to one another, while others openly grinned, their expressions a mix of admiration and entertainment. To the side, three stuffed animal mascots—dressed in firefighter gear—stood in formation, adding an oddly comical air to the scene.

The serenity of the day was only punctuated by the occasional shuffle of feet or a quiet murmur from the gathered onlookers. Despite the apparent absurdity of the situation, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride seeing Benimaru in his element, guiding these young men in his own, peculiar way.

I felt a smirk tug at my lips as I observed the scene. Benimaru always had a way of turning the simplest of exercises into something remarkable—and undeniably effective. The two recruits, though likely bewildered now, would walk away from this stronger, more capable. I knew that from experience.

The torii gate in the background, with its deep red pillars, stood as a reminder of the sacredness of this place. It was a symbol of protection, a silent guardian of the town, much like Benimaru himself.

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over everything, but I could sense the tension in the air, a combination of anticipation and respect. As I continued to watch, I couldn't help but think how this scene, as odd as it might appear, perfectly captured the essence of life in Asakusa—where tradition, strength, and a touch of the unconventional all intertwined.

Benimaru stood still, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the two boys hanging upside down before him. The usual stoic expression on his face barely shifted as he lifted a single finger. His red eyes, marked with their characteristic cross-shaped pupils, focused intently on the tip of his finger as a small, yet intense flame burst into existence.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the tiny flame danced and flickered in the air for a moment before he sent it spiraling down towards the base of the wooden stands. In a split second, the flame grew, igniting the kindling beneath Shinra and Arthur with a whoosh of heat. The fire crackled and roared to life, licking at the wooden supports just below their heads.

The two boys immediately reacted, their eyes widening in panic as the heat from the flames began to rise. Benimaru didn't flinch, his expression unreadable as he watched them struggle against their bindings. It was clear that this was no ordinary training session; this was Benimaru's way of pushing them to their limits, testing their resolve in the face of literal fire.

I watched from the side, my heart racing a bit despite knowing this was just another one of Benimaru's brutal, yet effective methods.

As I watched the flames dance under Shinra and Arthur, the crackling of the fire filling the otherwise quiet courtyard, a thought crossed my mind. I turned towards Benimaru, unable to keep the question from spilling out.

"Is this really your method of pushing them to reach their 'hysterical strength,' or are you just jealous because you didn't get any breakfast from me?"