I first took up the sword around the age of seven.
It was partly because I was born into a house of warriors, but primarily because we lived in the Sengoku period. In an age of ceaseless civil war, I needed to know how to defend myself.
Of course, I have not the slightest desire to inherit the position of Clan Head. Aside from my mother and my younger brother, this family is nothing but a collection of lunatics; there isn't a single sane soul among them. The head is a primitive man obsessed with superstitions, and his vassals are mere sycophants who suck up to him for favor. I wouldn't take over this barbaric clan even if it were handed to me on a silver platter. I intend to make my escape the moment the time is right.
Apparently, I was what people called a genius. I had never learned kendo in my previous life, and my athletic instincts had been average at best. Yet, in this life, it took less than five days after picking up a blade for me to be able to spar with adult samurai.
Well, I wasn't quite at the level of winning against them, but for a seven-year-old child to even hold his own against a Sengoku-era samurai with vast battlefield experience is, in itself, absurd.
After about a fortnight, though I still couldn't claim victory, I had improved enough to land several solid blows on my opponents.
Oho, this genius talent of mine is actually terrifying. Perhaps I truly am built for the life of a samurai?
Today, as usual, I was swinging my sword in the garden.
Had I reached a hundred and eight swings?
I suddenly turned my head, sensing a faint presence. It was Yoriichi. Without making a single sound, he stood still in the shadow of a pine tree, watching me.
I hadn't heard a sound or seen a single sign of him. Not even the concealment techniques of the Uzui could usually evade me, yet here he was.
Does Yoriichi have a natural talent for being a ninja?
"Is your dream to become the strongest samurai in this land, Brother?"
...What?
The wooden sword nearly slipped from my hand.
Yoriichi... spoke?
"I, too, wish to become like you. I want to become the second strongest samurai in all the land."
Yoriichi said this with a beaming, innocent smile.
The fact that he spoke was shocking enough, but to hear such heartwarming words was unexpected.
You admirable little brat, you actually recognize your big brother’s hard work.
I was about to open my mouth to praise him, but a sudden thought flashed through my mind.
This kid... for someone who has been mute since birth, isn't he speaking way too fluently for his first time?
Moreover, there was that presence from earlier. Even I, who can detect Uzui Ei’s presence, didn't notice this boy until he had already reached the pine tree.
And then, as if he had purposely allowed himself to be known, I suddenly felt him.
Can all of this truly be a coincidence? I felt an intuition that I shouldn't treat him the way I normally would.
Why am I feeling fear behind that pure, innocent smile?
Even so, I am his older brother; I cannot afford to be intimidated or frightened.
For now, I have to say something—something that sounds as impressive as possible.
The time it took me to reach this conclusion: 0.5 seconds.
I turned around and spoke, keeping my voice as low and solemn as I could.
"Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding, Yoriichi."
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Brother was always a kind person, and he always looked out for me.
"I just happened to find this on my way."
He would often visit my room and secretly bring me his own meals or snacks, like dango.
"Sit down. I'm going to tell you an incredible story."
He told me many mysterious tales as well. In particular, the stories of steel flying through the sky and carriages that moved without horses were truly wondrous.
Even the day after he was struck while protecting me from our father, he carved a flute and gave it to me.
"I made this myself, Yoriichi. If that crazy old man tries to hit you again, blow this flute."
Then, as if telling me not to worry, he smiled with a face stained purple and red from bruises.
My brother was always moving forward, tempering himself by swinging his sword.
I admired my brother, who was always advancing.
I approached him because I wanted to see the sight of my brother training.
Even though I drew quite close, my brother did not notice me.
It was a terrifying level of concentration. Even though I was within arm's reach, my brother swung his sword with total indifference, as if he didn't even need to pay me any mind. It was as if he had become one with the blade. Was that the 'Unity of Sword and Soul' my brother spoke of last time?
The world, as it had appeared to me since birth, whispered that truth to me.
And then, he looked at me as if I were nothing of great consequence.
As expected of my brother.
"Is your dream to become the strongest samurai in this land, Brother?"
I want to be like my brother.
I want to be a man as free and strong as he is.
But I could never be the first.
"I, too, wish to become like you. I want to become the second strongest samurai in all the land."
Because my brother will be the strongest.
At those words, there was a slight, faint tension in my brother's muscles. He turned around and opened his mouth.
"Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding, Yoriichi."
Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding...?
What could that mean...?
No, my brother is a man of deep thought. Surely there is a profound meaning behind it.
And his voice has grown deeper; is he angry?
"The second strongest samurai... what a ridiculous thing to say. Do not settle for second place. Do you think such a petty will could ever earn you even the second rank? You would not even make it to third, or even within the top ten. Such is the way of the world."
!!!!!
It felt as though I had been struck in the back of the head.
Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding. Had I truly understood my brother’s intentions?
Do I even have the right to admire my brother when I cannot even perceive or understand his true intent?
That tension must have been a sign of his disappointment.
Brother had expectations of me. He placed great hope in me, his younger brother.
He sees me, someone cast aside by the family, as an equal rival and a comrade. A person to hone martial arts with, to exchange swordsmanship with—not someone walking behind him, but someone standing by his side, walking together...
Yet I failed to understand his meaning and uttered such weak words as becoming the second strongest...
How disappointed must my brother have been?
"I am sorry, Brother. Your younger brother has spoken weak words."
Forgive me, Brother.
And, Brother.
I wish to be a samurai like you.
Not the second strongest, but a samurai who can walk alongside you as an equal.
"Brother. May I ask you for a lesson in the way of the sword?"
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