Watching him state only his own thoughts as though he had no intention of listening to a word I said, I nearly let out a sigh.
But that was all it could be: a thought.
[Once you have gone through this, you will surely be able to stand before your father and say at least one thing.]
After showing me what he had written in his sketchbook, he raised his wooden sword high.
Then, in the next instant—
Whoosh!
With a sound that split the air, the wooden sword came crashing down where I had been standing.
"?!"
Instinctively, I threw myself backward.
Bang!
The wooden sword slammed hard into the floor, its heavy impact reverberating through the room.
Frozen for a moment by that strike, which had clearly been delivered in earnest, I immediately came to my senses and brought my wooden sword to my hip.
I lowered my stance as though drawing a blade and looked at the Homu Sword Saint.
The Hokushin Itto-ryu—something my father, the only person who had never taken an interest in me, had demonstrated once and taught me.
A sword style I both loved and hated, which he had never taught me again after seeing me watch and attempt it.
Even now, I did not understand why he had taught it to me, but I had continued practicing it because it was something I had learned from my father.
‘Though I am not even sure he showed it to me intending to teach me in the first place.’
"...What are the conditions for victory?"
[Did I not tell you earlier? If you land even one hit, you win.]
"And what are your conditions for victory?"
[Oh? You would set conditions for me? Do you have the skill to back that up?]
"Who knows... But if you underestimate me and it ends in a single blow, would that not be rather embarrassing?"
At my provocation, he lowered his head and his shoulders shook as though he found it amusing.
Yet despite his laughter, there was not a single opening in his body.
I unconsciously swallowed.
[Very well. Then my condition for victory shall be—]
"?!"
‘He vanished—?!’
In an instant, the Homu Sword Saint vanished from my sight.
Before I could even realize that only his sketchbook remained floating in the air, I instinctively rolled forward.
Bang!
I heard the sound of something smashing into the floor directly behind me.
The moment I swiftly twisted around to look back—
The Homu Sword Saint stood where I had been only moments earlier, looking down at me with his sword swung vertically downward.
[Let us say I win if you surrender.]
"......"
Cold sweat ran down my back.
That last strike had been restrained.
Though I had not let my guard down, I now understood it with painful clarity.
If I had been even a little slower, that wooden sword would have struck me directly.
And at the same time, I realized.
—He had not spoken those arrogant words for no reason.
—The difference in skill between him and me.
I had already understood from the fact that he showed no openings, but feeling it firsthand was enough to make cold sweat break out all over me.
[Now that you seem willing, let us say it begins now. I shall grant you the first move.]
‘Can I even fulfill the condition the Homu Sword Saint set?’
Yielding the first move despite the unfavorable condition he had imposed on himself was the sort of composure only the strong could afford.
I swallowed dryly, brought my wooden sword to my hip, and lowered my body.
[Hokushin Itto-ryu, is it?]
"...You recognized it right away."
[For all that I look like this, I am a Homu bearing the name Sword Saint. I have traveled the world and encountered a great many schools.]
"...I see."
[So? When do you intend to come at me? The sun will set at this rate.]
At those words, I lightly bit my lip.
There was no use thinking. A foolproof way to win was not suddenly going to come to me.
Besides, I lacked even the data needed to lay the groundwork for victory.
In other words, for now, I had no choice but to cross swords with him.
"...Then I shall make the first move."
I put strength into the tips of my feet.
My low-slung body shot forward in an instant.
Drawing the wooden sword from my hip as though unsheathing it, I swung it straight at the Homu Sword Saint.
"Five Consecutive Slashes: Finale!"
The Raiden-style Five Consecutive Slashes: Finale.
A technique that used forms one through five to deliver consecutive slashes within a certain range.
Thus, it could unleash up to five consecutive cuts.
The heart of this technique was to force the opponent to evade, calculate even the direction of that evasion, and follow it with the next strike.
The defining trait of Five Consecutive Slashes: Finale was moving as though connecting dots to paint a picture while swinging the sword powerfully as though writing calligraphy.
The more it was swung, the more fluid and swift the movements became.
Its power increased in proportion.
However, it consumed considerable stamina and could easily disrupt one’s breathing, which was why it could only be used up to the fifth form.
Perhaps no one in the records had ever used it beyond the fifth form, because the fifth form itself was also its end.
Knowing the Homu Sword Saint was more skilled than me, I naturally expected him to evade my blade and intended to follow with the next strike.
But the Homu Sword Saint did not evade my sword.
"What...?"
No—rather, the Homu Sword Saint moved as though he had been waiting until the very instant before my sword touched him.
"?!"
The moment my wooden sword cleaved upward through the air on a diagonal, the Homu Sword Saint barely deflected it and ducked low as he slipped inside.
He had entered my guard.
And then—
Thud!
"Ghk!"
A fierce impact drove into my abdomen.
My breath caught in my throat.
But that was not the end.
The leg that had kicked my abdomen remained pressed against my body.
Keeping his leg driven in, the Homu Sword Saint spun his body in a wide arc.
"Huh...?"
My body lifted into the air.
My vision flipped.
As my feet left the floor, the ceiling before my eyes filled my entire vision in an instant.
And then—
Crash!
My entire back slammed into the floor.
The delayed impact knocked the breath from me, and a groan escaped my lips.
"Kuhk...!"
Before I could understand what had happened, the foot pressed into my abdomen slowly withdrew.
Only then did the sketchbook enter my view.
[It is a technique called Monkey Drop.]
I stared blankly at those words.
Only then did I understand.
He had waited for the moment I attacked and countered me.
He had waited until just before my sword touched him, slipped into my guard at that exact moment, kicked me, then drove his leg in and spun his body.
Perhaps because he had used the force and speed of my own swing against me, I had not even been able to resist properly.
Embarrassingly enough, the very moment I unleashed the first sword strike of Five Consecutive Slashes: Finale, I had been countered and subdued.
[Will you continue?]
"...Please."
My voice trembled slightly.
My opponent had not even used his sword.
I had only learned it from my father once, but I had practiced it every day and took pride in my swordsmanship.
Driven by that stubborn pride, I slowly pushed myself up, using my wooden sword as a cane.
I put strength into my knees and stood on both feet again.
I steadied my breathing.
Then I gripped my wooden sword once more.
Watching me, the Homu Sword Saint seemed satisfied as he rested his wooden sword over his shoulder.
It irritated me, as though he felt no need to use his sword—but he had earned that right.
Then all I had to do was set another goal: make him use it.
If I could not land one attack, then two.
If two were not enough, then three.
It did not matter how many times it took.
At least once.
As long as I could make my sword touch that person, even just once, that would be enough.
Thinking that, I assumed the Hokushin Itto-ryu stance once again.
I lowered my body.
I pressed the wooden sword to my hip.
I fixed my gaze on the Homu Sword Saint.
And once again—
I charged at him.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register