Now that I thought about it, there were more than one or two strange things.
The peculiar sense of nostalgia I had felt after he knocked me unconscious, and this place too somehow felt familiar.
Then there was the Homu Sword Saint, who had been writing in his sketchbook to communicate from earlier.
‘Why does he write down what he wants to say in a sketchbook and show it to me?’
Wearing a mask could not mean he was incapable of speaking.
And yet, he had gone out of his way to write in that sketchbook to converse with me.
‘As though he is trying to keep me from recognizing his voice...?’
"...Do I know you?"
At my words, he shrugged, then wrote in his sketchbook and showed it to me.
[You and I met for the first time today, did we not?]
"Then why go through the trouble of writing in a sketchbook?"
People unconsciously seek what is convenient.
Why does the world develop so rapidly?
Because people want things to be more comfortable and easier.
So which would be more convenient when expressing one’s thoughts?
Writing by hand, or speaking aloud?
[I simply find this more comfortable.]
"Is it not really because you do not want me to recognize your voice?"
As I said that, I stared intently at the Homu Sword Saint.
He found writing by hand more comfortable?
Of course, that could be true.
I was not him, after all.
But I had heard it earlier.
The sudden sound of him coughing, cough!
And the way he had panicked along with it.
As though something that should not have come out had slipped out, he had been flustered—and that cough lingered in my ears.
Like a familiar sound I had heard long ago.
"You definitely are someone I know, aren’t you?"
[I have no idea what you are talking about.]
"The fact that you said that is practically an admission."
[...How could that possibly count as an admission?]
His reaction seemed so genuinely dumbfounded that my suspicions eased a little.
‘Was I really just imagining it?’
I had deliberately said that because I wanted to observe his reaction.
I thought that if my words had struck anywhere near the truth, he would react somehow.
But aside from reacting when he coughed, he showed nothing no matter how I probed. Had we truly only met for the first time today?
But then... why had I felt that nostalgia from the Homu Sword Saint?
[Now that you have gotten what you wanted, you should be going.]
"...Pardon?"
[A great deal of time has passed.]
Following the Homu Sword Saint’s gaze outside, I turned to look as well. Before I knew it, the sky had been dyed by the sunset.
There were still patches of blue, but seeing it half-stained in twilight made it clear that quite some time had passed.
When I looked outside and then back at the Homu Sword Saint, he shrugged and turned away.
As he turned without hesitation, as though it truly was time for us to part now, I clutched the letter tightly and stopped him without thinking.
"Wait!"
[Hm?]
"Ah..."
I had stopped him on impulse, but it had been an emotional, unconscious act. I froze, unable to continue.
‘Why did I stop him?’
[Is there something you wish to say?]
Even though I had abruptly stopped him and then stood there silently, he did not get angry. He simply waited patiently.
His considerate response helped me recover my half-lost senses, and I realized why I had stopped him.
"May I come back here again sometime?"
[Here?]
"Yes. Through sparring with you, I feel like I broke through one wall—no, several walls."
That was the truth.
Until now, walls I had believed I could never overcome had stood blocking my way. But after meeting him, I had not only crossed what I could not climb—I had leaped over it.
Anyone who trained knew just how fortunate it was to meet someone like this.
[Well, if you wish to train, you may come whenever you like.]
"Really?"
[Yes. And since I have trained in [Hokushin Itto-ryu] as well, I can teach you if you wish.]
"...Yes!"
At that answer, I smiled. As he opened the sliding door and left, I bowed deeply toward his back.
It was both reverence for someone whose skills as a swordsman surpassed mine, and gratitude for his willingness to teach me.
Setting aside his identity, he had treated me courteously to the very end. He was someone who had thought of me.
"Father."
Later, when I met Father at home, I was able to speak with him for the first time that day.
I had thought I would not be able to say even a single word in front of him as before, but unexpectedly, we were able to talk with ease.
"Please... have dinner with me."
My voice trembled at first, but once I finally got the words out properly, I was able to state what I wanted with confidence.
I believed that had much to do with Father reading the letter I had received from the Homu Sword Saint.
When Father received the letter, he was surprised at first.
But after checking what it said, he began asking me, one by one, the things he had never properly asked me before.
And as I answered each question, I was able to properly tell him, for the first time, all the things I had wanted to do with him.
Father listened to everything I had to say.
Thanks to that, I was no longer afraid of Father’s gaze as I had been before, and I could properly convey my feelings to him.
It did make me curious about the past the two of them shared, but—
"Father, could we have dinner together like this sometimes from now on?"
"...Yes."
"!"
I pushed that thought to the back of my mind, overwhelmed by the joy of Father granting my request for the first time.
Because I had wanted—wanted so badly—to have dinner with Father.
At the dining table where I had always wanted to eat, drink, and talk together with him... only now, at last, did I have my first meal with Father.
We spoke together, too.
It was only a trivial conversation, but because it was the first conversation we had truly shared, that time made me so happy.
And when he even promised that we would have dinner together once a week, I honestly wondered whether I was dreaming.
So many happy things kept happening that I worried something terrible might happen as a backlash.
This was all thanks to him.
If not for the Homu Sword Saint, things would never have turned out this way.
The next time I went to see the Homu Sword Saint, I should bring him a gift.
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