◆◇◆
From the day after I received my sword, full-fledged swordsmanship training began.
Until then, the training had primarily consisted of basic swings, stances, and conditioning my body. Now, however, I trained by striking wooden dummies made in the garden and sparring with Father, acquiring a sense for real combat.
Compared to when I had learned swordsmanship in my previous life, it was rather tame.
"Gah!"
"Get up!"
"...Nngh."
"The moment you set foot in this dojo, even a child is no different from any other disciple! We have no need for weaklings! No one will come to help you just because you whine and ingratiate yourself!"
"Master, but my finger..."
"In a real fight, injuries like that are commonplace. Yamaguchi! If that is how you intend to carry on, go play ball with the girls! You look like a girl yourself, so I am sure the women will dote on you! Hahahahahaha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
When I was young, at the dojo where I had entered as a disciple at five years old because I wanted to learn the sword, they had not even given us basic instruction. From the very start, they shoved wooden swords into our hands and made us spar.
I was beaten with wooden swords nearly every day, until there was hardly a day when my body was free of dark blue bruises.
Even by the standards of that time, it had probably been an exceptionally harsh form of training. Yet it had helped me in its own way.
Being beaten every day toughened me up. I stopped fearing the prospect of facing multiple opponents.
And rather than merely being beaten, I watched my seniors wield their swords and completed a sword of my own.
Though it was not a dojo where one could receive a full teaching license.
In actual combat, its swordsmanship was more useful than that of many schools of the time.
Although it was dojo swordsmanship, it taught us how to develop the spirit of a sword that truly cut people down.
Even now, remembering my days at the Mizoguchi School Ittō-ryū dojo leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Still, thanks to it, I was able to forge my own swordsmanship on the foundation of Mizoguchi School Ittō-ryū.
Above all, I was deeply grateful that they had accepted me as a disciple despite my being a left-handed swordsman.
If I had not learned swordsmanship there... I would never have been able to stand shoulder to shoulder with Okita Soji and Nagakura Shinpachi, the genius swordsmen of the Shinsengumi, in later years.
"Lumi, what are you spacing out for?"
"...Forgive me, Father. I was lost in thought for a moment."
"That is unusual. You always focus so fiercely whenever you hold a sword, yet you were daydreaming?"
"...More importantly, please teach me a lesson, Father."
This was no time to drown in memories.
Once I held a sword, I could not allow my concentration to waver.
Shaking my head, I tightened my grip on the wooden sword once more and asked Father to spar with me.
◆◇◆
In this world, the sword held the greatest importance among all weapons.
The heroes in books were armed with swords as a matter of course.
There were occasionally people who carried axes, maces, or shields, but nearly every warrior who fought with physical strength held a sword.
In practical warfare, spears should have been more advantageous than swords. But because the Speld Tribe Roxy had told us about used tridents, humans scarcely used spearmanship at all.
Even before the tale of the Speld Tribe, it seemed spears had been avoided because they were regarded as weapons used by demonkind.
Perhaps it was because of this background.
The swordsmanship possessed by humans was more developed and practical than that of my youth.
More than anything, the difference in the sheer force one could wield through a sword was like heaven and earth.
According to the swordsmen of this world I had read about in books, once one became a master, one could cleave a boulder in two with a single stroke—or even launch sword aura at a distant opponent to attack them.
At first, I thought it was mere boasting. But after seeing Father cut through a boulder as though slicing tofu, I had no choice but to believe it.
If I learned this world’s swordsmanship, could I someday reach the same realm as Father?
From the instant I took hold of a sword, my heart would not stop racing.
But...
I want to wield a sword that is mine alone in this world.
I wanted to unite the swordsmanship I had used in my previous life with that of this world and create a sword of my own.
That was the dream I had conceived while watching Father’s swordsmanship.
So I asked Father how he cut through boulders.
"Hmm. You rush in with a whoosh, then go shhk! That is the feeling."
"Like this?"
"No! That was a fwash as you went in and then a thrust! I said you go whoosh and then shhk!"
My father was not good at explaining anything about swords.
Perhaps that was why. Even when I tried to imitate it with my body, he could not tell me the precise knack of it, making it terribly difficult to grasp the sensation on my own.
Still, I learned another fact through this.
The swordsmanship of this world was deeply connected to a person’s mana.
Unlike magic, whose forms were visible to the eye, mana used in swordsmanship was focused on strengthening the body or coating an object such as a sword in mana, reinforcing it to rival a famed blade.
Well, without that, it would be impossible for a human to run faster than a swallow and cleave through boulders.
Yet Father had no conscious awareness that he was using mana.
That was why he could not explain the knack.
This was surely a technique for which learning through the body, rather than overthinking with one’s head, was the answer.
From the beginning, swordsmanship was not something to be reasoned out with the mind. It was something one instinctively wielded through body and spirit.
◆◇◆
Through my swordsmanship lessons, Father also taught me about the major schools of this world.
I had learned bits and pieces from books before, but I listened intently to Father because I could now hear a detailed explanation.
There were three major schools in this world.
The first was the [Sword God Style].
It was swordsmanship specialized in slashing and thrusting, based on the belief that offense was the greatest defense, with almost no defensive techniques.
A school that prized speed above all else, designed to seize the initiative and strike the opponent with a single blow.
If the opponent could not be defeated in one strike, it abandoned defense and unleashed attacks like a storm.
If I had to compare it to something from my previous world, it resembled Satsuma Jigen-ryū swordsmanship.
The second was the [Water God Style].
The complete opposite of the headlong Sword God Style, it was a defensive swordsmanship that let the enemy’s attacks flow past like water before launching a counterattack.
Because it fundamentally emphasized defense over offense, it almost never employed techniques that took the first strike.
However, they said that a master of the Water God Style could deflect any attack and strike at an opponent’s opening.
A sword that let everything flow like a running river could apparently receive any attack, magic, or ranged assault.
It was a style mainly learned by people such as court knights and nobles, who valued decorum and centered their fighting around defense.
The third and final school was the [North God Style].
This one placed its emphasis on martial arts that used the sword.
It had no fixed techniques and was simply a school with outstanding adaptability to any situation.
In Father’s words, even if it was called adaptability, it often meant crafty tricks, slyness, and cowardly acts.
Simply put, it was like military swordsmanship that combined old-school sword arts with modern martial arts.
Yet when its practitioners became masters, their techniques were truly bizarre and unpredictable.
They said one could use most bladed weapons as though they were part of one’s own body.
Because it was a school that allowed one to fight even while treating injuries or after losing part of one’s body, it was favored by people such as mercenaries and adventurers, who needed to adapt to circumstances.
These were called the Three Great Schools of the world, and those who wished to reach the ultimate limit as swordsmen sought out each school and devoted their lives to swinging their blades.
However, those capable of doing so were exceedingly few.
Father said that if one wanted to grow strong easily and quickly, the standard approach was to learn a little of several schools and take only their strengths.
Indeed, Father himself centered his style on the Sword God Style while learning both the Water God Style and the North God Style.
Whether it was the Sword God Style or Water God Style, unless one was a master, it was likely better to learn several styles and use whichever suited the moment rather than stubbornly cling to only one with half-baked skill.
I could agree with Father to a certain extent.
Like magic, swordsmanship was also divided into ranks.
Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Saint, King, Emperor, and God.
The reason these schools had the word God in their names was because it was the common epithet of each school’s founder.
I had even heard that the first swordsman of the Water God Style had also been a mage capable of wielding God-tier water magic.
Just how powerful must someone who had reached God rank in both swordsmanship and magic have been?
Upon reflection, calling it incredible did not seem nearly enough to express it.
Also, when referring to swordsmen, it was common to call them Sword King or Sword Saint according to their rank. In the case of mages, however, it was standard to add the word rank, as in Water God-rank or Water Saint-rank.
Perhaps it was because, unlike swordsmanship, magic also carried the implication of its user.
For example, since Father was not a Saint-ranked swordsman, he was not called a Sword Saint but an Advanced Swordsman, while Roxy was referred to as a Water Saint-rank mage.
◆◇◆
I learned the Sword God Style and the Water God Style from Father.
The formula was simple: Sword God for offense, Water God for defense.
For some reason, however, Father refused to teach me the North God Style.
When I asked why...
"Do not be ridiculous. That is merely fighting with a sword. It is not swordsmanship."
It used the sword as a tool rather than becoming one with it.
That was why he disliked it. It seemed Father did not care for the North God Style, which used a sword as a tool rather than as the mainstay of its art.
Of course, from the perspective of a samurai, I too felt somewhat reluctant about the North God Style.
I did not like the way it so casually used the sword, the soul of a samurai.
However, the soul of a samurai—the sword of a samurai—was not a blade with physical form, but one’s own Justice within the heart.
The shogunate surrendered to the new government forces, and the Edict Abolishing Swords was issued. It was not enough that samurai receiving stipends disappeared; an age arrived in which samurai could not even carry swords.
Even so, I never forgot that I was a samurai, and I adhered to my own way of life to the end.
Even if the world changed, samurai would not disappear.
One could be a samurai without carrying a sword.
As long as one did not betray one’s heart, then even without a sword, regardless of one’s birth, that person was a samurai.
More important than formal samurai customs or one’s origins was the conviction within oneself.
This was the realization I gained through the hands extended to me by the Commander and Vice Commander, who guided me by telling me that I could become a samurai when I believed I could not.
And that conviction became the strength with which I gripped my sword.
"It seems you men have been dissatisfied with me from the start."
The fourth month of Keio 4 (1868), Tsuruga Castle in Aizu.
After the Commander surrendered to the new government forces and was captured so that the Shinsengumi members and the Vice Commander could escape, I fled to the Aizu Domain after the Vice Commander, who had remained behind.
During the continued battles with the new government forces, the Vice Commander was wounded by gunfire. In his place, I led the Shinsengumi to Tsuruga Castle, where, under the orders of Lord Matsudaira Katamori, I was tasked with defending the castle.
"Masaki, what do you think?"
"Please stop calling me Masaki. ...Saito, addressing another man as Masaki is not language a samurai should use."
"...What else? Is there another grievance that keeps you from accepting me as your commander?"
The Aizu soldiers placed under my command did not follow me.
I had thought it natural that they would not follow an outsider like me, a member of the Shinsengumi who had rolled in from elsewhere and been appointed commander of Aizu’s defense force.
But that was not what they resented about me.
"That attire."
"My attire?"
"As a samurai, on the battlefield you should fortify your body with armor, not wear such light gear. And..."
"And?"
"Why do you wear your sword on the right? It is ordained that a sword be worn on the left! What do you think of the sword, which can be called the soul of a samurai?!"
"..."
"We will accompany you in obedience to Lord Katamori’s command. But there is not a single man in Aizu who will obey the orders of a commander who has lost the heart of a samurai! Aizu shall be defended by the hands of Aizu samurai!"
"Masaki!"
"...Stop."
"Mr. Saito?"
I had cast aside the appearance of a samurai, dressed in light gear like the new government forces, and even cut my hair short. On top of that, I did not wear my sword on the left, as samurai custom dictated.
It seemed they took offense at my having abandoned being a samurai, taken on the same appearance as our enemies, and ordered them to rely chiefly on guns and cannons rather than swords.
But—
"The enemy wears such light gear on the battlefield as well. If we remain bound to old customs and wear armor, we cannot respond to the enemy’s movements."
"That cannot be! Even if it is old-fashioned!"
"...As for wearing a sword on the right."
"?"
"I do not believe that wearing a sword on the right means one lacks the soul of a samurai."
When the times changed, adapting to them was the most important factor in battle.
Even if one disliked it, one had to know the enemy and know oneself in order to survive a battle and seize victory.
Rather than being bound by outdated customs, one should cast them aside and achieve one’s own justice.
That was the true path of a samurai.
That was how I had lived.
From my perspective, Father was like the samurai of Aizu: someone firmly convinced that swordsmen must use nothing but swords.
I could not force such a father to teach me.
In the end, I decided that I would practice the North God Style on my own, without Father knowing.
Then one day, after a sparring match had ended and we were resting, Father suddenly spoke.
"It seems you have more talent for swordsmanship than magic, Lumi. Unlike Rudy, you truly like swords, too."
"I like magic too, but I like holding a sword even more."
"Heh."
Father could not hide his admiration at my answer that I liked swordsmanship more.
After thumping his chest, Father stroked my head and spoke.
"Hearing you say that makes Dad happy too. Since both you brothers use magic, I thought you would not have much interest in swordsmanship. But I am moved to see that you like it, Lumi, and that you actually have talent for it."
"I am also so happy that I can learn the sword from you and cross blades with you, Father."
"Man... It feels like only yesterday that your body was so frail I worried about your health, let alone teaching you swordsmanship... How did you grow into such a fine son?"
"It is all thanks to you and Mother, Father."
"What a dependable little fellow! Let us see... It has been a while, so Dad will give you a kiss."
Father seemed delighted that I was walking the path of swordsmanship and showing talent for it.
Then, with his sweat-soaked body, he swept me into a tight embrace and repeatedly kissed my cheeks.
For some reason, Rudy, who watched this scene, wore the same expression he had when he peeked at Roxy’s panties.
◆◇◆
It was the dead of night, the end of the day, when silence colored everything.
Rudy was practicing magic, and I was sharpening and maintaining the blade of the sword Father had given me, when sensual sounds traveled through the wall.
I did not need to check where they came from. They were coming from the bedroom where Father and Mother were.
It was perfectly natural for a married couple to make love.
Lately, I heard those sounds almost every night.
Perhaps they were trying to give us a younger sibling.
If I get a younger sibling, would I prefer a little brother? No, the gender does not really matter.
Gender was not important.
The thought of having another sibling simply made me happy.
The more family one had, the less lonely one would be.
Just as I was learning new things and growing together with Rudy.
Siblings were like the support that helped one another grow.
But—
"Hehe... Hehehehehehe..."
"...Nngh."
I did not want to see Rudy pressing his ear to the wall and listening intently whenever Father and Mother had sex.
At times like this, Rudy practically overflowed with the aura of a lecher.
And that lecherous side of Rudy even felt somehow out of place to me.
That is not the expression an innocent child should make.
Had he inherited Father’s tiger-like virility in full?
Despite his young age, it seemed Rudy too was being ruled by the virility of the man within him.
Leaving Rudy behind as he concentrated on eavesdropping with his ear against the wall, I quietly slipped from the room.
"He should have calmed down by the time I go to the toilet and come back."
Thinking that, I walked down the corridor toward the toilet. Then I saw it.
A blue-haired girl crouching in the dark hallway, peeking through the gap in the door into the married couple’s bedroom.
Roxy too...?
Perhaps it was simply the age she was at.
There were no materials or stories about sexual desire in this world, so perhaps it was only natural for her to be curious.
In my case, I had already been married three times, and since the person inside was an old man, I had lost interest in such things... Perhaps this was the normal reaction.
"...Sigh."
It would be rude to stand there staring at Roxy.
I turned around and went up the stairs opposite the bedroom, heading to the second floor.
When I lightly knocked on the door at the end of the second-floor hallway, it opened, and a red-haired woman looked down at me as she adjusted her glasses.
"Master Luminous, what brings you here in the middle of the night?"
"...Lilia, if it is all right, may I sleep with you? I cannot sleep because I am frightened by the sound of a ghost sobbing."
I did not want to listen to Rudy, Roxy, or my parents.
Trying my hardest to act like a child, I hugged my pillow tightly and looked up at Lilia with eyes that seemed ready to burst into tears.
Seeing me like that, Lilia gave a small sigh and lifted me into her arms.
"I suppose it cannot be helped. Only for tonight."
"Thank you, Lilia."
"You seem rather awake now, so shall we play some shatranj before bed?"
"Yes! Shatranj with you is really fun, Lilia. I want to play again."
"Very well."
Lilia readily granted my request and let me into her room.
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