Swordsman.
All martial skill concentrated in swordsmanship, in the day-and-night honing of the body.
Miyamoto faced Ryosuke's oppressive aura head-on, expression still stern and cold.
"Ever since I first held a blade, I knew that to win, I must maintain absolute calm in any battle to the death."
Clack!
Miyamoto's thumb pushed at the scabbard. At his waist, one long and one short sword slowly slid from their sheaths, the crisp and lingering blade ring like a drop of water falling into an ancient well.
A ripple appeared in Miyamoto's gray eyes, and in the next instant...
Just the motion of drawing the blade made everyone seem to see mountain fires surging, thunder exploding, and hurricanes rolling up the sea.
The surging battle spirit roared, while Miyamoto quietly watched Ryosuke.
"I've heard many people call you 'Invincible.'"
He stepped forward and said softly, "Coincidentally, so do I."
Miyamoto twisted his wrist, the blade turning, cutting through the wind and cutting down the distance between himself and Ryosuke.
"Niten Ichi-ryu: Godspeed!"
A deafening explosion.
The ground beneath Miyamoto's feet cracked, the air thundered, streetlights flickered bright and dark, and in the brief alternation of light and shadow,
Miyamoto was in front of Ryosuke.
The long blade in his hands raised high, power transmitted from body, to shoulders, to arms, finally pouring into the blade, falling with the might to split mountains and seas!
"Niten Ichi-ryu: Iron-Cutting."
Just a thin katana, just a simple chopping motion, yet in the eyes of those watching, it became unbearably heavy, like a mountain falling.
This slowness was not the blade falling slowly, but the shift in time perception humans naturally feel when facing the brink of death.
This strike actually made many strong fighters present feel the thought of "death."
But...
"Ora!"
Star Platinum's fist swung.
That shout tore apart the momentum of Miyamoto's strike.
The massive fist landed on the blade.
For an instant, the two froze.
Their thoughts, in the span of a breath, traveled along the blade and fist.
Ryosuke felt Miyamoto's pure and extreme battle intent, every swing was to challenge the strong, to break his own limits.
On the other side, Miyamoto also felt Ryosuke's openness of heart.
The clash vanished in an instant, Miyamoto leaping back in midair, shedding Star Platinum's punch force.
Ryosuke raised a finger, took aim for a fraction of a second, "Meteor Finger Thrust!"
Star Platinum's index and middle fingers, like a spear, stabbed toward Miyamoto in midair, about to pierce his chest and abdomen.
Clang!
A short blade appeared in Miyamoto's left hand, blocking the Meteor Finger Thrust.
Using the force of the clash, still in midair, Miyamoto flipped like a swimming dragon and closed in on Ryosuke again.
His short blade sliced toward Star Platinum's throat at nearly imperceptible speed.
"Niten Ichi-ryu: Soul-Severing."
But no blade, however fast, could surpass Star Platinum's dynamic vision at close range.
It raised a hand to block, and with the other swung a punch.
Shhk~
A faint scratch appeared on Ryosuke's face.
'It didn't hit, yet still injured flesh… is this a blade that cuts the soul?'
'Swordsmanship… interesting.'
Ryosuke's fingers brushed the scratch; the wound vanished instantly.
Star Platinum tilted its head slightly toward him, eyes signaling, "Not going to use time stop yet?"
Ryosuke shook his head.
He had said three strikes, there was still one left.
He wanted to see the samurai's full means.
Star Platinum nodded slightly, fists swinging, pressing Miyamoto head-on.
Against another opponent, they'd have been pounded into paste already, but Miyamoto, relying solely on two blades, blocked every incoming punch.
"Niten Ichi-ryu: Water Without Thought."
Like flowing water calmly handling the enemy's offense, the blade deflected attacks, absorbing and storing the enemy's power, striking to kill the moment a flaw appeared.
This was Miyamoto's strongest strike, in the past, any attack form would be diverted and nullified by this move.
But today...
Bang!
Bang!!
Bang!!!
Blood blossomed across Miyamoto's body, faint cracks in bone audible.
Star Platinum's fists were too heavy, too fast, Miyamoto couldn't fully divert or absorb them.
In just a single second, his body was at the brink of collapse.
Yet the battle fire in his eyes only burned fiercer.
It had been a long time since he'd met an opponent that made his blood boil like this. The greater his injuries, the more power he absorbed and transformed.
The next strike would be the most dazzling, most powerful of his life.
Ignoring the wounds, he stomped down hard, blood spraying, bones shattering, soul light burning, pouring into both blades.
"Ryosuke! This is me! This is the samurai's blade!"
Fire burned in the blades, this was Miyamoto's way.
Everyone present held their breath.
Two brilliant arcs of blade light, one forward and one reverse, exploded with Miyamoto's strongest power, cleaving toward Ryosuke.
"Star Platinum: The World!"
Whoosh~
A night wind blew past.
Miyamoto stood dazed, hands still held in mid-swing, crossing slashes.
But the blades were gone.
'Where…?'
'Could they have been knocked away?!'
For a samurai to have his blades knocked away, utter disgrace.
Miyamoto's eyes darted left and right, no sign of them.
Until his gaze met Saito's, following her eyes down to his waist.
Both blades hung at his side, as if they had never been drawn.
Miyamoto's mind went blank, his body stiff. In this posture without swords, it looked absurdly like he was reaching out to Ryosuke for something, ridiculous.
'Impossible! What kind of ability was this?!'
'Had the entire battle been just my imagination?!'
'Had I not even had the courage to draw my sword at him?!'
His thoughts cut off abruptly.
A white towel was placed in his outstretched hand.
"Wipe it."
'Wipe… what?'
Miyamoto froze, looked down, and saw white marks at his throat and heart. They were…
His gaze fell on the white chalk in Ryosuke's hand.
If it hadn't been chalk, a blade, kunai, shuriken, or Ryosuke's fist, any could have killed him easily.
The match was decided.
"I told you, after three strikes you'd lose. But let's not count that last one."
Ryosuke said, "For someone like you to die here, for this reason… it's too meaningless."
Miyamoto touched his swords, silent for a long while, then sighed.
"I lost. Ryosuke, you are the true invincible."
He bowed slightly, blood spraying again from the motion, then straightened slowly, gray returning to his eyes, ready to leave.
"Where are you going?" Ryosuke asked.
"To become stronger," Miyamoto said, turning his head. "Unless… you've changed your mind and want to kill me?"
"No. But if you have nowhere to go, why not stay here a while?"
Ryosuke pointed to Sasuke and Rei behind him.
"I want you to be their swordsmanship teacher. When you're free, we can spar again."
Miyamoto thought for a moment, then slowly nodded.
Sasuke, perceptive, stepped up to help him, seating him in a chair.
"Teacher, eat," Rei said, handing over an orange.
"Thank you."
Miyamoto peeled it, tossed a segment into his mouth, the taste mixing with blood.
'Strange flavor.'
He looked at Ryosuke's back.
'A strange man.'
Ryosuke tossed aside the chalk, wiped his hands on his clothes, and said to Saito, "A year's tax?"
Saito's expression darkened slightly.
She had thought Ryosuke was strong, but not this beyond-reason strong.
She quickly regained composure, smiling, "Of course. From today until this day next year, within the Land of Water, all taxes are exempt."
Ryosuke nodded. "Even better. I hope there's no need for today's kind of thing to happen again. I admit, when it comes to schemes, ten of me couldn't outplay you all."
Saito covered her mouth in a light laugh. "Mr. Ryosuke, you jest..."
"I'm not joking," Ryosuke said. "Fortunately, I don't need to step into your domain and play mind games with you."
If all daimyos were useless like the last one, he could fight them. But if they were true politicians, there was no way he could beat them at their own game.
What he needed to be was a blaze, a spear shattering the darkness. After that, Ryosuke said calmly, "The great torrent of history will naturally crush over you, grinding you all to dust."
Politics, schemes, before the true tides of the era, meaningless.
Saito's smile froze.
She didn't understand what Ryosuke meant, only…
She felt a chill crawl up her spine.
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