The pale moonlight pierced through the bamboo grove, faintly outlining a solitary figure.
Hiratsuka Ryosuke, completely drained of energy, lay on the ground, staring blankly at the vast night sky. He held the reverse-blade sword above his head. The chilling glint reflected from the blade sent a shiver down his spine. This sword was unique; it was unsharpened on the front, but sharpened on the back, making it easy to accidentally cut the wielder.
Ryosuke closed his eyes, recalling the fear of facing death just a few minutes earlier. He let out a lingering, but helpless, smile.
"He's just... ridiculously strong."
A few minutes earlier...
"You've gotten very strong, Ryosuke," Himura Shinta said, praising him while effortlessly dodging Ryosuke's wooden sword attacks. "Honestly, your talent might even rival my ancestor's."
Is my stamina still not good enough?
Ryosuke's chest heaved. He had been attacking for a full two hours without getting a single hit in.
"Alright, now it's my turn to attack." Himura Shinta picked up a wooden stick from the ground and pointed it at Ryosuke.
Whoosh!
A sound of air being sliced rang out.
He's gone?
Alarm bells went off in Ryosuke's head. He instinctively raised his wooden sword to block.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The sounds were like metal striking metal, even though it was only a wooden sword and a stick. After a round of sparring, Himura Shinta's aura had completely changed. If before, he was a gentle sheep, now he was a vicious wolf ready to pounce.
Ryosuke held his sword in a defensive stance, but his hands couldn't stop trembling. He hadn't blocked every attack, and the intense pain throughout his body was a sharp reminder.
I... I'm scared?
Scared of my master, Himura Shinta?
It was only a wooden stick, yet it made him feel as though he were facing a sharp blade.
"Did you see that, Ryosuke? This is true swordsmanship, not some children's game!" Himura Shinta said sternly. "If I hadn't met you, I would have completely given up on this ancient style of Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū."
A trace of nostalgia and regret appeared in his eyes. He continued, "A sword is a weapon. Swordsmanship is a technique for killing. No matter how much you try to dress it up with flowery words, that will always be the truth."
He looked at Ryosuke, who was half-kneeling, gasping for breath, with his sword held in defense. "The times have changed. Ancient swordsmanship designed for killing is bound to be a relic of the past."
"Ryosuke, at first, I only took you on as a disciple on a whim. Slowly, I discovered that you are perfectly suited for swordsmanship. I've been teaching you the true secrets of the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū."
"Now, my disciple, tell me your reason for continuing to practice swordsmanship. If you don't think it through carefully, you might lose your life."
Yes, what is the reason for practicing swordsmanship?
A series of faces flashed through his mind. His timid and kind classmate, Nishimiya Shoko. His cheerful and gentle childhood friend, Nibutani Shinka. Finally, his thoughts settled on the most familiar face of all. His mature, intellectual, and sometimes childish older sister, Hiratsuka Shizuka.
When he was little, his sister was always getting into fights and coming home bruised and battered. Her hands, from all the martial arts practice, weren't as soft as those of a normal girl. Young Ryosuke had thought his sister was being bullied. That's why he decided to learn swordsmanship to protect her. He thought, if someone as skilled as my sister gets hurt so badly, then swordsmanship, which uses a weapon, must be much more powerful than martial arts without one.
If I can become stronger than my sister, then I can protect her.
Only later did he realize that his sister was the one who had been single-handedly beating others up. But by then, practicing swordsmanship had become a daily habit. Swinging his sword day after day gave him a sense of security.
Ryosuke took a deep breath, slowly stood up, and his voice rang out with a powerful and clear conviction.
"So that when I want to protect someone, I have the ability to do so!"
Himura Shinta's lips curved into a subtle smile.
"To protect someone? Once a person has a bond, they have a weakness, a soft spot." He said, "There's a saying in modern times, 'Only those who are prepared to be killed have the right to draw their gun.'"
He paused, then continued, "Likewise, now that the thought of protecting someone has entered your mind, are you prepared to endure even more pressure and injury?!"
Himura Shinta's voice was filled with the most severe tone.
Ryosuke smiled. He now understood the meaning behind his master's words tonight. He thought of Hiratsuka Shizuka, the woman who had dominated the national martial arts scene in high school, the strong, independent woman who protected her younger brother.
"You're right, having something you want to protect gives you a weakness, but it also gives you the motivation to become stronger."
For some reason, the faces of Nibutani Shinka and Nishimiya Shoko also flashed through his mind. He continued, "Simply protecting someone only makes them dependent. It doesn't solve the problem."
With his thoughts cleared, Ryosuke's aura changed.
"To truly protect someone, you can't always stand in front of them and shield them from the storm. You have to give them the ability to wield a sword and protect themselves. Isn't that what you've been doing all along, Master?"
The night wind blew through the bamboo grove, bringing a soft rustling sound.
The wind swept Ryosuke's black bangs aside, revealing his slanted, heroic sword-like eyebrows and his thin, tight lips. With his eyes closed, he was like a sharp, cold blade about to be drawn from its scabbard.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He lowered the sword tip, crouched down, cleared his mind of all distractions, and prepared for battle.
Is this kid finally going to use that move? If he has this kind of resolve, it's about time I taught him the final technique.
Standing ten paces away, Himura Shinta felt a sense of relief. He took the same stance.
The wind stilled.
Their bodies moved.
Master and student both charged forward with the same technique. They moved as if they were shrinking the distance, appearing in front of one another in an instant.
"Kuzuryūsen!"
"Kuzuryūsen!"
Their speeds were so fast that they created a wind pressure that swept up the scattered leaves. The consecutive nine strikes from nine directions, amplified by their divine speed, appeared to be a single, unavoidable attack.
One of the two was destined to fall tonight. The final blow of the Kuzuryūsen was aimed directly at the other's heart.
In a flash, Himura Shinta changed his technique. From a bizarre angle, he changed the direction of his attack. A powerful suction burst forth in front of him, even seeming to warp space, causing Ryosuke's sword to strike in a different direction.
Bang!
Ryosuke was struck by an upward slash. His wooden sword flew from his hand, and his body was sent flying backward. He landed on the ground, unable to feel the pain, his mind replaying only that otherworldly strike from Himura Shinta.
He lay on the ground, asking weakly, "What... what was that?"
Himura Shinta didn't make him wait. From above, he answered lightly, "Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū's Ultimate Technique, the Amakakeru Ryū no Hirameki. To have forced me to this point at your age is a feat worthy of pride."
Seeing his master return to his usual self, Ryosuke felt relieved. "That's so sneaky! You never taught me that move."
Himura Shinta shrugged and smiled gently. "Well, now you've seen it, haven't you? You should be grateful that I'm so much stronger than you. I could hold back my strength and counter your attack. Otherwise, you'd be dead."
"Then why didn't you teach me that move before?" Ryosuke still didn't understand. It was normal for his master to be stronger, but that wasn't a reason not to teach him.
Himura, who now saw Ryosuke as his true disciple, began to explain.
"The Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū is a style of swordsmanship developed purely for combat. There is only one person per generation who inherits the name Hiko Seijuro."
"Kuzuryūsen is the pinnacle of the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū. In simple terms, it's a divine-speed blade draw that delivers nine strikes simultaneously from nine different directions, giving the enemy no time to react. Because the speed is so great, once people who have learned this technique commit to the attack, they can't hold back."
"The ultimate technique, the Amakakeru Ryū no Hirameki, is the one move that can break the Kuzuryūsen. The requirement is for two people who have mastered Kuzuryūsen to use their killing moves against each other. If you don't grasp the ultimate technique, you die. If you do, you naturally break the opponent's move. That's why there has only ever been one successor at a time."
"It wasn't until my namesake, Himura Battōsai, from the Meiji era, appeared and broke this rule. He found a clever way around it: as long as one person is far stronger than the other, they can break the move at will."
"Don't underestimate that ancestor. He was a man who stood equal to famous figures like Sakamoto Ryōma and Okita Sōji."
"If a few more years pass and you get stronger and I get older, you might be the one to defeat me."
"Only by facing the fear of death can you truly understand it. You must live by facing death to grasp the true meaning of swordsmanship, right?"
With that, Himura Shinta walked into the wooden hut outside the bamboo grove, retrieved a sword, and threw it to Ryosuke.
"This sword is yours now. It's the reverse-blade sword that my ancestor used. The true one. Our lineage only has one successor per generation, so there aren't many rules. I'm now granting you the Menkyo license. When you can master the Amakakeru Ryū no Hirameki, you will receive the Menkyo Kaiden and it will be up to you whether this art continues or fades into history."
Ryosuke fell into a deep contemplation. The Menkyo license meant he was allowed to announce his school and name when facing an opponent in battle.
A scene involuntarily appeared in his mind. The setting sun, the autumn wind, two swordsmen poised on a rooftop, their backs to the sunset. The crowd was large, but silent. Suddenly, a long sword was drawn from its sheath, and the sound was like a dragon's cry.
Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū—Hiratsuka Ryosuke has arrived!
That sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?
No, wait, what era are we in? Saying something like that would be so cringey.
Damn it, I think I'm starting to get influenced by Shinka.
Himura Shinta saw Ryosuke's contemplative expression and assumed he was in a state of enlightenment. He returned to his hut to boil water and make tea.
When Ryosuke came to his senses, he drew the strange, reverse-bladed sword. Remembering his master's technique from earlier, he smiled helplessly. "He's just... ridiculously strong."
As he stood up, a sharp pain shot through his body. He limped over to where his wooden sword had been sent flying. Even though he had a new sword, he couldn't just abandon his old one.
Snap!
The sound was faint, but it made Ryosuke alert.
"Who's there!"
He looked in the direction of the sound. A pair of bright, black eyes stared back at him.