The dark ray cut through the battlefield like a tear in reality itself.
Everyone froze.
The wind that had been screaming moments ago suddenly went silent, as if even nature was holding its breath. The dust hung motionless in the air, glowing faintly where the ray had passed.
Yanshi skidded to a stop, his flaming katana held tightly in his hand. The fire around him flickered—not weakening, but reacting, as though it sensed something unfamiliar.
"What… is that?" Mizumi whispered.
From the place where Tobi lay, something began to change.
The blood that had spread across the ground slowly stopped flowing. A faint light shimmered around his body—soft at first, almost fragile—but beneath it was something darker, heavier, like a shadow that refused to disappear.
Sumi felt it immediately.
"The barrier…" she muttered. "Something inside it is pushing back."
Iruka clenched his fists. "That aura… It's not just light."
The man who had caused all the destruction stepped back for the first time. His grin faded, replaced by a sharp, uneasy look.
"So it's true," he said quietly. "Even injured… he's responding."
Suddenly, the dark ray curved, bending toward Tobi like it was being pulled by an unseen force. At the same time, the soft light around him grew brighter, forming faint symbols that pulsed in rhythm with his breath.
Miss Shiratori widened her eyes. "Light and dark… coexisting."
Ishawa laughed under his breath, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Heh. Looks like the kid doesn't know it yet… but his body does."
The ground beneath Tobi cracked—not violently, but steadily—like something ancient was waking up. Slowly, his hand moved.
Yanshi took a step forward. "Tobi… can you hear me?"
No answer.
But then—
The light flared.
The shadow surged.
A sudden wave of energy burst outward, throwing everyone back except Yanshi, who planted his feet and endured it head-on. The man was blown several meters away, crashing hard into the remains of the courtyard wall.
When the energy settled, Tobi was standing.
His eyes were half-open, unfocused, glowing faintly—one reflecting light, the other swallowing it. The air around him distorted, as if the world itself struggled to accept his presence.
Sumi's voice trembled. "He's… standing."
The man laughed again, though this time it sounded forced. "So this is the Last Swordsman."
A shape formed beside Tobi—slowly, carefully—like a weapon being remembered rather than created. A sword emerged, its blade split down the centre: one side shining like dawn, the other dark as midnight.
Yanshi lowered his katana slightly, awe crossing his stern face.
"So the legends were true…"
The man pushed himself up, anger burning in his eyes. "Fine. Then let's see if the Last Swordsman can survive the real darkness."
Tobi finally moved his head.
His voice was quiet. Unsteady.
"…Why… does it hurt?"
The sword trembled in his hand.
And the sky above the school began to crack with light and shadow intertwined.
Absolutely. Here is Chapter 9 of The Last Swordsman, written intensely, clean, and controlled, continuing directly from the awakening and tying back to Hideo sitting on the tree in Chapter 7, with the school already destroyed.
The school no longer looked like a place of learning.
Broken walls lay scattered like fallen dominoes, classrooms torn open to the sky. The sakura trees that once lined the courtyard stood half-burned, half-shattered—petals drifting slowly through smoke and silence.
At the centre of it all stood Tobi.
The sword in his hand no longer trembled.
Light ran clean along one edge of the blade, calm and steady. Darkness flowed along the other, quiet but deep—like a shadow that knew where it belonged. The two did not clash. They existed together.
Yanshi exhaled slowly, lowering his katana.
"…So this is the awakening," he said. "Not chaos. Balance."
Miss Shiratori brushed dust from her sleeve, her sharp eyes never leaving Tobi. "He isn't losing himself. That's rare… especially for someone carrying both sides."
Ishawa leaned against a cracked pillar, arms crossed, smiling faintly. "Heh. Guess the kid passed the first test without even knowing it."
A slow rustling sound came from above.
Everyone looked up.
High atop the broken sakura tree—its trunk split, its branches scorched—sat a familiar figure. One leg rested casually over a branch, the other hanging freely. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy.
Hideo.
He clapped once. Calm. Measured.
"So you noticed me after all," he said.
Iruka clenched his teeth. "You were there… from the start."
Hideo nodded slightly. "Chapter seven," he replied lightly. "Best view in the house."
Sumi stiffened. "You watched the whole thing… and still did nothing?"
Hideo's gaze drifted back to Tobi. "Watching was the point."
The wind shifted.
Tobi lifted his head, his eyes clearer now—no longer glowing wildly, but sharp, aware.
"…You're the one," he said. "From the tree."
Hideo smiled faintly and hopped down.
He landed without sound, the ground beneath him barely reacting—as if it respected him. This time, no explosions followed. No madness. Only pressure.
"Good," Hideo said. "You can see clearly now."
Yanshi stepped forward instantly. "That's enough. This school is destroyed. Students are injured. Whatever test this was—it's over."
Everyone knows about him. Hideo looked around at the ruins.
"…Yes," he said quietly. "It is."
Miss Shiratori narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you still here?"
Hideo's expression hardened—not with anger, but resolve.
"Because awakening is not the same as control."
The air tightened.
Tobi's grip on the sword firmed instinctively.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
Hideo stopped a few steps away from him. "To know whether you'll repeat your father's mistake… or surpass him."
Silence.
Ishawa's smile vanished. "Careful, kid. Those words carry weight."
Hideo continued, his voice low. "Your father believed light alone could protect this world. Mine believed darkness was necessary. They walked separate paths—and both failed."
Tobi swallowed. "So you hurt people to prove that?"
Hideo closed his eyes briefly.
"No," he said. "I hurt nothing you won't someday have to protect."
Yanshi's fire flared—but Miss Shiratori raised a hand, stopping him.
"Let him speak," she said quietly.
Hideo opened his eyes again and looked straight at Tobi.
"The modern world hides swords behind rules," he said. "Schools like this one exist to soften warriors before they're ready. But real enemies won't wait."
The sword in Tobi's hand responded—not violently, but firmly.
"…Then teach me," Tobi said.
Everyone turned.
Yanshi stared. "Tobi—"
"I don't want anyone else to get hurt," Tobi continued, his voice steady despite the ruins around him. "If this power exists… then I won't run from it."
Hideo studied him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"…Very well."
He stepped back and raised two fingers—not in attack, but in acknowledgement.
"Survive what comes next," Hideo said, "and I'll tell you everything."
The sky above them shifted once more.
Not breaking.
Watching.
And from the ruins of the school, the path of the Last Swordsman truly began.