My life was a sequence of battles stretching from the cradle to the grave.
From the moment I first opened my eyes in the Rukongai, I had to fight against the vermin who sought out those weaker than themselves.
Because if I didn't, I would have died.
So, I killed them. I thoroughly crushed every opponent who dared to challenge me, using every method at my disposal.
Until their will was utterly broken and they could no longer stand.
That was how I committed my first murder in the Rukongai.
"...."
Surprisingly, I felt nothing.
Even though I had killed someone, it took time for the reality of the act to truly sink in.
It was only when the corpse twitching at my feet finally stopped convulsing that I could barely recognize it.
Ah, I killed him. That was the thought.
I felt no guilt.
I had simply fought to survive.
From then on, my life began to revolve entirely around combat.
I fought everyone who came for me. No matter who they were or how many there were, I met them head-on and broke them face-to-face.
Thoroughly. Boundlessly. Ruthlessly.
In the midst of that existence, an old man visited me one day and taught me the way of the sword.
"No one lives solely to wound others. You are simply unable to restrain your boiling bloodlust."
Saying so, the old man taught me Zanjutsu and became my master.
He taught me the 'correct' way to slash and the 'correct' way to thrust.
And... he taught me how to use power 'correctly.'
I devoted myself to the sword as if possessed, and the swordsmanship he taught me showed me a path.
A few days later, I encountered a certain man.
He was a man practicing with his blade in a secluded clearing.
His sword-path was entirely different from what my master had taught me—the distribution of weight, the direction of the tip, everything was different.
I was curious. I wanted to know which was stronger: his sword or mine.
So, I slashed him.
I felt that by cutting him, I would understand.
"Wh-what...!? Who are you!!"
"Is there a need for you to know that?"
And then I realized.
That humans are infinitely helpless and fragile when faced with a blade.
"Come, more... entertain me more...!"
"You madwoman...!! Words will clearly not reach you!!"
It was the first time.
The first time I felt such ecstasy in a fight.
As death drew near and tightened its grip on my throat, I felt truly alive.
It was enjoyable. So enjoyable that I found myself laughing involuntarily.
But that joy did not last long.
Eventually, my blade severed all of the man's limbs.
"How soft."
I let out a sigh as I looked at the man dying before my eyes.
I had no reason to kill him. He had simply happened to catch my eye while I was honing my swordsmanship.
"Impossible.... How... could the Katori Shinto-ryu I've polished for twenty years... lose to a mere woman like this...!"
"Katori Shinto-ryu, so that's what it's called. I see... so that is how one uses it."
"What...?"
"Thank you for teaching me. Now, I shall put you at ease."
"Wait—!"
The man reached out as if pleading for a moment more, but my sword-path did not waver.
There was no hesitation. Just as I had always done, I struck his neck in a single blow, ending the man's life.
As I looked down at the decapitated man, my hands began to tremble.
Fear? No, it was nothing like that.
What made my hands shake now was neither fear nor guilt.
It was anticipation, excitement, and... joy.
'The world is truly vast.'
Swordsmanship I do not yet know, schools I have yet to encounter.
I want to clash blades with them. I want to seize their techniques for myself.
I want to kill them.
I returned to my master immediately and told him what had happened, asking him a question.
Where could I find other styles and other schools?
But as soon as the master heard my story, his face turned pale. He drew his sword and pointed it at my throat.
The distance between the tip of the blade and my neck was a mere inch. If he intended to slash, he should have held the sword further back.
Perhaps it was a thrust, or perhaps a simple threat.
Either way, it failed to pique my interest.
I had already mastered everything the master had to teach me.
"Master, I have no intention of fighting you."
I meant it.
Facing a sword I already knew inside out would bring me no joy.
"Monster...! You monster...! Murderous fiend...! You aren't even human...! I... I have raised a monster...!"
I had expressed my sincere feelings calmly, but what returned was indiscriminate insults and contempt.
"Why do you say such things?"
"The sword is not held to wound others!! How many people have you killed with that blade, you wretch!!"
"Only one so far... is there a problem?"
"Do you not realize that the very act of killing a person is the problem!!"
None of that mattered to me.
Because at that moment, I had a much more important question.
"If the sword is not held to wound others, then for what purpose is it held?"
"Wh-what?"
"If the very act of killing is a problem, then why do martial arts meant for killing even exist?"
"That is... to protect one's own body...!"
"But in the end, isn't slashing someone to death the same result? We are all just humans before a blade; what is the difference?"
The master could not answer. No, he chose not to. To him, killing me seemed more important than resolving my doubt.
In the moment he raised his sword to strike my neck, I drew the blade I had laid beside me and cut him down.
"Someday... someday you will pay for your sins...!"
The old man who had once taught me the sword wheezed his last words.
A hatred and rage that seemed to stick to the floor was directed at me, but no matter how I thought about it, I couldn't understand the reason.
A tool created to kill, a technique created to kill—I had simply used them for their intended purpose. What was so wrong with that?
I pondered such dilemmas blankly before the corpse of my master, which had been split in two, but no suitable answer came.
The person who could have given me an answer was dead, so the search for the truth was lost to me.
"...It doesn't matter, I suppose."
Since it was likely a Zen riddle without an answer anyway, it was better to swing my sword one more time in that interval.
With that thought, I left the blood-soaked dojo and headed for the next one.
To master a new sword, and to feel the realization that I was alive.
After that, with a single blade in hand, I roamed the entirety of the Rukongai, fighting and killing.
Peace was a luxury that blunted the blade, serenity was a shackle that tightened around the neck, and tranquility was a poison that gnawed at me.
There was no reason for combat. Does a bird seek a reason to fly in the sky? Does a tree seek an answer for spreading its roots?
No, I simply did it because it had to be done. I did it to live.
For me, combat was simply that.
I fought because I was born. I fought to live. I fought to fight.
I fought to die.
Combat was everything.
Conflict was the reason for life.
Only upon approaching the threshold of death did I truly sense my own existence.
I was that kind of broken human being.
That was why I fought, killed, and plundered. I took the lives and the swords of my opponents, taking everything they had built.
With a twisted heart that hoped someone would one day take my life, my sword, and everything I had built.
"Yachiru Unohana, the Killer Blade!! I shall execute you!!"
"You monster...! You are a monster that should not be allowed to live!"
"Vengeance for my master! Die!!"
They were all the same, one after another.
Swordsmanship I'd seen somewhere, sword-paths I'd seen somewhere, everything I'd seen somewhere before...
"Boring."
Clearly, it was a blade that had once given me joy; clearly, it was a conflict that had made me feel alive.
But now, it was nothing more than a one-sided slaughter.
I felt as if I would grow weary.
Of the sword, and of battle.
If not for the rare powerful opponent who appeared occasionally, I might have grown bored long ago.
So, I wandered around searching for someone who could entertain me, killing as I went.
After fighting, fighting, and fighting some more for several hundred years, I mastered every style and sword-path in existence under the heavens and named myself Yachiru.
And my life became a dull gray.
Today, as usual, I intended to seek out someone who could provide me with entertainment.
Since I was already tired of 'dojo challenges'...
...No, in the first place, there were no more dojos left for me to crush.
[Budokan]
Or so I thought, until a certain sign caught my eye.
A dojo I had never seen before appeared in front of me.
It was located right next to the Genji Academy, in a place and of a size that one might mistake for a warehouse if they only spared it a glance.
When on earth did this dojo appear? It certainly wasn't here even a year ago...
Why would a dojo even be in such a place in the first place?
Was it an affiliate of the Genji Academy? Or a dojo that had a grievance with them?
No, none of that mattered.
A small dojo situated right next to a massive school—that alone was enough to capture my interest.
'Something is strange...'
However, my anticipation and interest cooled rapidly as I drew near the dojo.
I had thought there would be something special about a small dojo that remained unbowed next to a giant sect, but I was entirely wrong.
There weren't even students, let alone a single bird or fly buzzing about.
The place was so deathly quiet that it felt uncanny instead.
'Uncanny?'
Me, who felt boredom rather than unease or terror even when a blade was shoved before my face... I felt it was uncanny?
It seemed there was indeed something here.
Calming my racing heart as best I could, I crossed the gate, walked along the path, and finally opened the firmly shut doors of the dojo.
As expected, there was no one inside the hall.
Touching the hilt of my sword with a sinking feeling, I muttered to myself.
"This is a dojo I've never seen before."
As I looked around, hoping someone would answer, a voice floated up from beneath my feet.
"That's because this dojo was only established a year ago."
I hadn't sensed a presence.
Internally shocked by that fact, I looked down and made eye contact with a man lying on his side, wearing a snow-white hakama.
"...Who?"
"The owner of this dojo."
I could sense absolutely nothing from the man who spoke.
And so, without realizing it, I found my brow furrowing.