"Sorry," I said while scratching my cheek, putting on the most innocent expression I could manage. "Who are you two?"
Even though, honestly—I knew exactly who they were.
When they pulled back their hoods, my suspicion was immediately confirmed. Beautiful faces with an aura different from ordinary humans, hair in uncommon colors, and gazes that were… far too direct for people who were just passing by.
One had bluish-silver hair with a stiff expression and excessive focus—Xenovia Quarta. The other was blonde, with a gentle face that was easy to read—Irina Shidou, Issei's childhood friend.
Two exorcists from the Church.
And what made me want to let out a quiet sigh even more: Xenovia was carrying something wrapped in thick cloth. I didn't need to be a genius to know what it was.
'A fragment of Excalibur.'
Seriously… and she wanted to spar with me?
"We're just tourists," Irina replied quickly, her smile awkward. Then she turned to her companion and suddenly asked, "Eh—wait. Can you speak Italian?"
I froze for a split second on reflex.
'Ah… damn.' Xenovia had grown up around the Vatican. And without thinking, I had already opened my mouth.
"A little," I replied smoothly in Italian. "I've visited before. Milan left a strong impression—especially the Cathedral."
Their reaction was instant.
"Oh—!" Irina's eyes widened in admiration.
Xenovia looked at me more seriously, as if she had just raised her level of alertness.
"You know Italian," she said flatly, but clearly impressed.
"Just a little," I replied with a polite smile. "I'm honored to be able to converse with sisters from there."
"A-Ah, you flatter us," Irina smiled brightly.
Unfortunately, Xenovia had no interest at all in small talk.
"I want to spar," she said again, returning to the original topic.
I let out a small sigh. "Miss, I appreciate the intention. But honestly, this would be a problem if I injured a tourist. Especially in a public place."
"Then," she replied quickly, "we'll find somewhere secluded."
"Then I'd be even more afraid," I answered without hesitation.
"Hah?!"
Irina immediately covered her face with both hands. "Xenovia… your social skills really are—"
"Miss," I continued calmly, "we're three strangers. I'm afraid of hurting you, and I'm also afraid you might do something to me. That's normal, right?"
"By God, I have no ill intentions!" Xenovia insisted.
"…That only makes it sound more suspicious."
"What?!"
"Okay, okay," I raised my hands in surrender. "How about this. I have a friend. She has a place that's spacious, enclosed, and safe. If you really want to spar, we'll do it there."
I immediately pulled out my phone and called the only person that came to mind.
Akeno.
"Yeah… sorry for the sudden call," I said quietly. "I've got a bit of a situation. Can I borrow the field behind the shrine? …Yes. Thank you. I'll explain later."
I ended the call and turned back to the two of them. "Come on. Follow me."
Xenovia nodded without hesitation.
Irina simply smiled awkwardly and followed.
...
The trip to the shrine atop the hill was… awkwardly silent.
And the moment we arrived—
"—You?!"
"You two!!"
The reactions came at the same time.
Akeno, who had been standing near the back hall, immediately took a guarded stance. Xenovia and Irina reflexively straightened their posture.
I blinked. "Uh… you know each other?"
"Jun," Akeno's voice lowered, her eyes sharp. "Why are you with them?"
I hurriedly raised both hands. "Calm down, calm down! I'm confused too! They were watching my training in the park, then suddenly asked to spar. I got scared, so I brought them here!"
Akeno looked at me for several seconds.
Then… her expression softened.
"I see," she said quietly. "Sorry. I jumped to conclusions."
"Suspicious?" I repeated.
"E-Eh, it's nothing," Akeno smiled quickly, then walked toward Xenovia and Irina, speaking in a low voice—clearly something not meant for me to hear.
A few seconds later, the two of them nodded.
Akeno turned back to me. "Jun, they're nuns conducting a church inspection in the western district."
"Oh… that small church?"
Irina immediately bowed slightly. "Yes, sorry for troubling you, Himejima-san."
I nodded casually. There was a strange distance in the air—a distance between trust, between worlds. But I chose not to think about it. After all… we were all hiding something.
"Sorry about this," I said, pointing at Xenovia. "She really wants to spar."
"That's fine," Akeno replied gently.
I picked up a spare wooden sword and handed it to Xenovia.
We walked to the wide field behind the shrine. The ground was flat, surrounded by trees, hidden from outside view.
I drew a quiet breath, lowered my center of gravity, and took my stance.
Across from me, Xenovia also prepared herself. The way she gripped the wooden sword was clearly different from an amateur—too solid, too accustomed to the weight of a heavy weapon. Even though it was only a practice sword now, her posture still carried the shadow of the greatsword Excalibur she usually wielded. Her fundamentals were good. Rigid, but honest. The type of fighter who advanced straight ahead without much trickery.
And honestly…
I really needed an opponent like that right now.
Until now, I had only tested my sword against shadows, air, or Tower monsters. The Mount Hua Sect was not just about beautiful techniques—it demanded real responses, the rhythm of combat, pressure from a living opponent. The Heavenly Demon style was too dominant, which was why I needed other martial arts as backups.
Martial arts from other sects were good too.
I raised the wooden sword to chest height.
Xenovia moved first.
Her step was heavy, straight, and fast—not toward me, but pressuring the space in front of me. A single downward swing from above, simple, without deception. If this were a real sword, it wasn't an attack meant to wound.
It was an attack meant to stop.
I stepped half a pace to the side, my sword rotating in a small arc. A basic Mount Hua technique—Plum Blossom Opening. The dull clash of wood rang out as our swords met.
Heavy.
'Not brute force… this is control.'
Xenovia didn't force the swing. The moment it failed to hit its mark, she pulled her sword back swiftly, then thrust straight toward my chest. Not beautiful. Not complicated. But the angle was precise, the distance perfect.
I rotated my wrist, deflecting while retreating half a step.
Wood collided again.
Xenovia's attacks came in succession, like a hammer relentlessly striking a nail. No wasted movement. Every swing had purpose. Every step closed off my retreat.
'As expected from another main-character heroine—if I were an ordinary human, I'd have become a living punching bag long ago.'
I leapt lightly backward, twisting my body, letting her attack pass beyond its range.
'…However.'
"Why are you retreating?" Xenovia asked, her voice flat, almost confused.
"Because I'm still alive," I replied shortly.
I counterattacked.
My footwork became light. My sword moved in circles, forming the illusion of flower petals. Plum Petal Drift. My attack wasn't meant to pierce—it was meant to disrupt her rhythm.
Xenovia frowned.
She blocked one, two, then a third strike. But on the fourth, my sword curved mid-swing—tapping lightly against her wrist.
It didn't hurt.
But it was enough to send a signal.
Xenovia stepped back one pace.
Her blue eyes sharpened.
"…Your technique is strange."
"Thank you," I said. "I trained for a long time to achieve it."
She took a breath.
Then—
The next attack was faster. Denser. No longer just straight swings. Xenovia began to cut angles, using her shoulders, her hips, her entire body to generate power behind every slash.
One strike made my arm go numb.
The second nearly smashed into my shoulder.
I twisted my body, almost slipping, and parried with the side of my sword.
'Here it is.'
I could feel it.
'Killing instinct, held back.'
Xenovia had no intention to kill—but her body was trained for it. Every movement pushed the limits of my reaction time. If I were slower by even a fraction of a second, that wooden sword would hit bone, not air.
I stopped defending.
My feet sank deeper into the ground. My breathing slowed. My sword moved more smoothly—smaller, closer to my body.
Plum Blossom, Third Form.
My attacks were no longer falling flowers, but interjecting branches. I cut into her attack paths, not her sword. Forcing Xenovia to alter her swings mid-motion.
The clashes became more frequent.
Wood struck wood, creaked, vibrated.
Xenovia let out a low growl—not anger, but provocation. She stepped into close range, trying to use her body to overpower me.
A mistake.
I pivoted in place, my sword tapping her left shoulder—once.
Then— I stopped.
My sword halted a finger's width from her neck.
Xenovia stopped as well.
We stood facing each other, breaths slightly ragged, eyes measuring one another.
Several seconds passed.
"…Why did you stop?" she asked.
I slowly lowered the wooden sword.
"Because if this were a real sword," I answered honestly, "you'd already be dead."
She fell silent.
Xenovia drew a long breath, then lowered her sword too.
"…I see," she said quietly.
She looked at me again, this time without excessive wariness. Just the pure evaluation of one swordsman toward another.
"You're not an ordinary person," she said.
I smiled faintly.
"I'm just someone who wants to live," I said, then shifted my gaze toward the spectators—Akeno and Irina, both stunned.
'Ah… I forgot they were there.'
//--//
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