The afternoon sun scorched the earth, leaving a heavy, suffocating heat in the air. The expected lecture didn't happen. Instead, Kaigaku watched in confusion as his senior, Izumo Tatsuya, unbuckled the Nichirin Sword from his waist.
"Here. Take it. Grip it tight."
Tatsuya's voice cut through the clearing. That very sword—the one Kaigaku had envied and craved countless times—was thrust into his palm. The cold sensation of the metal made his sweaty hands twitch.
What did this mean? Kaigaku's heart hammered against his ribs. He looked up at Tatsuya. The icy look from the village had vanished, replaced by a smile that, to Kaigaku, felt like a needle pricking his skin.
Is he pitying me? Now that he's passed the selection and got a custom blade, is he tossing me his old scrap? Or is this just a sick joke?
"You've always felt that the basic drills and swings are useless, haven't you? That they're a waste of your time? Your face told me as much every time you did them."
He saw right through me...
Tatsuya rotated his wrists and ankles, his joints popping softly. He stood in the center of the clearing, unarmed, and beckoned Kaigaku with a finger. His tone was as casual as if inviting him to a game. "Today, I won't use Thunder Breathing. I won't use a weapon. I'm even wearing full training weights. You, on the other hand, will come at me with that Nichirin Sword. I want to show you exactly how much of that 'real power' you crave is left once you strip away the 'useless' things you look down on."
You arrogant bastard... how dare you look down on me!
A flame of humiliation and ambition ignited in Kaigaku's eyes. The fantasy of avenging every slight he had ever felt coiled around his heart like poisonous vines.
Fine! You asked for this! It's not my fault if I 'accidentally' cut you—you're the one who put the sword in my hand!
"HAA—!"
Kaigaku let out a low roar, pouring every ounce of his resentment into his arms as he lunged. The Nichirin Sword tore through the air, aimed straight for Tatsuya's shoulder. He held nothing back. He wanted to see his senior bleed.
However, the blade struck only air. Tatsuya's figure shifted like a ghost, a single side-step causing the strike to graze only his sleeve. Kaigaku didn't even see him move.
"Too slow!" Tatsuya's voice rang in his ear, sharp and piercing. "Your footsteps are airy, your power relies purely on arm strength, and you can't even hold your blade steady! Forget slaying demons—you wouldn't survive the first night of the Final Selection!"
Before the words finished, Tatsuya's toe flicked out like a viper, striking the pressure point on Kaigaku's wrist.
"Ugh!" Kaigaku grunted as a searing numbness shot through his arm. He nearly dropped the sword, stumbling back in shock. How is the gap this big?!
He swung again in a wide arc, trying to box Tatsuya in. But Tatsuya ducked beneath the blade like a leaf in the wind, his elbow slamming hard into Kaigaku's ribs.
"Gah!" Kaigaku doubled over, feeling like his ribs were about to shatter.
"Is your only talent bullying those weaker than you?" Tatsuya's voice grew cold, his golden eyes locking onto the pathetic Kaigaku. "Bullying the innocent, stealing a basket to act big... is this your version of 'getting strong'? This isn't the behavior of a man!"
"SHUT UP!" Driven by shame, Kaigaku lunged again, his blade-work a messy blur. He wanted to tear that calm face apart.
Tatsuya moved through the slashes with ease. Every counter-strike landed exactly where Kaigaku was most vulnerable. Shoulder, elbow, knee... Kaigaku felt pain in every fiber of his being, sweat and tears of humiliation stinging his eyes. The sword grew heavier with every swing, while Tatsuya's breath remained perfectly steady.
Is he doing this on purpose? Tricking me into using the sword to drain my energy? Who knows if those weights he's wearing are even real!
"Guh—!" A sudden punch to the gut made Kaigaku retch.
"Look at you!" Tatsuya pressed the advantage, his leg pinning Kaigaku's knee to break his balance while a palm strike to the arm sent the Nichirin Sword flying with a metallic clang. "You blame the world at the first sign of trouble, you resent your master for a single lecture, and you burn with envy at the success of others! Your heart is even more brittle than your sword-play!"
Tatsuya's voice boomed in Kaigaku's ear. "True strength comes from the heart! If you can't face your own flaws or endure the boredom of training, you don't deserve the power of Thunder Breathing! You think your pathetic pride and greed are enough?"
Kaigaku couldn't take it anymore. Tatsuya tripped him, and he slammed hard into the hot, sandy ground. He lay there gasping for air, covered in dirt and sweat, his bones aching as if they had been dismantled.
Tatsuya stood over him, looking down with a sternness that demanded growth. "You're wrong, Kaigaku! Dead wrong!" He crouched, his eyes sharp as scalpels. "You don't understand why a Slayer is strong. You don't understand that excellence is a slow climb. Until you do, you will never touch the threshold of 'strength.' You will only grow more twisted, until you destroy yourself and everyone around you!"
The clearing fell silent, save for Kaigaku's ragged breathing.
Curse you... where is the old man? Does he think the same?
Kaigaku glanced around and saw Jigoro Kuwajima standing a short distance away, leaning on his cane. He had seen everything. His old face held no expression.
He's in on it... they're both in on it... ganging up on me!
Kaigaku trembled with a mixture of pain and deeper, darker humiliation. After a long time, he struggled to a seated position. He didn't look at Tatsuya. He lowered his head deeply, his voice raspy and broken:
"Senior... you are right. I was arrogant. I failed the teachings of Master and yourself... I was wrong." He paused. "I will go down to the village now... to apologize to the villagers and beg for their forgiveness."
Kaigaku stood up silently, picked up Tatsuya's sword, and handed it back with a lingering touch before turning toward the mountain path.
Back turned to them, the suppressed venom in Kaigaku's eyes spread like a toxin. Heh... Izumo Tatsuya... Jigoro Kuwajima... just wait. I will return this humiliation a hundredfold! I'll make you realize who truly belongs at the top!
Tatsuya began cleaning the dirt off his blade with a soft cloth and oil. Shhh-shhh— The oil-soaked cloth moved over the steel, reflecting Tatsuya's furrowed brow.
Kuwajima stepped up behind him. "That boy's heart is harder than the stones of this mountain. I only hope he heard at least a fraction of your 'physical reasoning'."
Tatsuya tested the edge of the blade against the light. He gave a short, heavy laugh. "Old man, you're a bit of a romantic. For a guy like Kaigaku, logic isn't as convincing as a fist. As long as my fist is bigger and harder," he flicked his wrist, the blade whistling through the air, "he'll play the part of the good student even if he's cursing me in his head. Eventually... he'll have no choice but to 'listen'."
That brat thinks I didn't see that look... it was pure poison.
"Don't worry, Master," Tatsuya said, sheathing the sword with a sharp click. "He can't outrun your shadow, and he certainly can't beat me. I'll have the crow keep an eye on him whenever I'm away."
Above them, a haiku drifted from the trees: "Eyes fixed tight and fast / Guarding hearts until the last / Peace is here to cast."
Kuwajima snorted. "Don't brag. Focus on yourself. The first mission is often the deadliest." He turned toward the shack. "As for Kaigaku—I'm not too old to move yet. He'll crawl through those basics until he gets them right!"